VOL. 47 The Huntingdon Journal. T. R. DURBORROW, Offiee on the Corner of Bath and Waehington streets. Tug HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. DURBORROW and J. A. Nam, under the firm name of J. R. DURBORROW & Co., at $2,00 per annum, or 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 arreamges 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 : 3ml6ml9mlly 6ml9mlly 01,1: 34 00 11:?gls f i r so 00 ls 38 col 1400;0 :0 ew 12 00 66 1 - 11 0 10 00 14 00 1 18 00 1114 00 2.1 00..24 00 I'lB 00 26 00 30 00 I Inch 2601 2 . 400 3 . 600 4 " 8 001 5 " 950 Special notices will be inserted at TWELVE AND A HALF . CENTS per line, and local and editorial no ticesat FIFTEEN CENTS per line. All Resolutions of As;oeiations, Communications of limited or individual interest, and notices of Mar riages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN cones 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. AU advertising accounts arc due and collectable when the advertisement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— Hand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, dm., 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., ECLEa • TIC PHI - VIVIAN AND SURGEON, hav 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.3-1872. DR. F. 0. ALLEMAN can be con milted at his office, at all hours, Mapleton, Pa. [mareh6,72. CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, D*No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods t Williamson. [apl2,ll. 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 Featingdon. Dan. 4,11. L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. • Brc wn'e new building, No. 520, Hill St., Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,'il. A GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner • of Washington and Smith streets. Hun tingdon, Pa. Dan.l2'7l. pe r C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law A • Office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon, Ps. [..P- 1,0 ; 71 _ J'SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, hrce doors west of Smith. [jan.4'7l. R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth ci • scary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun ingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23,'70. JHALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, • No. 319 Hill at., Huntingdon, Pa. [jan.4,ll. _ . I"R. DURBORROW, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the several Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of rotates of dece dents. OlDee in ho JOIMITAL Building. [feb.l,7l j W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law r." • and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., Soldiers' claims against the Government for back pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ed to with great care and promptness. Office on Hill street. Dan. 4,71. SALLEN 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. pas Mee in room lately occupied by R. Milton Speer, Esq. Ljan.4,ll. MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly to all legal business. Office in Cunningham's new building. Lian.4,7l. IL ALLISON /M.N. U. MILLER & BUCHANAN, DENTISTS, No. 228 Hill Street, HUNTINGDON, PA. April 5, '7l-Iy. PM. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to all kinds of legal business entrusted to their care. OESoe on the south side of Hill street, fourth door west of Smith. Dan. 4,71. Tel A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, • Moe, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l,'7l. .101. SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. IL BAILEY SCOTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Ps. Pensions, and all Maims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against the Government will be proinptly prosecuted. Office on Hill street. [jan.4,7l. W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun -A- • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, Esq. Cjan.4,ll. INPLLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other bgal business attended to with care and promptness. Office, No. 229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l. Miscellaneous nO TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE 'LA For all kinds of printing. EXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. January 4, 1871.. NEAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT ITNITED STATES HOTEL, HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA M'CLAIN & 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 k CO., Manufac nears of Locomotive and Stationary Boilers, Tanks, Pipes, Pilling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet Iron Work of every description. Works on Logan street, Lewistown, Pa. All ordep pr , mltly attended to. Repairing clone at short no.ise. [Apr 5,'71,1y.. R. BECK, Fashionable Barber A• and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on hand and for sale. [aplB,'7l-81n The Huntingdon Journal. gbe - 1 1: noto' Amur. J. A. NASH, The Old Door Stone A song, a song for the old door stone, To every household dear; That hallowed spot, where joys and griefs, Were shared ter many a year, When sank the sun to its daily rest. When the wild bird's song was o'er, When the toil and care of the passing day Annoyed the heart no more ; Then on that loved and time-worn spot We gathered one by one, And spent the social twilight hour Upon the old door stone. How sweet to me do memories come Of merry childhood's hours, When we sped blithely through the fields In search of budding flowers, Or gathered berries from the bush, Or bending greenwood tree, Or chased the light-winged butterfly With pealing shouts of glee ; The freshest hour in memory's book W,is spent at set of sun, My weary head on mother's knee, Upon the old door stone. leo 00 1 so' That mother's face, that mother's form, Are graven on my heart. And of life's holiest memories They form the dearest part; Her counsel and instructions given, Of friendship, love and truth, Have been my guardian and my guide, Through all the ways of youth ; And yet I seem to hear again Each loved and treasured tone, When I in fancy sit me down, Upon the old door stone. Long years have passed since mother died, Yet she is with me still, Whether a toiler in the vale, Or a wanderer on the hill : Still with me at my morning care Or evening's quid rest, The an angel by my side, The kindest and the . best, A mother now, I often strive To catch her thought and tone, For those who cluster