VOL. 47
The Huntingdon Journal.
J. R. DURBORROW,
PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS
Office 0. the Corn, of Fifth and Waehington streets.
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14 F. GEHRETT, M. D., ECLEC
-1-4,•TIC PHYCICIAN AND SURGEON, hay
ing returned from Clearfield county and perma
nently located in Shirleyeburg, 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
salted at his office, at all hours, Mapleton,
Pa. [march6,72.
DCALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
*No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
by Messrs. Woods & 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. a may 24.
DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to the community.
Moe, No. 523 Washington street, one door east
of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan. 4,71.
EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re
• moved to Leister's new building, Hill street
Peltingdon. [jan.4,'7l.
(1 L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
1.-4 • Brcwiee new building, No. 520, Hill St.,
Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,ll.
GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner
•
• of Washington and Smith streets, Jinn
tingdon, Pa. Dan. 1271.
C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law
A A
• office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon,
Ps. - [up.19,'71.
JSYLVA-NIIS BLAIR, Attorney-at
• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street,
hree doors west of Smith. [jan.4'7l.
R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth-
K. , • ecary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun
ingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [nov.V,'7o.
T HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
rfi • No. 319 Hill st., Huntingdon, Pa. [jan.4,'7l.
R. DURBORROW, Attorney-at
t., • Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the
several Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular
attention given to the settlement of estates of dece
dents.
Office in he JOURNAL Building. [feb.l,'7l
j W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
K. ,
• 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;7l.
Tr' ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at
.. • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle
ment of Estates, ac.; and all other Legal Business
prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch.
Aff. Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton
Speer, Esq. 8an.4,11.
MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
to all legal business. Office in Cunningham's new
building. [jan.4,'7l.
R. ALLISON WILLER. 11.
MILLER & BUCHANAN,
DENTISTS,
No. 228 Hill Street,
UUNTINGDON, PA,
April 5, '7l-Iy.
PM. & 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. [jan.4,'7l.
RA. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law,
• Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa.
[may3l/71.
JOIIN SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. Y. BAILEY
SCOTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At
torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against
the Government will be promptly prosecuted.
Office on Hill street. [jan.4,7l.
rp W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law. Hun
-A- • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart,
Esq. Dan.4;7l.
WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney
at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
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attended to with care and promptness. Office, No.
229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l.
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For all kinds of printing.
EXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon,
Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor.
January 4, 1871.
N EAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT,
COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA
M'CLAIN .4 CO., PROPRIETORS ,
L EWISTOWN BOILER WORKS.
GEORGE PAWLING & CO., Manufac
urers of Locomotiveand Stationary Boilers, Tanks,
Pipes, Filling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet
Iron Work of every description. Works on Logan
street, Lewistown, Pa.
All orders pro,ntly attended to. Repairing
done at short notiee. [Apr 5,'71,1y.,
Tite A. BECK, Fashionable Barber
• and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the
Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades
kept on hand and for sale. [ap 19;71-6in
FOUNDRY FOR SALE on line of
Railroad, in one of the beet agricultural re
gions in Pennsylvania. For information inquire
of T. A. POLLOCK,
zaohl3,'72—tf.) Huntingdon, Pa.
he Huntingdon Journal.
TO ADVERTISERS
J. A. NASi,
:0:
THE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL.
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I wouldn't give much for a girl who would follow
Such fashions as our girls do—
Who dress in the finest of silk, then be-ides
Wear bracelets that shine as if new
I wouldn't give much for this girl—
Would you?
I wouldn't give much for the girl whe would bend,
As graceful as Grceianers do ;
Who struts down the street to exhibit her feet,
While the boys stand with eyes all askew ;
I wouldn't give much for this girl—
Would you?
I wouldn't give much for the girl who would try
To cut herself almost in two,
With the hope that she'll o'erhear somebody say
"That's a. nice little waist, I tell you;"
I wouldn't give much for this girl—
Would you ?
And the girl who ought to wear shoes numberfour,
Yet torture themselves with a two,
And then wish the Boston limp, onward they go,
With the grace of a kangaroo ;-
1 wouldn't give much for this girl—
Would you ?
I wouldn't give much for the girl who would cut
Such extras as most of them do;
Who tries to convince all the gents that their hump
Is the natural flesh as it grew ;
I wouldn't give much for all such—
Would you?
Married for Pity.
THE bright, countless stars were dotted
over ,he broad blue heavens, and the full
moon had just thrown aside her dark cur
tain and was flooding the earth with a sil
very splendor. Every now and then the
shrill cry of the night hawk and the wail
of the whip-poor-will broke upon the silent
night. The soft June air was heavy with
the perfume of rare flowers, and, in the
distance, the faint, musical sound of falling
waters could be heard.
It was a glorious night, and all lovers of
nature would stand and gaze upon the
scene, entranced, with mind and heart filled
with the one thought, that the wonderful
works of nature were the most beautiful
and perfect of all works.
Around the porch which surrounded
this lovely home, numerous rose-vines, and
rich foreign plants, trailed their luxuriant
branches and gave forth their sweetest
perfumes.
At one end of the porch, entirely con
cealed from view by the dense shrubbery,
sat a young girl. The pure moonlight,
falling across her face, revealed the fine,
delicate features, and heavy light hair,
brushed away from the broad white brow
and worn in a wavy mass over her shoul
ders.
Her thoughts were pleasant ones, for a
sweet smile hovered around the rose-bud
lips, and the soft brown eyes shone resplen
dent with happiness.
This slender, white-robed girl, was Vir
gie Atherton, the child-wife of Col. Ath
erton, a wealthy young merchant.
Her husband had gone to Philadelphia
to meet a viand, - and knowing that I[e'
would soon return, she had come out to
wait for him.
She was toying with the roses she bad
gathered, crushing their scented leaves
between her little white hands, thinking
herself the happiest girl in the world. She
loved Morris Atherton from the first mo
ment she had looked into his kind eyes.—
It was only one short month before, on
her fifteenth birthday, at her father's death
bed, that she had met him. She bad
been summoned hastily from the distant
Academy to receive, for the last time, her
only parent's blessing.
. .
eoi. Atherton was withher father when
she arrived, and upon him fell the task of
soothing into quietness her wild grief.
As is often the case, Mr. Ingram's in
come ceased at his death, and when the
funeral expenses would be defrayed and
all debts discharged, there would remain
but three hundred dollars for the orphan.
With his dying breath, John Ingram
commended his daughter to the care of
Morris Atherton, and begged him to pro
mise that he would never see her want.
Col. Atherton gave the required promise,
adding with much emotion, "John, your
daughter is a sweetgirl,
and if she will
consent, I will marry her to-night, and by
this means have a right to protect and care
for her all my life."
John Ingram grasped his young friend's
hand, and silently thanked him.
Canino. ' his daughter to his bedside, he
said in abroken voice: "Virgic, my dar
ling child, you know that I must die, and
when I'm gone you'll be left alone, with
out one friend in the world. Morris Ath
erton will make you his wife, if you'll
consent, and, oh ! my child, it will make
my death so ninth happier, to know that
there is some one who will love and care
for you when I'm gone."
He fell back among the pillows exhaust
ed. His weeping daughter bent over him,
and kissed his pale brow softly.
The shy, timid girl looked up at the
tall, handsome Colonel, and meetinc , his
warm glance, her eyes drooped and the
color leaped into her pale cheeks. She
had known him scarcely a day, and yet
she loved him. Placing her little hand
in his, she said in a trembling voice:
BUSINESS CARDS,
"I Will obey papa, and, if you wish it, I
will become your wife.".
Col. Atherton raised the hand to his
lips, released it, and left the room imme
diately to go in search of a minister.
In a short time he returned, accompa
nied by the Rev. James Southerton.—
Standing by the bedside of Mr. Ingram,
they were made man and wife, and receiv
ed the dying man's blessing upon their
union.
LEGAL BLANKS,
When all was over, Morris Atherton
took his child-bride to his beautiful coun
try home in Pennsylvania, and by his gen
tle kindness to her, soon taught her to
think but lightly of her recent loss. Eve
ry day her love for her husband grew
stronger, and her life with him was one
long, happy dream.
"Oh! dear, I wish he would come ; I'm
so lonely." murmured Virgie Atherton,
half aloud, tossing back her hair, with a
slight show of impatience.
Suddenly she started, and leaned eager
ly forward, as the sound of voices broke
upon the still air. She instantly recogni
zed one as that of her husband, and the
other must be the friend whom he had
gone to the city to meet.
The speaker paused for a moment, a
short distance from where Virgie was sit
ting.
PAMPHLETS,
But, Morris," said the strange voice,
"what tempted you to marry if it was not
love ?"
"It was pity, Harry; Virgie was such a
sweet, timid child, that I shuddered at the
thought of one so young and pure strug
gling alone in this wicked world. I thought
in time I would learn to love her, but she
is such a mere child that I fear I have
ht ".: unto' courtr.
I Wouldn't! Would You?
Zhe cOtorg-Zelltr.
HUNTINGDON, PA., JUNE 5, 1872
done wrong in binding her young life to
mine. In time she would have met some
one who would love her as she deserves to
be loved. But I fear that I will never
teach myself to love her."
, But come, Harry, let's go in, or Mrs.
Atherton will begin to think we are never
coming."
They passed on and entered the house.
