The Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1871-1904, November 29, 1871, Image 1
.. 46, luntingdon Journal, J. A. NASII, BORROW ÜBLISRERS AND PROPRIETORS. Cdrner of Bathand Wanhington street:. (TINGDON JOURNAL is published every , by J. It. Dull!wallow and J. A. NASH, rm name of J. R. Drunonnow Co., at mum, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid nonths from date of subscription, and .id within the year. • discontinued, unless at the option of ere, until all arrearages are paid. CISEMENTS will be inserted at Tax line for each of the first four insertions, ears per line for each subsequent inner an three months. monthly and yearly advertisements will at the following rates: 3miGml 9ml 6m:9mTl T.TO TOCI - 11 - 147/0 rT !Ira E .Xl l lO 00 1201$ " 24 00 86.0 201 65 10 00,14 00,18 00 4 34 00 110 00 65 80 14 00:20 00,21 00 18 00 1 25 00130 00 1 col 36 00 60 00 80 100 notices will be inserted at TWELVE AND ;Ts per line, and local and editorial no- TEEN curs per line. . . • .• lotions of As'sociations, Communications m individual interest, and notices of Mar- Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be N CENTS per line. d other notices will be charged to the ng them inserted. ing Agents must find their commission these figures. rasing accounts are doe and collectable irertisement is once inserted. .INTING of every kind, in Plain and trs, done with neatness and dispatch.— , Wanks, Cards, Pamphlets, so., of every d style, printed at the shortest notice, thing in the Printing line will he execu most artistic manner and at tho lowest Professional Cards. iNGATE, Surveyor, Warriors ark, Pa. [apl2,'7l. jALDIVELL, Attorney -at -Law, . 111, 31 greet. Office formerly occupied . Woods I Williamson. [apl2,'7l. R. R. WIESTLING, Tactfully offers his professional servicts zoos of Huntingdon and vicinity. moved to No. 61St Hill street, (Sutra's [apr.s;7l-Iy. I. C. FLEMMING respectfully re his professional services to the citizens gdon and vicinity. Office second floor of am's building, on corner of 4th and Ilill may 24. D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill sect, in the room formerly occupied by M'Culloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would roe offer hie profeeeional services to the citi untingdon and vicinity. Dan.4,"11. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his ofeaeional eerrioca to the community. No. 52:3 Washington street, one door cast tholio Parsonage. pan. 4,71. Office re ig, street Dan.4,'7l. . GREENE, Dentist. toved to Leieter's new buildil 4. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building, No. 520, Hill St., lon, Pa. [spl2,7l. }LAZIER, Notary Public, corner of Washington and Smith streets, Hun- Pa. Dan.l2ll. C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon, [ap.19,'71. YLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at mw, Huntingdon, Ps. Office, Hill street, ,rs west of Smith. Dan.4'7l. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth esry, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun . Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Lama for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23,'70. [ALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, fo. 319 Hill greet. [jan.4,7l. t. DURBORROW, Attorney-at •w, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the !lends of Huntingdon county. Particular a given to the settlement of estates of dece- in he Jounnst Building. [feb.l,ll L. POLI:OCK, Surveyor and Real Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend eying in all its branches. Will also buy, rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of er in any part of the United States. Send ranker. fian.47l. W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., claims against the Government for back nnty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ith great care and promptness. on Hill street. Dan.4,'7l ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon Pa. Special attention o COLLECTIONS of a ll kinds ; to the settle r Estates ' &c.; and all other Legal Business .ted with fidelity and dispatch. Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton Meg. [jnn.4,'7l. SON XILLe R. 11. BUCHANAN. [LLER & BUCHANAN, DENTISTS, 228 MS Street, lIIINTIN6DON, PA. 5, '7l-Iy. [LES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly egal businexa. Office in Canningham'e new 3g. rian.4,'7l. DJ. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to ds of legal business entrusted to their care. m on the south side of Hill street. fourth door f Smith. [jan.4,'7t. A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [utay3l,'7l. SCOTT. S. T. DROWN. J. L. SAMMY OTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, 11 claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against oyornment will be promptly prosecuted. co on Hill street. Dan. 4,71. W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun . tingdon, Pa. Offioo with J. Sowell Stewart, Dan. 4,11. WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney- at-Law Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention . to collections, and all other lagal business ded to with care and promptness. Office, No. Hill street. [ap 19,71. Miscellaneous CHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. unary 4, 1871. "EAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT UNITED STATES HOTEL, HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA LAIN A CO., PRonuerons. lOBT. KING, Merchant Taylor, 412 V Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib share of patronage respectfully solioited. pril 12, 1871. EWISTOWN BOILER WORKS. i BNYDICE, WEIDNER & CO., Manufac r• of Locomotive and Stationary Boilers, Tanks, es, Filling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet I Work of every description. Wor ksl on Logan et, Lewistown, Pa. 11 orders pr-elptly attended to. Repairing e at short flows. [Apr 6,'71,1y.