around my knee. Upon my own door stone. And oft beneath those clustering vines Have kindred spirits met, And holy words breathed softly there— Vows all unbroken yet— And friendships formed and plans devised, And kindly pledges given, And sweet communions there began, Far reaching into Heaven ! Oh! those who met in love, "lang sync," In life's wide paths are thrown, Yet many turn with longing hearts, Back to the old door stone. Years have flown since those bright days, And all the world is changed, And some who loved most kindly then Are by the world estranged ; Some fond hearts, too, then full of joy, Are cold and still this day ! Forsaken plans and withered hopes Lie strewn o'er all the way, And strangers' feet tread those old halls Where pattered once our own, And spend the pleasant twilight hour • Upon the old door stone. The old door stone, the clustering vine, Oh! may they long remain ; And may the household band that's left Meet there but once again : Meet not to weep o'er pleasures pest, Or canvass joys to come— Meet to revive the sacred loves Once centered in that home, A brother and a sister sleep, Our parents both are gone; Oh! it would be a saddened hour Upon that old door stone. igiat Aorg-dia. A Romance of Yore. BY W. if. WILLIAMSON. IT was on a beautiful serene May eve ning. -Nature wore her most enchanting apparel. The rose-perfumed zephyrs float ed over hill and dale, filling every nook and corner with their fragrance, and rust ling the young leaves of forest into a monotonous song, which, mingling with the carolling of birds, was enough to lull one into a peaceful dreaming, that a beau tiful young lady could be seen seated in the doorway of her elegant home, which opened out upon a neat little verandah all covered with fresh blooming honeysuckles, that seemed to be ever bowing their bell shaped heads in sympathy and adoration for the lovely creature which they were now protecting from the rays of the fast declining sun. She rests her head upon her delicate hand—seemingly she sees or hears nothing. How often it is the case that the heart is weighed down by some nnmitigating sorrow, known to none save its Creator and possessor. We may be surrounded by the most enchanting music, or the -most nature-favored scenery, or hid eous noise, and see nor hear nothing save the tempest raging within. And do we not sometimes pass the most cherished friend unnoticed, not able to give a tangi ble reason when asked the cause. Thus it was with the angelic-looking Regina Ferris. She was conscious of nothing but the throbbing of her own heart. The birds sang loud and shrill; two beautiful pet squirrels skipped from limb to limb on the silver maple in rront of her, all unnoticed. Her surroundings were such as any one would suppose would make her happy.— Her home was situated among the heaven towering mountains of Western Pennsyl vania, in the county of B—, within a quarter of a mile of the thrifty town of B—. Ease and comfort seemed to revel amid the green shrubbery which surround ed the house. Flower Hill, the name that Regina had given to her home, was situated on a level spot of ground where nature seemed to never grow weary of painting it with a variety of her most beau tiful colors. It overlooked a beautiful green valley in which could be seen the town of B—, with her antique looking church towers climbing towards the heav ens. Along its base could be seen a spark ling stream of water, its banks fringed by time with overhanging shrubbery, growing in all its wild freedom. Along this stream was Regina's favorite retreat. She had chosen one spot beneath an old oak tree, whose green branches stretched far and near. She had planted wild flowers of the most lovely varieties, and with her own hands had constructed a little bench which was cushioned with velvet moss, which she had gathered and dried for this pur pose. At this lovely place she was often met by William Howard, a tall, handsome your' , " c man, with dark hair and raven black eyes, which were as mild and tender as was his nature good and great. A dark silk-like moustache fell in profusion over his red lips which, when disclosed, made visible a matchless row of pearly truth.— He resided in the neighboring town before mentioned, and nearly every evenino• b a ft er business hours he would walk out toFlow er Hill, or the old oak tree, where he was sure to meet the pride of his heart With such surroundings, would any one suppose Regina Ferris to be otherwise than happy ? Was she happy, or not, is now to be ascer tained, and to do this we will have to re trace a few years of her life's history, which will enable us to unravel the sequel. It was on a dark, stormy night, in the month of January, a little more than two years prior to her introduction to the read lifehls-tf er, that we see Regina Ferris seated before a blazing fire, which she had built after her own liking, in a quaint-looking chim ney-corner. As we have said, the night was dark and stormy. The winds howled as if they had been locked up in some eternal cavern, all the while raging and maddening at their captivity, until with one mighty stroke they burst the door of their prison asunder and belched forth with all their wanton fury. They seemed to concentrate their most furious elements around Flower Hill, pouring through eve ry crevice their chilling breath, causing the glass in the old bay windows to rattle unceasingly, while snow drifted against every object that it met in its furious whirl. The unfortunate traveler was sur rounded by the most impenetrable dark ness, with the raging elements howling o'er him, which could be heard echoing along the rugged mountain sides, breaking down through the valleys, with its thun der-like voice, sweeping on in mighty pow er o'er hill and dale, bending the giant oak as though it were but a twig, and seeming to delight in its devastating pow er, would die out in the far-off distance, only to give place to more of its kind.— Such is the night without, while Regina Ferris is seated in a reclining position upon a sofa drawn before the fire. She looks listlessly at the bright flames, while they twist themselves into fantastical shapes, entwining their red arms around the curl ing smoke which struggles to free itself from their embrace, that it may leap upon the storm's raging car and be carried to the far-distant heavens, there to revel amid the clouds. The room has no other light than the burning wood. The bright chan delier hangs lazily midway between ceiling and floor, not appearing jealous of its rival. The large mirror, suspended from the glit tering frescoed walls, reflects many of the surrounding objects ; the dark velvet car pet forming a beautiful background for them to rest against, but we think the most attractive object resting upon its calm, clear surface is the elegant form of Regina Ferris. Her dark brown hair is thrown over the back of the sofa, while its ends rest upon the floor. Man never beheld a more lovely or angelic picture—her dim pled chin rests upon her heaving bosom, her soft, yet radiant blue eyes are ever and anon closed by lashes which rest upon her bheeks. Tears can be seen chasing each other in rapid succession down her flushed cheeks, finding a bed upon her bosom.— Could my feeble pen describe her loveli ness, it would be looked upon as a fable, and not as a reality; therefore I will not make an attempt, for had I all the elo quence and descriptive powers that man has ever been gifted with, I could but paint a faint picture of the reality. The most casual observer would judge by her restless manner that she does not expect to spend the entire evening alone,although it is growing late. The old town clock has just struck nine. At each little rustling noise she casts an anxious and expectant glance toward the door. "Oh ! will he not get here to bid me farewell," she sighs as though her heart were breaking at that most' awful monster 4.140, - known footstep is heard on the verandah, and William Howard walks in, without the formal ringing of the door-bell, and is met by Regina in the hall. "I'm so glad to see you, Will, I thought the storm had stayed you. Draw your overcoat," she added in the same breath. "Oh no, my dear, I was detained for a short time thinking it would blow over, but I would have come at this hour had it proved twice as furious." "You are true to your word, Will, walk in, I have just the kind of a fire you like." "It is splendid ; reminding one of the stories told of my grand-father, of olden times, when they had no stoves." This conversation was but a forced pre lude to unmitigating fears and sorrow, as the reader will soon see. "So, Will, you have concluded to go ?" "I think it best, dear Regina, that I should, for if I stay here, yonder church bell will toll the departure of my spirit into the spirit land before another year has come and gone." They both wept. That the reader may understand the cause of this parting, along with the sor row attending it, it becomes necessary to give a brief explanation. Our hero was one of the leading young men in the town ; having always occupied a high position in social life, he was rap idly approaching fame's resplendent sum mit. Hopes crowned with golden result loomed up before him—he was courted at every turn by the great of the land. Am bition was the ruling element of his nature, yet he was loved by all, for he was good, kind and affable—but an over taxation of his great mental pJwers, and a too close confinement in doors, had greatly impaired his health. The old family physician de. dared it absolutely necessary for him to travel, the only hope left, by which he might possibly regain it. This is why Regina Ferris and William Howard have met for the last time in two long years. In a week more he will be out upon the great deep, bound for Eng land. After a'year of the most pleasing association the's , have learned to look upon each other with love's most holy design uppermost in their minds. And now that they must part, under such heart-rending circumstances. is it not enough to cause tears to flow thick and fast from the deep est recesses of their aching hearts ? They are seated on the sofa, previously described, before the now ebbing fire, his feet resting upon the ottoman, while his head is pressed tenderly, by loving hands, upon that bosom which is dearer to him than all the world besides, for to use his own words, "I would not strive, dear one, to prolong my life, perhaps but to find my grave beneath old ocean's roar, were it not for this little lov ing heart which I now hear beating so wildly beneath my head; fain would I be laid to rest in yonder church yard if it were not for your love which makes life so dear to me. And now may I ask you, for the first time, to await my return, if return I may, then to be my own, while the soul continues in this racked tenement of clay?" Tears and sighs choke her utterance, and she can only answer him by bowing her bead in the affirmative. "Thank you, sweet one, for in your price less gi ft . May God keep you His own pavilion of happiness, and if I never more in this life behold your dear face, I pray God that we may meet where sickness is not known. Now one more promise, my only love, and I must go. Will you meet me, two years from the tenth of next May, at early twilight, beneath the oak tree, where we have enjoyed so many happy hours, whether it be this poor body, or my spirit from yonder bright land 7" "If God spares my life, dear Will, I'll be there." "Then if it is in the spirit, with God's permission, I'll meet you there." HUNTINGDON, PA., MAY 1, 1872 He kissed her lips tenderly, his heart filled with emotion, such as none but those who have parted under similar circum stances can conceive, pressed her to his bosom for a moment in the attitude of an humble suppliant, beseeching Divine pro tection, and was gone. As she looked upon that tall, graceful form gliding out of the door, a pitiful cry could be heard, which echoed in the spa cious ball before William Howard had left it. He heard it, only to sadden his heart the more, for he could not go back to live over the moments just passed. The storm had now lulled into a mourn ful death-like whisper as it sped around the corner of the house. Every element in nature seemed to be in sympathy with the lover's first parting. The sky had un veiled its glories—the stars began to shine with a resplendent brightness, blending their golden rays midway between Heaven and earth, in token of the combined love of Heaven. The new moon strewed the earth with her silver rays, and seemed to glory in the privilege, forming a scene of the most picturesque grandeur. William Howard had walked some distance before stopping to take a farewell look at the spot where all his earthly happiness was concentrated. He could yet see the dim light shining through the great windows in which he had passed sa many happy hours with the idol of his heart, wonderinc , if be would ever behold her again. He knows full well whose form he now sees gliding back and forth