VOL. 47 The Huntingdon Journal.. J. R. DURBORROW, - J. A. NASH, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. Office on the Corner of Bath and Washington streets. Toe HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. DURBORROW and J. A. NASH, under the firm name of J. R. DURBORROW do 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 the rate of ONE DOLLAR for an inch, of ten lines, for the first insertion, and twenty-five cents per inch for each subsequent insertion less than three months. Regular monthly and yearly advertisements will be inserted at the following rates : 3ml 6m 19m1 6m19m1 1 Inch 21 4 001 5 WI. 6701 1 4c0l 800 18 00 $ 21$ 36 2 " 400 E 00.10 0012 00i% "20 00 38.0 10 65 S " 6 00 10 00'14 00 : 18 001% 34 00 50 00 65 80 4 " 8 00114 00 24 00 21 001 • " 9 50'18 00 25 00 30 00 1 col 34 00 60 00 80 100 Special notices will be inserted at TWELVE AND ♦ WALE CENTS per line, and local and editorial no tices at FIFTEEN CENTS per line. All 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 e these figures. All advertising acconnts are doe and collectable schen the adcertiaement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and rency 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. BF. GEHRETT, M. D., ECLEC •TIC PHYDICIAN AND SURGEON, har ing returned from Clearfield county and perma nently located in Shirleysburg, offers his profes sional services to the people of that place and sur rounding country. apr.3.1572. DR. F. 0. ALLEMAN can be con sulted at his office, at all hours, Mapleton, Pa. [march6,72. CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, D•No. 111, dd street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods k Williamson. [apl2,'7l. DR. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully offers his professional services to the citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity. Office No. 743 Wash ingtpn Street. may 24• DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office, No. 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. [jan.4,'7l. EJ. GREENE, Dentist. 'Office re • moved to Leister's new building, Hill street fr,tingdon. Dan. 4,71. CI L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. • Br..wn'3 new building, No. 520, Hill St., Huntingdon, Pa. [spl2,'7l. HGLAZIER, Notary Public, corner • of Washington and Smith streets. Hun tingdon, Pa. Dan.l2'7l. C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law TT • Office, No. —, Hill street, lituningdon, Pa. [ap.19,'71. SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Other, Hill street, hree doors west of Smith. Dan.4l-1. R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth ti • ecary, opposite the Exchange hotel, Ilun ingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.'23,70. JHALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, • No. 319 Hill at., Huntingdon, Pa. Dan.4,'7l. JR. DURBORROW, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the" several Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of estates of dece dents. Offieo in he JovnN 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 cars and promptness. Office on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. i - ifr ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at -A-x-• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention. given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle ment of Estates, etc. ; and all other Legal Business prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch. Or Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton Speer, Esq. pan. 4,71. MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly to all legal business. Office in Cunningham's new boil liag. Lian.4,ll. N. ALLISON /GLUM. H. BUCHANAN. MILLER & BUCHANAN, DENTISTS, No. 223 Ilill Street, HUNTINGDON, PA April 5,11-Iy, PM. & 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. RA. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, • Moe, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l,'7l. JORN SCPTT. S. T. .ROWN. J. 11. SAIL, QOOTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At torneys-st-low, 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. ril W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun -A- • tin gdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, Eeq. [jan.4,7l. WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law, Ituntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other 12gal business attended to with care and promptness. Office, No. 229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l. Miscellaneous GO TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE VI For all kinde of printing. CHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, VX - 1 - 4 Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. January 3, 1871. NEAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT 'UNITED STATES HOTEL, HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA M'CLAIN A CO., PROPRIETORS ROBT. KING, Merchant Tailor, 412 Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib eral share of patronage respectfully solicited. A prill2, 1871. LEWISTOWN BOILER WORKS. GEORGE PAWLING h CO., Manufae urers 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 pr , , , tly attended to. Repairing done at short no“ur. [Apr 5,'71,1y.