Virgie Atherton sat as motionless as a
marble figure ; her face looking stern and
deadly pale in the clear moonlight. A few
short moments before she was one of the
happiest mortals on earth; now she was
miserable. Her husband, whom she loved
better than her life, did not care for her.
He had married her for pity. Her scarlet
lips wreathed themselves in a scornful
smile, as she slowly repeated the word.—
Her heart was filled with a wild anguish.
So keen and bitter was her grief that for
the moment she cared not whether she
lived or died.
She rose, and entered the house, silently
seeking her own room. She hid left it so
short a time before, a light-hearted, happy
child ; now she stood within its walls again,
a broken-hearted woman. Her heart was
dead ; from its ashes had sprung a cold,
hard heart, that would require many years
of waiting to warm it into lore again.
She stood for a moment before the glass,
drooping some scarlet flowers in her hair,
and then she went down to welcome her
husband's guest, her plain white dress
sweeping after her with every turn of her
slender, graceful figure. She was very
pretty, with a proud, high-bred look about
her, that instantly proclaimed her a lady.
And all who gazed into her soft brown
eyes, found in them a strange attraction.
Ner husband rose as she entered, and
introduced Harry Hoffman. She welcom
ed him in a graceful, dignified manner,
which was highly pleasing to Col. Ather
ton. Soon she was chatting as freely and
pleasantly as though she had known him
all her life. Shortly after, at her hus
band's request, she seated herself at the
piano and began to sing; she was a fine
singer, but to-night she surpassed herself;
clear and beautiful as the notes of the lark
at early noon, rose the sweet voice, floating
through the room and out on the still
night air. Morris Atherton was astonish
ed, and a feeling of pride rose up in his
heart, that she was his wife.
When she had finished, Mr. Hoffman
approached the piano, and complimented
her so highly that the color burned in her
pale cheeks.
The evening passed very pleasantly, and
when Virgie had retired Harry turned to
Morris Atherton, saying : "By George,
Morris, you've got a sweet little wife.—
She's a real beauty; if I was sure of win
ning such a jewel, I would get married
tomorrow; but those kind of wires are
scarce now-a-days."
"Yes, Virgie is a good girl," replied
Morris, coolly, turning the leaves of a book.
Another month passed slowly, and as
yet there was no visible change in the
youno• ' wife's manner; she was the same
gay, happy, bright-eyed spirit that had
first made the dreary home of Morris Ath
erton a carve 6 plea". No eabo
dreamed, while gazing upon her bright
young face, that her heart was slowly
breaking, with a keen, bitter grief.
But a change was taking place in Mor
ris Atherton ; in his heart there was spring
ing up a warm, earnest love for his sweet
girl-wife.
. _
Returning from his office one evening,
he thought: "I will tell Virgie how dear
she has become to me, my little treasure,
how dreary and desolate would be my life
without her."
When he entered his house his wife did
not run to meet him, as was her usual cus
tom, and thinking that she was in her
room, he went in search of her; but she
was not there. Coming down again he in
quired of the cook, if Mrs. Atherton bad
gone out. . _ _
"Yes, sir," replied Jane, ''she started
this morning, just after you left. I think
she must have received some bad news, for
when she told me that she would not be
back to-night, she could scarcely speak for
crying. She told me to give you this let
ter when you returned, sir."
He took the letter, and tearing it open,
read the contents, which ran as follows :
MY 111:913A.ND:—Before you receive this I will
be many miles away, out in the world, alone. On
the evening that Harry Hoffman arrived. I heard
you tell him that you did not love me, and that
pity prompted you to marry me. Since then I have
waited, with a bitter pain on my heart, praying
that you would learn to love me ; but it was in
vain. The love I feel for you will last forever; I
will never love again. Seek not to find me, fur I
serer will return. Good-hy, and God bless you, is
ever the prayer of Vintae.
Morris Atherton stood motionless, with
pallid face, and wide standing eyes, crush
ing the letter in his hand.
She was gone, his Virgie, his sweet
young wife, gone—just when he had real
ized how dear she was to him; out in the
cold world, without a friend.
"I will search for her," he exclaimed;
"tell her how fondly I love her, and make
her come back to me. Oh ! Virgie, Vir
gie, what have I done !" He buried his
face in his hands, and his strong frame
trembled with suppressed emotion.
Weeks lengthened into months, the
months into years, and still the weary
search was continued without success. No
trace of the young wife could be discovered.
Ten years have passed since last we saw
Col. Atherton ; but time in its passage has
dealt gently with the handsome Colonel,
and the added years left not a wrinkle
upon his noble face.
He was standing in the centre of a
group of ladies and gentlemen. in the
splendid reception room of one of New
York's most prominent statesmen.
