VOL. 47 The Huntingdon Journal. J. R. DURBORROW, Office on the Corner of Bath and Washington streets, Tae HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. Dvaaoanow and J. A. NASH, under the firm name of J. R. DURDORROW dt CO., at $2,00 per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2.50 if not paid for in six months from date of subscription, and $3 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the publishers, until all arreamges are paid. ADVERTISEMENTS will be inserted at the rate of ONE DOLLAR for an inch, of ten lines, for the first insertion, snd twenty-five cents per inch fur each subsequent insertion less than three months. Regular monthly and yearly advertisements will ho inserted at the following rates : 3ml Gm 6 mi 9 mi 1 y 1 Inch 27 400 508 ycol 9 00118 00 2 " 400 001000,1200 0" 24003610 1 " 60 0 10 0014 00,18 00 4 •' 34 00 50 00 4 " 800 14 00 20 00,21 00 5 " 9501800 25 00.30 00 1 col 36 00 60 00 Special notices will be inserted at TWELVE AND A HALF CENTS per line, and local and editorial no tices at rtrynts CENTS per line. All Resolutions of Associations, Communications of limited or individual interest, and notices of Mar riages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged! TEN CENTS per line. . . Legal and other notices will be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. All advertising accounts are doe 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, &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., ECLECL •TIC PHYCICIAN 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.3-1572. TIE. F. 0. ALLEMAN can be con suited at his office, at all hours, Mapleton, Pa. [march6,72. CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, D•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Williamson. [apl2,'7l. DR. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully offers his professional services to the citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity. Office N 0.743 Wash ingtpn Street. may 24. DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professiongl 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 Froltingdon. (jan.4,'7l. Cl_ L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. ‘..4 • Brtwn's new building, No. 520, Hill St., Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,'7l. -p q - GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner . A • of Washington and Smith streets, Hun tingdon, Pa. [jan.l2'7l. A C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law I RAD Office, No. Hill street. Huntingdon, Pa. [ap.19,71. SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at- U' • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, hree doors went of Smith. [jan.4'7l. T R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth r, • scary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun ingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0r.23,'70. JHALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, . No. 319 Hill at., Huntingdon, Pa. [jan.4,'7l. R. 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. Office in he JounsAL Building. [feb.l,7l j W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law r." • and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., Soldier? claims against the Government for back pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ed to with great care and promptness. Office on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at . • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle ment of Estates, &c.; and all other Legal Business prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch. IMO— Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton Speer, Esq. fjan.4,'7l. MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attendpromptly to all legal business. Office in Cunningham's new building. [jan.4,'7l. IL ALLISON KILLER. MILLER & BUCHANAN, DENTISTS, No. 228 Hill Street, HUNTINGDON, NA. April 5, '7l-Iy. la M. & M. S. -LYTLE, Attorneys -A- • 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. 4,11. A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, • Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l,'7l. JOHN SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. N. BAILEY QOM', BROWN & BAILEY, At torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against the Government will be promptly prosecuted. Office on Hill street. fjan.4,'7l. rri W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun -a- • tingdon, Ps. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, Esq. [jan.4,'7l. -WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other Isgal business attended to with care and promptness. Office, No. 229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l. Miscellaneous. CIO TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE •-- 1 4 For all kinds of printing. ECHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. January 4, 1871. NEAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT UNITED STATES HOTEL, lIOLLIDAYSBURG, PA. M'CLAIN a CO., PROPRIETORS. L EWISTOWN BOILER WORKS. GEORGE PAWLING & CO., Manufac 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 prorr,tly attended to. Repairing done et ihort notioe. [Apr 5,'71,1y.• A R. • R. BECK, Fashionable Barber • and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on hand and for sale. [apl9,'7l—em FOUNDRY FOR SALE on line of Railroad, in one of the best agricultural re gions in Pennsylvania. For information inquire J. A. POLLOCK, Huntingdon, Pa. mehl3,l2—tf.] The Huntingdon Journal. United States Laws [OFFICIAL.] LAWS J. A. NASH, OF THE UNITED STATES PASSED AT THE FIRST SESSION OF THE FORTY-SECOND CONGRESS. [GENERAL NATunE—No. 38.] AN ACT to amened an net entitled "An act to au thorize protection to be given to citizens of the United States who may discover deposits of . . • guano," opproved August 18, 1856. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Rep resentatives of the United States of America in Con gress assembled, That the provisions of the of Con gress approved August eighteenth, eighteen hund red and fifty-six, entitled "An act to authorize protection to be given to citizens of the United States who may discover deposits of guano," be, and the same are hereby, extended to the widow, heirs, executors, or administrators of such discov ers,where such discoverer shall have died before. perfecting proof of discovery or fully complying with the provisions of said net approved as afore said, after complying with the requirement° or the act of Congress of August eighteenth, eighteen hundred and sixty-five : Provided, That nothing herein contained shall be held to impair any rights of discovery or any assignment by a discoverer heretofore recognized by the Government of the United States. 