before the window, and raising his eyes toward Heaven prays, "Oh Father, may I one day see her thus walking before Thy throne." _ _ It is quitsbeyond our chief object to follow him through all his weary travels, but suffice it to say that two years to the very day has elapsed since their parting. Regina is again seated just as we saw her two years ago, celebrating the hours in which they parted, with a half hopeful expression lingering on her lovely face. Just at this moment a servant enters, hands her a letter and departs. She opens it with a trembling hand, and reads as follows : Mr DEAR REGTNA : This is the 3d day of December, 18—. I am able, for the first tine in two loni'months, to wield a pen, and am fearful now that I shall not be able to write all I would love to tell you, for doubtless this will prove my last communication to you while on earth. I am rapidly nearing my eternal home. This poor body will soon find its home on the never reeling wave. lam sinking very fast. Death looms up before me—eternity is now becoming a reality, but no fear attends its approach. I have besought God to prolong my life till I could fulfill my promise, to meet you the 10th of May, under the old oak tree, that I might see your dear face once more before bidding adieu to earth and thee; but He does all for the best. Our meeting would doubtless create a longing for life, when there would have to be &miracle wrought as of yore, for the decree has gone forth, and death waits at the door of my soul to do its work. I have longed and prayed for a grave in the little church yard, where I know you would drop tears of sor row on the green turf, over the body of him who has loved you with all the love of his soul. But alas, for human hopes ! They are like the mighty waves that lash our vessel—rising majestically be fore our vision—grand to behold, but are soon swept away and lost or swallowed up in oblivion. But thank God there is one hope which is not as the bubble on the tide, one which we know will germinate into a glorious reality, viz.: The !lope of meeting in Heaven. I must now bid adieu, 4,11 - 111 - cisrsmy joy, Thyself the chief of them all, And hope to meet you in triumph Ascending the skies. When our dear Redeemer sloth call. Farewell, farewell, Dear Regina, farewell, I soon will be sleeping Beneath the wave soundinf knell. WILLax IIowARD. Oh, that lono sick heart, how shall we describe it! She folded the letter and pressed it time and again to her burning lips. Would to God she bad a mother's bosom to rest her aching bead upon, or a loving father to pity his child, but alas ! they have been laid to rest. Her earthly hopes and comforts have now fled. "Death! oh, death ! come quickly," she cries. "William, oh, dear William, must I suffer all alone, while thy poor body is tossed about by the raging billows, will I see your kind face no more on earth ? Would to God I could join your spirit in its as- I cent to Heaven, then I should be happy. Oh ! my poor, poor heart; is this death ? Welcome art thou, but do thy work quickly that I may join him on the other shore." Sighs and plaintive prayers could be heard in her chamber long after the turn of the night. Now my gentle reader we have finished the former history of these two lovers, and do you now wonder at the unobserving eyes and pale cheeks of Regina Ferris, as we first introduced her to you ? It brings the tenth of May, the evening on which she promised to meet William Howard. She is thinking of that promise. Her heart has shut out the present, while sad memories of the past array themselves be fore her vision, like so many tormentors of her soul's peace, mking her deaf and blind to all the surrounding glories of the evening. She is beautifu to look upon, yet very pale—made more so, perhaps, by the back-ground of dark-brown hair, which hangs in profusion over her evenly turned I shoulders. The character of her soul is reflected in the tender blue eyes, and you would say, were you to behold her, that she is too angelic to remain long on earth. But the hour. in which she is to mast William Howard (or rather his spirit) is drawing nigh. The king of day has just dipped from sight behind the western hills, reflecting a halo of soft light over the land. She starts, as if from a heavenly musing, and is ready to repair to the spot, around which all her hopes of the last two years have clustered. As she nears the place she quickens her step, for earthly twilight is past, and as she gets still nearer, raises her mournful blue eyes toward heaven, in the most imploring manner, and whispers, "Will you meet me, dear William ?" Poo; lone heart, surrounded by the darkness of night, waiting for her depart ed lover's spirit to come and kiss her cheek. Moments come and go without one token from that bright world above to comfort her, save the beautiful full moon just dawning upon the scene. She kneels with her pale sunken cheeks resting upon her hands for a moment. Now she raises her tear-dimmed eyes toward the vaulted sky, and prays : "Are they not all minis tering spirits, sent forth to minister unto those who are heirs of salvation ? Then, dear William, come and speak words of comfort to this aching heart." Who can imagine her joy at finding herself clasped to a manly bosom, and in answer to her plaintive supplication hears the words spoken : "I am here, dearest. God has answered prayer, and I have lived to see your dear face once more; but kiss me a quick and fond farewell for I am dying !" These were his last words, for he sank a corpse at her feet. She threw herself upon his breast, twined her arms about his neck, uttered a loud, heart-rending shriek, and she too was lifeless upon the breast of her lover. The stars seemed to be mirrors through which millions of angels viewed the scene in mute adoration. If ever the music of heaven broke over its battlements, and reached earth, or leaped upon a heavenly breeze, it was in this eventful moment, when two such faithful and loving spirits were being conveyed by a convoy of angels up tc their God. On the 12th of May thevillage tolled for the burial of the bodies. A large circle of loving friends stood around, as they were buried, side by side, in the little church-yard, dropping many tears of sor row upon their.grayes.. for tilt d; Mien. Professions Overstocked. That the professions are greatly over stocked throughout the country, no man who looks upon the grand army of brief less barristers, patientless doctors, impe cunious editors, wangdoodle preachers, et id °mai genus, can doubt for a moment. Lookinc , " into philosophy, we find that the excess of supply over the demand is trace able to a trait in the nature of parents, in itself worthy of all praise, appreciation and love of offspring. A mother, particularly, imagines her little boy betrays the capabil ities of genius. and feels that he shall not hop clods like his rough, weather-beaten sire, cobble shoes like his uncle, or make horse-shoes and iron wagons like his stout, double fisted cousin. No; he shall be a lawyer. a member or Congress, a President, a Dr. Hall, a Surgeon Stone, a Bishop Polk or Doggett! This feeling is too sel dom tempered by sound sense and correct judgment, else the professions would not be affected by so many who are as little qualified for their duties as a bull to keep a China shop. Nine-tenths of those who , attend the law, medical and theological schools of the country are utterly incapa ble of mastering even the simplest rudi ments of the sciences ; and nine of ten would make a much better mark with an axe on a log of firewood than they ever could make in the world by their proficien cy in the professions. Hence, to nine fond mothers in ten we may well say, your little Johnnie, or Jakie, or Jimmie, or Wil lie, or Bobbie Lee, or Hiram Ulyss, or John Wesley—as the name may be—could make more good character and more "kel ter" in the corn, wheat, cotton, or sugar field than in any of all the multitude of professions. It is well for you to love your children. That love, like your na tive modesty, gives to you the sweet power of unsurpasse attraction, and shining like a planet iu the deep, unsullied blue heaven, is one of the brightest gems blazing in your corolla' of virtues; but it is unseemly to try to make a lawyer, doctor, Doctor of Divinity, Master of Arts, or editor, of one only fit by nature for the oc cupation of driving a cart as to seta black smith at mending a watch with his tongs and punches, and hammers • and pincers. It is really quite as honorable to be a good mechanic as to be a professional, and to be a successful agriculturist as either. If mothers would cause the making of no more "apologies — Tor professional men for two or three generations hence, the great world would be better off. More than half of those in the country having "no visible means of support" pretend to belong to one or the other of the professions. Almost every town has a number of "doctors" who never had a patient, and "lawyers" who never did and never will receive a fee. Many of these, when they adopted the "profession," supposed it would enable them to live above the necessity and with out the disgrace of work !—never for a moment getting the truthful idea through their thick skulls that the chopper can work no harder in the woods than the fit and competent lawyer or doctor with his case. These bogus and ridiculous disciples of Blackstone and Aculapius should, above all things, make plowing their study and practice ; and if the mere name "profes sion" makes it easy, why let them call it the profession of plowing—let a man, if he like it, be called Timothy Clodstraddle, Professor of Straight Furrows and Master of the Hoe. At any rate, the industrious plowman does more g ood, to himself and country, than all the pseudo-professional men in the land—the former produces, the latter only consume. No, fond parents, if you are not quite certain that your little boy is gifted far above the average, don't think of making a professional man of him. Children's Gardens All ye who hope for a future of bliss, or desire happineds and progress on this earth—ye who have a child, or can borrow one, prepare ye a spot, dig it deep, and then call the child, saying: "There, Mary, Harry, Susie or Dan, is a little patch of ground, all dug and prepared, and in it you may plant and grow just what you please." Saying this, now go ye and take up tbe catalogues of seed and plant. Men, call the child or children to you; ask of them to choose each a dozen varieties of seeds or plants, and from their happy ex pressions—their "Oh ! I'd like this," and "Oh ! won't that be beautiful ?" Make the lists and seed for your dollar or two, as you can afford, to the dealer for the seeds or plants. The first budding growth of a child—a baby—is beautiful, lovely, inexpressible, and appreciated by all; re member it, and keep it in that budding growth, so far as you can through life, an associative emblem by its culture and ob servance of flower and fruit. Begin by making to it a home of beauty, a daily thought and interest in the creation of their own hands, a pure reliance on the Great Giver of all—as seen in the sprout ing of the seed, the first kick of the baby, on to its bud, bloom and fruit. Take care of the child as we would be taken care of. Another Example The young men have another example of shipwreck in the painful experience of the Boston Post Office clerk, who has lately been detected in purloining valuable let ters and appropriating their contents to his own use. For more than two years, he has gone along smoothly in his villainy, sporting gaily from the brood of fast young men, and keeping his misdeeds out of sight, until he had embezzled some twenty thousand dollars, and, as he thought, pret ty safely laid away a part of it for his future requirements. But he greatly erred. The base deeds could not always be con cealed. A bold front would not save him. Lying and deception were no protection. The detestable things must needs come out to the full gaze of beholders, and there was no remedy. . . He has been arrested and is now await ing the issue of the trial for his foolish ness and. crime. Let young men read the lesson I There is no safety but in honesty and fidelity. Do you see it young man ? The Spread of Sewing Machines Those who have an intelligent remem brance of events which happened twenty five years since, must recollect how little interest the invention of the sewing ma chine excited about that period, except among those who opposed its use, as all previously introduced labor-saving inven tions had been opposed, on the ground that they would be detrimental to manual industry. The sequel, however, has shown that the sewing machine has since lighten ed the toil and added to the income of the seamstress, has cheapened the products that were once derived exclusively from hard work, and occasioned a complete rev olution in domestic industry. From the small and insignificant beginning of the sewing machine invention, about the pe riod referred to, when it