"Colonel," said one of the gentlemen of
the party, "have you been introduced to
Miss Burdell, the distinguished young au
thoress ? I am told that she is to be here
this evening."
"No,
sir; I've not had the honor, al
though I should be delighted to form her
acquaintance," replied Cu!. Atherton.
"Look, there she is, leaninn. ' on the arm
of Judge Seighbert," exclaimed another of
the party.
Miss Burdell was a tall, stately looking
girl about twenty-five. She had a face of
surpassing beauty, its marble-like white
ness only relieved by the vivid crimson
coloricg of her sweet lips, and the lustrous
brightness of her large brown eyes. She
wore a rich dress of pale blue silk, with
white flowers in her dark brown hair.--
There was an air of sadness about the sweet
face which one could not fail to observe.
"Col. Atherton, Miss Burdell," said Mr.
Lewis, presenting Morris Atherton to the
young authoress.
They looked into each others eyes for an
instant. Morris started and cast a keen,
searching glance upon Miss Burdell ; she
bowed and passed on, while Morris Ather
ton turned aside to hide the look of pain
which swept across his face.
Why had this young lady affectal him
so strangely ? Her presence had torn open
the wound which he had thought was heal
ed forever, her eyes were so like his young
wife's; his lost Virgie. Ten years had
flown since she had left him, and yet the
wound was still fresh.
Calling upon an old friend one evening
shortly after, he was surprised to meet
Miss Burdett. It was her home, and in a
short time Morris Atherton became a reg
ular visitor. Miss Burdell treated him
kindly, but gave him no encouragement.
She was distant with all, and appeared to
have no desire for gentlemen's society.—
She rarely ever laughed, and many called
her the "woman with no heart."
Morris Atherton called one evening, and
finding her alone, he informed her that he
was about to start for Europe in a few
days. He watched her face eagerly to see
if she evinced any sign of regret at his de
parture. She looked up quickly, and
Morris. saw a tear sparkling in the brown
eyes. He took her hand, saying in a qui
et voice, "Miss Burdell, may I tell you the
story of my life?"
Yes, I would be delighted to hear it !"
she replied in a slightly tremulous voice.
"Ten years ago," he began, "at the age of
dirty, I married a young girl of fifteen.—
The marriage was performed at the death
be of her father. It was pity prompted
me to make her my wife, but it soon ri
pened into a deep, earnest love, before I
became aware of the true state of my feel
ing toward her. I thoughtlessly mention
ed to one of my friends what motive had
prompted me to marry such a child, and
she overheard the remark. One month
after ' she left our home, and I have never
seen her since. I love you, Miss Burdell,
but it is because you possess my lost dar
ling's eyes. I would not ask you to share
a divided heart, for I love Virgie best.—
Yon are the first person to whom I have
told the sad story, and now I will say
good-by, perhaps forever."
Niss Burdell raised her eyes, and looked
at him steadily for a moment, then leaning
forward, she exclaimed in a sobbing voice,
"Oh ! Morris, don't you know me, lam
Virgie, your wife !" He opened his arms
and clasped her to his heart, his long lost
treasure. Winding her arms about his
neck, Virgie wept tears of wild, happy
joy.
For ten long, weary years she had wait
ed and prayed for this meeting. When
she met him at Mr. Dolton's reception, her
heart threw off its icy bondage and throb
bed again with the passionate love of years
ago. She would not make herself known
to him, she would wait and see if he was
still true to the memory of his wife, who
had been as dead to him for so many years.
The second time that she met him, she
knew that he loved her, and the knowledge
filled her heart with a sweet, inexpressible
joy. At last, Oh ! at last! the yearning
wish of her heart was satisfied, her hus
band loved her.
When her sobs had become less frequent
her husband raised the drooping head,
and looking into the beautiful eyes of his
wife, asked, "Why did you leave me, my
darling? Oh! Virgie, if you had but
waned a few short hours, you would have
learned how dear you were to me, and all
the bitter anguish of those long, weary
years would have been saved."
"I could not wait any longer Morris,
the thought that you could not love me,
was slowly killing me, and I knew that it
was better for us to part. I was possessed
of the same talent as my father, and I
would try to support myself. I went di
rect to New York, and with the few hun
dred dollars left me by my father, I man
aged to live until I found a publisher for
my articles, I assumed the name of Bur
den, and dragged out a weary existence,
living in hope that we would meet and
that you would learn to love me. God has
answered my prayer ; Oh ! Morris, my
husband !"
He drew the slender figure closer to his
side, and kissed her softly, gently.
Back to their lovely home in Pennsyl
vania, went Morris Atherton and his
beautiful wife, to spend their days in
peaceful joy. Beautiful children cluster
around their hearth-side, and love and
happiness reigns supreme.
atentling fur th
Sonography,
A hopeful philosopher thinks the time
may come when a man's words will be
made to write themselves down automati
cally as fast as they come from his lips—
when a speech will yield a sound picture,
or a sonogram, that we may gaze upon, as
we do now the notes of music. Light, he
says, is a wave motion, and the chemist
has found a substance which the waves, as
they dash against it, can transform or
transmute, and so we have got photo
graphy. Sound is a wave motion ; its
waves are as breakers—lights are as rip
ples ; the former large and slow, the lat
ter small and rapid. Since we have got
the substance that is impressible by the
little weak waves, why should we despair
in finding substance that will alter under
the influence of the great strong ones ?
We can make a lamp-glass ring with the
voice pitched to a certain note ; soon we
may cause the same sound to vibrate a
body that will make a mark on paper while
it swings, and then we make another work
ing body vibrate to another sound, and so
on up the gamut. Thus we shall get an
apparatus which will mark the notes of a
melody each as it is sung ; and after this
it is not difficult to conceive a series of
vibrations, each attuned to one of the few
separate and distinct sounds the human
voice can utter. Here will be an analogue
to the photographic camera. Placed be
fore a speaker, such an apparatus will son
ograph all he has to say.
Queer. Mistakes
There are in Dorchester, says a corres
pondent, twin brothers, whose resemblance
to each other is so strong that strangers
can hardly tell them apart. They keep a
grocery and provision store, and were
one day bringing in bags of meal from a
wagon, which was out of sight from inside
the store. Nathan had his coat on, but
Eli was in his shirt-sleeves. A stranger
in the shop watched them coming in and
going out one after the other, but only one
was visible at a time, and at last he ex
claimed to Eli, "Well, you're the smartest
man I ever saw, but why do you keep put
ting on and taking off your coat ?" These
brothers and several other men were in
the habit of getting up very early and go
ing to swim in the "reservoir pond," and
once Eli going, as was his wont, to Na-
than's house to call him, by tapping on
the pan, saw his own face reflected from
the glass, and taking it for his brother,
called out, "Come on ; they're all waiting
for you."
The General Laws,
The whole makes a pamphlet of seven
ty-five pages and contains forty-nine acts,
not more than one twentieth part of the
legislation of the last session. For every
general law that was passed at least twen
ty private or s7ecial acts were granted,
nearly always prejudicial to the public
good. Some of the general laws are very
important, and their existence on the
statute book should be made public. From
an exchange we copy an abstract of them :
Enlarging Powers of Common Pleas.
No. 6—Enlarges the powers of Courts
of Common Pleas so as to authorize them
M incorporate gas and water companies,
market and town-halt companies, and so
cieties for the protection and preservation
of birds, fish and game.
Married Women and Sewing Machines.
No. 7—Permits married women to con
tract for the purchase of sewing machines
for their own use, without the husband
joining in the contract.
Monument to Promoters of Common
Schools.
No. B—Authorizes the appropriation of
a site in the Capitol grounds fur a monu
ment to be erected by the State Teacher's
Association "to the memory of the chief
fuunders and most distinguished promo
ters of the common school system of Penn
sylvania."
Liquors on Election Day.
No. 11—Prohibits the selling or giving
away, by tavern or saloon keepers, of any
spirituous or malt liquors, on any general
or special election day, during the time
the polls are kept open—under penalty of
fine and imprisonment.
Ejectment Suits.
No. 22—That whenever, in any action
of ejectment, a non-suit or judgment for
defendant shall be had, the defendant may
enter a rule upon the plaintiff to sue out
a writ of error thereon, within one year ;
and if plaintiff shall fail to do so, he shall
be forever debarred ; and thereupon de
fendant may enter a rule upon plaintiff to
show cause why he should not bring a
second action within one year from the de
termination of the rule ; and if no good
cause for delay be shown, the rule shall be
made absolute ; and upon the expiration
of the year the plaintiff shall be debarred
from bringing any action upon the same
title.
Earnings of Harried Women.
No. 24—Secures to married women
their separate earnings, either of labor,
business or property, free from any legal
claim of the husband, or his creditors. To
prevent fraud, before any married woman
shall be entitled to the benefits of this
act, she must first petition the Court of
Common Please therefor, which petition
shall be entered on record.
Preferred Stocks.
No. 28—Authorizes any company in
corporated under the general law, with
consent of a majority in interest of its
stockholders, to issue preferred stock shall
be entitled to such dividend not exceed
ing twelve per cent, as the directors may
prescribe, payable out of the net earnings,
and the holders of such preferred stock
shall not be liable for the debts of the
company.
Execution Attachments.
No. 25.—Where execution attachments
issued from court, attaching debt, money,
stocks, or other property in the hands of
persons, or corporations as garnishees.
and where proceedings have been stayed
on the judgment, from any cause, defen
dant may file a bond, with sureties, condi
tioned that the defendant shall pay to
plaintiff, on the determination of the case,
whatever amount shall be due by the gar
nishees, whereupon the garnishees shall
be discharged from further liability. The
cause may be prosecuted to final judg
ment, but the defendant and his sureties
shall be alone liable for judgment and
costs.
Wages of Mechanics and Laborers.
No. 40—Provides that all moneys due
any miner, mechanic, laborer, or clerk,
from any person or chartered company,
owing or leasing any mine, manufactcry
or other business, for any period not ex
ceeding six months procoding the sale or
transfer of such works, by execution or
otherwise, preceeding the death or insol
vency of such employers, shall be a lieu
upon the property, and first paid out of
the proceeds of the sale; provided the
claim does not exceed two hundred dol
lars, ana shall be filed as mechanics liens
are now filed.
Labor Statistics.
No. 46—Provides for the appointment,
by the Governor, on or before the first
Monday of May, inst., and biennially
thereafter, a suitable person to act as
Chief of the Bureau of Labor Statistics
and of Agricultuture, who shall collect
and systematise statistics with reference to
labor in its relation to the social, educa
tional, industrial and general interests ;
the condition, wages and treatment of all
classes of our working people, and the ef
fect of the same upon the permanent pros
perity and productive industry of the
commonwealth. Statistics relating to the
mineral, manufacturing, agricultural and
commercial productions of the State, shall
also be collected and classified, and report
thereof made to the Legislature. The
Commissioner of Labor Statistics shall be
paid a salary of two thousand dollars an
nually, and shall appoint an assistant at a
salary of fourteen hundred dollars.
Want in Life.
There is nothing more fortunate for
moderate genius than to be born poor.
The "silver spoon" class are a very com
fortable people, no doubt, but the great
trouble with them is, their education is
mainly of this order, and if they don't be
come very great they are extremely likely
to become the very opposite. There is no
middle ground for them, for they were not
taught to regard any, and consequently,
they are, as a general thing, unfit for it.
Poverty has helped men to solve some of
the greatest problems of life. Half its
brave deeds have been a necessity, and the
most of its noble sayings have been born of
a determined opposition. It does a man
good to put him at his wits' ends. Emer
gencies make men. Any man can be a
general or a pilot in a calm.; but storms
show the mental. Reputation is made
more by boldness and will, than by ability
and patience. Life is too short to wait for
the tide whose ebb leads on to fortune.
We must make the most of present oppor
tunites, but we shall hardly do it, unless
present opportunities are in the main pres
ent necessities. The man who works out
these to the fullest extent is the most suc
cessful man.
Dangerous Telegraphy.
Two young men, telegraph operators,
boarding at one of our leading third-class
hotels, find great amusement in carrying
on conversation with each other at the ta
ble by ticking on their plates with knife,
fork or spoon. A combination of sounds
or ticks constitute the telegraphic alphabet
and persons familiar with these sounds can
converse thereby as intelligently as with
spoken words. A few days ago, while
these fun-loving youths were seated at
breakfast, a stout-built young man entered
the dining-room with a handsome girl on
his arm. whose blushing countenance
showed her to be a bride. The couple bad,
in fact, been married but a day or two pre
vious, and had come to San Francisco
from their home in Oakland, or • Mud
Springs, or some other rural village, for the
purpose of spending the honeymoon The
telegraph tickers commenced as soon as the
husband and wife had seated themselves.
No. 1 opened the discourse as follows :
"What a lovely little pigeon this is along
side of me—ain't she ?"
No. 2. "Perfectly charming—looks as
if butter wouldn't melt in her month.
Just married. I guess ; don't you think
so ?"
No. I. '•Yes, I should judge she was.
What luscious lips she's got ! If that
country bumpkin beside her was out of the
road, I'd give her a hug and a kiss just for
luck."
No. 2. Suppose you try it, anyhow.
Give her a little nudge under the table
with your knee."
There is no telling to what extent the
imprudent rascals might have gone, but
for an amusing and entirely unforeseen
event. The bridegroom's facehad flushed
and a dark scowl was on his brow during
the progress of the ticking conversation ;
but the operators were too much occupied
with each other to pay any attention to
him. The reader may form some idea of
the young men's consternation when the
partner of the lady picked up his knife and
ticked off the following terse but vigorous
message :
"This lady is my wife, and as soon as
she gets through with her breakfast I pro
pose to wring both your necks—you inso
lent whelps."
The bridegroom was a telegraph opera
tor and knew how it was himself.—San
Francisco Oironcile.
Educating Girls.
Educating girls for household duties
ought to be considered as necessary as in
struction in reading, writing, and arithme
tic, and quite as universal. We are in our
houses more than half of our existence,
and it is the household surroundings which
affect most largely the happiness or misery
of domestic life. If the wife knows how
to "keep house," if she understands how
to "set a table," if she has learned how
things ought to be cooked, how beds
should be made, how carpets should be
swept, how furniture should be dusted,
how the clothes should be repaired, and
turned and altered, and renovated ; if she
knows how purchases can be made to the
best advantage, and understands the laying
in of provisions, how to make them go
farthest and last longest, if she appreciates
the importance of system, order, tidiness,
and the quiet management of children and
servants, then she knows how to make a
little heaven of home—how to win her
children from the streets; how to keep
her husband from the club-house, the
gaming-table and the wine cup. Such a
family will be trained to social respecta
bility, to business success, and to efficiency
and usefulness in whatever position may
be allotted to them. It may be safe to
say that not one girl in ten in our large
towns and cities enters into married life
who has learned to bake a loaf of bread,
to purchase a roast, to dust a painting—to
sweep a carpet, or cut and fit and make
her own dress. How much the perfect
knowledge of these things bears upon the
thria, the comfort and health of families,
may be conjectured, but not calculated by
figures. It would be an immeasurable ad
vantage to make a beginning by attaching
a kitchen to every girl's school in the na
tion, and le: sons given daily in the prep
aration of all the ordinary articles of food
and drink for the table • and how to pur
chase them in the market to the best ad
vantage, with the result of a large saving
of money, an increase of comfort, and
higher health in every family in the land.
Sewing Machine Sales for 1871 ,
The magnitude to which the sewing ma
chine business has grown is only surpassed
by the rivalry of the various competitors,
few of whom are unfamiliar with the nu
merous artifices resorted to for the com
mendation and sale of the particular ma
chine sought to be sold. If the number
of sales be any criterion of merit, the Singer
seems to bear the palm, as shown by sworn
returns of the companies, made under the
licenses granted them by the owners of
the sewing machine patents, and which
are as follows :
THE SINGER MF'll C0...501d 181,260 Machines
Wheeler .t Wilson Mf'g Co.. " 128,526
Grover & Baker S. Al. C 0... " 50,838 "
Weed S.M. Co " • 39,655
Bowe Machine Co. (Jan. 1, "
to July 1.) .. " 34,010
Wilcox & Gibbs S. M. " 30,127
Wilson S. M. Co " 21.153
Amer. B. H. 0. &S.M. Co " 20,121
Original Howe S. N. Co 20,051
Florence S. M. Co 15,947
Gold Medal S. M. Co 13,562
11.565
Davis S. M. Co.
10,397
Domestic S. M. Co.
Finkle & Lyon birg C 0...
/Etna S. M. Co.
4,557
Blees S. M. Co
Elliptic S. M. Co " 4,555 "
Empire S. M. Co " 2,965 "
Parham S. M. Co " 2,056 "
The Chicago Relief Committee's returns
show a like result :
THE SINGER
Wheeler & Wilson —
Howe
Grover £ Baker
Wilcox & Gibbs
Florence
Finkle & Lyon
Blees
/Etna
Wilson
Western Empire
Manhattan
Davis
Elliptic
Gold Medal
American Button-Hole
We are told that the applicant in every
case has designated the kind of machine
desired.—New York Daily Witness.
A MAN from one of the rural districts
recently went to Washington to see the
sights. A member of the House, whose
constituent he was, said : "Como up to
morrow and I will give you a seat on the
floor of the House." "No, you don't !"
replied Johathan ; I alway manage to have
a cheer to set on at home, and I bet I
hain't come to Wash'n'ton to sit on the
floor ! Injuns may do that when they come,
if they like, but I, that am civilized, don't
do it
NO. 23.
Around the Fireside.
Let every one who has the privilege of
one foot of ground raise some flowers.
Nothing so beautifies the homestead or ren
ders the heart light and happy as beauti
ful, sweet, fresh flowers.
Cultivate politeness in the home circle.
Manners, says the eloquent Edmund
Burke. are of more importance than laws.
They give their whole form and color to
our lives. According to their quality,
they aid morals; they supply them or to
tally destroy them.
A real impetuous laugh dissipates many
illusions, sweeps the twilight out of our
imaginations ; and brings honest daylight.
No dry, hacking laugh. It should be spon
taneous. We have seen men fall to laugh.
ing, who had not heard the cause of mirth,
but only had caught the contagion of oth
er men's laughing. It is hard not to
laugh with men who are in earnest about
it.
A neat, clean, fresh, cheerful, sweet,
well-arranged house exerts a morsl influ
ence over its inmates, and makes the mem
bers of a family peaceful and considerate
of each other's feelings and happiness. The
connection is obvious between the state of
mind thus produced and respect fir others
and for those higher duties and obligations
which no law can enforce. On the con
trary, a filthy, squalid, noxious dwelling,
in which none of the decencies of life are
observed, contributes to make its inhab
itents selfish, sensual, and regardless of the
feelings of others.
Get a small covered basket—loosely
made wicker work is the best. Mix oats,
grass seed, clover and peppergrass, or a:-
most any other small seed handy, with
earth, fill the basket, tie the cover tightly
down and leave strings so that it may be
hung in the air with either side up. It
only needs occasional watering to put forth
a wildness of green shoots that within two
weeks will hide the basket, and when these
are kept tamed down it makes one of
the prettiest oddities imaginable.
Sometimes little children come to us,
bringing in their tiny hands the keys to
the kingdom of Heaven. The man whose
heart was perhaps growing hard in the
struggle of life—who unconsciously was
becoming worldly; whose face, practised
in meeting men, was gradually becoming
rigid in its outlines ; whose keen eye was
losing its tenderness—has been sent to him
these sweet little angels as a voice from
God ?
Trailing clouds of glory do they come
From Heaven, which is their home.
If there is any environment which can
degrade a human being or harden a young
heart, it is the atmosphere of merely fash
ionable life. You may take the tenderest
and most beautiful and lovely girl, the one
that is kindest at home, and loves her
father and mother best, and put her into
the highest circle of fashionable life, with
plenty of money and plenty of scope to do
as she pleases ; let her dress herself as she
will ; cover herself with diamonds and
pearls, costly silks and laces ; let the love
of admiration become the controlling pas
sion ; and by and by all the tenderness of
that young nature passes away ; her
thoughts concentrate upon herself, what
figure she is cutting, who her admirers are,
what conquests she can make ; and by and
by the youthful, beautiful modesty is gone,
and the way is open for vice that, in the
beginning, would not have been dreamed
of, or if thought of, put away as utterly
impossible.
Sitting up for Her Boy
Here and there throughout the village
a few lights flicker like pale stars through
the darkness. One shines from an attic
window, where a youthful aspirant for lit
erary honors labors wasting the midnight
oil and the elixir of his life in toil, unless
it may be save as patience and industry
are gained, and give him a hold upon
eternal happiness. Another gleams with a
ghastly light from a chamber into which
death is entering and life departing.
One light shines through a cottage win
dow from which the curtains are pushed
partially aside, showing a mother's face,
patient and sweet, but careworn and anx
ious. The eyes gazing through the night,
are faded and sunken, but lighted with
such love as steals only into the eyes of
true and saintly mothers, who watch over
and pray for their children ; who hedge
them in from the world's temptation, and
make of them noble men, and true and
lovinr , women. It is nearly midnight, and
the faded eyes are strained to their utmost
to catch the fax-off sight of some one com
ing down the street. The mother's listen
ing ear loses no sound however slight that
breaks upon the stillness that reigns
around.
No form seen, no quick step heard, she
drops the curtain slowly, goes back to the
table where an open book is lying and a
half knit sock. The eat jumps up in her
chair, and yawns and shakes herself, and
gradually sinks down again into repose.
No one disputes her possession of the easy
chair. Up and down the little room the
mother walks, trying to knit, but vainly;
she can only think of her son, and wonder
and imagine what is keeping him. Iler
mind pictures the worst, and her heart
sinks lower and lower. Could the thought
less boy know but one-half the anguish he
is causing be would hasten at once to dis
pel it with his presence.
She trembles now as she listens, for an
uncertain step is heard—a sound of coarse
laughter and drunken ribaldry; her heart
stands still and she grows cold with appre
hension. The sound passes and dies away
in the distance. Thank heaven, it is not
he, and a glow comes over her, and once
more her heart beats quickly.
Only a moment, for the clock on the
mantle shows on its pallid face that it is
almost midnight. Again the curtain is
drawn aside, and again the anxious, loving
eyes peer into the darkness. INrk ! a
sound of footsteps coming nearer ; a shad
owy form advancing shows more and more
distinct; a cheery whistle, a brisk, light
step up the pathway; a thowing wide open
of the door, and the truant boy finds him
self in his mother's arms, welcomed and
wept over. He chafes at the gentle dis
cipline ; he don't like to be led by apron
strings; but he meets his mother's gentle
questioning gaze with one honest and
manly, and makes a half-unwilling prom
ise, and in after years thanks heaven again
and again that he had a mother who
watched over him, and prayed for him.
He knows better than she now, the
good that was done by her sitting up.
A CANDY-BOY, passing throu g h a car,
salutued a cross old gentleman with "Pop
corn, pop-corn !"
"Hain't got any teeth," angrily replied
the man.
"Gum-drops, gum-drops !" persisted the
enterprising lad.