VOL. 47 The Huntingdon Journal. J. R. DURBORROW, - J. A. NASH, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. Office on the Corner of Rath and Washington streets. Tau HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Welnesday, by J. R. Dunnoanow and J. A. Noon, under the firm name of J. R. DunIIORROW & Co., at $2.00 per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid for in six 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. ADVERTISEMENTS will be inserted at Tun CENTS per line for each of the first four insertions, and ptve cexvs per line for each subsequent inser tion lessjhan three months. Regular monthly and yearly advertisements will be inserted at the following rates : 3mGm 9 illy 2 4 74 T 1 1 ,1 04 40 5 00 01 4 610 , 00 1 1 4 0 c0 . 1 00 . 1 3 8 6, 00 0 2T 1 $ 36 ,5 00110 00 14 00,18 00 "310050 00 05 80 800;1400 210020001 95018032500 30 00 1 col 38 00 GO 00 80 100 3ml6ml9mily 1 In:11 2 " ' - - -- - Special notices will be inserted at TW SLVE AND A HALF CENTS per line, and local and editorial no tices at FIFTEEN CENTS per line. AU Resolutions of Associations, Communications of limited or individual interest, and notices of Mar riages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. All udreetising acconnte arc due and collectable token the adrerticement t** once inserted. JOB PR[NTING of every kind, in Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— Hand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and every thing in the Printing line will be execu ted in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards DR. F. 0. ALLEMAN can be con suited at his office, at all hours, Mapleton, [march6,72. CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, D•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Williamson. [apl2,'7l. TIE. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully offers his professional services to the citizens of lluntingdon and vicinity. Office N 0.743 Wash ingtpn Street. may 24. DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his pridessional services to the community. Office, No. 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan.4,'7l. J. GREENE, Dentist. Office re • moved to Leister's new building, Rill street Dan.4,'7l GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. • Bmwn's new building, No. 520, Hill St., Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,'7l. WI GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner .may• of Washington and Smith streets, Hun tingdon, Pa. [jan.l2'7l. C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law TT • Office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [ap.19,71. JSYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, hree doors west of Smith. Dan.4ll. Jlt. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth ur • ecary, opposite tho Exchange Hotel, Hun ingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23,'70. Ar HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, rfi • No. 319 Hill st., Huntingdon, Pa. Dan. 4,71. :1" DURBORROW, Attorney-at t., • Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the several Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of estates of dece dents. Office in he JOURNAL Building. [feb.l,7l j MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law KA • 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. [jan.4,7l. Fr ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at • • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle ment of Estates, &c.; and all other Legal Business prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch. Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton Speer, Esq. Dan. 4,11. MILES ZENTMYER, •Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly to all legal business. Office in Cunningham's new building. pan. 4,71. R. ALLISON MILLER. R. MILLER & BUCHANAN, • DENTISTS, No. 223 Hill Street, HUNTINGDON, PA April 5, '7l-ly , TO) M. &M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys -AL- • 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. 4,71. Ro A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, • Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l;7l. BORN SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. 11. BAILEY ,LCOTT, 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. NYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun -A- • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, Esq. Ljan.4,7l. wriziAm A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law, Iluntingdon,Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other I:gal business attended to with care and promptness. Office, No. 229, 11111 street. [apl9,'7l. Miscellaneous. GO TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE For all kinds of printing. VXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, -112.4 Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. January 4, 1871. N EAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT UNITED STATES HOTEL, lIOLLIDAYSBURO, PA M'CLAIN k CO., PROPRIETORS ROBT. KING, Merchant Tailor, 412 Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib eral share of patronage respectfully solicited. A pril 12, WI. LEWISTOWN BOILER 'WORKS. GEORGE PAWLING & CO., Manufac urers of Loeomotiveand Stationary Boilers, Tanks, Pipes, Filling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet Iron Work of every description. Works on Logan street, Lewistown, Pa. All orders pr , "l- , tly attended to. Repairing done at short V. [Apr 5,'71,1y.. AR. BECK, Fashionable Barber • and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on hand and for sale. [5.p19,'71-6m COLORED PRINTING DONE AT the Journal Office, at Philadelphia prices The Huntingdon Journal. plums' Power. To the Flowers, Wake ! little wild flowers under the snow, Laying all winter, waiting to blow, Wake, for the storm clouds of winter are past; Wake, now, nor fear the cold, chilling blast. Up through the mossy grown meadows now peep, Opening dewy eyes, fresh from your sleep. Nestled in grassy bed, close in the fold Of your leafiness wrapped from the cold. Sweet blue violets. pets yellow eyed, Seek not from our glad searching to hide, Soifer us just to gather a few Beautiful blossoms steeped in the dew. May-buds ! buttercups ! Wake and unfold Leaves flushing red, or yellow as gold. Wake, for the birds are singing on high ; Warmer the sun burns ; soft is the eky ; Green are the woodlands lately so drear, Wake, then, my darlings! 'tis spring time of year. zhe otorm-gtuer. INDIAN BOW. A LEGEND OF EARLY TIMES. DURING the old French war, when the colonies united with England in repelling the aggressions of France, it is stated that "His Majesty," in order to have the best discipline observed in his troops in Amer ica, ordered five commissions of brigadier generals to be sent to America, and ten commissions fur the colonels of foot, to be disposed of by General Abercrombie, or whoever may be commander-in-chief in that country, to the most worthy and de serving persons, and that all the officers are to rise in rank and seniority according to their courage and merit, without the custom of purchasing that to which they are entitled. At this time Israel Putnam was little under forty years of age just in the prime of life, and at the culminating point of his fame as a hunter and scout. In 1758 he was raised to the rank of Major, and joining that division of the army intended for the conquest of northern New York and its lakes, came under the immediate command of Abercrombie at Fort Edward. While the main army was making its pre parations fur its grand embarkation on Luke George and the storming of Ticon derago, Putnam was the man of all others to watch the movements of the French, and to repel any movement they might attempt, For the purpose of watching the move ments of the French army at their formid able entrenchments at Ticonderago, to pen etrate so far as possible their designs, and to capture prisoners and annoy Malcolm as much as possible, a strong scout was ordered at least as far South as Wood Creak South Bay. It need scarcely be said that Israel Put nam was given charge of this expedition. He selected sixty men, every one of whom he knew as Indian fighters, hunters and gallant soldiers, and, at. the head of these, he started fur the place decided upon as their headquarters. The noted Robert Durkee, almost equal in every respect to Putnam himself ; was the second in com mand. To give them all additional experience in this sort of work, three were selected alternately to lead ti.is little band of ran gers. The woods at that time, over a him-, dred years ago, was so densely thick that a semi-darkness forever reigned in their gloomy precincts. Through these they threaded their way, with thesame cautious care that they followed the timid deer. The distance thus marched, to the spot where Whitehall now stands, was a little more than fifty miles. Reaching EFort Ann, the clearing, with its small, but friendly fort, presented a delightful con trast, while the pleasant little creek was revealed fur several miles. A little beyond was seen Battle Hill, and in close proxim ity the border mountains of Lake George. For three days not a gun was fired, and the.march of the little band of rangers was like that of shadows; but a noble buck, dashing by them, was brought down by a shot front one of their unerring rifles. At this point fifteen of the company, whom Putnam thought unequal to the service, were sent back, so that the band, now numbering forty-five of the very best of rangers, pressed on, and in due time reach ed Battle Rock, at the head of Lake Cham plain. This curious rock had every advantage for the formation of their primitive fort ress. Being within hearing of the water fall, the orders and noise inevitable ie the preparation of the parapet would have been unnoticed by the invading enemies, while the water, at the very narrowest portion, was of sufficient depth to float the largest war frigates. The width of the water in this place is in the neighborhood of a hun dred feet—less, if anything. The rock slopes down toward the water, its lower edge being seven feet above the surface, so that an enemy in passim* ' might be said to enter the very "jaws of death," if a foe, however small, might undertake to defend the pass. Such was the spot selected by "Old Put," for the establishing of a fort, from which to hurl back the invading French army, and all will admit that no other could equal it in any other respect. While engaged in the construction of his en trenchments, Lieut. Durkee, with five men, was sent a few rods beyond, at the conflu ence of the lake with South Bay, to give timely notice of the approach of their ene mies. Durkee constructed a sort of am bush, and it was understood that if they numbered• no more than twenty, he and his five men were to have the privilege of disposing of them , themselves, without bothering the main body. These arrangements being made, Put nam and his men set vigorously to work. Their fortress, when finished, consisted of a heavy wall of rock four feet in height, and of about the same thickness, and ex tending along the lake, almost to the same distance as the rock itself. This made the interior of sufficient area to give them a chance to move about freely. In front he arranged dwarf trees, undergrowth, small pines, and moss to cover the rack, scatter ing leaves and small brush, and deluging th surface with dirty water, so that the eagle eye of an Indian would not have suspected that there was any ambush in such a place. Mchl3-tf ;Many a time, when Putnam and some of his friends retired to a distance and surveyed it, the perfection of its simplici ty completely charmed them. "If that isn't about the nicest fox-trap I ever set," remarked Putnam, "then I'm no judge of what such a thing is." "Yes, it will do," replieeDurkee, "if them confounded French don't come up this way during the daytime, and their redskins take a squint at it." "What if they do? They'll never sus pect there's any ambush laid here." "Maybe not, but those red dogs have sharp eyes, and see things, sometimes, that an ordinary man would take a telescope to make out." "At any rate we will have a good shot at them when they do come, if they are ten thousand." As yet, it was not certain which route the French would take—this way or up the Bay. Both were practicable, but there was every reason to believe that the former would be their choice. There was no doubt they would come in considerable strength, and with a goodly number of boats to car ry back the plunder they were sure of se curing. At that time the French knew there were enormous trainsgoing forward, by way of Saratoga, to the head of Lake George. At this very time Lord Howe's army was pressing forward and occupied fully five miles of the narrow road over which it was passing. Time always passes wearily to those in watching, and as day after day dragged slowly by, the men began to grow impa tient for the eolith, of theirenemies. Put nam now and then began to fear that they would take the other route, and thus flank him and leave him behind; but second thought, assisted by the reasoning of Lieut. Durkee, always succeeded in convincing him that in all possibility the much desi red collision would very speedily take place. On the fourth morning of their watch ing, their fishermen, that they always kept occupied, returned with the announcement of very poor luck, and Putnam resolved on an extra dinner in the shape of venison. The woods abounded with deer, but hith erto prudence had forbidden them to dis charge a gun as there was no telling how near some of the sharpened Indian scouts of Malcolm were. Putnam knew all the paths and haunts of the deer, and was confident that he could bring down a plump animal in a very short time. Sure enough, he had watched less than half an hour when a magnificent buck came trotting by within a stone's throw.— The next moment he made a wild leap, ran a short distanca, and then tumbled headlong to the ground. "I tell you what, Major," remarked the cautious Durkee, I don't know about the wisdom of this thing. We have had a splendid dinner, but that rifle of yours made a crack that a Mahawk would have heard a half dczen miles away." "Ah, Durkee you are too timid. The noise of the falls has either drowned it, or so deadened a it, that no one has noticed the report. Come to think, however, I would be pleased if it had attracted attention. I am getting tired of waiting hero, and if I only knew of anything that would hurry up the French, I would do it." "Never you fear, Major; they will be along in due time, and we will have our hands full in disposing of them. When they do come it will be by hundreds. “Yon speak as ifyou know, Lieutenant ; I only hope you do, and that there'll be enough of them to pay us for building our fortress and watching so long." Lieutenant Durkee felt so much appre hension regarding this shot of Putman's, that at the conclusion of his meal, he shouldered his gun and started on a re connoisance up the lake. He gained sev eral eminent positions which gave him an extended view of the beautiful sheet of water. He saw nothing of the Indians or French, but on a distant projecting point of land descried the faint smoke of a camp fire. He watched this for a long time, but failed to discover any other signs of life, and finally returned with the comfortable assurance that the impudent rifle shot—as he regarded it—had fortunately not been heard by hostile cars. This day, like the preceding, gradually wore away without any incident worth re- Cording. Durkee's men occupied their ambush, and kept up an unremitting watch of the lake for the 414 indication of the approach of the 'enemy. As soon as it grew dusk, the Lieutenant joined his men at South Bay, and it was scarcely possible that the wily foe could come within range of this battery of lynx-eyed sentinels, with out being instantly. detected. The distance between Durkee and Put. nam was such that they could communi cate with each other by means of signals with the greatest facility. It was agreed that the call of the whippoor-will, repeated three times, with a slight interval between each, should be the signal to Putnam that the enemy were coming. To prevent mis conception the call was given several times, and it was found that not only Durkee himself, but every one of his five men could give it with such remarkable eicaetness, that the bird itself would be deceived. As the night settled over the forest and lake, it was very dark, a state of things which was unpleasant to the Americans, as it prevented them from seeing their enemies until they were close at hand, al though they might detect the dip of their oars while at a considerable distance. At nine o'clock, however, the clouds cleared away and the round, bright moon revealed the shimmering surface of Lake George, for miles beyond the ambush of Durkee. Everything was wore favorable than they had a right to suspect. While the lieutenant sat watching, and perfect silence reigned, he fancied he de tected a distant and faint ripple of water. Bending his head to make sure, he was satisfied that he was not mistaken. Look inc, over the lake, a moment later he saw the' enemy coming apparently in vast numbers, their boats moving with the beautiful regularity of troops upon parade. So resolved was LieuteriantDuhee to *tiler an idea of the precise number of advancing foes, that lie refused to give the signal fur the space of several minutes. Finally he judged them about a thousand strong, and then deliberately and perfectly he gave the preconcerted signal—the call of the whip•poor-will, repeated thrice. Putnam instantly replied to the signal to let Durkee know that it had been heard and understood, while the brave lieutenant, now satisfied that their course would be up the creek, instantly left the ambush with his men and joined Putnam at the barri cede to assist in the defense. "I think they are very nigh a thousand strong, or else they have a most extraordi nary number of canoes." "You are right," replied Putnam and turning his head so that his men might hear him, he added : "Boys areyou ready? Then ram a couple more: bullets home, and don't let a whisper be heard among you." At this moment, the advance guard of the enemy were within a few yards of the mouth of the bay, and behind them came the whole fleet, all gliding so noiselessly that naught but the ripple of their paddles could be heard. The advance guard were composed of Indians, and, as they entered the narrow paps, they halted, for there was an air of danger about the place that filled them with suspicion. At the same moment the HUNTINGDON, PA., APRIL 10, 1872. French leader of the advance, fancied he detected a noise upon the shore, which gave him a thrill of apprehension. A simultaneous halt of this part of the fleet was made, an Indian exclamation of alarm passed from boat to boat, and the paddles were withdrawn and pointed upward. They then clustered together, in fearful suspense. for they knew that they were under the cloud of danger. The preconcerted signal was the dis charge of Putnam's gun, and as it burst out upon the solemn stiilness, it was in• scantly followed by the other forty double loaded rifles. that hurried death and de struction among the crowded enemy. The Indians and French were terror-stricken. Their canoes riddled by balls, their skip pers falling on one side, some sinking, and all thrown into the greatest confusion con trasted fearfully with the profound still ness which had hitherto reigned. The French rallied, but the surviving and terrified Indians dashed by in their canoes; but as the braver whites main tained their position, they returned and joined them, until an order was given for them to effect a landing, at a place now known as the First Ben. This was very near the ambush which Durkee had con structed and occupied so long, and to it he and his companions slipped, without being observed. Each blunderbluss was triply charged ; and, as the canoes huddled together to effect a landing, the same mur derous volley was hurled among them, scattering them with a grater panic, if possible, than before. Still the French were unquestionably brave, and they returned the fire immedi ately ; but they were firing at a concealed fie, and their balls hurled harmlessly among the stones and trees. As soon as they could reload, the Americans sent an other terrific volley among them, which could not be otherwise than murderous, even if they had not paused to take aim. The .French, appreciating their own dis advantage, retreated a short distance, and kept up a scattering fire, until Durkee saw them making off to join the main army. With a desperation almost incredible, the French leader of the advance had maintained his position, although he had detached several parties and sent them to land in other places. One of these was encountered by one of Put's rangers, who arrived just as a tall, powerful Indian was about to land. Five of them sprang ashore simultaneously, when the foremost was gored through by the scout's bayonet, and his comrades being equally prompt, the others were hurled back into the deep water. They renewed the attempt with furious bravery, but were driven back again, and finally the survivors left and joined the others. The Americans instantly joined Durkee and Putnam at the main works, where it was found that only two of the patriots had been wounded. The French knowing that the party disputing the pass was very small, continued their fire hoping to reduce their strength and alarm them by a show of determination ; but the Americans were too well protected to suffer in the least. The enemy becoming convinced that it was impossible to farm a passage, now be gan a retreat in good order. Turning to Durkee, Putnam said : "See ! they are retreating. They are close to your ambush at the mouth"of the bay." "They are off, as sure as lightning; but follow me, every one of you." Half-bending, so as to conceal their bodies among the bushes and under-growth, the rangers speedily reached their rendez vous, from which they fired their guns with most fatal effect, and continued it until the foe had passed beyond their range. The loss of the French in this unfortu nate affair was two hundred and sixty three—their whole force, according to Montealm, who at that time, commanded Ticonderoga, was just five hundred. Put nam had only two men wounded. On August 8, 1758, the French forced the passage and captured putnain, when it will be remembered, he was subjected to terrible torture. The French officers, after the war, stated that the horror awakened in the breasts of their men and Indians al sight of the mangled corpses of their com rades was so great that, for a time, they could not restrain them. The place for many years after was known as "Indian Bow," which explains the title we have placed at the head of our sketch. *Mug for the pain. Iron Dwellings Twenty years ago au iron building was a novelty, and even so late as ten years ago, the feasibility of this material in the construction of buildings was, at least in this country, something of an experiment. But this is no longer the case, and a very considerable proportion of all the business structures in our large cities are now being made from iron. We should now take another step forward in the same direction, and construct our dwellings of iron. The English are doing quite a large business in supplying continental Europe with iron dwelling houses manufactured in Enzland, and set up at short notice by English me chanics wherever the purchaser desir s. The houses that are most in demand are those which have two, four, or six rooms, the purchaser being generally the better class of Austrian artisans. The great want of the advanced workingmen of the larger continental cities has lung been for small comfortable dwellings, and this want is being rapidly met by the introduction of the English houses of iron, which are not only warm, strong, and reasonable elegant, but cheaper than can be built in Vienna, at least of any domestic material. This seems curious when there are taken into account all the charges incidental upon the cost of material, construction, carriage, and custom house duties, and it suggests that the enterprise might be made to pay in this country, where such large iron and coal fields exist. The iron houses of America are, with few exceptions, large and costly, no attempts having been made to introduce dwellings of a cheap class. We know of nothing to prevent this branch of construction from being pursued suc cessfully, and believe that a fortune awaits the enterprising founder who will inaugu rate this system, and furnish our middle classes with something better than the unsightly, unsafe, and highly inflammable, "speculation" frame houses that now de face and encumber the suburban portions of our largo cities. CHILDHOOD is like a mirror, catching. and reflecting images all around it. An impious or profane thought uttered by a parent's lips may operate on a young heart like a careless spray of water upon polish ed steel, staining it with rust, which no af ter scouring can efface. The Wife, She was a beautiful girl when I saw her. She was standing up at the side of her lover at the marriage altar. She was slightly pale—yet ever and anon, as the ceremony proceeded, a faint tinge of crim son crossed her beautiful cheek, like the reflection of a sunset cloud upon the clear waters of a quiet lake. Her lover, as he clasped her hand within his own, gazedon her a few moments with unmingled admi ration, and warm and eloquent blood shad owed at intervals his manly forehead, and melted in beauty on his lips. And they gave themselves to one anoth er in the presence of Heaven, and every heart blessed them as they went their way rejoicing in their love. Years passed on, and I again saw those lovers. They were seated together where the light of sunset stole through the half closed crimson curtains giving a richer tint in the delicate carpeting and the ex quisite embellishment of the rich and gor geous apartment. Time had slightly chang ed them in outward appearance. The girl ish buoyancy of the one had indeed given place to the grace of perfect womanhood, and her lips were somewhat paler, and a faint line of care was slightly perceptible on her brow. Her husband's brow, too, was marked somewhat more deeply than his age might warrant; anxiety, and am bition, and pride, had grown over it and left their traces upon it; a silver hue had mingled with the dark in his hair, which had become thin around his temples, al most to baldness. He was sitting on his splendid ottoman, with his face half hid den by his hand, as if he feared that the deep and troubled thoughts which oppress ed him were visible up.,n his features. "Edward, you are ill to•night," said his wife, in a low, awpet, half-inquiring yoke, as she laid her hand upon his own. Indifference from tliose we love is terri ble to the sensitive bosom. It is as if the sun of heaven refused its wonted cheerful ness, and glared upon ns with a cold, dim and forbidden glance. It is dreadful to feel that the only being of our love refu ses to ask our• sympathy--that there broods over the feelings that which he scorns or fears to reveal—dreadful to watch the con vulsive and the gloomy brow, the indefina ble shadows of hidden emotion—the invol untary sighs of sorrow in which we are forbidden to participate, and whose char acter we cannot know. The wife essayed once more. "Edward," she said slowly, mildly and affeotionatoly, i , the time has been when you were willing to confide your secret ~'-oys and sorrows to one who has never, I trust, betrayed your confidence. Why, then, my dear Edward, is this cruel re serve ? You are troubled and yet refuse to tell me the cause." Something of returning tenderness soft,- sued for an instant the cold severity of the husband's features, but it passed away, and a bitter smile was his only reply. Time passed on, and the twain were separated from each other. The husband sat gloomy and alone in the damp cell of a dungeon. He had followed ambition as a God, and had failed in a high career. He had mingled with men whom his heart loathed, he bad sought out the fierce and wronged spirits of the land, and had breathed into them the madness of revenge. He had drawn his sword against his coun try; he had fanned the rebellion to a flame, and it had been quenched in human blood. He had fallen, miserably fallen, and was doomed to die the death of a traitor. "Edward," said his wife, in an earnest but faint and low voice, which indicated extreme and fearful debility, '.we have not a moment to loose. By an exchange of garments you will be able to pass out un noticed. Haste, or we may be too late. Fear nothing for me. lam a woman, and they will not injure ins for my efforts in behalf of a husband dearer than life itself." "Margaret," said the husband, "you look sadly ill. You cannot breathe the air of this dreadful cell." '.oh, speak not to me, my dearest Ed. ward," said -the devoted woman, "I can endure anything for your sake. Haste, Edward; all will be well," and she aided with a trembling hand to disguise the proud form of her husband in female garb. "Farewell, my love, my preserver," whispered the husband in the ear of the disguised wife, as the officer sternly re minded the supposed lady that the time allotted to her visit had expired. "Farewell! we shall not meet again," responded the wife; and the husband passed out unsuspected, and escaped the enemies of his life. They did meet again—the wife and husband; but only as the dead may meet, in the swilll cummunings of another world. Affection had borne up her exhausted spirit until the last great purpose of her exertions were accomplished in the safety of her husband—and when the bells tolled on the morrow, and the prisoner's cell opened the guard fbund, wrapped in the habiliments of their destined victim, the pale but beautiful corpse of the devoted wife. HOW TO MAKE LIGHT.—The Paris "Figaro" gives the following method of obtaining light instantaneously, without danger of setting things on fire : Take an oblong vial of the whitest and clearest glass, put in it a piece of phosphorus about the size of a pea, upon which pour some olive oil, heated to the boiling point, filling the vial about one-third full, and then seal the vial hermetically. To use it, remove the cork and allow the air to enter the vial, and then recork it. The whole empty space in the bottle will then become luminous, and the light obtained will be equal to that of a lamp. As soon as the light grows weak in its power can be increased by opening the vial and allowing a fresh supply of air to enter. In winter it is sometimes necessary to heat the vial between the hands to increase the fluidity of the oil. Thus prepared the vial may be used for six months. This contrivance is now used by the watchmen of Paris in all magazines where explosive or infalible materials are stored, MECIIANICS.—The day has been when to be called a mechanic was to be called a second-class man—was to occupy a lower seat at the feast—and scarcely any but poor men's children were apprenticed to learn mechanical pursuits; and how often have we heard the expression uttered by way of censure and reproach, .0h ! he is only a mechanic!" and to follow a mechan ical pursuit for a livelihood was considered derogatory to refined society. How differ ent now to what it was then. Then men's worth and merits were tested by the length of their purse. These measures have had their day and gone. The cry now is "for mechanical muscle and brain" all over the country. Ingenious mechanism is a load stone that unerringly attracts to greatness, glory and renown. Maxima of Workingmen Protection, by sustaining wages here, elevates labor everywhere. Free trade condemns labor to mere mus cular drudgery. No civilized country tolerates free trade. Why tax the poor man's tea and coffee to fill an overflowing treasury The introduction ofmanufactures diver sifies agriculture. Where all must shovel and hoe, wages must be low. Whoever does anything useful in civil ized society is a laborer. . _ _ Now thus Southern labor is free it de mands protection. Free trade was the father and support of slavery. Nine•tenths of American consumers are themselves producers. Free trade pills are nicely coated with "revenue reform." Do not swallow them. The war of capital and labor is between foreign capital and home labor. Free traders say we must not attempt labor in which foreign nations excel. Protective tariffs have proved the best revenue measures. Diversified industry is a defence against famine. Will you come into my parlor? said the (free trade) spider to the (laborer's) fly. Under such protection as we enjoy the country prospers. . . . Protection benefitsthe State by giving employment to the people. increased productiveness and better markets afford increased wages. Only such branches of industry as ben efit the people by creating a demand for labor and a market for agricultural pro ducts should be protected. Under judicious protection the foreigner pays the duty. Voters should beware of voting them selves into free trade idlene,.s. There is no monopoly of home industry. Homo production converts the tariff into a tax on our foreign rivals, Tariffs framed solely fbr revenue have always proved unsuccessful. Taxes on tea and coffee protectno Amer ican industry. A tariff is a tax upon us .when levied on goods we cannot produce. Difference of wages here and abroad is the measure of protection needed. Protection is the only defense against monopoly. • The value of protection is limited to the necessities of defense. Home capital is the natural ally of home labor. Every workman should strive to be his own employer. Every man is free to employ his capital in manufacture. Beautiful Sketch The character of the Indian, the majesty of the forest in which he lives, free from all restraints of civilization, naturally in spire the mind with poetic conceptions, pondering on his race and destiny. At least an effect seems to have been produced on Mr. Bancroft, our Minister at London, if we may judge from the following beau- tiful description which he has given of the Indian mother and her babe : "How helpless the Indian babe, born without shelter, amid storm and ice; but fear nothing for him, God has placed near him a guardian angel, that can triumph over the severities of nature ; the sentinel of maternity is by his side, and so long as his mother breathes he is safe. The squaw loves her child with instinctive passion, and if she does not manifest it by lively caresses, her tenderness is real wakeful and constant. No savage mother ever trusted her babe to a hireling nurse, nor ever put away her own child to suckle that of an other. To the oracle, consisting of light wood, and gaily ornamented with the quills of the porcupine, and beads, and rattles, the nursling is firmly attached, and care fully wrapped in furs; and the infantthus swathed, its back to the mother's haek, is borne as the topmost burden, its eye now cheerfully flashing light, now accompany ing with tears the wailings which the plaintive melodies of the carrier cannot hush. Or, while the squaw toils in the field, she hangs hor child, as spring does her blosoms, on the bough of a tree, that it may be rocked by the breezes from the land of souls, and tioothad to sleep by the lullaby of the birds. Does the mother die, the nursling—such is Indian campassion— shares her grave." Put it in \Alriting How many misunderstandings arise from the loose way in which business matters are talked over, and then when each party puts his own construction on the conver sation, the matter is dismissed by each with the words "all right, all right." Frequent ly it turns out all wrong, and becomes a question for lawyers and the court. More than half the litigation of the country would be saved if people would put down their agreements in writing. Each word in our language has its peculiar meaning, and memory may, by the change of a single word, or even by the change of its position in a sentence, convey an en tirely different idea from that intended. When once reduced to writing, ideas are fixed, inelastic. We once saw an excited captain rush into the presence of his colonel with griev ous complaints against a brother officer. "Stop ! Stop captain," said the colonel, "put your complaint in writing and I will give it attention. The captain went to work vigorously writing his complaint. In a little while he stopped and commenced laughing. The whole affair looked so ridiculously small when written out that he was laughing at his own folly in giving it any attention. BILIOUSNESE.-Dr. Dio Lewis, in his "Talks about People's Stomachs," says that the word "biliousness" is usually only a sort of respectable cover for piggishness, People are not bilious when they eat as they should. His prescription for a per son so afflicted is, to drink plenty of cold water on rising and retiring, and to eat for breakfast, until the bilious attack pass es, a little stale bread, say one slice, and a piece as large as your hand of boiled lean beef or mutton, or, if the weather is warm, take instead a ittle cracked wheat or oat meal porridge; for dinner, take about the same thing; and go without your supper. Exercise freely in the open air, producing a perspiration, once or twice a day. In a few days your biliousness is all gone. This result will come, even though the bilious ness is of the spring sort, and one with which you have from year to year been much afflicted. Herb drinks, bitter drinks, lager beer, ale, whiskey, and a dozen other spring medicines, he pronounces simply barbarous, and only encouragements to drunkenness by cultivating a taste for ar dent spirits. Zhe , gfihme gufiget. A Stupid Husband Riding horseback just at night through the woods in Saginaw county,Michigan, I came into a clearing, in the middle of which stood a log house, the owner sitting in the open door smoking his pipe. Stopping my horse before him the following con versation ensued: "Good evening. sir," said I. "Good evening." "Can I get a glass of milk of you to drink ?" "Well I don't know. Ask the old wo man." By this time his wife was standing by his side. While drinking it I asked : "Think we are going to get a storm ?" "Well I really don't know. Ask the old woman—she can tell." "I guess we shall get one right away," said the wife. Again I asked: "How much land have you got cleared here ?" "Well ! I don't really know. Ask the old woman—she knows." "About nineteen aeres," said she, again answering. _ ... Just then a troop of children carne ran ning and shouting around the corner of the shanty. "All these your children," I said. "Don't know. Ask the old woman— she knows best." I did not wait to hear her reply, but drew rein, and left immediately. Henry Clay and the Billy Goat, Formerly a very large, well-known and somewhat noted billy-goat roamed at large in the streets of Washington, and the newspaper boys, bootblacks, and street imps generally made common cause against hint. Henry Clay never liked to see dumb animals abused or worried, and on one ac casion, while passing down the avenue, a large crowd of these mischievous urchins were at their usual sport. Mr. Clay, with his walking cane, drove them away, giving them a sound lecture in the meanwhile. As they scampered and scattered in every direction, Billy,rseeiog no one but Mr. Clay within reach, made a charge on him. Mr. Clay dropped his cane, and caugh his goat ship by the horns, The goat would 'rear up, being nearly as high as the tall Kentuck ian himself; and the latter would pull him down again. This sort of sport soon be came tiresome, and he could conceive of no way by which he could free himself from the two horned dilemma; so in his desperation he sang out to the boys to know what to do. One of the smallest in the crowd shouted back : "Let go and run, you big fool!" Mr. Clay always Maintained that though he signed the treaty of peace at Ghent, yet that ragged boy knew more than he did. HERE is something reliable and fresh from an eye witness of the incident. Shortly after Horace Greeley had regis tered his name at the Head House, Nash ua (whither the great philosopher's lec turing tour took him last fall), a rather aged countryman came into the office and after examining the register asked if Dr. B-were in. "There is no such person here," said the gentlemanly clerk. "No such person here !" echoed the venerable rustic, taking off his spectacles and gazing into the face of the clerk with much incredulity and astonishment. "No such person here," firmly re-echo ed the clerk. "Young man"exclaimed the other, with a solemn expression of countenance ; "young man, don't lie to me. It won't do. You can't fool old Gill Parks. Dr. B-'s been here, as sire as guns, and pretty drunk, too, I reckon, for he's left one of them air Latin prescriptions of bis on the register!" And the doctor's friend gazed down at Horace's improved Arabic with a look of triumphant recognition. "DoEs Isaac manifest any taste for poe try, Mrs. Partington ?" asked the school master's wife, conversing on the merits of the youthful Partington. The old lady was basting a chicken which friends had sent her from the country. "Oh, yes !" said the old lady, smiling; "he is particu larly fond of poultry, and it always seems as he can't get enough of it." The old spit turned by the fireplace in reply to her answer, while she was going on. "I mean" said the lady, "does he show any of the divine afflatus ?" The old lady thought a moment. "As for divine flatness, I don't know about it. He's had all te com plaints of children, and when he was a baby be fell and broke the cartridge of his nose ; but I hardly think he's had this that you speak of." The roasted chicken hissed and spluttered and Mrs. Partington basted again. A SADDLER in Detroit has a monkey who usually sits in the store and on the counter. A countryman came in one day while the proprietor was in the back room, and seeing a saddle that suited him asked the price. Monkey said nothing, Cus tomer said 'l'll give twenty dollars for it,' laying down the money, which the mon key shoved into the drawer. The man then took the saddle, but the monkey mounted him, tiir his hair, scratched his face, and made the frightened rustic scream for dear life. Proprietor rushed in and wanted to know what the fuss was. 'Fuss ?' said the customer, fuss ?' I bought a saddle of your son, sitting there, and when I went to take it, he would not let me have it.' The saddler apologized fir the monkey but denied the relationship. Nits. Strew appeared before the Recotd er to prosecute her husband for insult and abuse. "What have you to (=plain of?" in quired the magistrate. "My husband neglects me sir," was the answer of that spiteful lady, thrown out with a sort of a jerk. "Indeed ! how is that ?" "He leaves me at home, and when I complain of it, insults and abuses me." "Can you give me an instance of it ?" "Yes.' Ire went to the cock-fight on Sunday, and wouldn't let me go with him, and said if they fought hens he'd send for me." AN exchange says that "an Irishman who was recently run over by a whole train of cars got up and asked tbr his cap, and said he would not run another such risk as that for ten dollars. JOSH BILLINGS says : "Knowing how to sit square on a bile, without hurting, is one of the lost arts." NO. 15. She grime Oink. What is Faith. Faith is the Christian's prop Whereupon our sorrows lean ; It is the substance of his hope, His proof of things unseen; It is the anchor of the soul When tempests rage and billows roll. Faith is the polar star . . . . That guides the Christian bark— Directs his wandering from afar, To reach his holy ark; It points his course where'er ho roams, And safely leads the pilgrim home. Faith is the rainbow's form Hung on the brow of heaven ; The glory of the passing storm, The pledge of mercy given ; it is the bright triumphal arch Through which the saints to glory march. Faith is the mountain rock, Whose summit towers on high, Secure above the tempest's shock, An inmate ofthe sky ; Fixed on a prize of greater worth, It views with scorn the things of earth, Faith is the lightning's flash, That rends the solid rock, From which the living waters gush At every vivid shock, While SiAi'm awful thunders roll Around the self-convicted soul. Tho faith that works by love, And purifies the heart, A foretaste of the joys above To:mortals can impart ; The Christian's faith is simply this— A passport to immortal bliss. None Other Name. For many years past a blind man has taken his station on the City-Road Bridge, in Lon don, where, in a clear voice, he is iu the hab it of reading the Scriptures by means of his Bible printed for the blind with raised letters. Groups of old and young gathered round him, and pay respectful attention to the sacred words spoken by the sightless reader. There is also another blind reader at the West End of London, and many, both rich and poor, have been led to the study of the Bible, as they have listened to his readings from the sacred vcl ume. As a few persons were collected round ono of these blind men, who was reading from an embossed Bible, a gentleman on his way home from the city was led by curiosity to the crowd. Just then the poor man, who was reading in the fourth chapter of the Acts, lost his place, and, while trying to find it with his finger, kept repeating the last clause he bad read•: "None other name—none other name— none other name." Some of the people smiled at the blind man's embarrassment ; but the gentleman went away deeply musing. Be had lately become convinced that he was a sinner, and had been trying, in many ways, to obtain peace of mind. But religious exercises, good resolutions, altered habits, all were ineffectual to relieve his conscience of its load, and enable him to rejoice in God. The words be had heard from the bland man, however, rang in his soul : "None other name !" When he reached his home, and retired to rest, these words still were heard : "None other name— none other name—none other name !" And when he awoke the strain continued : "None other name—none other name—none other name !" The music entered his soul, and he awoke to a new life. "I see it all ! I see it all 1 I have been trying to be saved by my own works—my repentance, my prayers, my reformation. I see my mistake. It is Jesus who alone can save. To Him I will look." "Neither is there salvation in any other. For there is none other name—none other name— none other name—under heaven given among men whereby they must be saved."—Christian Weekly. Those Pierced Hands • The Greek poet, Aschylus, was once con demned to die, when his brother, who was an orator and a hero, name forward to defend him, All listened with breathless interest, to hear the words of burning eloquence whcili such a cause would call forth from his lips. But as he stood before thew he spoke no words, and only raised in silence the mutilated arm he had brought back from Marathon. As the multitude gazed upon him a thunderburst of applause rent the air. They could deny their hero nothing. His brother ‘789 instantly pardoned, and the silent orator became more than ever the idol of the nation, May we not see, as in a figure here, the pow er of Jesus' woqnded hands and bleeding side, when he intercedes for us These shall plead our cause in the court of heaven. If we have made Christ our advocate, we have nothing to fear, though the death-sentence has been pro nounced upon us ? One of these pierced hands held up in supplication for us, is more power- Li in our behalf than all the eloquence of earth. And if this sight can move our Judge to change our sentence, what should be its effect on us ? Oh what humility, what love, what zeal in his service should be wrought in our, hearts by the sight of Jesus' wounds. Who can slight love and mercy ? Here, too, in times of sorrow, the Christian may find his sweetest consolation. The hand that is held out to sustain him is one with the nail prints in it. Ile suffered and was tempted, that he may know how to succor those who are in sorrow and temptation. And thus, whatever blessings come to us iu this life or the next, all flow from the bleed• ing wounds of Jesus. Let us take our station low before his cross, where this sight may be ever present to our view. Then may we rest assured that he upon his throne of glory "ever liveth to make intercession for us," "Night is Coming." The "hour upon the dial" marks its rapid approach. Are you prepared for it? Pilgrim, what have you accomplished to day ? If you shall be called to the spirit land,"ere the mor row's sun" will you depart satisfied with your works ? Can you exclaim, "1 have fought as good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteonsjudge shall give me at that day I" You have told us you believe in the existence of Almighty God ; therefore this is to you au all important question. You have dictated yourself a minister of Temperance, what are your trophies ? Souls redeemed from the thralldom of the cap. Where are they? "There is greater joy in heaven over oae sinner that ropenteth than over nine ty and nine just persons, which need no repent ance." Is there one whom yon have redeemed from the second death? How exceeding great shall be your reward I" A star is added to thy crown of life. What priceless wages! "The good or evil you have done will soon be all that shall remain of you on earth." Which will you have it ? Which do you pre fer as a legacy friend? The blessings of re deemed souls upon your memory or the curses of the lost because of your unfruitfulness. Oh haste I Speak the glad words of temper ance to the afflicted, and bring light to their souls and joy to their families. Point to the Lamb that was slain that the redeemed may be "washed." Roll away the stone that is crushing the heart of tha. wife and killing the souls of those chLdren. Hear the cries I Be hold their tears "Oh,run and rd h° tlso sufferer opt" "Inasmuch as you have done itunto one of the least of these my brethren ye have done it unto me."—The Sentinel. CONDEMN DO 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 musreive an account of himself to God. Abhor every ap proach, in every kind or degree, to tpitspint of persecution. If you cannot remake? per suade a man into the truth, never MINNS to force him into it. If love will not compel him to come, leave him to God the judge of all. A max is always generdhs in bis love. Love cannot stay at home. A man cannot keep it to himself. Like sight, it is constantly traveling. A man must spend, must give it away.—Dr. MacLeod.
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