• r - • 2- I' 3 T he 1 _ )41-- I Lon ournat New Advertisements. TO ADVERTISERS :o:- THE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL. PUBLISIIEI) EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING J. R. DITRBORROW & J. A. N..4SH. Office corner ol Washington and Bath Sta., HIINTIiNGDON, PA. THE BEST ADVERTISING MEDIUM CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA. CIRCULATION 1700 :0: HOME AND FOREIGN ADVERTISE MENTS INSERTED ON REA- SONABLE TERMS. A FIRST CLASS NEWSPAPER ____ :o: _ TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION $2.00 per annum in advance. $2 50 within six months. $3.00 if not paid within the year. -:o:- - JOB PRINTING ALL KINDS OF JOB WORK DONE WITH NEATNESS AND DISPATCH, AND IN THE LATEST AND MOST IMPROVED STYLE, SUCH AM POSTERS OF ANY SIZE, CIRCULARS, BUSINESS CARDS, WEDDING AND VISITING CARDS, BALL TICKETS, PROGRAMMES, CONCERT TICKETS, ORDER BOOKS, SEGAR LABELS, RECEIPTS, PHOTOGRAPHER'S CARDS, BILL HEADS, LETITR, HEADS, PAPER BOOKS, ETC., ETC., ETC., ETC., ETC., Mehls-Lt Our facilities for doing all kinds of Job Printing superior to any other establish ment in the county. Orders by mail promptly filled. All letters should be ad dressed, J. R. DURBORROW & CO. gllwo' A tiny, slender, silken thread Is friendship, and we make it Bind hearts and lives to hearts and lives ; But e'en a breath may shake it, And oft it takes but one wee word— But one wee word—to break it! It draws the lips iu smlling shape, It draws the look of pleasure From eye to eye when hands touch hands. When two hearts hea - s one measure; And draws a meaning from a word Which makes that word a treasure. Like string of a tuneful harp or lute Between glad souls 'tis holden, Acd love's fond fingers on the thread Makes music rare and golden— Make music such as tender hearts Could live, and nc'er grow old, in. But if a breath may shake it, lct That breath come near it never; And never spoken be that word Which friendship's tie might sere But let the chord grow stronger till The dawning of Forever. g , lolß-17:tiler. JENNIE IYLOORE. • -:o:- A TALE OF THE TEXAS BORDER Settlers along the banks of the Warlopa River, in Texas, had been 'v sled to a pitch bordering on frenzy. For a long time the Comanche Indians had been com mitting depredations of a fearful character, and it was evident that an open warfare must ensue. The savages must be exter minated, or nearly so; else the white luau would be driven trout his home, or butch ered upon its threshold. A settlement of some thirty cabins bad been formed upon' the Warlopa ; and fbr its protection, and the sakty of its inhab itants iu case of an attack, a blockhouse had been erected on the bank of the river. It was a strong building, surrounded by a high stockade, and front within, a handful of men could defend themselves against hundreds of their savage foes. It was well supplied with provisions and ammunition, several large hogshead containing water were placed within reach, in case an at tacking party would resort to fire. The settlers were anticipating an attack that very night, and were new- busily en gaged in moving the women and children and such articles of household goods that could be carried without the use of teams. Scarcely had the settlers with. their fami lies secured themselves within their strong hold, when a wild cry was raised, and the white men gathered around the remains of one of their neighbors who had just, been brought in front a distant field. The body had been so horribly multilated that it was scarcely , recognizable; bat' it was discov ered to be that of George Maloy, a gentle man highly esteemed by all. He had left home but a few hours before to look after his cattle, and this was all that remained to tell the story of his butchery. Revenge was pictured upon every face, and each hand clasped tighter the rifle it held. Then the shout burst forth, "death to the red devils—death to Comanches !" "Death and extermination to the ac cursed Comanches!" repeated Colonel John Pool. "But we must act with prudence, boys. They are strong; at present we are weak. We must all remain in the block house to-night, but I expect the boys who are coming to join us from the Valley will be here by daylight, if not before. We can count thew at least, three hundred with brave hearts and steady nerves. We will march into the very heart of the ene my's country, and with rifle, knife and fire teach those red devils a lesson they wilt never forget." A mild cheer followed this bri. f addreE.s, but the sound W 29 given back by the wild shrieks of women and children. Every eye was turned in the direction whence the voices came. Out of the block house came women and children in the wildest confu sion and fright, running in all directions to escape a fury that the settlers had not y 4 seen ; but it was understood at once that the savages were at their hellish work. "Look well to your weapons, boys, and be ready for any emergency," said Colonel Pool, as ho cocked his rifle. "We may have hot work soon, follow me." The flying women were met and ques tioned. They stated that the savages had got within, the stockade unobservca, while the settlers were viewing the remains of Maley, and were preparing to burn the stock: . house. That this was true became apparent, for