was received with very little encouragement, and when the sales of machines were so small as to excite no attention, the latter have become enro mous, amounting, in 1871, to six hundred and six thousand and eighty-five, during that year alone. According to the sworn returns of the various companies made in the year in question, under the licenses granted them by the owners of the sewing machine pat ents, the number sold was as just stated. Of these, 181,260 machines were sold by the Sing er Manufacturing Company 128,- 526 by Wheeler & Wilson Manufacturing Company, 50,238 by Grover & Baker S. M. Co., 39,655 by Weed S. M. Co., 34,010 (from January Ist to July Ist) by Howe Machirie Co., 30,127 by Wilcox & Gibbs S. M. Co., 21,153 by Wilson S. M. Co., 20,121 by American B. H. 0. and S. M. Co.. 20,051 by Original Howe S. M. Co. 15,947 by Florence S. M. Co., 13,562 by Gold Medal S. M. Co., 11;568 by Davis S. M. Co., 10,397 by Domestic S. M. Co., 7,639 by Finkle & Lyon Manufacturing Co., 4,720 by .Etna S. M. Co., 4,557 by Blees S. M. 4,555 by Elliptic S. M. Co., 2,965 by Co.,m pire S. M. Co., 2,056 by Parham S. M. Co., 1,004 ; Ity Bartram & Fanton Manufacturing Co., 614 by Bartlett S. M. Co., 280 by J. G. Folsom ' 218 by McKay S. M. Association, 147 by C. F. Thompson, and 124 by Union Button Hole Machine Co. A recent memorable but disastrous event has given peculiar prominence to the important position which sewing machines occupy in the industrial world. The Spe cial Relief Committee, organized at Chi cago after the great conflagration in that city, made a report which was published in the Chicago Tribune, of March 9th, of the present year, in which it is stated that the whole number of sewing machines for which orders had been issued to the date of the report, was 2,944 on which the Committee had paid the sum of $71,430,- 89, Of those ordered, the Sinner Com pany supplied 2,427 ; Wheeler & Wilson, 235; Howe, 127 ; Grover & Baker, 44 ; Wilcox & Gibbs, 30; Florence, 18,; Fin kle & Lyon, 20; Blees, 17; lEtna, 11; Wilson, 5 ; Western Empire, 2 ; Manhat tan, 2 ; Davis, 2 ; Elliptic, 1 ; Gold Med al, 1, and American Button Hole, 2. This indicates how important a part sewing ma chines were expected to play in (he recu peration of Domestic industry in the burnt city, and in what high estimation the Sin ger "Family" Sewing Machines are held in the great West, where they form an essential and conspicuous feature of almost every household.—. Mew York Dispatch. Honor Your 3usiness, It is a good sign when a man is proud of his work or calling. Yet nothing is more ccmmon than to hear men finding fault with their particular business, and deeming themselves unfortunate because fastened to it by the necessity of gaining a livelihood. In this men fret, and labor ously destroy all their comfort in the work, or they change their business, and go on miserably, shifting from one thing to an other till the grave or the poor-house gives them a fast grip. But while occasionally a man fails in life because he is not in the place fitted for his peculiar talent, •it hap pens ten times oftener that failure results from neglect and even contempt of an hon est business. A man should put his heart into everything that he does. There is no profiNsion that has not its peculiar cares and vexations. No man will escape annoyance by changing his business. No mechanical business is altogether agreeable. Commerce, in its endless varieties, is af fected, like all other pursuits, with trials, unwelcome duties, and spirit-tiring neces sities. It is the very wantonness of folly for a man to search out the frets and bur dens of his calling, and give his mind every day to a consideration of them. They belong to human life. They are inevitable. Brooding over them only gives them strength. On.the other hand, man has power even to shed beauty and pleas urc on the homliest toil, if he is wise. Let a man adopt his business and identify it with pleasant associations; for heaven has given us imagination not alone to make us poets, but enabled all men to beautify homely things. Heart varnish will cover up innumerable evils and defects. Look at the good things. Accept your lot as a man does a piece of rugged ground, and begins to get out the rocks and roots, to deepen and mellow the soil, to enrich and plant it. There is something in the most forbidding avocation around which a man may twine pleasant fancies, out of which he may develop an honest pride.—. Man ufacturer and Builder. Young Men, go to Work. "Young men," says the Texas Farmer, 1 1 "go to work I There is no time to idle now. 'Yo u must carve out your own fortune. You have no inheritance on which to de pend. You must reconstruct your own fortunes by industry and perseverance and toil. Labor is honorable, and the ignoble are those who will not work. Get you a home. Fence a field, and plough it and plant it, and gather around you the com forts of a home. And when you have made a character for industry and thrift, ask some young lady to share your home with you. We would say to every young lady, mark these young men who are lounging around, attempting to live by their wits, or on the interest of their debts; and when they ask you to share the fortunes of life with them, just let them pass on. No young lady can consent to marry a young man without business, or property, or business habits, unless she has made up her mind to sell herself' to the lowest bidder. Young men, go to work ; while ten men watch fbr chances, one man makes chances ; while ten men wait for something to turn up, one turns up ; so while ten fail, one succeeds and is called a man of luck, the favorite of fortune. There is no luck, pluck and fortune most favors those who are most indifferent to fortune. Young men, go to work." Dolly Verdant If husbands are to be mistaken in "Dol ly Varden" dresses as was an unfortunate husband in Philadelphia, the sooner the fhshion is squelched, the better will it be for the peace of society. The husband in question, one night missed from the sup per table his wife Matilda, and inquired of his little boy whither she had gone, and just at that moment the dining-room door swung open, and a lady entered. The husband observed a wild look in her eye and also noticed that she was attired in an outlandish style, having on as he says, a dress with sunflowers, and cabbages and pumpkins worked all over it, and a lot of snakes squirming around for a back ground. Rising, the man said, "Madam, whom do you wish to see?" and then said, aside, "Poor thing, she's crazy." That last re mark settled the business for him, as the weird female made a bolt and tightly grasped his Adam's apple and choked him until his face assumed the color of a ban ner of the Commune. After she had en joyed a surfeit of choking her husband she flopped into a chair, and with tears coursing each other down her cheeks, ex claimed: That I should ever live to hear my husband say that I was crazy." This amused the husband, and elevating him self to his full proportions, said : 'You can't blame me, madam, for sup posing you an insane woman, and now that I know you are really the mother of these interesting children, will yon have the kindness to retire to the sanctity of your chamber and peel yourself of that piece of furniture, chintz, or window curtain, or whatever it is you call it." "Window curtain, chintz !" said the spouse, why it's you that's out of your head. That's a Dolly Varden, and a very pretty pattern, too." "Madam," replied the husband, "we may be out of our head, but if that is a Dolly Varden we are most decidedly out of pocket. Why, it looks like a circus dress, and the idea of a woman at your time of life—" "My time of life." "Yes, your time of life. The next thing, I suppose, you will be practicing the trapeze act in the back yard. Why, it is enough to give a man the delirium tremens to look at it. Whoever saw such a pattern ? It's flash wall paper run mad. You look exactly like some Japanese tea sign. And now just bounce out here with that Feeje battle flag, or you'll scarce the baby to death." There was an ominous pause for a mo ment, and then the oldest daughter said : "Why, you ought to be ashamed of your self, father. It's all the style and lam going to have one, too; there now." "Yes, and I want one; all the girls have got them." Thus spoke Maria, the second old est. "Any more ?" gasped the husband, "are there any more ? Hadn't the baby better have one ? I guess I'll get one my self. How do they make up for panta loons ? Ha! Ha ! Ha ! (demonically). Let me clutch it. Bring me a pattern of monkeys scaling lamp-posts. How would a Chinese puzzle look or a map of Fair mount Park ?" All the rest is a blank. The unhappy husband has just been lib erated from an asylum and pronounced cured. But the only way they managed it was to dress him up in Dolly Varden marked out with the ground plan of the streets of Boston. Normal School Exercises. In the Richmond Normal School a few days ago, the lesson in elocution was upon "Articulation," and various examples of difficult enunciation were cited and prac ticed. At the close of the exercise, the principal called for such examples to be banded in as the pupils might know or be able to find. The following are some of the results of the investigation, and fur nish a good collection for practice : " Amidst the mists and coldest frosts, With barest wrists and stoutest boasts, Ile thrusts his fists against the posts, . . . And still insists he sees the ghOets." . "Of all the saws I ever saw saw, I never saw a saw saw asis saw saws." "Up the hill he heaves a huge round stone." "Crazy Craycroft caught a crate of crickled crabs; a crate of crickled crabs crazy Craycroft caught. If crazy Cray croft caught a crate of crickled crabs, where's the crabs that crazy Craycroft caught !" "Thou wreath'd'st and muzzl'd'st the far-fetch'd ox, and imprison'd'st him in the colcanic Mexican mountain of P-o-p-o -cat-a-pet-I in Co-to-pax-i." "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; a peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked ?" "Thou waft'd'st the rickety skiff over the mountain-height cliffs, and clearly saw'st the full-orb'd moon." "When a twister twisting, would twist him a twist, for twisting a twist, three twists he will twist, but if one of the twists untwist 9 from the twist, the twist untwist ing, untwisteth the twist." "Robert Rowley rolled a round roll round; a round roll Robert Rowley rolled round. Where rolled the round roll Rob ert Rowley rolled round ?" "Theophilus Thistle, the successful thist le-sifter, in sifting a sievefull of unsifted thistles, thrust three, thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb." "Peter Prangle, the prickly pear pick er, picked three pecks of prickly prankly pears from the prickly pear trees on the pleasant prairies." "Villey Vite and vife vent a voyage to Vindsor and Vest Vickham von Vitson Vednesday." "Bandy-legged Barachio Mustachie Whiskerifuscus, the bald but brave Boni bardi of Bagdad, helped Abormilique Blue Beam:, Bashaw of Belemanded, to beat down an abominable Bumble of Bashaw." How to Love Truly. Many women suppose that they love, when, unfortunately, they have not the beginning of an idea what love is. Lov ing to be admired by men, and loving to be caressed by him—loving to be praised by him, is not loving a man. All these may be when a women has no power of loving at all. They may be all simply be cause she loves herself, and loves to be flattered, praised, coaxed, as a cat likes to be coaked and petted, and fed with cream, and have a warm corner. But all this is not love. It may exist, to be sure, where there is love—it gener ally does. Love, dear ladies, is self-sacri fice, it is life out of self in another. TEE prettiest pair of boots exhibited at a recent fair in Cincinnati were made by a little Dutch girl, aged sixteen years. NO. 18. Zlit g4one The Bright Side BY REV. J. NILSON KEES. Now and then a shining pebble, As we walked the wave-washed strand Smiles upon our passing footsteps, From its lowly bed of sand. Now and then a virgin rose-bud Breathes upon us by the way ; And its sweet, delicious fragrance, On the breeze cloth round us stray. And in winter's desolation, While the naked boughs are seen, There amid its bleak surroundings Smiles the pine-top evergreen. Though the road be rough and weary, Till we reach the mountain height, Then are we repaid our climbing, By the prospect grand and bright. God hath placed these things to please us All along ourpaths each day; Emblems faint that just before us, There are better things than they. These are green spots as we travel, Oases on "weary' ground, Left there by "our loving Father." By the pilgrim to be found. Happy he. who sees the beauty, Leaves the bitter, tastes the sweet; And enjoys each pleasing object, He may on his pathway meet. Thus will gloom be quickly scattered, And the sun will brightly shine, All of sadness be defeated, And a happy life be thine. The Redeemed in Heaven. Many a believer has felt the desire to