271 S 36 601 65 65 SO so' 100 Sec. 2. That section three of an act approved July twenty-eighth, eighteen hundred and sixty six, entitled "An act to protect the revenue, and for other purposes," amendatory of the act afore said approved August eighteenth, eighteen hund red and fifty-six, be, and the same is hereby, amended by striking out the word "five," when ever the same occurs, and inserting in lieu thereof the word "ten," Approved, April 2, 1872. [GENERAL NATURE—No. 79.] AN ACT to enable honorably discharged soldiers and sailors, their widows and orphan children, to acquire homesteads on the publiclands of the United States. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Repre sentatives of the United Slates of America in Con geese assembled, That every private soldier and of ficer who has served in the army of the United States during the recent rebellion for ninety days, or more, and who was honorably discharged, and has remained loyal to the government, includinf the troops mustered into the service of the United States by virture of the third section of an act entitled "An act making appropriations for com pleting the defense's of Washington, and for other purposes," approved February thirteenth, eighteen hundred and sixty-two, and every seaman, marine, and officer who has served in the navy of the United States, or in the marine corps, during the rebellion, for ninety days, and who was honorably discharged, and has remained loyal to the govern ment, shall, on compliance with the provisions of an act entitled "An act to secure homesteads to ac tual settlers on the public domain," and the acts amendatory thereof, as hereinafter modified, be entitled to enter upon and receive patents for a quantity of public lands (not mineral) not exceed ing one hundred and sixty acres, or one quarter section, to be taken in compact form according to legal subdivisions, including the alternatereserved sections of public lands along the line of any rail road er other public work, not otherwise reserved or appropriated, and other lands subject to entry under the homestead laws of the United States : Provided, That said homestead settler shall be al lowed six months after locating his homestead within which to commence his settlement and im provement : And provided ales, That the time which the homestead settler shall have served in the army, navy, or marine corps aforesaid, shall be deducted from the time heretofore required to perfect title, or if discharged on account of wounds I received, or disability incurred in the lino of duty, then the term of enlistment shall be deducted from the time heretofore required to perfect title, with out reference to the length, of time he may have I served; Provided however, That no patent shall issue to any homestead settler who has not resided upon ' improved, and cultivated his said home stead for a period of at least one year after he shall commene his improvnients as aforesaid. "" " Sec. 2. That any person entitled under the pro visions of the foregoing section to enter a home stead, who may have heretofore entered under the homestead laws a quantity of land less than one hundred and sixty acres, shall be permitted to enter under the provisions of this act so much land as, when added to the quantity previously entered, shall not exceed one hundred and sixty acres. Sec. 3. That in case of the death of any person who would be entitled to a homestead under the provisions of the first section of this act, his widow, if unmarried, or in ease of her death or marriage, then his minor orphan children, by a guardian duly appointed and officially accredited at the Department of the Interior, shall be enti tled to all the benefits enumerated in this act, sub ject to all the provisions as to settlement and im— provements therein contained . Provided, That if such person died during his term of enlistment, the whole term of his enlistment shall be deducted from the time heretofore required to perfect the title. Sec. 4. That where a party at the date of his entry of a tract of land under the homestead laws, or subsequent thereto, was actually enlisted an d employed in the army or navy of the United States, his sevices therein shay, in the adminis tration of said homestead law, be construed to be equivalent, to all intents and purposes, to a resi dence for the same length of time upon the tract so entered Provided: That if his entry has been cancelled by reason of his absence from said tract while in the military or navel service of the United States, and such tract has not been dis posed of, his entry shall be restored and confirmed: And provided further, That if such tract has been disposed of, said party may enter another tract subject to entry under said laws ; and his right to a patent therefor shall be determined by the proofs touching his residence and cultivation of the first tract, and his absence therefrom in such service. Sec. 5. That any soldier, sailor, marine officer, or other person coming within the provisions of this act may, as well as by an agent or in person, enter upon said homestead Provided, That said claimant in person shall, within the time prescri bed, commence settlement and improvments on the same, and thereafter fulfil all the requirmente of this act. Sec. 6. That the Commissioner of the General Land Office shall hero authority to make all need ful rules and regulations to carry into effect the provisions of this act. Approved, April 4, 1872. [GENERAL NATURE—No. 40.] AN ACT to amend the thirty-second section of an act entitled "An act to reduce internal taxes, and for other purposes, " approved July four teenth, eighteen hundrd and seventy. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Repre sentatives of the United States of America in Con gress assembled, That section thirty-two of an act entitled "An act to reduce internal taxes, and for other purposes," approved July fourteenth, eigh teen hundred and seventy, be, and the same is hereby, amended to read as follows : SECTION 32. And be it further enacted, That merchandise trans ported under the provisions of this act shall be conveyed in cars, vessels, or vehicles, securely fastened with locks or seals, under the exclusive control of the officers of customs; and inspectors shall be stationed at proper points along the desig nated routes, or upon any car, vessel, vehicle, or train, at the discretion of the said Secretary, and at the expense of the said companies respectively. And such merchandise shall not be unladen or transhipped between the ports of first arrival and final destination, unless authorised by the regula tion of the Secretary of the Treasury, in cases which may arise from a difference in the gague of railroads, or from accidents, or from legal inter vention or from low water, ice, or other unavoida ble obstruction to navigation; but in no case shall there be permitted any breaking of the original packages of such merchandise. Approved. April 5, 1872. [GENERAL NATURE—No. 41.] AN ACT defining the rights of part owners of yes sale in certain cases. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Rep resentatives of the United States of America in Con gress assembled, That any person or person■ or body corporate having more than one-half owner ship of any vessel shall have the same power to remove a captain, who is also part owner of such vessel, as such majority owners now have to re move a captain not an owner: Provided, That this act shall nut apply where there is a valid written agreement subsisting, by virtue of which such cap tain would be entitled to possession, nor in any where a captain has possession as part owner, ob tained before the passage of this act. Approved, April 9, 1872. Mahls-tf [GENEreeL NATURE—No.42.] AN ACT to change the time for holding the spring term of the United States circuit and district courts at Harrisonburgh, Virginia. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Rep rcsentatioes of the United States of America in con gress assembled, That instead of the time now provided for in the act approved February first, eighteen hundred and seventy-two, "to change the times for holding circuit and district courts of the United State, for western district of Virginia," for holding the spring term at Harrisonburg, in that State, said courts shall be held thereat on the Tuesday after the first Monday in May in each year. Approved, April 13, 1872. iht go' Amu. The Herald of Summer. I hear a gush of melody, I seen Ilimh of green, So I know the Summer's coming, with the glory °locomen; For Spring, her welcome herald, has proclaimed it tar and . Since the throne of Winter toppled, and the stern old des pot died. Spring has spread o'er moor and mountain a carpet for her feet. Silber daiser, golden klug-cup, purple orchls, cowslip .---• • sweet; -- _. _ _ Bade the trees unfold a canopy of undulating shade, Where anemone and violet their woodland home hare made. Pale narcissus and faint daffodil whisper ofber by tin well, Where ferns bend o'er the primrose lest she thesecret tell ; But hyacinth and harebell ring the tidings boldly out, For the breue to catch the wheel, and answer with a shout. The busy brooklets, listening, have turned the thethe to g, And sing it to the sedges as they gently glide along i The mountain streams, no longer dumb, join in thojoyous lay, And, leaping o'er their rocky bounds, laugh out lu .spark ling spray. Glad buttelflies are fluttering, likt banners in the air, Rice flowers hold up their nectarits and offer incense rare, The toiling bee hums cheerily, tlu gnats dance in the urn. The very frogs croak gleefully 0.1 Springtide life begun. No need the tardy cuckoo's note to gossip of the Spring, Whilst other warblers' tuneful throats bane prophetic ring ; And orchards white with cherry-snow, through which blooms apple-blush, Bring dreams of summer fruitage to the birdllngs in the bush. Springishere t and Summer's coming, with a roronal of For the ekylark, like a courtier, Lae winged hid upward The first to meet Queen Slimmer in her golden car of state And salute her with his anthem close to her palace gate. Ehe #torg-Zeiltr. BESIDE THE SEA. "Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, oh sea! And I would that my heart could utter The thoughts that arise in me!" The lines, as Richard Lorimer read in the low musical tones that reveal the poet's appreciation of genius, were fitted to de scribe the scene before him and the feel ings that at that. moment filled his heart. It was one of those rarely picturesque spots to be found on the coast of Yorkshire.— Afar off, the grand old ocean, stretching into a boundless expanse suggestive of ter ror and sublimity, seemed wooing him with the ceaseless murmur of its sparkling waves. As he lay carelessly dreaming on the beach, over the page before him, a murmur almost as soft as that of the waves fell on his ear. He turned slowly, and met the gaze of a young girl, who seemed almost a fairy in form and feature. "Ah, Amy, my little one; I thought you had forgotten me. Where have you been hiding all this long time ?" he asked, looking up with something like animation in his listless manner. A blush, delicate as a sea-shell, passed over her face as she replied, looking away to hide her emotion. "I have been nur sing grandpa; he has been ill, you know. But, Captain Lorimer, I suppose you have not missed me very much." The words were softly uttered; but Richard Lorimer saw in the depths of the blue eyes a new expression, and it sent a thrill of pleasure, perhaps of triumph, -- through - his ht - fart. - He wet:Ml - not for - the world have told his secret to his comrades at the London Club; how they would have jeered at this fancy for a fisherman's grand child ! He—a miracle of fastidiousness— world-weary man of thirty—a slave of a child of fifteen, utterly ignorant of the conventionalities of society 1 Ah, Amy Lee, little did she in her simplicity think of these things, as she sat there that bright spring morning, picking now and then a tiny shell from the rock, or looking shyly and at long intervals at the gentleman who sat beside her. She knew nothing of the world and its mockery of hope and phan toms of pleasure; all her life was centered in the spot where, from her earliest child hood, she had grown up with no compan ionship save that of her grandfather, and the inhabitants of the humble fishing vil lage. Yet a happier child never lived than Amy, until a new, strange trouble came into her heart. True, in years she was almost a child; but her life had been thrown so much upon her own resources, that a woman's heart and a woman's deep power of loving lay dormant in the child's breast, long before the voice and the smile of Richard Lorimer had awakened them to life. With the intuitive pity that woman ever feels for the suffering, there bad at last grown a deeper feeling, since she had been his almost constant companion during the few weeks that he bad spent beneath her grandfather's roof. Often, when he talked to her of the world and of his home, there would come a bitter feeling of regret that she was different from it all; and yet in her very simplicity lay the charm that at tracted him. Lorimer had lived much among the gay and frivolous throngs that made up the beau monde; its hollow hearts and unmeaning frivolities had wearied him. He had been so long the prey of manceuv ering mothers, that it was a delightful change to find in this simple-hearted Amy the loveliness of face and character that he had so vainly sought. An illness that bad nearly proved fatal, and left him al most a wreck of his former self, had indu ced him to try the seaside. The Yorkshire fishing village was the chosen spot; and though not finding liter ally "the elixir of the life" in its fine bra cing air, his languid spirits were fast revi ving. Perhaps another cause had as great an effect, for no pima donna ever charmed him with her operatic arias as did the bird-like notes of Amy, as they daily float ed up to the window from the path that led to the seaside. There they sat—these two so unlike, the man of the world and the child of na ture—and, very probably had old Lee wit nessed the scene, he would have wished Amy far away; but he was engaged with the fishing tackle, and so they were left alone. Lorimer read and talked to her, and Amy felt as if life had a new interest. She had known almost nothing of books; and now her eager manner betrayed how delighted she would be to possess the means of culture. Long sojourns in other lands had made him familiar with the scenes portrayed so vividly by Rogers; and as the blue eyes of Amy wandered over the waves, au long the only music she had cared to hear, a longing for something be yond them came into her heart. Italy, land of romance, where love and passion made up a woman's life. Poor Amy, that day was the beginning of a new existence, and beside the moaning sea, she bade farewell forever to child hood's simple dreams and fancies. From that hour, in which she listened to the passionate words of Richard Lorimer, she was a changed being. Long hours she would sit upon the spot gazing far out upon the sea; and from having been a busy little companion of her grandfather, Amy Lee had become a dreamer. Often the old man would find her there and chide her HUNTINGDON, PA., MAY 15, 1872. for her neglect of him ; but the pleading look and kiss of the old childish affection told what words did not utter. "My little Amy cares no longer for her old grandfather; that handsome stranger, Lorimer, has stolen the heart of my dar ling." Lorimer had gone; but his parting words were eloquent with affection. How well she remembered them! "God bless my darling Amy, and keep her safe until we meet again." A tiny ring and a minature were the only mementoes of the past; yet hope ever whispered of a future of happiness. Our story changes from the seaside to London. In one of the mansions in Port land square two gentlemen sat apparently engaged in animated conversation. Upon the table was placed wine and luxuries of bachelorhood; and everything denoted the wealth and taste of the occupants. The face of one of the friends was rather thoughtful in expression, although a smile frequently passed over it; for few could resist the mirth-provoking spirit of Charles Moulton. "Well, Lorimer," he was saying, "you are too capricions. Before you went to Yorkshire you were the life of every party of pleasure ; now I can scarcely ißduce you to join me in a promenade in the park; one would think you were the secret adorer of an ocean mermaid. Come, old fellow, you must go with me to-night, you know Ristori plays in 'Mary Stuart." "No, Moulton," said Lorimer, "I am not going." "Not going! Well I advise you to read 'Les Miserable,s,' you are so dull ;" and with a gay "Au revoir," Moulton took his leave. "Moulton is right," Lorimer presently exclaimed ; "I am wretched in spirits. I will go to see Ristori; her weird . charms can drive away a legion of blue devils ;" and humming a favorite opera air he left the room. That night Richard Lorimer was the life, as Moulton expressed it, of a party, near the stage, and in the varied fascina tions of the great enchantress, and in the voluptuous swell of the grand orchestra, he forgot the past; and though sometimes the soft echo. of the distant murmuring waves seemed to mingle with the music, and a voice of melody fondly chide him, he strove to banish memory in the fascin ating conversation and brilliant beauty of the lady sitting in the box beside him. She was a beauty, this fair Lucille Wal ton ; and he had become hopelessly en thralled by her arta and siren loveliness. Lucille was the type of womanhood—alas ! for the innate purity of her sex, so com "mon—a schemer for wealth, position in society, and inordinately vain. She did not love Richard Lorimer. Her shallow, selfish nature was not capable of the feel. ing; but his distinguished air, intellectual character, and great wealth, made him a fitting subject for her ambitions projects. To-night she was exerting all her influence over him, and we know what that means, when we speak of a beautiful and fascin ating woman. _ _ _ Poor, poor Amy—if now and then her image and the memories of the olden time came up, he sought to banish them by excitement, and she was remembered only in the quiet hours and idle reveries of a bachelor's life. When he escorted the beautiful Miss Walton to her home that night, it was as her accepted lover, and an early day was fixed for their marria o ,, e. We will pass over that period, and intro duce our readers into the abode of Captain and Mrs. Lorimer. Everything that wealth could purchase was scattered around; but discontent, repining, and mutual in difference destroyed every hope of domes tic happiness. Lorimer was wearied with the changeful mood of his haughty impe rious wife. Life had become a perfect burden ; and, as he no longer cared for gaiety and wordly pleasures, which were the only pleasures his wife cared for, he was very often left solitary in his elegant house—home it could not be called. Although Lucille enjoyed excellent health, she was pleased to imagine that a sea voyage to Scotland was absolutely necessary; and glad of the least change from the life they led Lorimer consented to accompany her. The stormy March winds foreboded evil; but as the captain of the Aberdeen steamer feared neither tempest or danger, the passengers felt comparatively safe. The sky, blue and serene, spoke of peace ; and, as he sat upon the deck, Lorimer spent many hours in dreaming of other days. Where was she now, his little Amy? Two years must have brought many, changes; his heart smote him when he remembered her deep, pure affection. Surely he would have been a happier man had he obeyed the voice of his own heart. A sigh escaped his lips, as he heard the fretful voice of Lucille calling him. But he was pledged to her, and though he almost hated her, he de termined to do his duty toward her as a devoted husband. On the second day of the voyage, dark, murky clouds hovered gloomily over the steamer, and the shrill cries of the sea gulls betokened, as the old sailors said, an approaching storm. The captain anxiously scanned the horizon, and all felt deep anxiety. That was a terrible night, long to be remembered, on the coast of York shire. The gallant ship struggled with the waves, but they dashed relentlessly over her,and morning found her a total wreck—all but three of the passengers had found waves beneath the ocean. In a cottage not far from the shore lay one of the sufferers. He had been insen sible from the moment they had laid him there, and a few incoherent sentences showed his mind to be wandering. An old man and a young girl watched beside him; but he did not notice either. The old fisherman left the room, and the young girl was left alone. Her face was almost as pale as the one upon the pillow, and her soft blue eyes filled with tears as they rested upon it. Sometimes when his gaze turned upon her, she would take his hand and murmur, almost lovingly, "Richard, dear Richard !" Once he seemed to recognize her, and said, in so low a tone that she bent her head down to catch the words, "The