the flames were now seen to leap up, encircling the main building with in the stockade. "forward, men!" cried the Colonel. And in a few moments the settlers had reached the burning mass. It was found impossible to save it, so completely was the stronghold enveloped in the devouring ele ment. But now a new horror presented itself. Upon the very top of the middle building a female form was seen clinging to the flagstaff. The flames leaping around her. She glanced down on a seething furnace beneath her, and made a movement as if to make a fearful leap to the earth; but she paused; that would be certain death. The distance was some forty feet, and all within the stockade was a glowing mass, where brushwood had been heaped by the savages to facilitate the burning. Almost every one of those hardy men held their breath in agony of suspense; but a few voices exclaimed : "My God, it is Jennie Moore !" LEGAL BLANKS, We must speak in detail of Jennie. She was the daughter of one of the settlers; she was a little wild and romantic, but high-toned and generous. Indeed, sonic of her acts of kindness had won the regard of a number of Lapan Indians, who joined the pale faces in consequence, becoming their that friends. Several of them were now present, and they almost worshipped the maiden. Their admiration was equal to their affection ; for Jennie could ride the wildest colt, handle her bridle skillful ly, or drive a canoe equal to a Comanche. She was fearless as a warrior, yet tender and sympathetic as a maiden could be. Warlopa, a Comanche chief, had seen her, and becoming enamored with her beauty, had sworn to capture her and make her his wife. At these threats the girl laughed, for they did not trouble her in the least. Not so with her parents ; for they felt an anxiety lest Warlopa should attempt to carry out his threat. During the afternoon of this eventful day Jennie bad left the lower apartments of the stock house and ascended to the roof. Here she remained gazing on the PAMPHLETS, Friendship BY FRED IT. WEBBER. BY DAWSON FINF,LLY HUNTINGDON, PA, magnificent prospect spread out before her. Being atigued with her labor she had RC complished during the forenoon in assist ing the settlers to prepare for the attack, she fell asleep. After a time she was aroused by shouts. She sprang to her feet and listened, :or below she heard voices. Looking down she saw half a dozen of the dusky fiends at work within the stock ade, and then the flames Leaped around the building. She was within the circle of the fire. Quickly she descended the ladder, and reaching the lower apartment, she found hernAf confronted by a large savage, who saw her. Ewe in the glare, and recognizing her, he exclaimed: -Ali, good ! me take you to the chief, lunch Indian attempted to seizo her .:nn up the ladder again. • Indian quickly followed. She tea t•i the roof, and as the Indian at teen through the roof she : ; ..ger in his heart, and he fell was now a dangerous one. The flames were leaping around her, and the apartment below was dense with smoke. liothing daunted, she once descended the the ladder. But upon reaching the lower 100155 she f.:11 senseless from sutthcation. When Colonel John Pool discovered the situation of Jennie he exclaimed : There is but lithe hope, but ist save her or perish w:th her,' Wantoni, one of the Lapan Indians, at this juncture dashed forward and held the Colonel Iron rushing into the burning mass, exclaiming as he did so: "41rautuni's life is nothing; Colonel's everything. Ile must lead his whitb broth er against the enemy. If she can be saved, I save--I go." Wantonitiashed forward. It was with diffiealty that the Colonel v..s.s restrained from nllowing, but he felt the uselessness of the effort 011 his part, so he remained a watcher. The Indian darted into the burning mass, and was lost to view. He was se verely burned, but be succeeded in reach ing the lower apartment. It was quite light., and ha saw the form of the maiden stretched on the ground. He caught her in his arms, but he well knew that it would be almost certain death to return the way he came. But his plans were formed in an instant. Into the ditch he plunged, and crawled forward with his precious burden, taking care to keep her bead above water. Onward he struggled, and soon he passed the stockade, and reached the river. tie was now quite deep in the water, but he quickly rose to the surface, only to find himself in close proximity to a canoe con taining a Comanche. He was discovered, and a tomahawk buried deep into his brain, he sank bock dead. Jennie was lifted into the canoe, but she was still unconscious. She was quickly borne to the other side of the river, and then handed over to War loin, who detailed two of his warriors to guard her. . When the watchers saw that Wantoni did not return, they gave up all as lost, believing that he had perished in the flames together with Jennie. But it was now tithe to prepare fur self defence, for the river was now filled with canoes. The savages were advancing to give them battle. One of the largest dwell ings were selected, and here the defenders took their stand. The fight soon began, and ciaro.e after charge was made by the Comanches, but without avail. Many of their warriors had fallen beneath the un erring rifles of the avengers. This mad dened the foe, and they resolved to use fire. Soon every cabin was in flames, save that occupied by the defenders. The sight was a mournful one to all but the savages, who danced around in devilish glee. Presently a terrible volley was opened upon • the redskins. It came from the woods close at