look beforehand upon the heavenly state • and to know more perfectly the unutterable things which. Paul saw, and which "the Father had prepared." To John, the Revelator, it was permitted thus to behold, as well as to de scribe that which he saw. And upon every feature of the fascinating and instructive pic ture he draws, the mind lingers with satis faction. The heavenly company, we are told, is a great one. It is a multitude which no man can number ; not a little band, but a throng innumerable. It is a greatly diversified compa ny. Its members have come out of all na tions, kindreds, peoples, and tongues. We know not how many grace unsearchable may have gathered from regions benighted, lands remote and churches the most corrupt. The palms in their hands are emblems of victory, and signify their warfare is ended ; the linen, clean and white, in which they are arrayed, is the symbol of their spotless purity ; while the praises which they utter testify to the complete ness of their joy. . . There is something more than poetry in this picture. It seta before us a veritable abode of happy beings once like ourselves. More than that, it is an abode which we may aspire to enter. Upon what terms may we hope for such an entrance ? Just now, and in many households where these lines will be read, there are not a few who are revolving this question with Bolero - , interest. We would be glad to deepen their sense of its importance, and to aid each in finding the true answer. First we would beg such to guard against the quieting error that somehow all anti will finally drift into heaven as a matter of course. That is not the teaching either of reason or of the New Testament. Then we would beg such to guard against that second great error of these times, that Church rites or Church relations have a saving efficacy. Churches are good ; nay, they are ordained of God. They are helps which none should despise. But it is a fatal mistake to imagine that the most exemplary attendance upon their ap pointments can alone insure the favor of Him who "looketh upon the heart." And, then, there is that third fallacy—so congenial to human nature that it is ordinari:y the very last one, as it is the most difficult one, to dislodge—the persuasion that He "who open the and no more sutteth" will have regard to our natural personal goodness. A pure heart and a holy life are sure of God's approbation. But how to obtain this purity of heart, and how to lead this holy life, is the very question. So over against these errors of the human heart, we set that answer to the inquirer's ea ger question which the New Testament offers. We know of no other than that. We are con. fident that in that there is truth and safety. Those already in the heavenly state ascribe their happiness to Christ—" They have wash ed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne." Di vesting the language of its figure, this simply means that, in their sin and need, they had restored by faith to Him who "in due time died for the ungodly." "He bore our sins in His own body on. the tree ;" and whosoever is willing to receive this message, and to rest upon it, while he makes an honest samission of all his power and activities to the direction and will of Christ, has found a veritable Sa vior. Past sin, for Christ's sake, or for the sake of that blood which He spilt, is "_.,cgiven him. Such a one will have needed strength. Straightway he will find a newlleartwitbin him. All along, as he needs it, grace will be given to do and to bear. He will feel himself on the heavenward way. With exulting confi dence he will sing. "Will he within Open to sorry me, though I have been An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I Not fail to sing His lasting praise on High." Time is short and eternity is long. Earthly good is unsatisfying and transient ; the heav est, good is substantial and enduring. The wise reader will be permitted to enter in through the gates.—Congregationalist. God Says Repent. God says "Repent." The sinner answers, "1 mean to." "Believe." "Yes, I intend to." "Prepare to meet thy God." "Such is my purpose."—"Turn ye, for why will you die?'_ "1 intend to before the boor of death." "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." "Yes, I believe that is the best way, and I intend to be zealous for God some time." "Now is the accepted time." "No, not now." "To-day is the day of antra tion.'",No, not to day ; I must attend to oth er concerns to-day." "Seek fine the king dom of God and his righteousness." "But to-morrow will do as well, or next month, or next year." "To-day if ye bear His voice, harden not your hearts." "Go thy way this time, when I have a convenient season 1 will call for thee." ... ..... ......_. Thus does God invite, beseech and com mand, and thus do men hesitate, temporize and delay, till all is lost. Here is the fatal error. Men perish because they will not have salvation to-day. They are doomed and damned because they defer that which they dare not reject. They postpone, they wait, they neglect so great a salvation ? Reader, you want salva tion, yon intend to have it. I have one ques tion for yon to consider, and that is—wheat-- Christian. The Way to the Crown. We must taste the gall, if we are to taste the glory. If justified by faith we must auf fer tribulations. When God saves a soul, he tries it. Some believers are much surprised when they are called to suffer. They thought they would do some great thing for God ; but all he permits them to do is to suffer for his sake. Go round to every one in glory; each .one has a different story to tell,yet every one a tale of suffering. But mark, all were brought out of them. ft was a dark cloud, but it passed away. The water was deep, but they reached the other side. Not one there blames God for the way be led them thither. "Salvation I" is their only cry. Child of God, murmur not at your lot. You must have a plain as well as a white robe. Learn to glory in tribula tions also. PRAM, talk of originality. What do ':,ey mean ? As soon as we are born the surround ing world begins to operate upon us, and so on until the end ; and after all what can we truly call our own but energy, power and will ? Could I point out all I owe to my great forerunners and contemporaries, truly there would remain but little °Ter.—Goethe. Faremsore is the cordial of life, the leni tive of our sorrows, and the multiplier of our joys ; the source equally of an Imitation and of repose. •
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