* 11. BSCK, Fashionable Barber A 0 and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on hand and for sale. [apl9,'7l-6n. The Huntingdon Journal. Ti PitOtO t NOttitt [Written for the Jonex..] A Song Don't wear your faces so long, my boys, Don't look down over your noses, You may wade thro' a thicket of thorns. my boys, But you'll surely come to the roses. Don't delve forever among the elods, Nor linger at wooden bars— Upturn your brows to the radiant sheen, Sent down from the world of stars. Get out of the clouds, the mist, and the gloom, The dark, the venom, the slime; Come into the open, broad highway, And breathe the blest sunshine. Stir not ever the dust of the past From under the dead brown leaves; See before you a world-wide plain, Dotted with golden sheaves. Off with the packs on your shoulders, boy , They will surely drag yl , ll down; (lope to wear on your youthful brow. The victor's starry crown. Don't think the world so bad a place, Because your wisdom failed ”, You'll find that wounded vanity Is most of what has ailed ye. Don't think mankind a race of knaves, Though you were knaved by one ; A pure and honest man, is not A new thing 'neath the sun. Don't lose all faith in woman kind— Tho' you were badly taken— There's a loving heart somewhere for you, That waits your touch to waken. Be sure you'll find the human cup Not always filled with honey, But a jolly heart, and a merry soul, Are worth a mint of money. Then off with your colored glasses, boys, And don't look over your noses; Beyond the thicket of thorns, my boys, You'll find a valley of roses. It is Not Your Business Why Would you like to know the secrets Of your neighbor's house and life? How be lives or how he dosen't, And just bow he treats his wife? How he spends his time of leisure, Whether sorrowful or gay, And where be goes for pleasure, To the concert or the play? If you wish it I will tell you— Let me whisper to you sly— If your neighbor is but civil, It is none of your business why. In short, instead of prying Into other men's affairs; If you do your own but justice, You will have no time for theirs, Ile attentive to such matters As concern yourself alone, And whatever fortune flatters Let your business be your own, One word by way of finish— Let me whisper to you sly— If you wish to be respected, You must cease to be a pry. Zhe Rory-Zelltr. How Guzzle Slued. "So you've made up your mind to be Mrs Rembrandt, Gussie Aunt Rachel went placidly on with her knitting, and never noticed the red banner of blushes that suddenly threw their shade on her niece's pretty, saucy face. "Because, if you haven't, my dear, I'd strongly recommend you to look a little further; as far as Ashdale, for instance.— Harry Livingston is a splendid fellow, Gussie—worth a hundred Karl Rem brandts." "You are always so opposed to foreign ers, auntie. I'm sure Mr. Rembrandt is a perfect gentleman." Gussie took up her favored suitor's cause with an indignant enthusiasm that would have made him think her more charming than ever. "Perhaps, so far as the usages of society are concerned ; but not according to my old-fashioned ideas " A contemptuous little sneer curled Gus sie's pretty red lips. "As if Aunt Rachel had any idea of what gentility was !" she thought to herself. A. nt Rachel, all unconscious of her niece's silent criticisms, ceased her knit ting, and looked out of the window, far away over the brown November fields, to the large white house on the hilltop, with its bright green shutters, where her favor ite,. young Harry Livingston, lived, with neither wife, mother or sister. "You haven't compromised yourself, Gussie, have you ?" "It might as well have been, for I am pretty certain I shall marry him." Aunt Rachel sighed, then took up her knitting again. "Of course you are old enough, and ought to be far-seeing enough to choose your own husband; but I tell you, Gussie, think twice before you marry a man whom no one has known longer than this sum mer, when there, over the fields, -waits a home and a man who would lay down his life for you." "I am not afraid to trust Mr. Rembrandt. He is far superior to the other ; and, Aunt Rachel, you take no surer course to make me thoroughly hate the man I now am only indifferent to, than by continually singing his praises." "He deserves all I can say, and more. I only wish you could see as I see, Gussie; as all the neighbors, and even Mr. Living ston, see." A hot, angry red shot up into the girl's face. "Of course Mr. Livingston is jealous; the neighbors are dying for their own daughters to get married off, and are en vious that I, a summer visitor, should car ry off the one prize. Besides, I care not what any one says, if I myself am satis fied." "But, are you satisfied ? Ah, Gussie, child, how can I send you home to your father with the news that this strolling German stranger has won his daughter's affections !" "Strolling German stranger ! Aunt Rachel, what do you mean ?" Gussie Averill arose from her seat by the warm, sunny window, and confronted the lady with gashing eyes and lowering, defiant brow. "We will not talk on the subject fur ther, my dear. You are getting angry with your old Auntie; this handsome stranger has crept in already between us, and I pray he will not alienate you from all your friends. Come, Gussie, I want you to run to the village for mire yarn.— Will you ?" So completely had the old lady changed the conversation, that Gussie was mollifi ed in spite of herself. 'Of course I'll go; and you'll forgive me?" manta-tf Very pretty Gussie Averill was, in her stylish suit of brown sateen cloth, trimmed with its full plaitings, and ornamented with a voluminous sash. The little round hat trimmed with the long, curling, brown Famine and Plenty--Fifteen Years Ago and Now. We are indebted to the publishers of the American Working People for the finely executed engraving, and description of same, which appears in the JOURNAL of to-day. This popular and widely circula ted periodical is issued monthly, on fine book paper and clear type, and contains some eighty columns of reading matter, specially prepared for workingmen and their families. It is the ablest tariff paper published in the United States, and every workingman should have it.. Send $1,50 to the IRON WORLD PUBLISHING COMPA NY, Pittsburgh, Pa., and you will not re gret the investment.. The accompanying sketches are Missis sippi river scenes. That on the left was lived and suffered fifteen years ago. The banker, the merchant, the storekeeper, the mechanic, the farmer felt in the morning', when he arose, at noon when he stopped to dine, at night when he retired to rest, with ten-fold the severity which this truth ful scene can convey to the mind, the misery of the idleness here portrayel, the I wants and the helplessness to meet them which stand out on the picture. We do not need to unveil musty v01..' umes from antiquarian libraries to find The Result of Free Trade in the Mississippi Valley in 1856-7. out these things. The men• of to-day re- The paper currency issued on the basis of member therm The bankers, the mer- the earning and saving capabilities of the chants, whose shattered and scattered for- nation, depreciated when men could neither tunes crumbled and fled like quicksilver earn, nor buy, nor sell. The United States from their helpless grasp during those was transformed during these years into a dark, idle, hopeless days, remember them• vast prison house, and men were helpless and tremble when they recall them. The- as prisoners to help themselves. The storekeeper, whose well-filled shelves, and taunting sights of the plenty about them the farmer, whose cultivated fields are now only exasperated their feelings of degrada silently drinking in their winter's last gift tion. People would not produce • crops of snow, remember them, when they each because they could not find men able to wondered why the one could not buy, and buy. They lived on what they raised, and the other could not sell. It is a well es- exchanged a little for merchandise they tablished fact, known to themselves, that must have. The banks had not a dollar during this free trade epocb, corn was to redeem their worthless paper, and one burned as fuel on steamboatsand railroads, after another suspended in rapid succes because it would not bring ten cents a bushel in the market. Thousands of bushels of it was burned ; thousands of bushels of it rotted because none could be found who had money to pay for it. Wheat sold for thirty-five cents, a fact easily established by reference to the St. Louis papers of that day. And yet it smouldered and rotted by heaps in great, idle elevators and warehouses, while poor people, idle, hungry and dejected, wandered about, vainly looking for work, counting how many days longer their limited supply of corn meal and pork would last. Farmers during those days looked over their corn fields and wheat fields, and ostrich feather, brought out all the rich tints of her brunette complexion, and en hanced the saucy brightness of her brown eyes. Karl Rembrandt, as he stood at the door of the post-office, and lifted his hat so gracefully as she passed, thought how exceedingly fair she was, and a smile of gratified triumph crept under his heavy moustache as he noted the rich color on her cheek when he saluted her. Ile made no secret of his admiration for her, and openly awaited her return past the office, knowing there was no other way for her to go. _ . _ . It was not long before she came back, and then he walked on beside her; his low, devoted voice causing quick heart beats. "You knew I was going to leave Ashton in the morning?" He caught a rapid glance of her sudden ly startled eyes as they met his a moment. "But you will return ?" "Oh, no. At least I think not. I have been idling ever since August, and now it's not more than a month from Christ mas. I have to regret but one thing in going." He lowered his voice, and Gussie won dered if he heard the rapid pulsations of her heart. 'And that is, leaving you, Gussie Av erill. You surely know how dear you are to we? You must have seen how I love you ? Gussie, do I love you in vain ?or have I read aright that eloquent fee? ?—= Tell me?'' They were without the outskirts of the village, with not a single soul in sight, and the handsome, impulsive German lov er had lifted her blushing face to his, and deliberately kissed her lips. I need no verbal answer when those eyes meet mine. Gussie, I know you love me, and knowing that, I am going to ask you to marry me, and go back to New York to-morrow with me." She uttered a little cry ; it was so sud den, so—strange. "Do I terrify you with my precipitate ness, my timid birdling ? Think of it; think of how we love each other. Bement HUNTINGDON, PA., APRIL 24, 1872. wondered why God sent them such golden crops to remain unused, unsold, to rot in the sunlight of heaven, which had nurtured it for man's use. Heaven's bounteous rains and cheery sunlight were to them curses, for what were golden crops to them or theirs, when they could not sell them. They saw towns and cities filled with cheap foreign goods, which a low tariff permitted to be imported, but what were these when they could not buy them ; what were good crops or cheapness when the sheriff had agreed to postpone for thirty days longer the execution of a writ for taxes which these heaven-blest, man-cursed farmers strove in vain to pay by offering their crops for money—only enough to keep their land to themselves. The hankers suffered. Their vaults vomited forth their last dollar. Money flew to the sea-board cities, thence across the ocean and bought iron, glass, steel, machinery, toots, and a thousand articles we could make ourselves. One by one our furnaces and mills and workshops closed, and the workers in them, east out of work and without money to get away, stood idly about in the midst of free trade idleness and helpless poverty. The farmer, the mechanic, the merchant, drew out his last dollar for bread and never put it back. Read the history of those days and com plete the picture for yourself. It is here presented by the pencil of the artist. The bank and the scene of finan cial and commercial activity is abandoned. Idle steamboats rot at the levee. They once carried the products of the tens of thousands of the farmers of the West to consumers, and brought back implements of husbandry and subsistence, and cloth ing in return ; but they are idle now. People have no money. The elevator is in ruins. In the foreground is a protec tionist, standing like a prophet on the ruins about him, addressing a motley crowd of ber that I am not a poor man, to see you struggle along as best you may, but that I am ale to give you all the good thing of this world. We will go to the parish ree tor and be married; you can return to your aunt's, I to my hotel, and no one be the wiser. Tomorrow I will take you to your father, and the next day we will start on our wedding tour to my beloved Ger many, where we will be so happy, my Gus sie !" His fervid tones, his mesmeric eyes, had a strange, not uncomfortable influence over the girl; and she began to wonder if she bad not better consent. She loved him, and what matter was it if she was his wife sooner than she had anticipated. And Rembrandt took her hesitancy for a half consent, as it indeed was. "My darling will come with me 7 We still have the time; let us return, and go to the rector's." Gussie knew her whole heart was filled with a strange tremor of mingled terror and love ; a sensation that fascinated her, so new, so curious it was. And with this odd feeling, this soft, winning voice in her ears, and Karl Rembrandt's dark eyes looking into her own, Gussie Averill went deliberately on to her fate. At the silent hour of the gloaming, she and her husband parted at Aunt Rachel's gate. And when she handed the old lady the tiny parcel, she said: "This cool, frosty afternoon's walk as done you good, Gussie Averill. Your cheeks are•like blush roses, and your eyes like stars 1" The tea-things were all removed from the warm, bright dining-room, and Aunt Rachel came.in from the kitchen, with her big white apron tied about her portly fig ure, to hand Gussie a letter. "It came in one to me from your father. He tells you, I suppose—at least, he does me—that he wants you to return to-mor row. There has been a serious burglary at the house; all the silver and your poor mother's diamonds. 1 suppose he wants you to see to replacing them, or else attend to the house while be goes after the thief." Gussie tore the letter open, and listless negroes and white men ; some well dressed some in rags--all idle. He tells them of the cause of their idle ness. He stands out in the silence and the idleness and the desolation of the once busy mart, and appeals to them to recall the source of their former prosperity and return to them. And even as he speaks. the coming storm and the lightning flash, like the baring of the visible arm of Om nipotence himself, leaps from the gathering clouds and pointing downward on the scene of desolation below, quivers for an instant in the darkened heavens. The storm and lightning flash speaks through the mouth of this prophet sent of Providence, and warns the people against continuing longer in their insane course. A farmer who has sold his load of corn at ten cents a bushel, seeks some temporary consolation in a quart of ten cent whisky r . 77 about the only use and best use to which corn in those days could be put. But let m seek the other, brighter side of the picture. Speeches, and writing, and appealing to history and common sense, were in vain. Men clung to their free trade delusions until, as a nation, we were well nigh bank rupt. They refused to be convinced that free trade coule injure them. It was not until the year 1861 that we escaped from And What it is Under Tariff in 1872. this desert. A protective tariff was de clared, and protective duties imposed, and witness the result. Men may argue and theorize as they like, but we ask them which of the above- scenes were true in 1856. Were they then getting $1 40 per bushel for their wheat and 45 cents fir their corn? Were they then cultivating three hundred acres of land? Are they now passing sleepless nights- through fear of losing their farm ? Are they living now on flapjacks and corn coffee twenty-one times a week ? Look and be convinced. Open your eyes, farmers; merchants, bank ers of America, you who hug the delusive phantom of free trade to your bosoms; like the Grecian youth who held the stolen fox beneath his cloak through shame. It too has eaten out the nation's vitals thrice in its history, and will again if we do not cast it from us. In the picture before us we • see the legitimate fruits of protection. There, piled up awaiting shipment, on the busy levee. are the produce of a half dozen dif ferent States, brought thither by the steam boats at the levee, one of which is just preparing to start back for another load. Busy men are loadingit with the products of mills, and workshops, and factories iron goods, clothes and whatever the farm ers use. There are piles of iron awaiting ly read it through; then leaned ber head against, the old-fashioned chimney-corner. "I have only one parting favor to ask, Gawk. Will you grant it 7" She nodded yes, for somehow, she felt an unspeakable vieariness•of spirit, not the sensation a loving bride should experience. "I took the liberty of inviting Harry Living,ston over to spend the evening.— Yeti don't care—you'll see him ?" Why should she care—she, Mrs. Karl Rembrandt 7 and an amused little smile played over her lips. Would she see him? Of course ! There was a malicious pleas ure in knowing he never could win her now. So, an hour later, he came, with his joy ous, manly presence, that somehow never struck Gussie so forcibly as that night. Suddenly a rapid knocking disturbed the little group, and Gussie's father came in.' He was pale-, and a little out of breath; and took the chair Harry offered him. "We've tracked him to Ashton, Rachel, and the police have him now." "The burglar ? I am glad. Who is he ?' Aunt Rachel asked the-question, little thinking what the answer would be. "I don't know. His last alias is Rem brandt, Karl Rem-" A loud scream from Gussie, and then she fainted in her father's'arms. t was when the earliest spring flowers were blooming that- Gussie awoke from the illness that dragged her down to the River's brink ; and then she learned all the story. How her husband--she' shiv ered when Harry Livingston's kindly voice spoke it—had boasted he had married the danghter of the man he had robbed; how, when arrested, he had deliberately shot himself rather than be a prisoner. How that Mr. Averill and Aunt Rachel loved her as ever, and how he, Harry, loved- her . *sore than ever, and wanted to take her to Ashdale, to be his bride. And in after years, when . Gussie Livingston counted three daughters -a her own she used to warn them against the sin that well-nigh wrecked her whole life. shipment to be built into a new railroad which will open up a thousand miles of new, rich, cheap, fertile territory, for our• industrious and enterprisingyoung farmers. They will seek these new lands, stake out their farms, plant their seed, and soon send fresh crops of corn and wheat and rye and oats to the markets. Corn not at ten cents per bushel but fifty ; wheat not at thirty-five cents, but four times thirty five. They have plenty and earn plenty and live happily. Here is exchange. The products of the mill and shop and loom are exchanged for the products of the farm. Here is commercial activity. This is real. The farmer knows he can sell all he raises at a good price. Merchants no long er grow desperate over protested and dis honored paper. Bankers no longer grow pale and sick at the sight of empty vaults and clamorous creditors. Workingmen no longer hang idly around hoping for work, but aII—ALL are busy with hand and brain, working—saving—enjoying—grow ing better and wiser under the industry and activity of our commercial system. Churches and school houses, public im provements, railroads, all are the fruits of protection. Workingmen, farmers, mer chants, bankers, are not these facts? Does not evening often slip over you as it has just slipped in upon us as we write these words, without searee knowing how the busy hours, with flying feet, chased past so quickly and lightly ? Are not pleasant hoa►es awaiting you at evening time, where all earth's enjoyments are yours 'in abuti dance ? And yet—and yet—men continue to be- lieve we ought to have no protection. They still say, why pay five eentsfor a pound of iron when England will sell it to us for four. Farmers of the west when yon had English iron not at four cents but at two and a half cents a pound, how many two cents and a half did you earn ? As many as now ? You know- that last year you earned ten dotlars for one you earned in 1856, and why? Because America eats ninety-eight per -cent. of all the products you raise. If you throw the workingmen ofAmerica into idleness who will buy your ninety-eight per cent.-ef products'? Cer tainly not England, for she takes only two per cent. of them. Workingmen of America, if you are plunged into flue trade, you will suffer first, suffer most, suffer longest, and the pros perity above presented will fade away, and desolation worse than that pictured will descend over the land. Rise, area and unite for protection. fading be the *Olio. A Bootblack Adventure. The Milwaukee News says: During a slight lull in businesa here yesterday two" little bootblacks, one white and one black,- were standing at the corner of Second and Francis streets, doing nothing, when the white bootblack agreed to black the black bootblack's boots. The black bootblack was of course willing to have - his boots blacked by his fellow bootblack who had agreed to black the black bootblack's boots went to work. When the bootblack had blacked one of the black bootblack's boots till it shone in a manner that would make any bootblack proud,. this bootblack who had agreed to black the black bootblack's ' boots refused to black the other boot of the black bootblack until the black boot black,a who had consented to have the white bootblack black his boots, should . add five cents to the amount the white bootblack had made blacking other men's boots. This the bootblack whose boot had been blacked refused to do, saying it was good enough fora black bootblack to have one boot blacked, and he didn't care wheth er the boot . that the bootblack hadn't blacked-was blacked or not. This made the bootblack who. had blacked - the black bootblack's boot ang ry as a bootblack often gets, and he ' vente his black wrath by spitting upon the blacked' boot` of the black bootblack. This roused • the latent' passions of the black bootblack, and he proceeded to boot the white bootblack with the boot which the white bootblack had blacked. A fight then ensued, in which the white•bootblaelt who had refused to black the unblocked' boot of the black bootblack blacked - the black bootblack's visionary organ, and in which the black bootblack wore all the blacking off his blacked boot in booting the white boot black. The fraternity of bootblacks after ward convened, and denounced the action of the white and black bootblacks as one of the blackest in the pages of bootblack history. [For. the JoulnAt.] Graded Schools--No. I. It is not to be supposed that we need advocate graded schools at this period of time, when they are to be found in suc cessful operation in every town and village where children can be brought together in sufficient numbers for two or more teachers ; and there is a proper understand ing ;Ind appreciation of the advantages of such schools, over the graded. I would advocate them, not because teachers can be employed at a lower salary to teach the lower grade or primary schools, but simply on account of the superior advantages arising from what may be termed a prop er division of labor. No plan or system of graded schools can be laid down, but what may be subject to such changes as will fit it for the particular loca.ity for which it is intended. In our borough schools we have the following grades and divisions, viz : Primary, three divisions ; Intermediate, two divisions ; Grammar, two divisions; and High school. Such hag been the arrangement for the past two years, and it has worked well, but it is be lieved that by greater accommodations, the above grading may be materially im proved. In the management of schools, as in anything else, a great deal must be learned, that can be learned only by ex perience. In taking up the grades seriatim, our remarks in this paper will be limited to the Primary schools. It is in them that the foundation for an education is laid. The pupil's future course and success, his liking or dislikino. '' for school depends in a great measure on his primary course. The child comes to the primary teacher as raw material to be moulded for his future course, either successfully or unsuccess fully. The teaching should be such as will awaken an ambition in the child to learn what he does not know; and what is taught, should be so taught, that he will not need to unlearn it in his future course. Whatever the course assigned to the primary school, it should be, and every live and sufficiently qualified teacher will supplement it with appropriate oral in structions and object lessons. The necessary qualifications of the pri mary teacher are well set forth by an ar ticle in a recent number of the Illinois Teacher : I. A clear comprehension of the subject to be taught. It is a common saying that what is not possessed can not be given away. In instruction it might read, .-One must know a thing before he can teach it." The knowledge of the primary teacher should be most thoroughly possessed, more so than that of any other. With older pupils there is already existing a fund of knowledge, a previous discipline, which both they and the teacher can use in gain ing new ideas. They are, to a considera ble extent, self-reliant, so that the office of their teacher is in a great part directory, to give a hint here or a suggestion there which shall indicate the way before them and partially remove the obstacles in it. 11. The ability to adapt to the compre hension of children that knowledge to be imparted. In respect to instruction, teachers often fail to simplify their thought and their language to the comprehension of children. Receivin. b their ideas from the mature minds of authors and educational writers, they transmit them unmodified to the im mature minds of the children. If the manure thought were adapted to the forms of clear and simple language, if it were il lustrated by facts which come within the experiences-of the children, at least some of the dullness of the pupil and weariness of the teacher would be relieved, by great er life to the one and pleasure to the other. 111. Special preparation for each exer cise before the time of its occurrence. There is a common feeling that elemen tary instruction is so simple thai, no pre vious thought is necessary to the impart ing of it to the little ones. After many repetitions, it doubtless is simple to the mature mind of the teacher. But does not every one remember the great labor on his own part in mastering some of those very things which now seem so simple, and which only the lapse of time enabled him to call thoroughly his own ? There must be a plan, a definite arrangement of the steps to be taken in their natural or der. This plan will not be precisely the same with successive classes. The differ ence in abilities of the pupils and the nat ural improvements in the methods of a live teacher forbid it. The time required may be short, but some time should be taken to consider the plan of operations of each day before its work commences. It is said that Thomas Arnold always re viewed the lessons of the day, beforehand, giving as a reason that he did not want his pupils to drink from stagnant pools. Speed of the Earth's Rotation The farther we are from the poles the swifter the rotation of our world on its own axis. At St. Petersburg, in 60 d eg. latitude, the speed of rotation is nine s miles-a minute; At Paris, eleven miles and a half. On the equatorial line, the rapidity of its motion is not far from eigh teen miles a mintite—which is 528 yards each second. Its whirl on its axis, there fore, is equal to - the flight of a cannon ball of twenty-six pounds forced from a gun by thirteen pounds of powder. Such ' - swiftness of a mass of matter of the den sity of this earth, eight thousand miles in diameter, through celestial space, makes one giddy to think of it. As the earth sways either side of .the exact line of its orbit in running-nand the sun, like a balloon in the air, it has never, since launched into space, gone over the same track twice. In its oscilla tion it passes each side of the prescribed roadway, crossing to and fro, but never swaying so far from it as not to be brought by an attractive - force somewhere in the 'immensity of stellar spaoe, which keeps unrecordecimillions of worlds, far supe rior to this in magnitude, brilliancy; and overwhelming grandeur, in paths in which They .are destined to move till the heavens shall be burned as a scroll. Matter cannot be annihilated. This proposition is admittted to be true in philosophy. But how originated? That is a question. PET= CAszwittorr, the Reverend pio neer Methodist, used to be annoyed by a noisy but not over pious sister, who would go off on a high key every opportunity she got. At an animated class meeting one day the surcharged sister broke - out with : "If I had one more feather in the wing of my faith I could fly away and be with the Saviour." "Stick in the feather, 0 Lord ! and let her go," fervently responded •Broth er Cartwright. "THAT'S my impression;" as OUT Paid said when he kissed his sweetheart. NO. 17. "Treating." If there is anything more absurd than this habit, we are unable to put our finger upon it. Men do not always "treat" one another to car tickets, because they happen to meet on the same seat. We never saw a man on encountering an acquaintance, take out his pocket book and say, "Ah, George ! delighted to see you! Do take a few postage stamps. It's my treat !" Do men have a mania fin. paying for each others board bills ? And is drinking together more social than eating together or sleeping together ?" A traveler may go all over the conti nents of Europe, Asia and Africa, without seeing any man except a Yankee offer to "treat," and Frenchmen are quite social enough; but when they go into a cafe to sip their wine, or branded coffee together, each man pays fur hie own. When two Germans, long separated meet, they will be very apt to embrace, and turn into an adjoining beer saloon, sit down, drink lag er, eat pretzels and talk; but when they part again each man settles his own score independently. So in Italy. The Italians are proverbially merry and generous, but each man pays for his own, maccaroni and cigars. They never eo into each other's pocket book in the sacred name of friend ship. They would as soon think of trans ferrinc,' to each other their washer-wo man'sbill. The preposterous fashion of "treating" is responsible for the terrible drunken ness in America. There would be as little need of temper ance societies and little work for the Good Templars as there is in Germany, France and Italy if this pernicious and insidious habit was abolished. It is, take it all in all, the most ridiculous, the most unreason able, and most pestilent custom that ever laid its hands on civilized human beings. Childish Piety. Child piety is no novelty. The state of ideas and feelings which repressed it was but a tem porary eclipse that passed before the church. Christians generally have believed that when Christ spoke of "little ones that believe in me," and when he said "of such is the kingdom of heaven," he taught that in some respects the child is the typical, the model;Christian. We have nc logic or doctrine that does not re quire us to expect and encourage child piety. We have much reason to desire not only more of it among those that we love, but more of its nature in our churches. It is simple belief in Jesus. It prays, and trusts, and expects. It loves. It is ardent. It is cheerful. It endures. It has more excnl lences than we can enumerate. But childpie ty need not be childish piety always, and it needs development. Our Christianity incurs certain dangers from childish piety. It is un instructed. Doubtless young converts be. come eventually the best informed Christians, but everywhere we see growing up young per sons whose study of the great truths of God nerly ceased at their entrance into the church. —here is danger that the child's measure shall become the standard of the church. Already the effects of childish piety are seen in increas ed levity, frivolity, looseness of doctrine, want of discipline, and general ignorance of the great doctrines. The church cannot fail to feed the lambs without suffering. On the whole, perhaps, the church has more to fear from its own neglect of common sense and plain duty toward the children, than for anything natural to the children, and it in ta king a *great responsibility in restraining the children from a profession because therein not piety and wisdom enough to train them. More Awful than Judgment. A celebrated preacher of the seventeenth century, in a sermon to a crowded andierice described the terrors of the judgment with such eloquence, pathos, and force of action that some of his audience not only burst into tears, but sent forth piercing cries, as if the Judge tritoself had "been present, and was about to pass upon them their final sentence. In the hight of this ex..itment the preacher called upon them to dry their tears and cease their criesore he was about to add something still more awful arid astonishing than anything he had yet brought before them. Silence being obtained, he, with an agitated countenance and solemn voice, addreSsed them thus : "In one quarter of an hour from this time tbe emo tions which you just now exhibited will be satisfied ; • the 'remembrance' of the' fearful -truths which excited them, will vanish you -will return to your carnal occupations, or sin futpleasUres with your usual avidity, and you will treat all you have beardmiWa-tale that it told." How the World Judges Christians There are persons who wouid judge of Christians se moo would judge of apples, who should enter an orchard and go atooping along upon the groundin search of them. He picks one up, a hard, green, thing, no bigger titan a 'walnut. He bites it; it puckers up his mouth and setilis teeth - on edge.--"Ha 1" he says, throwing the untimely. fruit. away, ..1 hear them speak of apples as being so delicious ; I am sure I don't think - much of this one. He picks up another which looks yellow. There is a whole in it, but he don'tknow what it means, so he bites into it and finds a worm. "Bah ! apples delicious, indeed," he cries in disgust ; and picks up a third, which is cruhed by his touch, for it is rotten So he condemns apples because he has looked for them upon the ground instead of on the trees above head, where they hang ripe, juicy and luscious, a chief treasure of autumn. So men judge Christians, so long as they take for fair samples those that lie rotten on the ground 13eecher. The Throne cf Grace. If you want your spiritual life to be healthy and vigorous, you must jint come more boldly to the throne of grace. The secret of your weakness is your little faith and little prayer. The fonatain unsealed, but you only sip-a few drops. The bread of life is before you, yet you only eat'a few crumbs. The treasury of heaven is open, but you only take a few pence. 0, man of little faith, wherefore do you doubt? Awake to know your privileges ! sleep no longer. Tell me not of spiritual hanger and thirst so long as the throne of grace is before you. Say rather you are proud, and will not come to its poor sinner ; say rather you are Slothful, and will not take pains to get more. Cast aside the grave clothes of pride that still bang about you. Trow off that Egyptian gar ment of indolence, which ought not to have been brought through the Red Sea. Away with that unbelief which ties and paralyzes your tongue. You are straitened in God but in yourself. Come boldly, for you may, all sinful as you are, if yon come in the name of the great High Priest. Brevities Little can be done well to which the whole mind is not applied. Justice consists in doing no injury to men ; decency in giving them no offence. Few can be assiduous without senility, and none can be servile without corruption. The greatest men living may stand in need of the meanest, as much as the meanest of him. Envy is a passion so full of cowardice and shame, that nobody ever had the confidence to own it. The pions man and the atheist always talk of religion ; the one . of what he loves, and the other of what he fears. Be always at liberty to do good ; never make business an mine to decline the offices of humanity. He who sins sganist man may fear discov ery, but he who sins against God is sure of
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