hand. The besieged knew that assistance had arrived, and they dart ed from the cabin, while a cheer burst from their lips. It was answered by a ter rible shout; .and now the unseen party ap peared. The savageshad already taken to flight, leaving a large number of killed behind them. They plunged into the river, and gained the opposite bank as best they could, not even pausing there, but pushing rapidly towards their stronghold in the mountain. Those who had so timely arrived were weary with their long march and required a few hours rest. But it was decided to fillow up the Comanches without neces sary delay. Daylight came, and a search was made among the ruins of the block house. The•charred remains of an Indian were fund, but it was decided that it was not Wantoni. Nothing could be discov ered of Jennie. Soon after the body of the friendly In dian was found, and the manner of his death was plain. Here was a mystery. At ten o'clock that day over three hun dred well-armed, determined avengers set out for the camp of Warlopa. They cal culated, from the distance, that they would be able to reach it by dark the second evening. "No quarter to the accursed Comanches," was the watchword. They felt confident of success. The friendly Lapans acted as guides. When Jennie Moore found herself really a captive, she did not give away to grief as most maidens would have done. On the contrary, she was very cheerful, and often burst out in a song, making the mountains and valleys echo again. She had a double motive in this.. In the first place it pleas ed the savages; and in the next. place, if friends were following her, they might hear her and recognize her voice. When it was over the chief said: "White Bird sings well—she must become my wife." '•When do you propose to do me that honor ?'' "To-night." "To-night !" she repeated, with a shud der, as she gazed around. The chief seemed to divine her thought, and continued : "Yes, to-night you rest in Warlopa's arms. You cannot escape, and your frowns will not avail. lam a great chief. My lodge is black with scalps of the pale face ; my hands are red with their blood. The pale maiden's chief is dead. I killed him. Ile is gone to the hunting grounds. Pale face maiden see him 110 more." "Did you kill Colonel Pool ?" she ask ed, her eyes flashing fire. "Ough !" "And my father and mother ?" "All fell beneath the hatchet of the red man. Your valley is laid bare. In the ashes of your home lay all that you love. Where stood the pale faces of yesterday is now smouldering ashes of their homes.— Pale maiden's friends are gone. She will see them no more. For some time Jennie remained silent, and several tear drops'fell front her eyes. But she became suddenly cheerful again and NOVEMBER 29, 1871. said : "Well, if I have lost ail, I suppose I may as well be content to live a wild life, and I have no doubt but that I can find much enjoyment. I think I shall make a capital Indian wife. You don't know what I can do. Why, I venture to say I can beat you with a rifle now." "Ough !" "Don't you believe me ?" she cried.— "Well, we will see. Take your weapon and eplit yonder sapling with the bullet." The chief' fired, but missed his mark. Jennie laughed derisively, and exclaim ed : "Now load and let me try." The rifle was charged and handed her. A large number of warriors were watch ing her. She raised the weapon to her shoulder, and aimed toward the sapling. No one dreamed of her intentions. She hesitated a moment, and while still retain ing her position, hissed through her teeth . "Chief, your lodge is black with the scalps of the pale Lees, your hands are red with their blood. You killed the pale face chief, my father, mother and lover. Now receive your reward." Quick as thought she changed the direc tion of her rifle, and fired. Warlopa ut tered a howl and fell back dead. The he roic maiden had shot him through the heart. For a time the savages did not utter a sound—they appeared to be stricken dumb with surprise. But soon they recovered, and the most fiendish yells burst forth.— It seemed that she would be instantly torn to pieces, but an Indian interposed and saved her. She was lashed to a tree, and brushwood heaped around her. She felt that there was no hope, and she resolved to meet death without exhibiting any weakness. The sun was low in the west. The avengers had pushed forward with all pos sible speed, and had arrived within half a mile of the camp. It had been decided to delay the attack until midnight. .. • K. guide was sent ahead to reconnoitre. He stealthily approached the camp, and at a glance saw what had transpired. He was satisfied what the result would be, so he hastened back and informed his friends. An advance was immediately ordered, and it was not long before three hundred rifles were leveled in deadly aim at the hearts of the Comanches, while they were still unconscious of danger. Then came the volley, followed by a charge, deadly in its results. The Indians attempted resis tance, but it was a feeble one and brief.— Many of their number escaped by flight, but the dead coo ered the ground in every direction. That lesson and the one received at the settlement were indeed salutary ones, and the Comanches did not soon venture to niolest the white man again. The joy of Jennie was great when she found that her Parents and hor lover were still alive; and the joy they experienced at the recovery of their treasure was no less than her own, ai,eading for tie qi; 'Mon. A Strange Tale - T5O following adventure happened in Bath, England, many years ago, and the lady who narrated it to the writer, was, in those days, a young girl staying in the house. It was in the palmy days of Bath, when that now fallen city rivalled London in brilliancy and dissipation ; and when all the rich, the gay, and the high-born of England congregated there in the season, and graced the balls and assemblies, Mrs. It—, once the belle of the court of George 111., but at this period gradually retiring from general society, possessed one of the largest of the old houses, and gave in it entertainments, which were the most pop ular of the day. She was celebrated fur three things (once for four, but the fourth —her beauty—was of the days gone by) : these things were her fascination, her be: • nevolence, and—a set of the most match less and perfect amethises. Her house contained tapestried chambers. The walls of the one in which she slept was hung around with designs from heathen mytho logy, and the finest piece in the room was that which hung over her dressing table. It represented Phesbus driving the chariot of the sun. The figures and horses being life-size, it filled up the space between the two windows, and the horses were conceal ed behind the old-fashioned Venitian look ing-glan, while Phoebus himself, six feet high, looked down by day and by night on his mistress at her toilet. One evening Mrs. It-had an unusial large party at home. She wore all her amethysts. On retiring to her room, about four o'clock in the morning, she took off her jewels, laid them on the table, and dis missed her weary maid, intending to put them away herself, but before doing so knelt down, as usual, to say her prayers. While engaged in her devotions, it was a habit with her to look upward, and the face of Phoebus was generally her point of sight, as it were and the object on which her eyes most easily rested. On this par ticular night, as usual, she raised her eyes to Phoebus. What does she see ? Has Pygmation been at work ? Has he filled those dull silk eyes with vital lire? Or is she dreaming ? No. Possessed natur ally of wonderful courage and calmness, she continued to move her lips as if in silent prayer, and never once withdrew her gaze; and still the eyes looked down upon hers. The light of her candles shone distinctly on living orbs, and her good keen sight enabled her, after a clev erly managed scrutiny, to see that the ta pestry eyes of Phoebus had been cut on:, and that, with her door locked, and every servant in bed in their distant apartments, and all her jewels spread out before her, she was not alone in the room. She con cluded her prayers with her face sunk in her hands. We can well imagine what those prayers must have been. She knew there was some one behind the tapestry; ale knew that bells and screams were equally useless ; and she laid down in her bed as usual and waited the issue, her only omission being that she did not put away her jewels. "They may save my life she said to herself; and she closed her eyes. The clock struck five before a sound was heard, and then the moment arrived. She heard a rustle, a descent from behind the tapestry, and a man stood at her dressing-table. He took . off his coat, and one by one he secured the jewels beneath his waistcoat. What would be his next move? Would it be to the bed side or to the window ? Ho turned and approached her bedside ; but by that time she had seen enough, and again closed her eyes and resigned herself to the Providence whose protection she had been craving. The man was her own coachmen. Ap parently satisfied by a brief glance under his dark lantern that he had not disturbed her, he quietly unlocked the door and left her. For two hours, they must have seem ed two days—she allowed the house to re main unalarmed, her on!y movement hav ing been to relock the door which her liv ing Pho3bus bad left ajar. At seven in the morning she rang the bell, and or dered the carriage round ju-t after break fast. All this was according to her usual habits. On he box was the man who had cost her a night's rest and most pro pably all her jewels. However, she drove off; she went straight to the house of a magistrate. ''Seize my coachman !" said she ; secure him and search him. I have been robbed, and I hardly think he has had time to dis encumber himself of the jewels he has taken from mc." She was obeyed, and she was right. The amethysts were still about him, and lie gave himself to without a struggle. Corporal Punishment, The relation of teacher and scholar is greatly misunderstood, both on the part of parents and teachers. Yet, it should not even be debatable, because of its everyday life. It is decided by the courts, that it is the business of the teacher to exact obedience in school, and it is his legal right. "Ae must exercise reasonable judgment and discretion in determining, when to punish and to what extent." Various reasons unite to make him-the best judge of the occasion and extent. "To furnta correct opinion as to the ne cessity and extent of the punishment, con siderable allowance should be made to the teacher by way of protecting him in the exercise of his discretion. Hence the teacher is not liable on the grounds of excess cf punishment, unless it is clearly excessive. If there is any reasonable doubt whether the punishment was ex cessive, the teacher should have the bene fit of the doubt." He to the effect of marks made in whip ping, the following case is the ruling one on record : A lady in New York punished a mill child to such an extent as to leave marks, all of which were of such a character as to pass away and leave no permanent in jury. The judge instructed the jury that if they believed the child (six or seven years old) had been whipped so as to leave marks, the teacher was guilty of assault and battery. Under the charge the jury found the lady guilty, but she appealed to a higher court, in which Judge Gaston in au able and exhaustive opinion reversed the decision of the court below. Hear him : "But any correction, how ever severe, which produces temporary pain only, and no permanent ill. cannot be pronounced im moderate, since it may have been necessa ry for the reformation of the child, and does not injuriously affect its future wel fare, Within the sphere of his authority the matter is the judge when correction is required, and of the degree of correction necessary; and like all others trusted with a discretion, he cannot be made penally responsible for error of judgment, but only for wickedness of purpose. There was an error in the instruction given to the jury, that if the child was whipped by the de fendant, so as to occasion marks, the teach er had exceeded her authority and was guilty as charged. The marks were all temporary, and in a short time disappear ed. no permanent injury was done to the child," This is the law in Pennsylvania, and prosecutors will not find it an easy matter to get this decision reversed by any court in the State. The Contented Man A wealthy epicure applied toan Arabian doctor for a prescription that would restore his body to health and give happiness to his mind. The physician advised him to exchange shirts with a man who was per fectly contented with his lot, upon which the patient set out upon his journey in pursuit . of such a person. After many months spent without accomplishing his object, he was told of a certain cobbler of whom every one had spoken as a model of contentment and happiness. Pursuing the direction given, the traveller was pleas ed with the sight of the cobbler enjoying a comfortable nap on a board. Without ceremony he was aroused from his slum bers, and the important interrogatory, whether he was contented with his lot was answered in the affirmative. "Then," said the seeker after happiness, "I have one small boon to ask at your hands. It is that you exchange shirts with me, that by this means I also may become contented and happy." "Most gladly would I accede to your request, "replied the cobbler, '.but—" "Nay, refuse me not," interrupted the man of wealth ; "any slim thou mayest name shall be thine." "I seek no thy wealth, "said the cob bler, "butHaut—" "But what ?" "The truth is—l have no shirt!" Borrowing Trouble, What a vast proportion of our lives is spent in anxious and useless forebodings concerning the future—either our own or that of our dear ones. Present joys, pre sent blessings slip by, and we lose half their sweet flavor, and all for the want of faith in Him who provides for the tiniest insect in the sunbeams. Oh, when shall we learn the sweet trust in God that our little children teach us every day, by their confiding faith in us ? We who are so mutable, so faulty, so irritable, so unjust ; and Be, who is so watchful, so pitiful, so loving, so forgiving Why cannot we. slipping our hand in His each day, walk trustingly over that day's appointed path, thorny or flowery, crooked or straight, knowing that evening will bring us sleep, and peace, and home. Why toil distrust fully to gather up manna for days yet to come, when every dewy morning shall find it freshly sprinkled at our feet ? When we do get near "our Father" how wonderful seems this our distrust—how our eyes overflow, that we could make so mean a return for that all-embracing, all bountiful, generous kindness, which is measureless as the ocean, though our short comings are numerous as its tossing waves. LET him have his own way; allow him free use of money; suffer him to rove where he pleases on the Sabbath day; give him free access to wicked companions;call him to no account for his evenings ; furnish him with no stated employmet. Pursue any one of these ways, and you will experience a most marvellous deliverance if you have not to mourn over a debased and ruined child. Thousands have realized the sand result, and have gone mourning to their graves. THERE are 16,671 dogs taxed in Ver mont this year at $1 each. Pain @gainful. Arresting Hemorrhage A large number of de4ths from wounds might be prevented if the means were im mediately at hand for stopping the flow of blood from some artery. In any case the loss of blood is a disaster from which it takes a long time to recover. The means to be taken to save life must be adopted instantly, before a surgeon can be called, and therefore ought to be commonly un derstood. Bleeding from a vein is of little comparative consequence; that from an artery is indicated at once by coming in jets at each beat of the heart, and being et a bright scarlet color instead of purple.— If the wound be of such a character that the end of the artery can be seen, it can be readily taken up with a hook or sharp pointed fork by any one who keeps his wits about him in spite of the sudden alarm, and tied with a strong thread. Oth erwise, tie the limb between the wound and the heart, the simplest device being to bind the handkerchief around and run stick beneath the knot, twisting it up unti. the requisite pressure be attained to stop the bleeding. Every intelligent person should make it his business to learn prac tically from some medical friend the best method of thus extemporizing a tourniquet, and the places where the compress is best applied A little knowledge of this kind will not unfiequently go a great way in saving the life of a friend. Ordinary bleeding from small cuts or injuries may be stopped by cold water or pressure until a clot has had time to form. The wisdom of our Maker has made this wonderful provision, that as soon as blood ceases to circulate in its proper channels, or comes in contact with the air, it will coagulate. By this means a plug is form ed at the mouth of an open vessel to stop the flow of blood. Cold water and various other styptics, like sulphate of iron, tannin, alum, and matica hasten this result.