wave, the wave ! there it is it not fear fnl And she loved them so, poor Amy!" Sweet Amy Lee! with a woman's trust ing devotion she had loved on, though anguish and the misery of hope deferred had almost broken her heart. What hap piness it was to sit beside him through the long hours, and watch for one glance of recognition. At last she was rewarded. Richard Lorimer looked into her eyes, with the old love beaming in his own. Amy turned away to hide her thankful, happy tears. "What is it? How came I here, Amy ?" he said ; but she put her finger to her lip and bade him be quiet. The next morn- ing he seemed to comprehend his situa tion, and the memory of his late sufferings and of his wife came upon him. Lucille had been cast ashore quite dead; her body was found with others, and buried in the churchyard of the little hamlet. When Lorimer recovered sufficiently to walk there, he led Amy to the grave; and beside the dead he told the story of his married life. But he could not speak of the trouble and misery his dead wife had caused him; and, as Amy softly uttered a prayer for her, he joined reverently in the words for pardon and mercy of Him who knoweth the human heart and its weakness. "God forgive us all, dear Richard," said Amy ; "we all need his pity." The days go by like one long summer dream, where, far from the treacherous waves, Richard Lorimer has found the joy —the deep, unutterable bliss of perfect love. Amy is what his most ardent hopes could have pictured—a woman possessing the most finished musical and literary at tainments; bat her heart no longer yearns for the sea. She often whispers, softly, "Richard, I never wish to see them again, those smiling, deceitful waves." fading for the The Cold-Water Boy Behold a table, with boiled turkey and ham, with vegetables nicely cooked, and gravies rich and juicy. There sits a fath er at its head and the mother opposite, and guests are seated on either side; there is no lack of good humor and merry jest to give spice to conversation. There are children, too; a boy of ten and a little girl of eight. They listen in telligently and attentively to the remarks of parents and guests; and look up into the faces of one another with interest. Be hold ! decanters are brought in, glasses are filled, and one and another sip the sparkling wine. "Excellent!" exclaimed oue, smacking his lips. "Fine !" echoed another. "Shall I drink wine with you, my lad ?" asked one of the gentlemen, bowing to the boy. •'ls not your glass filled, William ?" ask ed the father. "John, fill William's glass," turning to the servant. Slowly did Wil liam turn up his glass to receive the rosy liquor. "Drink with the gentleman, my dear," whispered the mother, encouragingly. The boy blushed and cast down his eyes, but be obeyed not. Was he frightened ? Was he diffident "My son did you not hear Mr. Black address you?', said the father quickly and sternly. "Drink wine with him William." Accustomed to obey his father's slight est wish, the boy's lip quivered, but he obeyed not. In a moment, raising his eyes and look ing his father full in the face, he said, manfully, •'Father I am a soleier in the Cold-water Army, and I can't drink wine." "Brave boy !" exclaimed one of the goalemen, setting down his glass. "The Cold-water Army must conquer if every soldier stands his ground as well," said another, regarding William with great respect. 4 We will excuse you my son," said the father, in a softened voice, and though they sat long at the table, his glass was not again raised to his lips. There it stood untasted and full. Stand firm, my boys; let no one beat you from your ground. Be up and doing. Intemperance is stealing about, seeking whom it may devour. Break his weapons, destroy his engines, give him no quarter. Let your motto be, "COLD-WATER ! COLD WATER !"—Larlie's Repository. About Kid Gloves, It is not generally known, or does not appear to be known, even by those who wear kids almost exclusively, that the durability and set of these articles depend very much upon how they are put on the first time. Two pairs may be taken from one box, of exactly the same cut and qual ity, and by giving different treatment when first putting the hands into them, one pair will be made to set much better, and to wear doubly, or nearly that length of time, longer than the other. When purchasing gloves people are usually in too much of a hurry; they care lessly put them on, and let them go in that way, thinking to do the work mere com pletely at another time. When this is the case a person is sure to meet with disap pointment, for as the glove is made to fit the hand the first time it is worn, so it will ever after, and no amount of effort will make a satisfactory change. Never allow a stretcher to be used, for the gloves will not be likely to fit as well for it. All the expansion should be made by the hands; if the kids are so small as to re quire the aid •of a stretcher, they should not be purchased, as they will prove too small for durability, comfort, or beauty. When selecting gloves, choose those with fingers to correspond with your own in length; take time to put them on, work ing in the fingers first, until the ends meet ends; then put in the thumb and smooth them down until they are made to fit nice ly. A glove that sets well will usually wear well; at least will wear better than one of the same kind that does not fit well. When the ends of the fingers do not come down right, or when they are so long as to form wrinkles upon the sides of the fin gers they will chafe out easily; where the stretcher has to be used to make the fin gers large enough, the body part will be so small as to cramp the hand so that it cannot be shut without bursting the seam of the kid. Some recommend putting new kid gloves in a damp cloth before they are put on, and allowing them to remain until moistened. With this treatment they can be put on much easier than otherwise, and will fit very nicely until they get dry, but on the second wearing there will be an un natural harshness about them, wrinkling in spots, and they will not set so perfectly as at first. SADNESS.—There is a mysterious feeling that frequently passes a cloud over the spirit. It comes upon the soul in the busy bustle of life, in the social circle, in the calm and silent retreat of solitude. Its power is alike supreme over the weak and the iron hearted. At one time it. is caus ed by a single thought across the mind. Again, a sound will be booming across the ocean of memory and solemn as the death knell, overshadowing all the bright hopes and sunny feelings of the heart. Who can describe it, and yet who has not felt its bewildering influence ? Still it is a de licious sort osorrow, and, like a cloud dimming the sunshine of the river, al though casting a momemtary shade of gloom, it enchances the beauty of return ing brightness. Simon Short's Sorrow. Shrewd Simon Short sewed shoes. Sev enteen summers, speeding storms, spread ing sunshine, successively saw Simon's small shabby shop still standing staunch, saw Simon's selfsame squeaking sign still swinging, silently specifying: "Simon Short Smithfield's sole surviving shoe maker, shoes sewed, soled snperfinely." Simon's spray, sedulous spouse, Sally Short, sewed shirts, stitched sheets, stuffed sofas. Simon's six stout sturdy sons—Seth, Sam uel, Stephen, Saul, Silas, Shadrach—sold sundries. Sober Seth sold starch, sugar, spices; simple Sam sold saddles, stirrups, screws; sagacious Stephen sold silver sal vers; selfish Shadrach sold salves, shoe strings, soap, saws, skates; slack Silas sold Sall,Sort's stuffed sofas. Some seven summers since Simon's sec ond son Samuel saw Sophia Sofronia Spriggs, somewhere. Sweet, sensible, smart Sofronia Spriggs. Sam soon showed strange symptoms. Sam seldom stayed storing, selling saddles. Sam sighed sor rowfully, sought Sophia Sofronia's society, sung several serenades slyly. Simon stormed, scolded severely, said Sam seem ed so silly singing such shameful, sense less songs. "Strange Sam should slight such splendid sales. Strutting spendthrift ! Shattered-brain simpleton !" "Softly, softly, sire," said Sally. "Sam's smitten : Sam's spied some sweetheart." "Sentimental school-boy !" snarled Si mon. "Smitten ! stop such stuff." Simon sent Sally's snuff-box spinning, seized Sally's scissors, smashed Sally's spectacles, scat tering several spools. "Sneaking scoun drel ! Sam's shocking silliness shall sur cease." Scowling Simon stopped speak ing, starting swiftly shopward ; Sally sigh ed sadly. Summoning Sam, she spoke sweet sympathy. "Sam," said she, "sire seems singularly snappy; so, sonny, stop smoking, stop spending specie superfluous ly, stop sprucing so, stop singing serenades, stop short; sell saddles sensible; see So phia Sofronia Spriggs soon ; she's spright ly, she's stable—so solicit, sue, secure So phia Sofronia speedily, Sam." "So soon ? so soon ?" said Sam, stand ing stock still. "So soon, surely," said Sally, smilingly. "Specially since sire shows such spirits." So Sam, somewhat scared, sauntered slowly, shaking stupendously. Sam solilo quizes: "Sophia Sofronia Spriggs—Spriggs —Short—Sophia Sofronia Short--Samuel Short's spouse—sounds splendid ! Suppose she should say, she shan't—she shan't !" Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts; she saluted Sam smilingly. Sam stam mered shockingly : "Spl-spl-splendid summer season, So phia. "Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia. "Sar sartain, Sophia," said Sam. (Si lence seventeen seconds). "Selling saddles still, Sam ?" "Sar-sartain," said Sam, starting sud denly. "Season's somewhat sudorific," said Sam, stealthily, staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly. "Saran," smiling significantly. "Sip some sweet sherbert, Sam." (Silence sixty seconds). "Sire shot sixty snipe, Saturday," said Sophia. "Sixty ? sho I" said Sam. (Silence sev enty-seven seconds). "See sister Susan's sunflowers," said Sophia, socially, silencing such stiff si lence. Sophia's sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely; so Sam suddenly spoke sentimentally : "Sophia, Susan's sunflow ers seem saying, 'Samuel Short, Sofronia Spriggs, stroll serenely, seek some seques tered spot, some sylvan shade. Sparkling spring shall silence secret sighings, super angelic sylphs shall' "—Sophia snickered ; so Sam stopped. "Sophia," said Sam solemnly. "Sam," said Sophia. "Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short's sincere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia." Sophia stood silent. "Speck, Sophia, speak ! Suoh suspense speculates sorrow." "Seek sire, Sam, seek sire." So Sam sought sire Spriggs; sire Spriggs said sartin. A Fashionable Lady. The Richmond Enquirer publishes the followinr , ' recipe to make a woman of the period : Take ninety pounds of flesh and bones—but chiefly bones—wash clean, bore holes in the ears and cut off the small toes; bend the back to conform to the Grecian bend, the Boston dip, the kano.a• roo droop, the Saratoga slope, or the bull frog break, as the taste inclines; then add three yards of linen, one hundred yards of ruffles, and seventy-five yards of edging, eighteen yards of dimity, one pair silk cotton hose with patent hip attachments, one pair of false calves, six yards flannel, embroidered ; one pair balmoral boots with heels three inches high, four pounds of whalebones in strips, seventeen hundred and sixty yards of steel wire, three.quar tors of a mile of tape, ten pounds of raw cotton or two wire hemispheres, one wire basket to bold a bushel, four copies of a New York paper (triple sheet), one hun dred and fifty yards of silk or other dress goods, five hundred yards of point lace, fourteen hundred yards of fringe and other trimmings, twelve gross of buttons, one box pearl powder, one saucer of carmine and an old hare's foot, one bushel of false hair frizzled and fretted a la maniaque, one bundle of Japanese switches, with rats, mice, and other varmints; one peck of hairpins, one lace handkerchief, nine inches square, with patent holder, perfumed with otter of roses, or sprinkled with nine drops of the "Blessed Baby" or "West End." Stuff the head with fashionable novels, ball tickets, play.bills and wedding cards, some scandal, a great deal of lost time, and and a very little sage ; add a half arain of common sense, three scruples of religion, and a modicum of modesty. Season with vanity and affectation and folly. Garnish with ear-rings, finger-rings, breast-pins, chains, bracelets, feathers, and flowers to suit the taste. Pearls and diamonds may be thrown in if you have them; if not, paste and pinchbeck from the dollar store will do. Whirl all around in a fashionable circle, and stew by gaslight for six hours. Great care should be taken that the thing is not overdone. If it does not rise sufficiently, add more copies of a New York paper. This dish is highly ornamental, and will do to put at the head of our table on grand occasions, but is not suitable for every day use at home, being very expen sive and indigestible. It sometimes gives men the healtburn, and causes them to break, and is certain death to children. A Simple Remedy for Dandruff. The following, from an article in the American Journal of Pharmacy, written by Jno. L. Davis, is of interest to those who are troubled with dandruff in the hair: "There are doubtless few persons, es pecially among gentlemen, wjio do not suf fer from the inconvenience of dandruff. Physicians seem to consider it not of suffi cient importance to engage their attention, and the poor victims are left either to practice their virtue of endurance, or for a cure, to try some of the many nostrums advertiseed in the public prints. The intolerable itching which frequent ly accompanies the troublesome complaint is not the only unpleasant feature, as to persona t or auy pretentious to neatness the appearance of the white scales on the coat collar and shoulders is very objectionable. The writer during