VOL. 47 The Huntingdon. Journal. J. A. NASh, POBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. J. R. DURBOBROW, Office on the Corner of Bath and Washington streets. Tns Hu,:ll.nm: JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. Dunnonnow and J. A. Nesn, under the firm name of J. R. DURBORROW et Co., at $2,00 per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid for in sin months from date of subscription, and $3 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the publishers, until all arrearages are paid. 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Office, No. 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan. 4,71. EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re -A-A• moved to Leistees new building, Hill street r•—itingdon. pan.4,'7l. Ct L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. A—A • Bmwn's now building. No. 520, Hill St., Huntingdon, Ps. [apl2,'7l. HGLAZIER, Notary Public, corner • of Washington and Smith streets, Hun- tingdon, Pa. 'WI C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law -A--A-e Moe, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apcl9,'7l. J• SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at e" Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, hree doors west of Smith. Dan.4'7l. R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth it" • ecary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun tingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [u0r.23,10. T HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, efi • No. 319 Hill at., Huntingdon, Pa. [jan.4,'7l. R. DURBORROW, Attorney-at- J• Law, Huntingdon, Pa., wijl practice in the several Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of estates of dece dents. - Oboe in he JounNAL Building. [feb.l,7l W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law J • and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., Soldiers' claims against the Government for back pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ed to with great care and promptness. Office on Hill street. Dan.4,'7l. ' ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle anent of Estates, &e.; and all other Legal Business prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch. pHs Office in room lately occupied by It. Milton Speer, Esq. Dan.4,'7l. MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly to all legal business. Otice in Cunningham's new building. fjan.4;7l. It. ALLISOY BILLER. H. BUCHANAN. MILLER It BUCHANAN, DENTISTS, No. 228 Hill Street, HUNTINGDON, PA April 5, 'il-ly. 110) 31. &M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to all kinds of legal business entrusted to their care. Office on the south side of Hill street, fourth door west of Smith. Dan.4,'7l. 11#, A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, • Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. im03'31,11. JOHN SCOTT. S. T. SHOWN. J. H. BAILEY QCOTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against the Government will be promptly prosecuted. Office on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Han -A- • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, Esq. Lian. 4,7 I. WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other legal business attended to with care and promptness. Office, No. 229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l. Miscellaneous EXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. January 4,1871. COLORED PRINTING DONE AT V the Journal Office, at Philadelphia price. NEAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, COR. NAY NE and JUNIATA STREETT ITNITEI) STATES HOTEL, HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA APCLAIN k CO., PROPRIETORS ROBT. KING, Merchant Tailor, 412 Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib eral share of patronage respectfully solicited. A. prill2, 1371. L EWISTOWN BOILER WORKS. SNYDER, WEIDNER & CO., Manufac nrers of Locomotive and Stationary Boilers, Tanks, Pipes, Filling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet Iron Work of every description. Works on Logan street, Lewistown, Pa. All orders prsriptly attended to. Repairing done at short noLi.e. [Apr 5,11,1 y.. A R. BECK, Fashionable Barber • and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on hand and for sale. (aplB,ll-13m GO TO THE JOURNAL OFFI CE For all kinds of printing. The Huntingdon Journal. Tariff and Free Trade , We are indebted to the publishers of the American Working People for the follow ing beautiful and expressive cartoon : The accompanying farm scene is reality. It shows what we were and what we are ; what we are and what we may become. It is truth itself, and the tens of thousands of farmers know it. The manufacturers and workingmen know it. Three times this nation has been tossed into bankrupt cy and poverty while English capitalists stood and looked on, and laughed at us, and rattled our hard-earned American gold in their well-filled pockets. And while they stood chuckling at our short-sighted ness, American workingmen were idle and starving, and American farmers were re duced to poverty. Three times in our national history we have been led by the nose by English so phistry into natlbnal poverty. In 1816-18 we were so far reduced that Gen. Jackson exclaimed, "Where has the American far mer a market for his surplus products ? I jan.l2ll Except for cotton, he has neither a foreign nor a home market. Common sense points out a remedy. Draw from agriculture the superabundant labor, employ it in median ism and manufactures, thereby creating a home market for your bread.tuffa, and you at once give a home market for more bread stuffs than all Europe now furnishes. We have been too long subject to the policy of British merchants. It is time we should become a little more Americanized, and instead of feeding the paupers and laborers of Europe, feed our own, or else in a short time, by continuing our present policy, we shall be paupers ourselves." So thought and spoke General Jackson. The people demanded protection and got it, but in a few years smooth-tongued politicians and well-fed English agents poured into the American ear oil while she slept in her prosperous senuritythe deathly oil of free trade—which, so rapidly through the veins and arteries of its body did it course, that in 18371:Kinks collapsed, merchants were penniless, workingmen were idle and people starved. Ulu Atog-grlltr. Eva, The Mason's Child. CHAPTER I Faster and fester spread the flames, and now the ship was enveloped in a fiery sheet. Men and women rushed madly over the side to meet a quicker but less painful death. The boats, with one exception, had been overladen and capsized. There were hasty prayers, and heart-rending cries of misery and distress. Death hovered, vulture-like, over his victims; some clung desperately to the vessel's side, some sup porting themselves in the water by articles hastily snatched from the burning ship, and with which they had leaped wildly into the sea. The captain sang through his trumpet, "Take heart and sustain your self as long as possible. A ship is coming to our relief." James Durant stood upon the almost de serted deck with his only child, but four years of age, folded closely in his arms. His eyes swept the horizon in search of the ship to which the captain had alluded. He discovered it at last, but it was at least four miles off, Before the ship could ar rive, they must be burned to death ; or, if he sprang, as others had, down into the water, both he and the child would be drowned, for he was not a swimmer. _ _ The little arms were twined about his neck, the pale cheek rested confidingly against his own, but the brave child did not tremble, "0, my God, is there po help ?" cried the despairing father, as the flames swept nearer, and he felt that his present position could be held but a little longer. "Here, give the child to me, and I will save her," and turning quickly, Mr. Durant stood face to face with a stranger who had a life preserver in his hand. Aichls-tf Quick ! there is no time to be lost! The child can have my life preserver, and it will float her easily. Yonder is another ship ; I have been watching it for the last five minutes. It will reach us in half an hour at the most. There, that is fastened securely. Now, little girl, lam going to throw you into the water. You aro not afraid?" "No, no, bat papa?" The father caught her frantically in his arms. "My darling Eva, you may never see your father again ; but do not fear—kod will guard you, and somebody will find you and take care of you. If you never see papa again, remember he is in heaven with mamma." "Has she no relatives ? asked the stran ger. And yet the country was overflowing with British free trade goods, tantalizing the hungry eyes of penniless men. Mills, factories, workshops, were everywhere clo sed. Farmers were everywhere in pover ty; farms, mills, shops, goods, stocks were everywhere sold for taxes and executions. The country tottered on the very verge of national bankruptcy. The people saw once more their error, and prayed that if saved from this evil they would never fall down in the desert and worship the golden calf of British free trade. They recovered and grew in wealth, but they again forgot of their poverty, and in 1846 we again en tered the fatal maelstrom of free trade.— Sweetly on we glided for a few years, on the outer edge of the seductive current, scarcely noticing the under current that was drawing us by degrees rapidly onward- In 1851 we began to feel ourselves go ing, but the gold storm of California held us in check for awhile, but even it was not strong enough, and we rapidly swept on, and in, and down, until the dreary days of 1856-57, when soup houses filled the land I TARlFF—Market at Your Door. instead of mills and factories; when crest fallen workingmen with brawny aril a were compelled to eat this humble bread of Charity and degradation. The single vote of a body of men called Congress brought us to this poverty in each instance. In the picture before us we see the ef fects of free trade With a market across the ocean. An oddly matched couple of faded and dispirited brutes, who evidently think they have enough to do to stand up on their legs, are urged on by a ragged and more dispirited farmer to drag a plow. One is a broken down stage horse which years ago, before railroads became the medium of travel and exchange, was sold to the farmer for five or ten dollars to drag out his miserable existence. His companion is a mule of equally questionable antece dents, and looks to be a fit candidate for the highest honors of the boneyard. The cabin where the farmer and his wife and children stay—not live—is a hov el, around the unprotected door of which hogs, children and chickens meet. The fences are broken down and the bridge in "None in this country. I am from Eng land, and am traveling for her health." "Take that pin from your bosom and fasten it to her clothing." "Heaven help yon for the thought," said the father, and in a moment the square and compass was glistening on the bosom of the child, and the stranger took her from her father's arms, saying : "I am stronger than you. She must be cast be yond the reach of these poor drowning wretches, or they will rob her of her litb preserver." The white drapery fluttered through the air, and sank below the waves ; then rising, it floated lightly on the waters. James turned to the stranger with tear ful eyes. "May God bless you and preserve you, noblest of men. But you, as well as my self, must be lost !" "No, I am a good swimmer, and here is a piece of board with which you can sus tain yourself until relief shall arrive." The father took another glance at the white speck floating rapidly away, and with an inward "God preserve her !" sprano. ° in to the sea, followed by the stranger. But 1 the two floated in different directions, and they saw each other no more. Two hours later James Durant awoke, as from the sleep of death, and found him self in the cabin of a strange ship, with strange and sympathizing faces all around him. In a moment he realized all that had passed, and said eagerly, though fee bly: "My child, little Eva, is she safe?" There was no response, and a low moan escaped the father's lips. "Courage, sir," sal4 a lady with tearful eyes, "some of the passengets were saved by another ship." The father's countenance lighted. "God grant that she may be safe." Durant recovered his usual strength in few hears, and sought among the saved for the stranger v/ho had proved himself so true a Masonic Brother, but he was not to be found. "He must be on the other ship," said Mr. Durant, "and he will care for my Eva." Both ships were at port the following day, but although Mr. Durant found the stranger who had befriended him, and who proved to be a Mr. Wadsworth from a Southern city, Eva was seen by no one, and was given up as lost. CHAPTER 11. 11Here, wife, is a child that has just been washed upon the beach. She is cold And stiff, but think sbe is not yet dead. Let have some warm flannels iupuedi z ately, and tell Thomas to ruu for. Dr, Hunt 1" It was long before the quivering lashes HUNTINGDON, PA., FEBRUARY 21, 1872 the distance is in ruins. The mill, once the scene of busy industry, is idle and in ruins. The farmer raises a little Indian corn. Vlap-jacks and pork is his diet.— There is no enterprise or business activity. He has no incentive to exertion. There are none to buy from him. The working people are out of employment and have no money. He must send his produce to Europe, but it is not needed there, for the pauper labor of Europe can raise corn and wheat cheaper than he. He cannot build a fine house, nor buy the cheap English goods because he can earn no money, and in the very midst of cheapness he is in rags and poverty. Far mers of America, are not these facts ; workingmen of America, are not thew facts ? We appeal to the days of 1856 and 1857 for proof. But let us close our eyes from this dis mal picture and look on the opposite one. For aught we can tell it is the same man than we. can send her. American work we see and the same place that is before lug people cannot buy because they are no. We see a sight to be seen on ten thrown out of work and are out of money thousand of farms throughout the States and idle. Who will the farmer s ell to ?_ FREE TRADE—Market Across the Ocean. of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, lowa, Michigan and other States. There is a joyous farmer and proud horses who look and step. as though they knew that a plen tiful feed of oats awaited them at evening. There is a moving train in the distance carrying the products of agricultural and mechanical industry. There is a woolen Trill with its five hundred pairs of busy hands, an iron mill beyond it with its two thousand men before hot furnaces and thundering rolls. These mills are the types of American civilization and American in dependence. They speak tariff and a mar ket at our own door. The two thousand hands provide sup- port for at least ten thousand people. The iron made goes over the country and pro vides employment for the support of at least a hundred thousand people. Cut down an iron mill, and all those who ob tain employment out of it directly and in directly, are deprived of employment and have no means to buy. These men in woolen mills and iron mills must be fed. They eat corn and wheat and feeble fluttering of the heart gave token that success would crown the efforts or Eva's rescuers; but, by and by the lids parted, and revealed two large, liquid, sky blue eyes, that watidered from Awe to face in a bewildered way, and then closed wearily. "I fear she will not recover very rapid ly," said the doctor. "She has a delicate constitution, and will require the best of care." ii.Pqor child," said Mrs. Turuer, s J do nqt wqnder she is nearly dead. But who can she be ? "Some terrible accident must have occurred at sea." "You had better examine her clothing," said the doctor, "perhaps you can find some clue to her relations." "Mrs. Turner lifted the gossamer white dress, and turned it over and over. The square and compass placed there by Mr. Durant flashed upon the eyes of all at once. The doctor and Mr. Turner looked at each other, but neither spoke, and Mrs. Turner did not notice the tear that glistened in her husband's eye. The doctpr's tears that Eva would not recover rapidly proved to be too well founded. Days and weeks of fever suc ceeded in awakening her to life, during which she talked incoherently of "papa" and of "poor mamma," and of the "burn ing ship," and of "hunger." She finally awoke to consciousness, and asked many questions as to where she was, and how she came in the dark room, and who were those who attended her, but Dr. Hunt for bade her being questioned until she was stronger. How interested were all in the little canvalescent, whom the elements had cast into the little seaboard town. The ladies declared that never before did a child possess such lovely eyes or such beautiful curls, while the gentlemen seemed no less interested, and brought her gifts of every thing that might please her childish fancy. "My dear little girl," said Dr. Hunt, when Eva was at length able to ride out, "will you toll me your name?" _ _ "Eia," said the child, "I thought you knew it." "Yes, I know your name is Era, but I want to know the rest of your num—your father's name." "Eva Durant, Mr. Durant is my papa." "Yes, I want you to tell me all you can remember about your father and mother." Eya's eyes filled with tears : cigh, sir, my mamma died and went to live with the angels. And I do not know where papa is: He said if I never saw him again I must know he had gone to mamma." "Where were you when he told you this ?" .04 the ship; and oh, the fire burned me so; and papa held me in his arms un- and beef and pork. Farmers must bring more ground under, cultivation for every new mechanic that finds employment in a mill or shop. It is to the farmer's inter est to have manufacturing increase. The more manufacturers and working people, the greater demand is there for his corn and wheat and pork. If there were no manufactories or iron works in this coun try, he could sell nothing. Each man would raise his own. But give us a work ingman and we must have a farmer to keep him in victuals. Notwithstanding this, there are many farmers who believe that they would get richer by having free trade which would destroy manufacturing and the employment of all people engaged in it. They say they could then buy things cheaper from England. How could they? Where would they get money to pay for them ? Not from England, because Eng land can get cheaper corn from Europe To no one. He raises just enough to keep himself, and those whg have saved money iu better times are taxed to support soup horses to keep the soul and body together of men who would willingly work if they tr..uld get it. We would then be doing just as General Jackson said, viz : "Sup porting foreign paupers while making worse paupers of the American working people," God forbid that such may ever be the fate of America. But while we read, hun dreds of British agents and recreant, soul less, avaricious Americans are fighting night and day, disseminating tracts and spreading doctrines and buying up papers for the disseminating of principles designed to overturn the system of protection to American industries. They are dealing out quietly their sugar-coated poison, and winning adherents who believe that a free trade law will bring them cheapness and plenty, No greater delusion exists. It will bring as it has brow;.ht, poverty, star vation and misery. til a strange man took me and tied some thing under my arms and threw me into the water, and I have not seen papa since. 0, sir, can you tell me where he is ?" ! , No, dear child; but perhaps we way yet find him." _ _ And this was all that Eva's new friend could discover. It was plain she had come from the ship which had been burned a few weeks before ; that she had been cast upon the sea, and floated to the shore; but where was her fatliep ? Had he been saved, and was he searching foi his child ? Every possible effort was now made to find him. The circumstances of the case, with the statement of the child, were published fully in the newspapers of the neighbor ing cities, but the grief-stricken rather, be lieving his child to be lost, had sailed a week before for Europe, and it soon be came settled in the minds of Eva's protec tors, that he had perished. But the lit tle one still prattled abut her "papa," and said he would come by-and-by. Those who believed differently would not pain her by contradiction, The square and compass that had been found upon her clothing was regarded as a powerful appeal from a Mason to his brethren to care for his child. So it came to pass that Eva became, as it were, the special charge of Hiram Lodge, No. 93, Mr, Turner would gladly have taken the entire care of the little waif, and the weathly Senator 11 , - reqested to be al lowed to adopt her as his daughter, but the Brethren in Lodge assembled, declar ed by a vote that Eva should be reared, educated and protected by the Lodge, and that as Providence had placed her in Brother Turner's house, that should be her home. And so years went by, and Eva be came a healthy, joyous child, flitting here and there, and everywhere meeting the warmest of welcomes. The Masonic Hall was but a few rods from Mr. Turner's res idence, and Eva went with him as far as the dear, and then returned alone always bidding the Tyler "take good care of Pa Turner, and send him home early." CHAPTER The six years that followed the death aids wife and the loss of his child, pass ed wearily to James Durant. He visited nearly every country in the Old World, seeking among the scones ot , natural beau ty and grandeur as well as of historic in terest, for the mental rest which could never be found. Once more he turned his steps toward America, and Rltight his Masonic pliend, Wadsworth. Vinding that gentleman abotit setting out with his family on a journey to the Atlantic Nast, Mr, POPO agoepted the invitation to ac company them to Saratoga and Niagara, then to New York, where, leaving the ladies, Mr. Wadsworth and Mr. Durant wandered from town to town along the coast, enjoying the beauty of the scenery and the quiet hospitality that greeted them more than the crowded hotels and the fashionable style of the popular water ing places—fancy, and the kind hand of Providence at length led them to the little town of B----, and the second evening after their arrival they visited the Mason ic Lodge. A warm welcome was extend ed to these Brethern from such a distance and both were invited to address the Lodge. Mr. Durant said : "Brethren, I have traveled much and long. I have found Masonic sympathy in every part of the globe, and everywhere is Masonry substantially the same. I can hardly tell where I reside. The world seems to be my home, as I remain but a short time in any town or country, bat my name is recordid in an English Lodge. I love my English Brethren, for they first brought me "from darkness to light," and I love English soil, for within it sleeps the wife of my youth. Bat I love American soil, also, for here have I found the warm est of welcomes, the kindest of brethren. And, too, my own child is sleeping in American waters, even beneath the very waves that wash the shores of your beau tiful village. "Six years have passed since this dear friend and brother rubbed himself of his life preserver, that my little Eva might perhaps escape. and we hoped the elements might be kind, and that. heaven would send her relief; but she wos never heard of more." The voiceof Mr. Durant was quivering with emotion, and unable to speak further, he seated himself and covered his fare with his hands. Glances of surprise and pleasure were cast from one to the other among the Brethren of Hiram Lodge. No one spoke, however, be: all eyes were turned upon the Master, Mr. Turner. For a moment he seemed reflecting; then taking a .slip of paper from the Secretary he wrote : "Mrs. Turner—Do not allow Eva to re tire until I return home; tell her lam going to bring a strange gentleman who wishes to see her. And calling Jun. Dea con, Mr. Turner gave him the note, say ing in a low voice : "Take this note to Mrs. Turner imme diately." "Why, Eva," said Mrs. Turner, when she had read the message, "you are -going to have company. A strange gentleman is at the Lodge-room who wishes to see you." "Who can it be ?" Eva looked perplexed and thoughtful. Suddenly her_ cheeks flushed, her eyes lighted, and clapping her little hands, she sprang to her feet and exclaimed, "Oh, it must be paps ! no one else would wish to see me; no one in the world ;" and before Mrs. Turner comprehended the child's in terpretation. she had passed the threshhold and was flitting through the moonlight toward the Lndge-room. The Tyler look ed amazed when Eva burst into the ante room, her cheeks burning, her eyes flash ing with joy and excitement. "Do not stop me; I am going in !" she. exclaimed. But the inner door was fast ened, and the impatient Eva nearly cried with vexation. Wait a moment said the Tyler, who having heard nothing of what had trans pired within, was at a loss to account for the strange conduct of the child ; "wait a moment, and I will send your request to Mr. Turner. He will come out and coo you." "I shall not wait! I do not want to see Mr. Turner; I want to see my papa." "The child is crazy, that is evident," said the perplexed Tyler to himself; but calling out the deacon, he bade him say that Eva was there and had determined to get into the Lodge-room. The deacon went to the East, and de livered his message in a low tone, and a moment afterward moved "that the craft be called from labor to refreshment," "Now," said Mr. Turner, "tell the Ty ler to let her come in." And Eva did come, or rather bounded, into the hall, more beautiful in her ex citement than ever before. She advanced to the center of the room and stood beside the altar ; huff poised upon the tiny foot she scanned rapidly the faces of all. Her eager eyes soon detected the strangers, who were seated behind each other, and for a moment she seemed irresolute, then darting forward with a glad cry, she threw her arms about the neck of Mr. Durant, crying, "Oh, papa! my dear papa! you have come home at last You were not burned ill the ship !" We will not attempt to paint the scene further, but will leave our readers to im agine the joy of the fond father, and also leave them to decide whether the tears that wet the cheeks of the brethren of Hi ram Lodge were caused by sympathy with the happiness of their little charge, or grief that they should lose one whom they ail loved. ut* for the A; Win. Jim Wolf and the Tom Cats I knew by the sympathetic glow upon his bald head—l knew by the thoughtful looks upon his face—l knew by the emotional flush upon the strowbOrry on the end of the free lOver's nose, that Simon Wheeler's memory was busy with the olden times. And so I pre pared to leave, because all these were symp toms of a reminiscence—signs that he was going to be delivered of another of his tire some personal experiences ; but I was too slow, he got the start of me. As nearly as I can recollect, the infliction was couched in the following language : We were all boys then and didn't care for nothing, and didn't worry about nothing, only to shirk school and keep up in a rcTivin' state of devilment all the time. This yer Jim Wolf I was talking about was the 'prentice, And he was the best hearted feller, lig was, and the most forglvin' aoti unselfish I ever see ; well there couldn't have been a bullier boy than he was, take him how you would, and sorry, sor ry enough was I when I saw bim for the last time. Me and Harry was always pestering him, and plastering Loss bills on his back, and putting bumble-bees in his bed, and goon, and sometimes we'd crowd id and bunk with him, notwithstanding his giowling, and we'd let on to get mad and tight across him, so as to keep him stirred up like. He was nineteen ;he was long, and lank, and bashful, and we was four teen and sixteen, tolerably worthless and lazy. So that night, you know, that spy ulster Mary gave a candy pullin',thoy started us off to bed tally, so as Oa company could have full swing, and we run into Jim to have some fen. Our window looked out onto the roof of the ell, and about ten o'clock a couple of old tom cats got rarin' and chorgin' ithont it, and car rying en like slit. There was four inches of snow on the roof, and it was frozen so that there was a right smart crust qf ice on it, and the moon was shining bright, and we could Beg Them eats like daylight. First they'd stand off and e-yow pow wow, just the same as if they were a cussin' one another, you know, and bow up theirbacksand push up their tails, and swell round, and spit, and then, all of a sudden, the gray cat he'd snatch a hendfu, of fur of the yaller cat's ham, and spin him round like the button on a barn door; but the yaller cat was game, and he'd come and clinch, and the way they'd gouge and bite and howl, and the way they'd make the fur fly was pow erful. Well, Jim he was disgusted with this row, and 'lowed he'd climb out there and shake 'em off 'en the roof. Ile hadn't reely no notion of doin ' it but we everlastingly dogged him, and 'lowed he'd always bragged how he would not take a dare, and so on, till bimeby he histed up the winder, and 10, behold you, he went— went exactly as he was, nothing on butashirt, and it was short. But you ought to a seen him creeping over that ice, and diggin' his toe nails in to keep from slippin' ; and above all you oi.ght to have seen that shirt-tail flappin' in the wind, and them long, ridiculous shanks of his glistening in the moonlight. Them company folks was down there under the eaves, the whole squad of 'em under that ornery shed of old Washington Bower vines— all sett:n' round about two dozen sassers of hot rady, which they'd so, in the snow to cool. And they was all laughin' and talkie' lively; but, bless you, they didn t know nothing about the panorama that was goin' on over their heads. Well,Jim went sneakin' up unbeknown to the tom cats—they were a swishin' their tails, you yowin'—and tryin' to clinch you know, and not payin' any attention—he went sneakin' right to the comb of the roof, till he was in within a foot and a half of 'em, and then all of a sudden he made a grab for the yaller cat l—But, by gosh I he missed fire and slipped, his heels flew up, and he flopped on his back, and he went off 'n that roof like a dart —went a slashin' and a crashin' down through them old rusty vines, and landed in the cen tre of Own company people!—sat down like a earthquake iu them two dozen sassers of red I hot candy, and let off a howl which was hark from the tomb ! Them gals—well, they look ed you know. They teen he wasp' dressed for company, and so they left. All done in a sec ond. It was just one little war whoop and a wisk of their dresses, and blame the wench of 'em was in sight, anywhere. Jim be was a sight. Ile was gormed with bilin' hot molasses candy clean down to his heels, and had more busted gassers haagin' to hint than if he was an Injun princess—and lie came a prancing up stairs, just a hoppin' and a cussin', and every one he made ho shed some china, and every squirm he fetched he dropped some candy I And blistered I Why bless your soul, that poor creature couldn't reelly set down fer as much as four weeks. Tha Alabama Muddle In the Washington correspondence of the Now York Times yesterday appeared the following, which fully explains the cause for all the recent excitement in this coun try in the relation to England and the treaty . . - The friendly communication to the Gov ernment of the United States, regarding the interpretation of the Treaty of Wash ington, alluded to in the Queen's speech, consists, so fair as in this Government is yet advised, of a note from Earl Granville to Gen. Schenck, the substance of which the latter communicates by telegraph. This note is not in the nature of a demand, nor even a request that there shall be any withdrawal of the claims for indirect dam ages. It alludes to the excitement in the public mind and in the press on the sub ject, and ascribes it to the different inter pretation put upon the treaty by the United States from that which it received at the hands of the English gavernment. This simply gives this Government an opportu nity, if it desires, of making an explana tion, or even of withdrawing that part of the case which is the subject of misinter pretation, but there is no demand on the part of the English government that such action should be taken. No reply has yet been made. The subject was informally talked over in the Cabinet meeting to-day, and the expression of the members of the Cabinet was quite unanimous that the re ference of all claims and questions to the Geneva Tribunal was absolute, and that to that body must he left the question of re jecting or allowing the claims known as "indirect losses." When a reply is made, this will be the position taken. The Pres ident is very firm on this point, and he is unanimously supported by his Cabinet, and by all the Republican strength in Con gress, including Mr. Sumner and General Banks. The opinion is nowhere entertained here that the British Government will is gist upon such a thing as a withdrawal of this part of the case of the United States. The feeling is quiet and Arm, and there is probably less excitement here over the i.`- nation than anywhere else. The following are the telegraph dis patches which have passed between Minis ter Schenck and Secretary Fish, alluded to in the above correspondence. They are taken from the New York Telegram of last evening : LONDON, Englan4, Feb. 5, 1872. To the lion. namilton Fish, Secretary of • State, Washington, D. C. : Sin—ln view of the expression of opin ion as to what the action of Great Britain should be in reference to the Geneva Con ference, on the part of Chief Justiee Cock burn and the general tone of the English press, I desire to he officially informed whether the Government of the United States will in any degree recede from its claims for indemnity as recently presented. Your obedient servant, ROBERT M. SCHENCK, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Pleni potentinry. THE REPLY. DEPARTMENT OF STATE, WASHINGTON, D. C., Feb. 5, 1872. To Ron. Robert Schenck, Envoy Ex- traordinary and Minister Plenipotentia ry of United States, London, England : grw:—YOn are authorized to'affirill that in no event will the Government of the United States recede from the position it has taken in relation to the Washington Treaty. Your obedient servant, HAMILTON Ftsu, Secretary of State. A YANIEEX THICK .—A story is told of P 312 1. Western "bloods," with more wit than ready cash, who went into a saloon a few day's ago, and "wined" themselves to the extent of sev eral dollar's worth of liquor. The liquor be ing drank the next question was the pay for it, and after a few moments consultation one of the quartette called the waiter and asked for the bill. One thrust his hand in his pock et, as if to draw out his purse; the second prevented him, declaring he would pay, and the third did the same, rho fourth forbade the waiter taking any money from either of them, hut all three persisted. As none would yield, one said, "the best way to decide the matter is to blindfold the waiter and whoever he apt catches shall settle the bill." This p,roposition was accepted and while the waiter was grop ing his way strew; the room, they all slipped out of tbc, house, and left the waiter in the lurch. A "coos exile of Erin," hungry and cold, entered a barber-shop, ate, with the brush, a cup of lather, dug out the soap-ball -at the bottom of the cup—ate that—and sat down to warm his feet 1 Then an astonished observer mustered his scattered wits and asked, "Hoe did you like your lunch ?" Says Pat, "The custard was illegant ; but, by me soul, I blare the egg was a little too long in the wather." A darkey says, "all men are made of clay; and, like meerschaum-pipes, are more valua ble when highly colored." NO. 8, Bht TOM firth. "Nellie is Dead !" These were the words that followed the midnight knock at the door of our room. The young girl whom we had seen daily for months, going about the house, taith ful to her humble duties, and singing light-heartedly amid her cares—and now dead !—dead while life was new, and hope bright, and the untried future all before her. Only two short days before well, and now—dead. One of those sudden and ter rible maladies that fasten on the very seat of life had seized her, and she had been hurried from life with appalling sudden ness. We went to the chamber of death. She had no mother or sister there, but those bound to her by the common sym pathies of humanity had smoothed the pil low and wiped the death damps from her brow. The members of the househould and a kind-hearted lady of the neighbor hood stood about the bed. No care of nursing, no skill of physician had availed. The white face upturned toward heaven— the closed eyes that should behold no more on earth—the folded hands that had done with their tasks. Poor Nellie : With out, the moonbeams flooded the earth with their white radiance,—the pitying stars looked down—the melancholy night wind wailed like a dirge. How poor and pur poseless seemed life and its pursuits—how earth faded away and eternity came near. Looking on all this, and on the face of the por dead child, how comforting to believe that after her suffering she had been taken by the hand, and by the Father led up the pleasant paths that fp to the garden of His land—Belfast Journal. Last Words of Cookman, •I am sweeping through the gates, wash ed in the blood of the Lamb :" This was the valedictory of the sainted Alfred Cook man. Could there be anything grander He has been preaching, singing, testifying to this Blood Divine for many years. No sweeter spirit. ere wore flesh about him. * He bad a vision of his father, the celebra ted preacher, George G. Cookman, who was lost in the "President," his eldest brother, and a son, whom he heard saying, "Here is Alfred, washing in the blood of the Lamb." But his last words were grandest of all. What could surpass in power of faith and being, such a holy triumph. No wildness, no weariness, no doubt, no extravagance. It was a grand procession in which he marched, a steadfast wing on which he was sailing. "I am sweeping through the gates."—Sweeping like a triumphant cav alcade; sweeping like at all spirit, "washing in the blood of the Lamb" no wavering here. He knew on whom he had believ ed; he knew by whom he was cleansed; he know how he was at those gates at all. —Zion's Herald. IT is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be turned to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched. its fite ulties dissipated; that is death. What is blindness? Is it blindness merely not to see with the outer eye ? Was Milton blind when he saw the angels of God and all the beautiful ones of the spiritual world in all their brightness before his soul's inner vis ion ? Is it deafness merely not to hear the outer world, when you can hear God's voice of approval, cheering you, and the words "Well done, good and faithful ser vant ? But it is deafness, and blindness, and death itself to have all our moral na ture utterly dissipated and wasted away. SOME of the happiest hours of my life have been passed in my library,and I nev er enter it without feelinr , upon my brow airs that blow from some better world than ours. My books have been friends that never failed me in the hour of need ; they have assuaged the sting of disappointment and pouring balm into the wounds of sor row; they have refreshed me when weary and soothed me when chafed; they have fed me with bread that never grew in earthly furrows, and charmed me with flowers that never bloomed in earthly gardens.—Ext. from Hon. Geo. S. Hillard. STRANGELY do some people talk of getting over a great sorrow; overleaping it, pass ing it by, thrusting it into oblivion. Not so. No one ever does that—at least no na ture which can be touched by the feeling of grief at all, The only way is to pass through the ocean of affliction solemnly, slowly, with humility and faith, as the Is raelites passed through the sea. Then its very waves of misery will divide and be come to ua a wall on the right side and on the left, until the gulf narrows before our eyes, and we land safe on the opposite shore.---Miss .lhtlock. CONDEMN no man for not thinking as you think. Let every one enjoy the free liberty of thinking for himself. Let every man use his own judgment, since every man must give an account of himself to God, Abhor every approach, in every kind or degree, to the spirit of persecu tion. If you cannot reason or persuade a man into the truth, never attempt to force him into it. If love will not compel him to come, leave him to God the judge of all. REMEMBER IT are al ways misunderstandings. Therefore it is wise and prudent to leave nothing to be imagined or inferred or supposed ; but everything expressed plainly. Hums), reason is very imperfect; memory is not infallible, and the best friends are often separated because one misunderstands the thing one way and the other another. IN nine eases out of ten, where married men become drunkards, or where they commit crimes against the peace of the community the foundation of these acts was laid while in a single state, or where the wife is, as is sometimes the case, an un suitable match. Marriage changes the current of a man's feelings and gives hits a centre for his thoughts, his affections and his acts.— Voltaire. Tux willow that bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak which resists it; and so in great calamities, hap pens that light and frivolous spirits reeov er their elasticity and presence of mind sooner than those of a loftier character.— Walter Scott. Tits aphorism "Whatever is, is right," would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence that nothing that ever was, was wrong.— Charles Dickens.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers