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
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No paper discontinued, unless at the option of
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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