a number of years, af ter the different alcoholic solutions of castor oil and many other preparations without permanent benest, and as a last resort, was led to adopt the plan of cleansing the scalp with borax and carbonate of potassa. This proved effectual, but after a persist ent treatment of some months the hair be came sensibly thinner, and perhaps wolud have soon disappeared altogether. The be lief that dandruff arises from a disease of the skin, although physicians do not seem to agree on this point, and the knowledge that the use of sulphur is frequently at tended with very happy results in such diseases, induced me to try it in my own case. A preparation of one ounce of flow er of sulphur and one quart of water was made. The clear liquid was poured off, after the mixture had been repearedly ag itated during the intervals of a few hours, and the head was saturated with this ev ery morning. In a few weeks every trace of dandruff had disappeared, the hair became soft and glossy, and now, after a discontinuance of the treatment for eighteen months, there is no indication of the return of the disease I do not pretend to explain the modus operandi of the treatment, for it is well known that sublimated sulphur is almost or wholly insoluble, and the liquid used was destitute of taste, color or smell. The effect speaks for itself. Other persons to whom it has been recommended have had the same results, and I communicate the result of my experiments in the belief that it may be valuable and acceptable to many who have suffered in the same manner as myself." Disinherited A man of wealth and high position had a son so profligate that he banished him from his house, and in his exasperation at his evil conduct at last disinherited . him. Years rolled on, and the cast-off youth was sick and dying of want in a distant city. Again and again were messages sent to the father begging for help, but they were laid aside unanswered. He would hold no communication with a disinherited son, nor would he allow the sad-hearted mother, who still yearned with a mothers love over her first born, to send him any relief. Far other treatment did the Prodigal son receive from the father he had so sin ned against. Far differently does our Heavenly Father deal with his erring children. A child cannot fall so low, that a father, may in effect, sever the tie that binds them together. Nothing but death can separate a parent from a child. No depth of crime can justify the father in casting off his son. He may find it needful to separate him from his household, that his evil influence may not poison the rest, but his tenderest love and pity should go out after him still. His prayers should be doubled, earnest and agonizing for his sin ful one. A son had by his conduct brought his father's head in sorrow to the grave. Quite hardened he looked on the pale face in the coffin without a tear. At the edge of the grave he alone stood unmoved, while sobs and tears gave token of sadness of all the rest of the mourning group. The family were at last called together to hear the will read. In it occurred the name of this undutiful child. As he lis tened, his hard heart softened, and his eyes filled with tears. He said to one be side him, did not think my father would have thought of me so kindly in his will.' A father's love to the last, brought con trition to the stony heart. Follow your wayward child with double prayers and efforts, and you will doubtless yet see him standing with you on the heavenly shores. SEWING MACHINE SALES FOR 1871. Occasionally a whole covey or flock of facts spring suddenly to the view of the public and draw universal attention. As very few sportsmen ever enjoy the good fortune to fetch down a whole flock at a shot, it rarely falls to the lot of any business marks man to bring to the ground so great a swarm of "gamey" realities. But occa sionally there is a business establishment which uses a long-range gun that both spreads and concentrates in discharge.— The Singer Manufacturing Company is one of these extraordinary calibres. To the point of our illustration : The bird in this case is the Singer Sewing Machine; whole number brought to market in 1871, 181,260, being in a word fifty-two thous and more than was bagged by any other company. If, therefore, the number of sales be any criterion of the merits of the different machines, it cannot be denied that the Singer, owing to the popularity of what is known as their "New Family" machine, far surpasses all others, for the fact is shown by sworn returns of the com panies, which returns are made under the licenses granted them by the owners of the sewing machine patents.—New Yorker. DECAYED TEETH.-A good stopper for decayed teeth is the tincture of benzoin (friars' balsam.) Gold and other hard stopping last only a short while; the de cay of the teeth is not arrested by them, and they presently fall out. The alcohol of the tincture of benzoin evaporates, and leaves a gum which excludes the air from the tooth. In the case of tender teeth, susceptible to dampness, fogs and cold air, the tincture is very effective. It hardens and strengthens the teeth and gums, and will preserve from toothache. It should be applied at least once a day; but twice a day is preferable. After a fortnight, more or less, it may be discontinued. The best way of applying is this : Take a piece wool, the size of a large pea, fasten it in the nib of a steel pen with a holder, dip the wool into the tincture, and put it into the cavity of the tooth ; after which dip it again and apply to the whole of the tooth and to the gum adjacent. The yellow color which the benzoin imparts to the tooth is easily removed with brush and water. NO. 20. ake (-ottu Silence a Household Grace Words spoken in season are excellent, but there are times when silence is better than the gift of tongues—little domestic disputes, in which not even the soft answer is so good as no answer at aIL There is no moving in mud dy water in the right direction ; you must let it settle—that is all. Disputes with ignorant and passionate people are best • managed in this way ; for what answer can you make to ignorance and passion ? Solomon says: "An swer a fool according to his folly." That might do very well for a king, but, if it was a general maxim in this day, society would be in a state of Chronicwarfare. And indisputes with this kind of people you are sure, if you are just, honorable and truthful, to come off second-best, for they will descend to language, to deception and to contemptible meanness which would never enter a pure and noble mind; consequently you are helpless against it, for the weapons are not in your armory. Then there is another case In which silence is a crowning household grace—times when a wife must know how to hold her peace, "even from good." Early in the morning, when the load of all the day lies on the husband's shoulders, even in a kind and cheerful man is apt to be thoughtful and quiet. Then the wife ought to respect his preoccupation, without feeling slighted by it. The children's outfit for the summer's trip may be on her mind. but it won't be wise to speak of them. Neither are words of endearment quite advisa ble. There is a time for everything, and they will hardly "fit the mood." Let him drink his coffee and leave his home in peace, and as the burden of the day lifts he will remember you. Picking his teeth after a comfortable lunch, be will be very apt to say to himself, with a start : "There I I promised Nelly $lOO to get the boys' spring suits, and fix herself up a little ; and I declare I forgot it this morn ing. She's a good little thing, and never said a word about it." A kind of self reproach very much in your favor will be likely to haunt him all the afternoon, and I think your day's silent patience will ray you good interest every day. And them come—alas 1 too often—times when the evening does not lift the weight of care, and goes home from his toil as heavy laden as he went to it. Then a quiet dinner, and the sofa in the shaded, silent parlor is the imperative demand of the anxious heart and the burdened brain. Now, to compel him to "talk over" silly trifles, or to discuss plans whose carrying out seems to him almost im possible while the gravest interests hang on the slenderest hopes, is a kind of slow tor tare which none but an unreasoning or selfish wife will inflcit. And, again, if you cannot "keep the door of your lips," go not into the house of mourning. The common words of courtesy are a mock ery, the weary platitudes of resignation an impertinence. If you have nothing better to offer, the visit of condolence will be "more honored in the breach than in the observance." The voiceless sympathy of Job's three friends was accepted ; their tirades of comfort and advice were worse than useless. _ _ I have left the hardest trials of this grace until the last—silenee under misapprehension and injustice, when prudence, or gratitude, or the good of others issues the order. Nev ertheless, the well-disciplined soldier in life's battle will obey without doubt or disputation, feeling confidence in that justice which will eventually bring out "the righteous as the light, and their judgment as the noonday." 0 Silence I the eldest of things, "the lan guage of Old Night," the primitive discourse, place the finger on our impatient lips, and help us to remember that in all the strife of life "he that refraineth his lips is wise."—Se lected. Little by Little, It is given to but few women to leave a re cord of brilliant deeds behind them. Hest of ns pass our lives in doing little things which seem by themselves insignificant; but in their sum total may rival the achievements of those whose names are written on the scroll of fame. As the coral insect builds, so do we, unseen, unmarked, save by the eye that embraces in its sweep all things, both great and small. Yet He who said of the widow that cast in "two mites," she has given more than all they who of their abundance offered willingly, even He may pronounce upon us His approv ing benediction. As the year comes to its close and we re call the months and weeks and daysthat make up the annual round, how little in the lives of many of us seems worthy of mark Yet the Recording Angel has placed on his book, in letters of light, each word in kindness spoken, each loving look, and every unselfish act. Have we borne with patience the petty trials of daily life, the petulance of children, the baffling of reasonable expectation, the misap prehensions of friends, the deferring of hope —that pen has placed it to our account ; have we performed all the "minute and unseen" duties of our station, remembering thr.t the gods see everywhere—that, too, is in the faith ful record ; have we striven to make our souls all beautiful within, to weed out of our hearts envy, pride and selfishness, and cultivate therein the virtues that ennoble domestic life —the page glows with celestial luster where such worthy efforts are engrossed. Some, in darkness and silence, have sat pa tiently waiting for spmmons from the higher powers to do the work they felt strong and able to do, but it came not. Let such remem ber that the state of the great Arbiter is kingly. "Thousands at his bidding speed." "They also servo who only stand and wait." Those of ns who in the narrow round of do mestic life minister to the little wants of little bodies and childish minds may remember that in seclusion we may be nursing Samuels, cra dling a baby Hercules, rearing a Romulus whose exploits shall ring through a hemis phere. In cabins, on prairie slopes, in se questered valleys, at the foothills of the Sier ras, on the bleak sides of mountains, the class of virtues are in training that thirty years from now will govern the continent. Hands that are feeble can bend the saplings ; a score of years fly over it, and it can defy the thews of an elephant. Tam—Beneath inc flows the Rhine, and, like the stream of time, it flows amid the ruins of the past. I see myself therein, and know that lam old. Thou, too, shalt be old. Be wise in season. Like the stream of thy life runs the stream beneath us. Down from the distant Alps, out into the wideworld, it bursts away, like a youth from the house of his fath er. Broad-breasted and strong, and with earnest endeavor, like manhood, it makes it self a way through these difficult mountain passes. And at length, in old age, it falters, and its steps are weary and slow, and it sinks into the sand, and through its grave passes into the great ocean, which is its eternity. Thus shall it be with the.—Longfellow. To Tan GIIAVE,-What a mightyprocession is marching toward the grave during each year. At the usual estimate, during a year, more than 33,000,000 of the world's population go down to the earth again. Place them in long array, and they will give a moving column of more than thirteen hundred to every mile of the globe's circumference I Only think of it; ponder and look upon these astounding com putations I What a spectacle as they move on—tramp, tramp tramp, tramp,—forward I Upon this stupendous dead march ! --r i Is a letter to his son, n 1811, John Quincy Adams says : "I have for many years made it a practice to read through the Bible once a year. My custom is to read four or five chap ters every morning, immediately after rising from my bed. It employs about an hour of my time, and seems to me the most suitable manner of beginning the day. In what light soccer we regard the Bible, whether with re ference to revelation, to history, or to morali ty, it is an invaluable and inexhaustible mine of knowledge and virtue." A WORTHY Quaker wrote thus : "I expectto pass through this world but onoe ; if, there fore, there can be any kindness I can show or any good thing I can do to any fellow human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again." Tar greater the difficulty the more glory in surmounting it.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers