• VOL. 48. The Huntingdon Journal. J. R. DURBORROW, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. Office on the Corner of Fifth and Wawhington streets. Tan Ilurristinox JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. Dunnonnow and J. A. /Cunt, tinder the firm name of J. lt. Dunnonnow & 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, rnless at the option of the publishers, until all arrearages are paid. No paper, however. will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at Twaivn AND A-HALF CUNTS per line for the first insertion, snr - F. AND A-HALI•' CENTS for the second, and rive coats per line fur all subsequent inser tions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertise ments will bo inserted at the following rate. 3ml6ml9mill 1 t 3m16m19m11:.- I , ! 1 Toe° 350 450 ssolB7osenl 900 18 00 $ 27 $ 36 2 500 800 10 00 1200 " 24 00 26 60 60 65 '• 700 100014 00118 00 4 "3400 50 00 65 80 4 800 14 00 1 20 00 21 0011 001 1 36 00,60 00 50 100 Local notices will be inserted at I'IPTILEN COSTS per line for each and every insertion. All Resolutions of Associations, Communications of limited or individual interest, all party an nouncements, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside e! three figure.. If ad. ertieina aecoeute are doe anti collectable ~'t.e the adeeeteeement ie sees insetted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and :'a,77 Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— nd-bill s. 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 moat artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards. AP. NV. JOHNSTON, Surveyor and • Civil Engineer Huntingdon, Pa. °emit:: No. 113 Third Street. ung21,1372. BF. GEHRETT, M. D., ECLEG . TIC PHYCIeIAX 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.3-1811. DR. H. W. BUCHANAN. DENTIST No. 2.1 S Hill Street, lIUNTINGDON, PA, J aly 2, '72. DR. F. 0. ALLEMAN can be con sulted at his office, at all hours, Mapleton, Pa. [mareht3,72. CALDWELL; Attorney -at -Law, D•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods 41; Williamson. [apl2,ll. DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office. No. 52:1 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan.4,'7l. EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re • moved to Leister's new building, Hill street 7*o7tingdon. GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. • Brown's new building, No. 520, /fill St., Huntingdon, P. AGLAZIER, Notary Public, corner • of Washington and Smith streets, Hun tingdon, Pa. Dan.l2ll. C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. • Office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon, Ps. [ap.19,'71. T FRANKLIN SCHOCK, Attorney !" • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Prompt attention given to all legal business. Office 229 Hill street, corner of Court House Square. (dee.4,'72 r SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at efi • Law, Huntingdon, P. Office, Hill street, tree doors west of Smith. Dan.4ll. CHALMERS JACKSON, Attar rfi • ney at Law. Offiee with Wm. Dorris, Esq.- No. 403, Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa.. All legal business promptly attended to. Danls T R. DURBORROW, Attorney-at efi • 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 Jou num. Building. [feb.l,ll T W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law' P., • 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. S. GEISSINGER, Attorney-at- L• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office with Brown Bailey. [Peb.s-iy .T. HALL Mi.lisna. K. ALLEN LOVELL. L ° 'ELL & MUSSER, Attor!er, I- at- Law , HUNTTSIODON, PA. Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the 'settlement of ESTATES, 4te. ; and all other legal bovines. prosecuted with fidelity and diopatch. 00,1412 a. macs rsrm.nr. I Y. O. MAW, Y. X. x'itr. pETREKIN, MASSEY & M'NEIL, Attorney's-ut-Le.w, Hantiudon, Pa. Office, No. 300, Hill street. 1.c1e0.17-3mos. p M. k. M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to all kinds of legal business entrusted to their sore. Office on the south side of Hill street, fourth door w.:st of Smith. fjan.4,ll. RA. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, . Office, :121 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. f010y31,11. JouN scorn. s. T. DROWN. J. BAILEY czeorr, BROWN d; BAILEY, At torneys-:it-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against lit , Government will be promptly prosecuted. Office on 11111 street. [jan.4,'7l. WILLIAt A. FLEMING, Attorney- Y at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other lagal business Attended to with care and promptneas. Office, No. 229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l. Hotels. EXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. JAl:mg 4, 1571. MORRISON HOUSE, OPPOSITE PENNSYLVANIA B. R. DEPOT HUNTINGDON, PA J. H. CLOVER, Prop. April 5, 1871-Iy. WASHINGTON HOTEL, S. S. BOWDOV, Prop'r. Corner of Pitt le Juliana Sts., Bedford, Pn. may). Miscellaneous ROBLEY,llerehant Tailor, near ...Broad Top Corner, (second floor,) Hunting don, Pa., respectfully solicits a share of public patronage from town and country. [0ct16,72. A. BECK, Fashionable Barber R• and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on handand far sale. [apl9.'7l—em QRIRLEYSBITRG ELECTRO-MED KJ [CAL, Hydropathio and Orthopedic Ineti tote, for the treatment of all Chronic Disoascs and Deformities. Send for Circular. .Addrern Drs. BAIRD k ORHRETT. nor .27,'72tr, Shirleysharg. Pa. •. The u.nti 4~ lin ,'" ournal II (fit - ;,; usine goircr. J. A. NASH, Well, sonny, it pays to be honest, And run your shebang on the square ; When a chum of mine forgets it, We separates then and there. I kept telling Jim Smith this,— He allowed the remark was just : But he went his own gait all the same. His tune was—"Go it, or bust!'' We were out in Kansas together,— Jim and me,—in the year Fifty-eight They bad made it so hot in Missouri, We concluded not to wait. So we put, being peaceable men, Even Jim soon saw that we must I had only my oxen and cart, And Jim not a red, being bust. We put, as aforesaid, to Kansas, And scarce had been there a week When we stumbled across an old miner Who had recent returned from Pike's Peak. He dropped there was gold there, one night, • And showed us