— Home and Health. Croup. There are two forms of croup—the spasmodic and pseudo-membranous. Tile former occurs suddenly; the child usually awakening from a sleep with a shrill, hoarse cough, and difficulty of breathing. It is the result of a spasmodic affection of the muscles of the thrc at, caused by reflex . nervous excitement produced by a vitiated condition of the stomach or over excite. ment of the brain and spinal marrow. A hot bath, cold pack to the throat, and a few draughts of cold water will usually re lieve it. If this should not succeed, four or five drops of the tincture of lobelia may be administered on a little sugar every ten or fifteen minutes, when the disease will disappear. Pseudo-membranous croup is first mani fested by slight chills and lever, soreness of the throat, hoarseness, hurried respira tion, quick pulse, and general febrile ex citement. The child is generally better during the day ; but worse at night, when the hoarseness increases and a croupy, troublesome cough, accompanied by Mt ex pectoration of a tough, viscid mucous oc curs. These symptoms are increased until the false membrane accumulates in the trachea, or upper portion of the windpipe, and the patient dies from asphyxia. It is the result of an inflammation of the mucous membrane of the upper air-passage. The treatment consists in a hot bath, hot packs applied to the throat, a mitt lobelia emet ic followed by ten grains of quinine, two grains of pulverized sanguinaria canadensis or blood-root, made into ten powders and one given every hour in a teaspoonful of sweetened vinegar and water. As soon as the powders have been taken one teaspoon ful of reetic syrup of sanguinaria should be given every half hour. The patient should be kept quiet in bed, and be al lowed only boiled milk or rice and milk as diet. A Small Pox Remedy A correspondent writes as follows : "I herewith append a recipe which has been used, to my knowledge, in a hundred ca ses. It will prevent or cure the small pox. though the pittings are filling. When Jenner discovered cow-pox in England, the world of science hurled an avalanche upon his head; but when the most scientific school of medicine in the world—that of Paris—published that recipe as a panacea for small pox, it passed unheeded. It is as unfailing as fate, and conquers in every instance. It is harmless when taken by a wellperson. "It will also cure scarlet fever. Here is the recipe as I have used it, and cured my children of scarlet fever; here it is as I have used it to cure small pox ; when learned physicians said the patient must die. it cured : Sulphate of zinc, one grain; foxglove (digitalis), one grain ; half a tea spoonful of sugar; mix with two table spoonful of Water. When thoroughly mixed, add four ounces of water. Take a spoonful every hour. Either disappears in twelve hours. For a child, smaller doses, according to age. If countries would com pel their physicians to use this, there would be no need of pest houses. If you value advice and experience, use this for that terrible disease."—N. Y. Uitizen. Turpentine in Headache, Dr. Warburton Begbie, in the Men burgh Medical Journal, reccommelids the use of turpentine in the severe headache which is apt to oocur in nervous and hys terial women. "There is," he says, "an other class of sufferers from headache, and this is composed of both sexes, who may be relieved by turpentine. I refer to the frontal headache, which is most apt to occur after prolonged mental effort, but may likewise be induced by unduly-sits tained physical exertion, what may be styled the headache of a fatigued brain. A cup of very strong tea often relieves this form of headache; but this remedy, with not a few, is perilous, for, bringing retie, to pain, it may produce general restless ness, and—worst of all—banish sleep. Turpentine, in doses of twenty or thirty minams, given at intervals of an hour or two, will not only remove the headache, but produce, in a wonderful manner, that soothing influence in which reference has already been made." HICCOUGH CURED BY CHLORAL.-Dr. P F. Whitehead has recently prescribed for a patient with hiccough, which had continued for 36 hours. Various remedies were used with but little good effect, save a temporary cessation by the use of mor phine hypodermically. Thirty grains of chloral hydrate gave immediate and per manent relief.—Lancet. DON'T be afraid of fresh air. NO. 47. Zlit *Agit eircit. 'Tis But a Drop. "Tis but a drop," the father said, And gave it to his son ; But little did he think a work Of death was then begun. The "drop" that lured him, when the babe Scarce lisped his father's name, Planted his fatal appetite . Deep in his infant frame. 'Tis but a drop," the comrades cried, In truant schoolboy tone ; "It did not hurt us in our robes— It will not, now we're grown," And so they drank the mixture up, That reeling, youthful band; And each hbd learned to love the taste From his own father's hand. " ' Tis but a drop, I need it now," The staggering drunkard said; It was my food in infancy— My meat, and drink, and bread. A drop—a drop—oh l let me have, 'Twill so refresh my soul!" He took it—trembled—drank, and died, Grasping the flowing bowl. Family Worship. We read that Abraham, the father of the faithful went down into Egypt, being driven thither by famine. Success at tended him there, so that he increased in wealth, but it was not like Canaan, the land which he had left, the land which God had shown him, the land'of promise; he sojourned there for a season only, and then returned to the place where he had for merly resided. A pleasant and instructive account of that return we have in the words : "Abraham went to Bethel, the place where his tent had been from the beginning, unto the place of the altar which he bad made there from the first, or beginning, and there called he on the name of the Lord." It seems that the place where his taut was, his altar was; that no sooner did he pitch his tent for himself than be erected an altar for God. This was as it should be. The tent and the altar should go together. The dwell ing for a family should have its altar, around which the members of the house worship God. This was Abraham's opin ion and practice. Family worship there fore is no new thing. It is as old as the days of father Abraham. It is the good old way in which the patriarchs walked. We read of the altar that Isaac raised at Beersheeba. Jacob also, whenever he fixed Isis habitation, did the same. And David the sweet singer of Israel, was care ful to return from the public duties of state, to perform the more pleasing duty of praying with his family ; for we have .t upon r -cord, 1 Chron. xvr, 43, that when on a certain occasion he had been assisting at a great and solemn ceremony, the removal of the ark from the house of Obededom to the place prepared for it, and "all the people departed every man to his house, David returned to bless his household." These examples of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and David, have been follow ed by believers ever since. And it is cer tainly a duty recognized and enjoined by the sacred scriptures; for those who keep up the service of prod with_ their JaLA:m, We find th.tt inspiration t7rnsineila7iLita those who neglect to do it, he threatens "The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked, but he blesseth the habitation of the just." What is Happiness? That depends much upon organization and development. Happiness, speaking in the true sense of the word, increases as sensibility develops, and decreases as ex citability grows. The activity of thesower forces of mind partakes strongly of the physical excitement; whereas the activity of the higher group is higher, more natu ral, less excitable, and more enjoyable. The more excitement there is in pleasure, the more it is adulterated. Those low in the scale of development define happiness as a "good time," where joviality and up roarious boisterousness rule the hour; while the person of higher development might not be able to find more happiness than in the woods, silent and alone, medi tating, as with a book before him, yet there may be no more than the grandeur of nature to be teen. Let a picnic of rougsh go into the woods one day; and one com posed of the most cultivated classes—ar tists, poets, philosophers, statesmen, &c.— on the next. A better illustration could not be found. The highest pleasures tran quilize, and the lowest excite and intoxi cate. The happiness of life will depend upon where a wan places his centre. If he makes his centre in the basilar faculties he will reap corruption ; if he makes the centre in the coronal faculties he will reap life everlasting. The great majority of men would be satisfied if they could have warmth, joy, food, sleep, and the excite ment of war or intoxication. The human system cannot generate enough of happi ness to fill out the whole being. All our faculties cannot operate at once. There fore distributive and successive happiness is the order of nature; and this distribu tion must take place on settled principles. Every man ought to determine what part of his mind he will live by. The great majority of men live in the cellar of the soul. It is time that the parlor should be more occupied, and books and pictures and music take the place of whiskey bar rels. potato bins, and park barrels. Christian Work, Begin at once with the work to be done. In the family, the church, the neighbor hood; in any and all the walks and ways of life, begin at once and work on; there is much to do. The summer is over, and you have had many interruptions in reli gious culture, within and without. Now is the time to begin again, a work never to be intermitted. Work at home, in your own heart, or your temper, your personal habits, your mode of speaking to inferiors and equals , and try to be better every day that you grow older. Do something daily to make those at home more cheerful con tented and happy. 'Let an atmosphere of kindness and charity be around you al ways, and others will breathe and be glad. Do good in the neighborhood. -There is never a time when you cannot find some thing to do, if you want it. Charity never faileth. You have w3rk to do in the Church. The prayer-meeting, the mission, the Sun day school—all ask your aid, and ought to have it. If you are a church member, do your duty, your whole duty, or else quit. Be faithful with one talent or ten ; but do something as well as you can. It casts nothing, and it is worth every thing, to be a faithful, working Christian, always in your place, and always ready to do with your might what your hand finds to do. Work all the time. Even in play, in rest, in recreation, so live as to be the better for it, and to make others better.