a bag full of dust. Said Jim, "Le's be off l" Said I, "Wait." "Nay wait," said he, "Pike's Peak, or bust !" I sot and thought over the matter, And made up my mind that next day I would see about Jim and me going : He'd turned in, and was snoozing away I judged, from the smile that he wore. He was sharing the sleep of the just. When I woke I observed it was late, And I was alone there—and bust ! Unbeknown he had doctored my whisky, And gone hack on me thus from the start ; He had got up and get before morning, And stolen my oxen and cart ! You had better believe I was riled, I've a sort of idee that I cussed "I'm going to go for you, Jim,— We'll see before long who is bust." Why the doggoned cuss had absconded Was inquired, and the miner he told ; So the next day there started a party To go for Jim—and the gold. Those oxen of mine were our guides, We got on their track from the fust And we followed 'em, two days behind. Determined to ketch up—or bust ! 'Twas a mighty rough country to travel— All sand to the foot of the Peak— Vegetation about as abundant As that yellow fez en your cheek. Not a tree or a shrub,—withered grass, And never a stream you could trust ; There was alkali something in all— But no Peak, and no Jim—was he bust? The track of the wagon we followed Would be lost for a time, and then fons,d,— Like the rivers that sink in that desert, And as suddenly rise from the ground_ 'Tway hotter than thunder one hour, And the next there would come a cold gust Slap down from the snows on the P eak;— Four days , and no Jim !— had he bust? The next day we sighted the wagon. "You have got him at last now," they said; But he's halted !—There's something the mat ter— And what are those birds overhead? Not buzzards ! A ox, too, is down,— And a leg through the grass there is thrust. Halt, help! There's murder been done I "Hullo, Yank!" Silence men,—Jim is bast! rj..4,71, Poor Jim I At his foet lay his rifle, Close by it his whip and a hoot ; There were marks all round of a tussle With some treacherous dog of a Ute ; A tomahawk spattered with blood,— And Jim lying scalped in the dust,— And daubed, by himself, on the cart, Was his epitaph—"Piss's PEAK, on BUST I" —From the February Aldine. [e:pl2,'7l. bc Atirs-Zelltr. Timms' Strategy. A STORY OF CALIFORNIA LIFE. MAPES was chivalrous by nature; he believed in "seeking the bauble reputation, even in the cannon's mouth." His en thusiasm was aroused by the recital of stories of deeds of desperate daring ; while he had nothing but contempt for even suc cess won by crooked and indifferent means. Timms, on the contrary, believed there waspoliey in war, and that the endjustified the means, particularly if the end was at tained. Companions from infancy, their lives had been spent in competition for scholastic and such other honors as the lo cality afforded, without a momentary break in their friendship. But now, in early manhood, they struggled for a prize of in calcuable value, with an ardor that threat ened a complete rupture of friendly rela tions. The heart and hand of Eliza Reed, the neighborhood belle, were to be won ; and to these none others might aspire in the face of such formidable competition as that of Mapes and Timms. They alone— each by virtue of his own personality and position—had a right to lay siege t 3 the heart of that variable. irritable imperious beauty, and for months the strife between them had gone on. Each one had called into play all his personal and social re sources; fbr the local society had taken such an interest that it was divided into two factions, known as 'the Maposites and the Timmsites. And yet Miss Eliza could not be brought to express a preference. If she rode with one to-day, she was careful to walk with the rival to-morrow. Coquettery is delicious to a woman; and Eliza would not have been feminine had she been in haste to have made the elec tion. Nevertheless, she did not intend to miss her opportunity. She knew well the war eonld not always last, and feared that when one of the aspirants for her favor withdrew from the contest, the love of the other, wanting the stimulus of competition, would grow cold ; hence she had made up her mind, that, upon the first favorable op portunity, she would signify to Mapes that his suit, so often pressed, was at last ac cepted. The opportunity, it seemed, was not long wanting; for invitations were given out for an apple-bee in the neigh borhood, and Eliza found means to convey an intimation to Mapes that she expected to meet him there, and counted on his es cort home at the conclusion of the frolic. The appointed evening looked for with such nervous anticipation by Mapes, came at last. He felt that it was the most im portant moment of his life, and arrayed himself as only a rustic dandy can. His way lay across a meadow, through which ran, or rather loitered, a deep, but narrow stream, spanned by a single log. It was so dark when be reached this primitive bridge that he was compelled to feel his way slowly across. As he progressed it commenced to swing lightly—something very unusual—until he reached the cen tre. when. to his utter confusion, it gave way, and he was launched into the water. He scrambled out, then suddenly the night became luminous with the lurid light to which people refer when they say, in speak ing of some profane wretch, "He swore until all was blue." Whatever illumina ting qualities this lurid light possessed, it had no drying ones, and Mapes was forced to bid adieu for the night to all - hopes of plighting his troth to his beloved Eliza. In the rut- 11 districts down East, in early times, the good people had such hab its of industry and rigid economy that they seldom gave or attended parties, unless such as were cloaked under the names of raisings, quiltings,;huskings, or apple-bees; thus, the apple-bee, fraught with mosses tons consequences to Mapes and Timms, was but a social party in disguise—a few apples being pared, quartered, cored, and strung in the early evening merely for appearance sake. Bust ! As usual, Eliza was the belle of the occasion. Good looks, entire self-posses sion, and a keen, satirical wit always as sured her that position; and this night she shone with unusual brilliancy, until, as the hours wore away, and Mapes came not, she began to lose herself in wondering why, and at length she inquired of Timms : "Is your friend, Mapes, ailing ?" "I guess not," replied Timms; "I saw him to-day. He was not complaining." "He denies himself much pleasure in not coining here to-night, for this is the place where we always have a good time. Aunt Judy knows how to give an apple bee." "You let Mapes alone," answered Timms; "he knows what he is about." "What do von mean ?" asked Eliza. "Oh, I mean," replied Timms, "that Mapes is the prince of good fellows, and gets invitations where the rest of us don't" Where is Mapes to-night ?" asked Eli za, now fully aroused. "I don't know for sure," answered Timms. "He told me to-day there were speeisl reasons for his coming here, but that he had an invitation to the rich and aristocratic Squire Hufftoon's who is cele brating his daughter's birthday, and that he did'nt know which way be would go ;" and Timms turned away to talk to the next prettiest girl in the room. Petted young women are seldom logical or patient. When the party broke up, Eliza accepted Timms' escort to her home, and before they arrived there, she had consented to become, with the least possi ble delay, Mrs. Timms. The next morn ing the engagement was announced and preparations for the wedding commenced. Timms was exultant—happy Timms. For a few days Timms was not much seen in public—perhaps for want of cour age to wear his blushing honors openly; perhaps for want of courage to meet other contingencies—who knows? But a man cannot make arrangements for his own wedding from a fixed standpoint, and he was compelled to venture out. In a quiet and secluded by-way he met Mapes. The meeting to him was a surprise; he smiled feebly, and extended his hand. But Mapes. intent on business, strode squarely up to Timms and planted a vigorous blow on one of his eyes, which caused the gentleman to measure his length in the dust. Timms sprang to his feet, and showed fight; but another blow on the other eve sent him again to grass, where he continued to lie. "Get up," said Mapes. "You'll knock me down again," said Timms. "Yes, I will," returned Mapes. "Then I won't get up," said Timms. "You're an infernal scoundrel," said Mape5.......... "I can't help you're saying so," answered Timms. "You sawed the log," said Mapes. "What log ?" asked Timms. "Yon sawed the log," repeated Mapes, advancing a step. "Yes—stop, I sawed the log," said Timms. '°Well, you need'nt think," said Mapes, "that after your marriage you're going to tell that story, and make me a laughing stock." "I'll never speak of it," whined Timms. "Perhaps you won't," said Mapes, "but I'm going to swear you before 1 get through. There's another thing; you won the woman by your trickery and I know it is in you to abuse her; so I'm going to swear you to treat her kindly." "I'll swear," said Timms. "Hold up your hand," said Mapes. Timms held up his hand. "Now, repeat after me: Silas Timms, solemnly swear that I will never bring to the knowledge of any human being that I sawed the log whereby Daniel Mapes fell into the creek and lest a wife; and, furth er, that I will, she consenting, marry Eliza Reed, and always treat her kindly; so help me God.' " Timms repeated the oath verbatim. "Now get up and go home," said Mapes. "I don't think you'll be married till your eyes get out of mourning, and by that time I'll be fax enough away. Bat don't think I'll lose sight of you ; and if you don't keep your oath you'll see me." Timms arose from the ground, shook off the dust, and walked away; but when he bad secured a safe distance he shouted exultingly : "Mapes, she's an angel " In twenty years Daniel Mapes had learned many things, and among them this: Life is very much as we make it. In other words, the world is like a mirror, and looks at us with the face we present. It returns scowl for scowl, and smile for smile. It echoes our sobs and our laughter! To the cold, it is as icy as the northern seas ; to the loving it is as balmy as the isles of the tropics. He had learned a still harder lesson; which was to forget the griefs, the sorrows, the wrongs, and the hates of the past. The effect of this lesson was to make it appear that the lines to him, had fallen in pleasant places. His rotund form and firm muscle bespoke a good digestion, while a cheerful countenance told of mental peace. A fair woman called him husband, and children called him father. A beautiful home in the Santa Clara Valley was theirs; besides which, Mapes had many broad acres of land, as well as many head of stock running nearly wild in the counties of Monterey and San Luis Obispo. Once in a year the cattle that graze on California's thousand hills are gathered in bands at convenient places to be claimed and branded by their owners—such assem blages being called rodeos. Mapes had been down across the Salinas Plains, in attendance upon a rodeo; and being on his return, jogging along on his mustang, he saw, Ste in the distance, but nearing him, an equally lone traveler. Slowly the distance between them decreased; and as they approached, Mapes—with California prudence—slipped his revolver upon the belt which sustained it, from his back round to his left side bringing the hilt under the shadow of his bridle-arm, and within easy reach of his right hand. A near look assured Mapes that he had no occasion for weapons; the coming man was of middle age, but his look was worn, weary, dejected, and hopeless—in local phrase, his manner was that of a person who has 'lost his grip ;" and those who have met that terrible misfortune are nev er highway robbers "grip" being the very quality wanted in that hazardous pursuit. The travelers met, with a long, inquiring gaze, when from their lips simultaneously HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, FERUARY 12, 1873. burst the words, "Mapes—Timms." After a moment of mute surprise, Mapes, spur ring his mustang, drew nearer Timms. "So—we meet at last. I have been wanting to see you this many a year." The — moment - seemed ominous to Timms, and he cried out : "Don't shoot! I have no weapons. Besides, I have kept my oath —at least, as well as I could. 1 never told the reason why you did'nt attend the ap ple-bee, nor even breathed a syllable about the saw log—upon my solemn oath !" "I wasn't thinking of the ducking," said Mapes. "Don't come any nearer," returned Timms. "I have always tried to use that woman well ; but she would'nt be used well. I have done my best to treat her kindly; but she would'nt be treated kino -4.7_ . . "Its no use to go over the grounds to me, Timms." "But." replied Timms, "you have no idea what that woman is; yon would'et blame me if you only knew. She's brow beat mo till I ain't half a man." "So I see," said Mapes. "No you don't see," replied Timms. "You don't see half. Look at this scar,"— taking off his hat, and showing a long seam on the scalp ; -'that was done with the skillet." "You havesuffered," said Mapes. "Suffered !" returned Timmi. "You ought to have sworn her too. If you only knew how I have thought of you, and of : my oath to you; and how I have borne blows, and been quiet—how I have been called brute, fool, and kept silent—how I have endured taunts and sneers, and hun ger and discomfort, without a word of re proach—you would forgive me; you woald'nt harbor thoughts of revenge." "Thoughts of revenge !" answered Mapes. "Let us dismount and have a set tlement; for I see my chance has come at last." "Napes, would you take the life of an unarmed man ?" "Timms you're crazy ! Let me explain. I have no wrongs to avenge. It isn't for vengeance that I have wanted to see you. I have heard about you often, know all your life and experiences; and I only wanted to meet you to offer you a home and friend ship, employment and opportunities for prosperity, here in California. I owe you no debt but one of gratitude, for the ines timable service you did me by that little job of carpenter work; and that I mean to pay. Come with me." Ho took Timms' horse by the bridle, turned him about with out remonstrance, and they traveled nn in silence. After awhile, Timms raised his eyes timidly from the ground, and said : "Mapes. she's the devil !"—Overland Monthly. nacatistud. For the JOURNAL.] Public Opinion, Public opin ion is the aggregate opinion of individuals in a community, and every individual contributes to its formation in proportion to the influence which he exerts on society. That it has a very great power for either good or evil is abundantly man ifest whether we consider its influence on governments or in the various ramifications of society. It frequently sets up emperors and kings, and it suddenly hurls them from their high position. In our own govern ment it frequently elevates the ambitious, unprincipled political demagogue, and at other times it justly makes him the object of public scorn and derision. At one time it shouts "Rossii:lh to the Son of David," and at another time it cries "crucify him, crucify him." At one time it rivets the schacklos of the slave, and at another time it bursts those manacles assanderandsays to the weary captive "thou art free." In the world of fashion it reigns over both sexes with a tyrant's sway. Of the ex travagance and follies of the votaries of fashion it is not my purpose now to speak, but will simply say that in this sphere public opinion frequently outrages good taste and common sense, destroys health and happiness, and sends its victims to untimely graves. . . In our — Public School System it elects intelligent, liberal-minded, progressive school directors, who build good houses and furnish them with suitable furniture and apparatus, and who employ good teach ers and pay them for their labor, and good teachers make good schools, and we do not need a tyrannical law to drag children to school, or it just does the reverse of all this; it elects narrow-minded, selfish men for directors who coop the children in poorly-constructed, badly-ventilated and in differently furnished houses, and who em ploy uneducated teachers because such can be obtained for low wages, and who oppose every measure calculated to advance the interests of our schools. These directors care but very little whether a proposed measure will benefit the schools or not ; what concerns them most is how it will affect their pocket-books, and you may rest assured if it costs money they will defeat it if it is in their power to do so. Public Opinion is not a safe guide either in estimating the character of others or in shaping our own course of conduct through life. God has placed a faithful monitor within every breast, and we deal fairly with it we need not fear to follow its dic tates even though the world should army itself against us, but it is only a conscience enlighted by God's word and spirit that we may safely follow. Noah was a very unpopular preacher, yet he was saved, with a few others, and a guilty world perished. Lot could not find even ten persons to save those cities whose wickedness caused God to rain fire and brimstone from heaven to destroy them. Popular men and popular measures are not always worthy of our esteem or sup port. The great question for every honest man to decide is whether a thing is right or not. If it is right, it should receive his earnest support, and if wrong, he should not hesitate to condemn and oppose it, even though it should cost both money and friends to do so. The question to which I wish to direct partionlar attention in this discussion is : Who are responsible ? I said in the commencement that every individual con tributes to the formation of public opinion in proportion to the influence which he exerts upon society, but our individual responsibility extends much further than this. God has placed us in this world not to be mere spectators of what is transacting around us, but to take an active part in the great battle of life. Some individuals ex cuse themselves from taking part in the political issues of the day on the plea that these issues are controlled by unprincipled men ; but why, I ask, are a few contempt ible political tricksters permitted to con trol the vital issues of the day to suit their own selfish. wicked purposes. ignorance or indifference, or perhaps both of these combined, on the part of the masses must be the cause. The true idea of a republi can government is based on the intelli gence and virtue 0f the people, but an in telligent and virtuous people will not, can not, remain indifferent to those great so cial, moral and political questions which affect not only the progress and prosperity of our country, but the very existence of our nationality. It would be a waste of time to argue that ignorant men are unfit to decide the many intricate questions and to perform the responsible duties of citi zens of a government so extensive, so grand in conception, so powerful in opera tion, and so interwoven with the dearest interests of humanity, as the one under whose benign influence we are permitted to live. The man, therefore, to whom God has given children 4ad the means to educate them, bat who permits them to grow up in ignorance, is an enemy to his country and robs his children of one of life's choicest blessings. The parent who neglects to provide the necessary food to sustain the lives of his children is regarded as destitute of the common feelings of hu manity, but is he less guilty who wilfully starves their immortal minds ? We seem to have fallen upon evil times. Charges of fraud, bribery, and corruption are continually being made against public officers in every station from the lowest to the highest, and it becomes every good cit izen to inquire into the cause and also the remedy for this wide-spread evil. I think it may all be attributed to a vitiated pub lic sentiment. It need not be thought strange if frauds are committed in a city in which a noted prize fighter and gam bler is elected to represent them in the halls of Congress, or in which one of its most conspicuous defaulters, as a reward ,for his villainy, is elected to a seat in the State Legislature. We need not, however, travel to a neighboring State for examples of corrupt public sentiment, for with shame be it confessed, we have them much nearer home. If some poor, unfortunate wretch, pinched by want, commits a petty larceny, the finger of scorn is pointed at him—l do not say unjustly—but when public officers prove defaulters, by stealing thousands of the public money, able counsel will almost volunteer to defend them by every artifice that a depraved heart can suggest, and even men in high standing—professed fol lowers of the Saviour—have no words of condemnation, but they will take the vil lains by the hand as cordially, and smile upon them as graciously, as though they were honest mem, and they will even ap plaud them for their shrewdness, when in their hearts they know that in the sight of a just God they whom, from selfish mo tives, they would shield rom public odium, are but whitewashed thieves. The man who undertakes to screen the guilty is a partaker of his crimes, and society cannot hold him guiltless, for God has declared that "him that saith to the guilty thou art righteous; him shall the people curse and nations shall abhor him, but to them that rebuke him shall we delight and a good blessino• ° shall come upon them." Not long since I heard a gentleman, in good standing in a Christian church, re mark that he did not think the poor man is much to blame for selling his vote for what he gets, for it is about all he need expect. But can the poor man afford to sacrifice his manhood and betray his coun try for the paltry sum of a few dollars, or for any price ? Are not character and country things of priceless value? Must the patriot sacrifice life to procure the blessings of free institutions and these be bartered for a mess of pottage ? It is re lated of a gentleman, who once stood high in the estimation of the American people, I but at the time referred to not a citizen, that on being asked for letters of credit to some of his friends in the United States he made the humiliating eonlession . :— "Alas ! lam the only American who can say I have no friends in America." On beinc , ° asked his name he replied, "Bene dict Arnold." Yes it was he who, for po sition in the British army and for British gold, attempted to betray his country, and whose name is execrated in every clime by every patriot. And is not the man, who will sacrifice his manhood to secure a nom ination by bribery and corruption and his election by the same dishonorable means, , a traitor to the best interests of his coun try and deserving of the eontempt and scorn of all good men ? There can be uo surer means taken to destroy any govern ment than to corrupt the morals of the people, and happy will it be for us as a nation if we learn the lesson so emphati cally taught us in the extinction of so ma ny powerful nations, that there is no secu rity for any government but in the main tenance of those principles of integrity, truth and jirtice which lie at the founda tion of all good government and which have God himself for their author. It is frequently said that it is of little consequence how honest a man is when you elect him to office, for he will soon become corrupt, but this is a base libel upon the Christian religion, for there are plenty of Christian men who would scorn to barter their manhood and their hopes of eternal happiness for an thing that ra tan has to offer. I will now notice briefly the influence which teachers exert upon society. We frequently hear complaints made that teachers are poorly paid for their labor, and not as much respected as they should be. Admitting that there is some truth in these statements, with whom does the fault lie ? With the people or with the teachers? I maintain that it lies chiefly with the latter. School teachers, from the position they occupy, must necessarily ex ert a very great influence in forming pub lic sentiment, and, if we except mothers, they have more to do in moulding the character of the rising generation than any other class. But they who would have the youth of our country to be intelligent and virtuous, must themselves be intelli gent and virtuous. They who would im plant within the youthful Mind the broad and comprehensive principles of a just policy must not possess contracted minds. They who would inspire children with a thirst for useful knowledge must first drink deep from the same crystal fountain. In short, if the business of teaching is ever to be elevated to a profession which shall be duly honored and respected, it must be done by teachers setting earnestly about the work of self-improvement. There are men of thorough culture, of warm and generous hearts, and high and noble pur poses engaged in teaching, and who would boner any profession and grace any society, and whose memories are fondly enthroned in the hearts of those whose delightful privilege it has been to sit at their feet as banters. It is a lamentable fact though that many are engaged in teaching who lave not even the rudiments of an educa tion, and who have no adequate ceneeption of the responsibility they incur in assu hting to train immortal minds. Their highest ambition appears to be to put in the required time and secure the stipula ted wages. Teachers, to be truly success ful, must be men of liberal culture, and their hearts must be so thoroughly in their work, that they are willing to devote their best energies to secure the sweetest of all earthly reward—the consciousness of hav ing lived for a noble purpose—the good of mankind. It is urged, though, that teachers cannot afford to educate themselves because they are not. sufficiently remunerated for their labor, but while this is true in some cases, as already intimated, it is not generally true, for many teachers are paid more than they deserve; in truth they are dear at any price, and it is perpetrating a fraud upon defenceless children to employ them. It is not true that many parents, whom God has given abundance of means, cannot af ford to educate their children. It is not true that young men and women cannot afford to educate themselves sufficiently to teach school with credit, for we live in an age of most glorious privileges, and where mach is given much will be required. We live at a time when the dearest interests of humanity demand the development of all the noble powers of intellect. We live at a time when no young man or woman can afford to be ignorant, for ignorance bars every avenue to true success in life—it is the soil in which error and superstition flourish most luxuriantly. Hence the im perative command of our Creator is: To get knowledge, and with all our getting to get understanding. rading tar the . Man. A Wonderful Clock. A German of Cincinnati has invented a clock which, though much smaller than the celebrated one at Strasburg, is, from its description, much more complicated. It is now on exhibition at the windows of a jewelry store, and attracts much attention. The inventor calls it "Die Labensnhr"— clock of life. The elaborateness of its me chanism may be imagined from the follow ing description of the wonder : . We see a glass case, a three story steeple shaped clock, four feet wide at the first story and nine feet high. The movement placed in the first story, on four delicate columns, within which swings the unti ring pendulum , which is in the significant form of a bee hive. Behind the pendu lum there is a picture representingniature manhood—a countryman behind his plough. The four corners are carved, and represent the four periods of life—infancy, youth, manhood and age. The. spaces to the right and left of the clock are ornamented with two oil paintings, representing the spring time of life (children playing in a garden,) and the autumn or end of life (grave dig gers in a cemetery.) The second, story consists of two tower like palaces, on the doors of which there are two pictures that represent boyhood and early manhood. In the one a boy is just pushing his little bark away from the shore. He stands upright in the boat, and points to the distance ; he is about to begin life—"to paddle his own canoe." In the other a young man, who has already made some progress in the journey of life, enters a room in which there is an hour glass, that reminds him of the fleetness of time. On this story there are three guar dian angels. A majestic tower crowns, as third story, the ingenious structure. A cock, as a symbol of watchfulness, stands on the top, directly over the portal, which opens the tower in front. On this portal there is a painting which represents the perishable ness of earthly things. The entire struc ture is, in appearance, very much like an old Gothic castle. Now, let us see if we can describe the mechanical action of the clock. When it marks the first quarter, the door of the left piece of the second story opens, and we see a child issue from the background, come forward to a little bell, aad give it one blow, and then disappear. At the second quarter a youth appears, strikes the bell twice, and then disappears ; at the third there comes a man in his prime ; at the fourth we have a tottering old man, leaning on a staff, who strikes the bell four times. Each time the for closes itself. When the hours are full, the door of the right piece of the second story opens, and Death, as a skeleton, scythe in hand, appears, and marks the hour by striking a bell. But it is at the twelfth hour that we have the grand spectacle in the repre sentation of the day of judgment. Then, when Death has struck three blows on the little bell, the cock on the top of thetower suddenly flaps his wings and crows in a shrill tone; and after Death has marked the twelfth hour with his hammer, he crows again twice. Immediately three angels, who stand as guardians in a central position, raise their trumpets with their right hands (in the left they hold swords), and blow a blast toward each of the four quarters of the earth. At the blast the door of the tower opens, and the resurrected children of earth appear, while the destroying an gel sinks out of sight. - The multitude stand for a moment full of awe and wonder, when suddenly, Christ, in all his majesty, descends, surrounded by . angels. On his left there is an angel who holds the scales of justice ; on his right another carries the Book of Life, which opens to show the alpha and omegh—the beginning and the end. Christ waves his hand, and instantly the good among the resurrected arc separated from the wicked, the former going to the right and the lat ter to the left. The Archangel Michael salutes the good, while, on the other aide, 'stands the devil, radiant with fiendish de light—he can hardly wait for the final sentence of those who fall to him, but, in obedience to the command of the central figure, he withdraws. The figure of Christ raises its hand again, with a threatening mein, and the accursed sink down to the realms of his santanic majesty. Then Christ blesses the chosen few, who draw near him. Finally, we hear a cheerful chime of bells, during which Christ rises, surrounded by his angels, until he disap pears, and the portal closes. . . Ne look with amazement en this exhi bition of the mechanic's ingenuity ; a complete drama is here represented, with out the aid of a human hand. And what excites our admiration still more is the per fection of all the movements ; they are steady, calm and noiseless, with the xe caption of the threatening gestures of the figure of Christ and the movements of Lucifer, who darts across the scene with lightning rapidity. Of course, the pecu liar action of these two figures is intention al on the part of the artist, and adds great ly to the effect. IT is an evidence of great hardness to be more concerned about our sufferings than our sins. The Mind in Sickness In whatever state the mind is, in almost every case the health will be in a corres ponding condition. If the mind is de pressed, the body will be ailing. On the contrary, it is almost invariably the case that a jovial person is remarkably free from ills. The mind is the best curative agency in sickness , not that it is warranted to be a specific cure in all cases, but the phar macologist can prepare no medicine that is susceptible of such a variety of uses as this is. Physicians prescribe travel and sanita ria ; they send one man to Minnesota and another to Brazil, and the temperament of the man is not taken into account. If a man can be fully impressed that in a cer tain country and under those climatic in fluences he will be almost entirely exempt from the pains that are.now racking his frame, and if he succeeds in getting to that place without having his opinion refuted, he will ninety-nine times in a hundred, have those glorious expectations realized ; on the contrary, if you can succeed in get ting just the opposite opinion thoroughly impressed on his mind, the most invigo- ' rating climate under the broad heavens will k worno desirable changes in his condition, even if he should tarry there half of four score years and ten. We will make another statement and opine it will stand the test of a trial. Take a healthy person possessing a nervous tem perament ; let five of his most esteemed friends separately and seriously tell him daily for one week, that his health is failing, the bloom on his cheek depart ing, the vigor of his youth is wasting away, and already the seeds of his final disease are being sown in his constitution, and he will soon commence to be alarmed con cerning his condition ; once alarmed, he begins to waste away, till the idea is erad icated from his mind, or death is the re sult. From these uncolored pietures, it will be seen that we can almost entirely will sick ness or health. That we can, by control of the will, but disregarding the sanitary laws, be free from illness, Ido not assert, but observing these and keeping the mind properly directed, no person can fail to add ten years to his life. If you are an invalid, arrange your life so that you can enjoy it, and you can do it by being restful and happy. Wherever you go, you are not ben efitted by a climate,when you stay an hour in a place that is not enjoyed by you. Whatever is true of health, is true of happiness. We can be happy and materi ally advance the comfort of those around us if we so incline, or we can bring just the opposite upon us and others. If our business amuses us, and we are succeed ing, and we can keep our tempers happy, then we can spurn the offer of medicine. On the other hand, if we have a distasteful business and have not the will or the power to adapt ourselves to it, then we are an ex cellent subject for pity. If we look on the dark side of every obstacle and search not for the other, then we are more deserving subjects for sympathy. If our footing fails and our eyesight grows dim, we should endeavor to regain the solid foundation without manifesting any excitement or alarm; direct our eyes above the smoke, and "victory will be emblazoned on our every banner." Yet by getting flurried we can more easily lose forever our foot inc,p and get smothered in the dust of de .feat.—Exchange._ Scolding Women, BY SWEETBRIAP.. It's a dreadful thing for a woman to swear, but it's worse to be forever scolding. And if I were a married man, and must choose between swearing and scolding hab its in my wife, I should choose an occasion al swearer to a continued scold. But the pity is the men don't get the privilege of choosing. Instead of this nine married women out of every ten are habit ual scolds. It isn't the cares of wifehood, nor the trials of motherhood that steal the roses from the cheeks. 46, no ! It's the habit of seolding and fretting that nine out of every ten wives indulge in. Of course you'll all say this is a mon strous falsehood, and call me a sour old maid, envious and jealous of my more for tunate married sisters. I'll not deny that I'd rather be a mar ried woman than a single one, but as heav en is my witness I'd rather live an old maid to the end of my days than do as so many of my sisters do, marry and become fretful, scolding wives. No wonder the Men learn to forsake their homes, and gradually grow indiffer ent to the charms that won them, when so many wives forget to be charming, and fret and scold whenever they can secure a listener. There's care enough, and vexation enough iu the business life of any man to make him long for rest and quiet at home. But to meet with a fretful complaint of his Mary Ann's daily trials every time he steps into his comfortable home is enough to drive any reasonable man to distraction. Oh'. of course I know there's another side to this question, but it's not my pur pose to present it at this time. And in conclusion I've only to declare it to be the result of careful observation that I have discovered this truth. The chief cause of so many married men ceasing to devote their spare moments to wife and home, is that the wives first cease to be attractive, arid actually drive their husbands from their sides by their own unlovely behavior. And scolding or fretting at little things is the most common and the most unlovely of all. Manners. "I make it a point of morality," says a writer, "never to find fault with another for his manners. They may be awkward or graceful, blunt or polite, polished or rustic. I care not what they are if the man means well, and acts from honest in tentions without eccentricity or affection. All men have not the advantages of 'good society,' as it is called, to school them selves in all its fantastic rules and cere monies, and if there is any standard of manners, it is well founded on reason and good sense, and not upon these artificial regulations. Manners, like conversation, should be extemporaneous and not studied." "I always suspect the man that meets me with the same perpetual smile on his face, the bending of the body, and the same premeditated shake of the hand. Give me the hearty—it may be the rough—grip of the hand, the careless nod of recogni tion, and when occasion requires, the homely but welcome salutation—'Flow are you, old friend ?' " NO. 7. Take Care of Your Health. Quinine should not be eaten after a hearty meal of India rubber; the sperma ceti contained in the former will unite with the oxalic acid of the latter, and wagon grease will he evolved with disas trous results. Before taking a bath the entire body should be carefully washed. Then lay on a coating of tar and get into the water. It can't touch anywhere. It is not so fashionable as it was to chop a cord of wood before breakfast; none but very old men, who. cling to the traditions of youth, like a lean leac to a stuffed frog, ever do it, and they commonly perish at it. Getting out of bed in a perspiration is to be avoided—always lie in bed as long as you can find any excuse for it. Nothing is more injurious than the or dinary method of going up stairs; it causes alkaline in the blood to settle in the corns, producing aneurism and strangulation. The proper way is to lie on your stomach and get up feet first. Bathing, as intimated above, is conduct ed on a wrong principle. It is probable that the custom might be advantageously abolished altogether. Bath houses and bath . rooms in dwellings are a thing of recent growth. Our grandfathers seldom or never bathed; and it is conceded that they lived to be several hundred years old. Never sleep with your eyes shut; it is a degenerate habit. Potatoes should always be eaten with the skins on. Skins contain bicarbonate of mucilage, which is just what the liver requires. nen the custom of giving the skins to the poor originated, science was almost wholly unknown. There are more things it would be well to know, but a strict compliance with the rules already given will enable you to live as long as you will wish to. Further in structions would but prolong your misery. —N Y. Evening Post. The Winter of the Heart Let it never come unto you. Live so that the good angel will protect you from that terrible evil—the winter of the heart. Let no chilling influence freeze the foun tain of sympathy and happiness in its very blasted hopes, like snow on withered depths; no more blasts of discontentedness moan and shriek through its desolate chambers. Your path-way may lead you among trials which, fora time, seems utterly to impede your progress, and shut out the very ligh t of heaven from your anxious gaze. Poverty may take the place of ease and plenty; your luxurious home may be ex changed for a single lowly room—the soft eouch for the pallet of straw—rich viands for the coarse food of the poor. Summer friends may forsake you, with scarcely a passing word or look of compassion. Yon may be forced to toil wearily, steadily on, to earn a livelihood; you may encounter fraud and the base avarice which would extort the last farthing, till you well nigh turn in disgust from your fellow beings. Death may sever the dear ties that bind you to earth, and leave you in fearful darkness. That noble, manly boy, the sole hope of your declining years, may be taken from you while your spirit clings to him with a wild tenacity which even the shad ows of the tomb cannot wholly subdue. But still look upward—put faith in prov idence—and the winter of the heart will not come to you. Oat ish Goot. As a gentleman from New York was taking a glass of wine at the St. Louis, corner of Freeman and Hopkins street, in Cincinnati, about three weeks ago, he ob served at another table, seated with others, a German who seemed uneasy and anxious, as there might have been Franco-Prussian disagreement between his beer and him self. Presently in ran a little girl, her face radiant with smiles exclaiming : "Oh, father we've got a little boy at home ! "Dat is goot," said the Dutchman, as the anxiety disappeared from his counte nance; "fill up der glasses." Not many minutes elapsed before in rushed the little girl again with the an nouncement- "Oh, father, we're got two little boys at home:" The Dutchman looked a 000 d deal as tonished and not altogether satisfied at this little family redundancy, but rising at at length to the magnitude of the occasion, he said : "Yell, den, dat is also good. Fill up der glasses." In a few minutes again appeared the ra diant messenger, with the astounding proclamation : "Oh, father, we're got three little boys at home !" This was too much even for Teutonic impassibility. There was no further call for glasses. "Yell den," says he, "I goes up dere and stops ter whale tam business'." Fun at Home. Don't be afraid of a little fun at home, good people. Don't shut up your house lest the sun should fade your carpets, and your hearty laugh lest you should shake down some of the cobwebs. If you want to ruin your sous, let them think that all mirth and social enjoyment must be left on the threshhold without, when they come home at night. When once a home is regarded as a place only to eat, sleep and drink in, the work is begun which ends in gambling houses and de- gradation. , Young people must have fun and re laxation somewhere; if they do not find it at their own homes, it will be sought for in other places. What is an Editor? One of oar exchanges answers the above question thus: "Why, he is the man who reads news papers, writes articles on almost any sub ject, sets type, reads proofs, works presses, folds mails, runs on errands, saws wood, draws water, works in the garden , talks to all who call, is blamed for a hundred things which are nobody's business but his own, helps people to get into office, (who forget all about it afterwards,)and fre quently gets cheated out of half his earn ings. He puffs and does more to build up a town than anybody, and the miser and fogy are benefitted thereby; and yet they will say his paper is of no account, but will borrow it. Who wouldn't be an edit or?" NEVER buy an article you do not need simply because it is cheap, and the man who sell.; it will take it out in trade.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers