VOL. 48 Huntingdon Journal . J. A. NASA, DIIRBORROW, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. Vice un the Corner of Fifth and Washington streets. Tee flustrtsonom .IOTRNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. DMIDORROW and J. A. Nast', under the firm name of J. R. Masonßow & Co., at 02.00 per annum, 15 ADVANCE, or $2.50 if not paid for in six months from date of subscription, and $2 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, enless at the option of the publishers, until all arrearages are paid. Na paper. however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at TWELVE AVD A-HALF cssrs per line for the first insertion, saysx AND AItALF cestra for the second, and FIVE cs.srs per line for all subsequent inser tions. • Regular quarterly and yearly business advertise ments will he inserted at the following rates . 138116m 9 mlly 1 139116819 m ly lerli 3701 450 550 1 890, 1./coli 9 0018 00 6.21 S 36 • 500 8 00110 000100 " 124 00136 40 50 65 \ - I' 00 10 00,14 00r8 00 4 " 34005000 65 80 " 8 00114 01V20 00 21. 00 1 col ` 3600 6000 SO 100 I • Local notices will be inserted at rirTEEN CENTS per line for each and every insertion. All Resolutions of Associations, Communications of limited or individual interest, all party an nouncements, and noticea of Jlarriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will he charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. AP, advertising accounts are due end collectable when the advertisement is seer inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— Hand-bills, Blanks, Cards. Pamphlets, &.c., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and every thing in the Printing line will be execu ted in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards A - -- P. W. JOHNSTON, Surveyor and . Civil Engineer Huntingdon, Pa. Orricr.: No. 113 Third Street. aug21,1872. IQ F. GEHRETT, M. D., ECLEC -1-1•TIC PHYCICIAN AND SURGEON, hav ing returned from Clearfield county and perma nently located in Shirleysburg, offers his profes sional services to the people of that place and sur rounding country. npr.3-1872. DR. H. W. BUCHANAN. DENTIST, N.. 22S Rill Street, lIUNTINGDON, PA. .1 uly 3,'72. Tilt. F. 0. ALLEMAN can be con sulted at his office, at all honrs, Mapeton. Pa. [mareb6,l72. CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, D•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods k Williamson. [api2,'7l. DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office, No. 523 Washington street, tine door east of the Catholic Parsonage. pan.4,'7l. V . J. GREENE, Dentist. Office re • unwed to LetEter's new building, Ilill street Vrntingdon. [jan.4,'7l. Ct. L. ROBB, .Dentist, office in S. T. 'LA • Druwn's new building, No. no, Hill St., Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,'7l. HGLAZIER, Notary Public, corner • of Washington and Smith streets, Hun tingdon, Pa. [ jan.l2'7l. AC. MADDEN, Attorney - at-Law. • Office, No. —, Hill meet, Huntingdon, Po. [ap.lll,ll. FRANKLIN KHOCK, Attorney tir • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Prompt attention given to all legal business. Office 229 Hill street, corner of Court House Square. [de0.4,'72 SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at tfl • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, bree doors west of Smith. [jan.4'7l. T CHALMERS JACKSON, Attor- GP • ney at Law. Office with Win. Dorris, Esq., No. 403, Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. All legal business promptly attended to. [janls T R. DURBORROW, Attorney-at e, • 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 ho JOURNAL Building. [feb.l;7l. W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law J • and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., Soldiers' claims against the Government for back pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ed to with great care and promptness. Office on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. T S. GEISSINGER, Attorney -at -a-A., Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office with Brown el Bailey. [Feb.s- y J. HALL MUM. K. Ata.Es Lovez.L. L OVELL MUSSER, Attorneys-at-Lair, HUNTINGDON, PA. Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settlement of ESTATES, Ise. ; and all other legal business proseonted with fidelity and dispatch. Enov6;72 - 12 M. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys -A- • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to all kinds of legal business entrusted to their care. Office on Fourth Street, second floor of Union Bank Building. Dan.4,'7l. A. ORBISON, Attorney-*Law, R Offiee, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon.. (16. [may3l,il. J OHM SCOTT. a. T. DROWN. J. L. DAME r 4,ZCOTT, BROWN 3; BAILEY, At torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against the Government will be promptly prosecuted. Gable on Hill street. 'WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law. Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to eolleetions. and all other 11gal business attended to wilt !are and promptness. Office. No. 229, Hill street. [apl9,'7l. Hotels. -_,- IVIORRISON HOUSE, OPPOSITE PENNSYLVANIA It. It. DEPO'r RUNTIN,GDON, PA J. 11. CLOVER, Prop. April 5, 1871-ly w ASHINGTON HOTEL, S. S. BOWDON, Prop'r. Corner of Pitt a Juliann Sts.,Bedford, Pa. mayl. Miscellaneous OYES! 0 YES! 0 YES! The subscriber holds himself in readiness to ery Sales and Auctions at the shortest notice. Having considerable experience in the business he feels assured that he can give satisfaction. Terms reasonable. Address G. S. HENRY, Marehs-6ntos. Saxton, Bedford county, Pa. HROBLEY, Merejlant Tailor, near .Broad Top Corner,(mconel floor,) Hunting don, Pa.. respectfully solicits a Aare of public patronage from town and country. [00t16,72. A. BECK, Fashionable Barber R• and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on handand for sale. [apl9,'7l-11m caHIRLEYSBURG ELECTRO-MED ICAL, Rydropathio and Orthopedic Insti tute, for the treatment of all Chronic Diseases and Deformities. Send for Circulars. Address Drs. BAIRD A GEHRETT. Shirleysburg, Pa. not.27,'72tf] The Huntin(Ydon Journal. giluoto' fflourtr. Vanity. The sun Comes up'and the sun goes down, And day and night are the same as one: The year grows greensand the year grows brown, Aiid what is it all when all is done ? Grains of sombre of shining sand, Sliding into and out of the hand. 'And men go down in ships to the sew% And a hundred ships are the same as oue, And backward and forward blows the breeze, And what is it all when all is done ? A tide with never a shore in sight, Setting steadily on to the night. The fisherman droppeth his net in the stream, And a hundred steams are the same as one; The maiden dreameh her love-lit dream. And what is all wien all is done? The net of the fisherthe burden breaks, And always dreamint the dreamer awakes. Int Mag-gtiltr. Doctor Sours Gnat MIL A STORY FOLD BY A PHYSICIAN. I was siting in my office, half dozing over an inteminable article on defective nutrition, in he last medical review. The fire lathe grate was low, the night was stormy, and the clock was on the stroke of elevn. I was just about to turn off the gas an retire, for, being a bache lor, I slept ha rim connected with my office, when tare was a pull at the bell. I started a suddenly, forthis was soma thing new. liddlebury was a decorous sort of a plae and people usually manag ed to be take sick at seasonable hours. Old Mrs. .ronie had been threatening to die for theast five years, and at every visit I paid k she solemnly informed me that when th decisive moment did come she desiredne to be present. But as nothing ailethe old lady beyond now and then an indigion from too much high living, I hadiver yet been called upon to be present ater death. , Now, I theht, it mast be old Mrs. Jerome is go;. I took up might lamp and went to the door. A•ong gust of damp, sleety wind nearly enguished the light, but, shading it witny hand, I dimly discern ed the form o:woman. "Come in,"d I holdingopen the door; but she declin with a gesture of impa tience. "You mus2olue out," she said in a sharp, decisive., ; "and be quick about I put on mrereoat without demur, locked the sury door, and stepped into the storm. Adid so the woman laid a firm hand on arm, and, putting her face close to mine,l: "Dr. Locke, can yon keep a secret?" .4 think, sotdam. "Swear it." "Is this seer? yours of a professional character ? T.is, is it any thing you wish to confideme as a medical man ?" It is." "Very well. I, I swear it." "That is rigl A man respein oath, thengh why he should is a mys, since men's mouths are running ovith them. "Whither arou taking me, and for what purpose ?" "To the Cliftllouse to see the mis tress." I started. Clifton House the old mansion re cently taken by Spencer, a stranger to every one in Mtsury. Spencer was a tall, dark, rat distinguished-looking man, who had ; out his sign in the village, only a floors above mine ; but as yet he had gopractice. • He was unison the extreme, avoid ing his neighbortistently, and when he did speak it was tch a curt, half-savage way that one watlikely to attempt pro '' longiwe the co nylon. The doctor lunwife, it was said, but 'no one ever saw • She was an invalid, and Miss Mehoseiend of the family, presided over the dishment and sat at the head of the to Miss Melrose wt beautiful, and won the admiration alio visited the Clif ton House by her ; of manner and her fascinating convey s , "As we walked.:," said my compan ion, "let me exple you jut what it is necessary you shot l ow. My mistress is very ill." "I beg your par'i s it Mrs. Spencer or Miss Melrose ? She laughed, bit "Miss Melrose! )uld stab her to the heart sooner thwn her as a mis tress. My mistressiudy—noble, roy al and of gentle birt, is an honor to serve my mistress." "And is she ill ? v low, since ?" "Ever since shrried him—curse him," she mutteredfierce tone; "but I must übt get er I must tell my story, or rather • Two years ago, through the desire s dying father, Alicia Herndon begames Spencer's wife. Before that was a h ea l t h y, blooming girl ; instill ) , after this mar riage she began to fa a you see any thing strange in that. "Not necessarily." "Let sue enlight4 l further. Dr. Spencer was at one ',gaged to Miss Lucille Melrose, but ,ke the engage ment and married 's tress instead. ' Miss Melrose was as I Job's turkey; Miss Herndon waseiress, and Dr. Spencer was deeply liana hard pres sed by his creditors. a see anything strange in that ?" "Perhaps. Go on.' "When my mistresiied Spencer she was only seventeet s h e b a d b een taught to obey her fa every thing. She was a gentle, affec child, ant , i t would have been easy lncer to have won her love. But . hen ot care f or that. It was her moil wan t e d. It paid his debts and bon; fast h orses; it set his table with ,ostly dishes, and put it in his power p Miss 3l el rose robed like a cl , And all this time my mistress has btly but sure ly sinking; and, look 3 L oc k woo d , 1 believe that she is nc o f di sease, but of" —she lowered hs to a whis per as she spoke the w9 sou. ,, "Impossible I This 3, charge! , '•Of poison given by band, who, at her death, will have s tro l of her property and be free to mi ss Mel rose. There is no time s i n to you in detail the thousand,, circum stances which have led b e li e f , f or we are almost at the door n ever the case that Miss Melroseat, r areout at the same time, I skve called another physician befot to-night they are all called away bYI3 of Miss Melrose's sister, and will k o k until to-morrow. With the consent of my mis tress I came for you, and, 0, Dr. Lockwood I pray you save my dear mistress. I nursed her when her mother died and left her a helpless infant; all through her innocent youth she was like an own child to me; and now to see her fading hour by hour before my eyes. Good heavens! if you knew beyond doubt that he was guilty, his life should pay the forfeit." I was already beginning to feel a deep interest in Mrs. Spencer, although I had never seen her, and, like her old nurse I was inclined to feel a great animosity for Dr. Spencer. Mrs. Spencer received me in her bed chamber. It was on the second floor and was furnished with exquisite elegance. Everything in the room bespoke the taste and delicacy of the occupant. The warm air was fragrant with the faint odor of heliotrope; and glancing around I saw the purple blossoms and green leaves in an alabaster vase on the ledge of the south window. She was a woman who, when once seen, could never be forgotten. I have met in my life many beautiful women, but never one so lovely. She was tall and straight, with purely oval face, liquid-brown eyes, and a dash of hectic in her cheeks, which is never seen in perfect health. She received me as I knowshe did every body, gracefully, and though there was a slight embarrassment in her manner when I spoke of her illness, she answered my professional inquiries without hesitation. As for myself, I laid aside all false deli cacy, and questioned her plainly as to her symptoms. Mrs. Hurd, her nurse remain ed in the room, and added many little im portant items of information. When she spoke of her husband it was with a sort of hopeless sadness, which dis tressed me greatly. Not a breath of suspicion against him in her answers to my questions, and I felt sure that at present she knew nothing of what Mrs. Hurd had such serious appre hensions. I was glad that it was so, for, with her finely strung organization, it might have produced serious results. I made my examination of the patient as closely as I could, and drew my own con clusions. I could have sworn that Mrs. Spencer daily swallowed arsenic in small quantities, and the deadly drug was telling tearfully on a constitution never very ro bust. She said, in answering my questions, that she had no physician except her hus band. He had thought himself better ac quainted with her case, and therefore bet ter qualified to treat it. He never let medicine with her to take ;• he always brought it fresh from his office, and admin istered it promptly. . There was little enough I could do in such a case. Anxious to do everything, the very circumstancesof the affair left me nearly powerless. A charge of such a nature, of course, I could not make against Dr. Spencer with out the amplest proof. If I hinted a sus picion every one would at once set it down to my professional prejudice and if I could not substantiate my statement the doctor could make me pay dearly for such a slan der uttered against him. The only dependence seemed to be in Mrs. Hurd. To her I unbosomed myself freely. I told her without reserve that I believed Dr. Spencer was killing his wife by slow prison, and besought her to be con stantly on the watch to save the victim, and to discover some proof by which we could fasten the guilt upon him. She smiled grimly, and promised obedi ence. I gave her a powerful antidote for the poison I suspected, andwent home per turbed and anxious in mind. I did not sleep that night, and all the next day I was in a high feverof excitement. A ring at the bell made me tremble—a step on the gravel outside of my office stopped my breath, and I hardly knew what I expected to hear, yet I felt sure that before I slept I should hear something. And now I must tell the story as it was told to me. Dr. Spencer returned home the morning after my visit to the Clifton House. He looked wretchedly, the nurse said ; appear ed gloomy and depressed. Miss Melrose came with him, and was decorously sad over the death of her sister. Women of her stamp always do mourn to perfection. They neither overdo nor underdo the thing, as women of feeling are likely to do. Dr. Spencer came at once to his wife's chamber. He thought she looked ill, and prescribed a cordial at once, saying that he would go and fetch it. • "You are always ordering cordials for her," said Mrs. Hurd, musingly. "Why not take something yourself Y. You look like a ghost." e eyed her very keenly, but replied, composedly : . . "I think I will take some of the cordial myself, for Ido not feel quite well. Alicia, dear, shall I bring it here and drink your health ?" Mrs. Spencer smiled sadly in assent— she never disputed her husband—and he went out. Presently he returned with two glasses. Both contained liquid, colorless and odorless. Mrs. Hurd was watching him with her heart in her throat, for, as she told me, she felt that the decisive mo ment had come. There was something in the gray pallor of the doctor's rigid face that told her of a desperate purpose in the man's soul. He lifted the glass on the right of the tray and gave it to his wife. "Drink it, dear," he said, "it is :pana cea for all evils. I also am going to take a glass of it," and he painted to a glass still on the tray. Mrs. Spencer accepted it, and was put ting it to her lips, when Mrs. Hurd inter rupted: "If you will bring her a tumbler of water, doctor: Mrs. Spencer complains that the cordial leaves a bad taste in her mouth, and my old bones are so full of rheumatism that it nearly kills me to go down stairs. The doctor turned, and bent on her a look as if he would read her through. But she kept her face passive. If he had any suspicions her manner quieted them, and puttin. , down the glass he left the room. Then Mrs. Hurd changed the po sition of the glasses. When he came back—and he was gone but a moment—the nurse stood just ex actly where he had left her, and Mrs. Spencer was lying back in her chair with her eyes closed. Again he lifted the glass—this time it was the one intended for himself—and placed it at the lips of his wife. She drank the contents, swallowed a little of the water he had brought her, and thank ed him in her sad, sweet way. "Now for my own cardial," said he with affected gayety. "I indulge myself in something a little stronger," and as be spoke he tossed off the mixture. HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 16, 1873. "It made me stone cold to my fingers' ends to see him do it," said Mrs. Hurd, relating the circumstances to me, "but Heaven is my witness, I felt not a single twinge of conscience. I argued like this : if it was a simple cordial, as he had said, it would do him no harm. if it was poi son, his blood would be on his own sinful head." He went to bed half an hour t4,7 * ':: ard. complaining of fatigue. In the - 4,itning they found lira dead. I was called to the post-mortem exam ination, and we discovered in th;• rt , .onach of the deceased a sufficient quantity ~f the deadliest poison known to modern science to kill halt=s-dozen men My brother physicians agreed that this man was insane, and has probably taken the dose in one of his unsettled fits of mind. I did not dispute them, but, even before Mrs Hurd told her story, I had my own theory in regard to his death. There was no public exposure, however. Mrs. Hurd and I agreed that it would profit no one to make the wretched affair public, and so we kept our own counsel. Miss Melrose, in spite of my conviction that she bad been an active party in the conspiracy against Mrs. Spencer's life, I could not help pitying. Such a miserable, worn and haggard face as hers I have nev er seen ; and when she was confined to her chamber with brain fever, I attended her in her illness, but although she recov ered herbealth, she never was herself again. She was a harmless maniac whose delight was in gathering flow ers and decorating the doctor's grave with them. She is living still, and she still gathers flowers and lays them on that grave. sing ing to herself meanwhile a sort of low in cantation, which no one ever pretends to understand. Not until Mrs. Spence,: had been many days my wife. and the faithful Mrs. Hurl sleep under the violets, did Alicia ever know the perfidy of her former husband. And when I told her, after the first shock was over, she crept into my arms and whispered: "But if it had not been for James' crime I should not have found you, Herbert. So good sometimes dues come out of evil." Zhe atoms tg. Hints about Hair, The present fashion of arranging ladies' hair with the profusionof ornamental coils, puffs, and frisses, is exceedingly detriment al to the natural growth of that "crowning glory." The head is overheated with false hair, and the weight of the coifure, which comes upon one spot on the top or crown of the head, drags the hair out, and causes the round bald spot so frequently seen when the ladies are en dishabille. The large number of hairpins necessary to fast en the ornamental hair in a manner to give it a natural effect are also injuorius to the scalp, breaking off the hair where they are pushed in, and often get tangled in the meshes, so when withdrawn each one will have a snarl attached. In the fashionable mode of dressing, the natural growth is an insignificant part, sometimes more in the way than otherwise, for all the Dhow it makes in the great pyramid that is heap ed up in such luxuriance; it is, therefore, neglected and left in a most careless con dition. None would ever suppose that long hairs were the growth of years, observing how, in many instances, they are tangled and ruthlessly pulled out. Unless women have a large coil of natural hair, they ig nore it entirely, and strive to hide what little they possess by rolling it in a small knot on the back of their heads, to be cov ered by the false switches. The state of the majority of ladies' hair at the present time is truly lamentable. The front locks are broken and burnt off with crimping and curling with hot irons. The bald spot on top is fast widening its circle; the scalpy head, which is "never seen," is left undis turbed from shampooing, and the hair, which should be silky from brushing and free from snarls, receives no attention save the rough handling necessary to tuek it out of sight. No one can be neat in person with a dusty scalp or carelessly kept hair. A lit tle hair, when in fine order, is always beau tiful. Even if very thin, if it is soft and glossy, and evenly parted on a clean white scalp, it is more attractive than the crimpy, frizzled, half-scorched hair, of which we see so much now a-days. There are occa sions when ladies have not time or incli nation to dress their heads with false hair. It is then that the real condition of their hair is seen. It is a very pleasant comfort for most persons to have their heads combed,brush ed and gently rubed by dextrous hands. The mother, when fatigued at night, is greatly rested and her headache charmed away by the tender hands of her daughter carefully brushing and arranging her hair. There are many men who derive much pleasure from having their heads sham pooed at home, and anticipate the Sunday afternoon's combing as one of the luxuries that cannot be purchased at the barber's. It is an accomplishment that every girl and woman should possess—the knowledge of combing and caring for the hair in a graceful and agreeable manner. Women who selfishly proclaim that they '-have no knack of any one's hair," and never allay a headache or promote another's by sham pooing his hair, are deformities. Gray hair always betrays the care the head has receiv,?d through life. In ob serving the white heads conspicuous in a congregation, there will be found a mark ed contrast between those that look as if they were brushed and kept in a silvery, silky, shining condition by the loving hands of some daughter or grandchild, and those presenting a shock of grizzly hairs, looking as if they might have been combed with a three-legged stool The hair should be thoroughly washed with warm water and Castile soap at least onee a month. The color of the water, after the first rinsing, will expose the ne cessity of this hair bath. To wash and dry the head in a thorough manner without pulling out the hair or causing discomfort to its possessor is an art. Snarls should always be brushed out. Combs in long hair are usually More or less destructive. Soda or borax, ivhich is so generally used in washing the hair, is highly injurious. It destroys the nutrition supplied to the scalp and dries the hair, causing it to break and became unmanageable. To pre serve the hair in good condition it should be brushed every night until it is soft and glossy. Rubbing the scalp with a little bay water or weak spirits of any kind will keep it white and free from dandruff. Fine tooth combs should never be used for scratching or cleaning the scalp. They were never invented butfer one purpose. "False" or ornamental hair iltoild be carefully kept to be endurable. The habit of some persons of laying their coils upon the bureau, or hanging them on the gas fixtures at the side of the glass, on re moving them from their heads at night, is extremely untidy, as they become dusty and uncleanly from exposure. Switches caa be kept in good order for a long time, if well brushed and placed in boxes when not used. Fashion SPRINCI FABRICS. Quaintly hued soft woolen stuffs - ar spring costumes make an attractive display at the retail stores. The materials pre scribed tbr the soft draperies of over dress es are loosely woven rough-surfaced wool ens, utterly limp and lustreless ; hence smooth, finely twilled French cashmere is gradually giving place to fleecy India cam el's-hair and vigogue. SUMMER CAMEL'S HAIRS of light quality, fifty inches wide, costs $4 or S 5 a yard ; from three and a half to four yards are required for a polonaise. The mopt stylish camel's hair POLONAISES have a velvet sash, cuffs,und largebuttons, without other trimming, and costs, ready made, at the furnishing stores, $6O; with yak lace they arc $BO, and less handsome; add clumsy wool embroidery, making them very heavy, and destroying their charac teristic plain richness, and the price is $125. TAMISE CLOTH. For inexpensive suits there is nothing preferable to tamise cloth, which is merely fine, firm, closely woven delaine like that of years ago. it is in all the tinted gray, olive and peacock shades, is three-fourths wide, and costs from 55 to 75 cents. Twen ty yards are sold for a suit; the trimming is folds and flounces of the material piped and faced with silk of the same shade. TILE NEWEST FABRIC FOR POLONAISES is raw silk with raised rough surface like Turkish towelling. It comes in dark shades tbr street suits, but is more distinguished looking on pure white for the summer pol onaises of watering-place toilettes; it has also ecru and batiste stripes alternating with white, and Algejian stripes of color with threads of tinsel. A yard and a hall wide, it• costs from $3.50 to 85 a yard. TLTE OPEN-WORKED LACE STRIPES, that render woolen goods less weighty, were noted early in the season. They are finding favor for over dresses with lovers of variety; but, after all has been said, plain goods are more stylish than stripes or figures, and are the safest purchase for ladies who do not get new garments every season. THE LACE STRIPE is prettily introduced in soft repped Sicili enne that is sold for $2.50 a yard in sin gle width, and in a lower quality for $1,50; crape cloth with lace stripes is a fine light fabric in stylish tints. worth $1,25 in three quarter width. Cheaper lace•striped goods of mixed wool and linen or cotton in excellent shades are shown for 60c a yard. THIN, LIGHT URGES of prime quality and delicate colors, with shaded satin stripes, are $l.lO a yard, and 27 inches in width. English twill is the name given the best-appearing mixture of cotton and wool, so closely twilled that it will not fray, tad as flexible as cash mere; price 60 to 75 cents. A suit ready made, with basque and overskirt, is $35. ENGLISH AMURE, • a similar mixture without twills, is cooler than all wool goods, costs fifty cents a yard, and with care will wear well. The most desirable cheap goods, the best for ser vice; and neat-looking whether in fashion or out, are English glace mohairs that do not shrink or show soil, come in lustrous browns and gray, and cost from 54 to 80 cents a yard. French cashmeres of the old shades, and in narrow three-quarter widths, are 90 cents a yard; in new, quaint tints, $1.25 is the price. BLACK SUITS. For those serviceable black suits that most ladies purchase in the spring, wear upon occasions all the year long, and, de spite newer fabrics, replace by a similar dress, dainty and fresh, the long-tried ma-. terials and jet black alpacas of the buffalo and otter brands, worth from 75 cents to $1.25 for choice qualities. If a more lus trous fabric is preferred, the silk-finished beaver mohair is used, and is lighter for summer wear. THE TURKISH BRILLIANTINE is also a very beautiful stuff, rather heav ier than the beaver mohair, but equally lustrous in finish. The so-called national machine-made trimmings of these differ ent fabrics, more or less elaborately puffed and fluted, trim them handsomely, and greatly lesson the dressmaker's bill.—ffar per's Bazar. guiding tor tit All Linked Together. We are sailing over the ocean in the same ship with a great multitude of the igno rant:and reckless, and profane. We have first-class tickets, and pace the upper deck, with good fare and refined company. We are not inclined to be troubled with a rag ged and unruly crowd below. An officer reports one night that there is a serious disturbance among the steerage passen gers; some gentlemen from the cabin should go down and endeavor to sooth the angry passions, and win the combatants to peace and sobriety. The gentlemen de cline; the quarrelsome creatures ate down in the hold, and we have cabin tickets ; our births are comfortable—are all that we can desire. Your berths are good, gentlemen, and your tickets cannot be challenged; but if these fellows in the hold should scuttle the ship, what would your first-class tickets do for you? The Lord who bought us has a mighty mean ing in his word, "The poor ye have always with you"—a meaning for us as well as the poor. This globe floating through space is like a ship on the sea. Some of us have comfortable berths and first-class tickets, but we will sail in the same boat with a great multitude who .are needy and uneasy, a great multitude whose aggregate discontent might any day explode if an accidental spark should fill on it. WHEN men are called into tl►e Chris tian life they do not come in as experts and veterans; they come in as recruits to be drilled, and all their campaign lies before. The victory of our faith is gained step by step ; and the great personal epochs in our history are those in which the good principle, after severe conflict, gains as cendency over the evil that is in us. A Hint to Mothers. How many times one hears a mother coax and urge her baby to say words when somehow he has made up his mind he won't, or, if he has not made up his mind, the coaxing causes him to ! Ordinarily the baby says the one word of his vocabulary readily; but this time the company be fore whom he is being displayed, makes him bashful or diffident, and he does not siy it when first asked. Then is the time for the mother to stop. If she urges him in such a case, when he is not inclined to talk, it will only induce a habit of setting his will in opposition to hers; a habit that will "grow with his growth, and strength en with his strength," and will become obstinacy. Now, of course, she cannot reason with him; and there is no more moral wrong in his refusal than in refusing his milk when be is not hungry, But this, like all child hood, is seed-time. Much may be done almost from earliest infitncy, by inducing, unconsciously to the child, habits of obe dience, and preventing their opposites— thus making the afterway far easier for both child and mother. A contest with a child can generally be prevented, and ought to be. Temporal and external obedience may be obtained by it, in some eases—though not always even that—but at what a fearful cost! Not only of suf fering, but affection and confidence be tween child and parent, are never the samo with as without it, "breaking the will," as it is called, instead of training it, is a dire mistake. There can be no self-governing force, nosta bility of character. without a resolute, well-directed will. The young tree, you know, must be pruned—never broken. The colt must be trained by gen tle firmness, not severity. And immortal souls and human hearts need no less care and watchfulness. The Modern Devil. -The 'Modern Devil' is made the title of an editorial leader in one of the reli gious weeklies, which describes Milton's Lucifer in the terms most applicable to a man of the world. The Modern Devil," says the writer, "has risen above old-fash ioned Puritanism and provincial strictness. He means business, and knows just what is practical and how to take men as they are. He is troubled no longer by high strung theories and foolish sentimentali ties. He knows easier ways of getting a living than by the sweat of his bro; or any regular occupation. He has found out how convenient it is, instead of burd ening one's self with the care of a family to live on the European plan. To-day he appears as a wit whose sparkling sentences wuold turn holiness into a laughing stock. To-morrow he figures as a novelist whose voluptuous description and too realistic de lineation of all that is bad in life stimulate unholy passions and callous all delicate sensibility. Here his gilded saloons and flaring posters flaunt in the public eye; there you are handed his private advertise ments addressed to the afflicted, and when at last you see him square in the face you recognize him as some old acquaintance of solid respectibility or as some eminent personage of hitherto unsuspected probi ty!, A Little Girl's Reproof. An army officer on returning home from camp-life, went to visit a relative, and, like some who imitate their associates, he indulged in profane language. A little girl walked out with hint to his horse, and as be was talking to her in great glee, she gently said : "I don't like to hear my cousin swear." He replied, "I know, my dear, it is wrong." In the same mild tone she rejoined, "Well, then, if you know it is wrong, why do you do it ?" The captain told a friend hb never felt a reproof so much as the one given by the little child. He bad good reason to feel it, for he deserved it. The old verse says : "Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise ; To swear is neither brave, polite nor wise." That couplet is a good one to remember. Swearing is a senseless habit. If anything has gone wrong, swearing will not make it right. Besides, it is a direct violation of one of the commandments. The First Thousand Dollars The first thousand dollars that a young man honestly earns, and saves over and above his expenses while earning it, will ordinarily stamp upon his mind and char acter two of the most important conditions of success in after life—industry and econ omy. It is far better. for him that he should earn the first thousand dollars than that it should be given him. If he earns it, he knows what it is worth, since it re presents to him a very considerable amount of effort. If he saves it, while earning a much larger sum, ho acquires thereby the habit of economy. Neither of these valu able lessons is taught by a pure gift. On the whole, it is no serious disadvantage to a young man to begin life poor. Most persons who become rich in this country were once poor; and in their poverty they gained habits from the stern necessity of their conditson, which in the sequel re sulted in riches. Those who are born with silver spoons in their mouths and spend their early years in idleness and prodigality, seldom amount to as much as men in the practical business of lice. Keep the Heart Alive, The longer I live, the more expedient I find it to endeaver more and more to ex tend my sympathies and affections. The natural tendency of advancing years is to narrow and contract those feelings. Ido not mean that I wish to farm a new friendship every day; to increase my circle of intimates—these are very different af fitirs. But I find it conduces to my men tal health and happiness to find out all I can which is amiable and lovable in those I come in contact with, and to make the most of it. It may fall very short of what I was once wont to dream of ; it may not supply the place of what I have known, felt and tasted! but it is better than noth ing. It seems to keep the feelings and affections in exercise ; it keeps the heart alive in its humanity and till we shall be all spiritual. this is alike our duty and our interest.—The librarian. Wilma of the Feejee islands are you from ?" asked a visitor of one of Barnum's cannibals the other day. "Tipperary be. dad," was the reply of the ravenous an toro pophaginian." As when the storm arises the good mar iner is known, so in affliction God's chil dren are easily known from Satan's servants. Tit-Bits Taken on the Fly. • Very singular—One. Bound to rise—The sun. Going to grass—Hay seed. A babe is a mother's anchor. Live up to your engagements. Nothing that is true can ever die. • Earn money before you spend .it. Hop merchants—Dancing masters. Kindness is stronger than the sword. Children are the to-morrow of society. Keep your owu secrets, if you have any. Declaration of independence—An em phatic no. When you speak to a person, look him in the face. • An early settler—One who pays his bills promptly. Fortunate mistake—Marrying a miss with a fortune. What is hope ? The sleep of people who are wide awake. Compulsory education—Forced to learn a trade in the penitentiary. Your character cannot be essentially in jured except by your own acts. Tennessee thinks once in six years is enough for a Legislature to meet. The notes that compose favorite tunes —Bank notes; they make for-tunos. The Congregationalists think that "the coming woman comes faster and faster " A had marriage is like an electric ma chine. It makes you dance, and you can't let go. If your hands cannot be usefully em ployed, attend to the cultivation of the mind. Venison is plenty only in the winter, but dear meat is to be found all the year round. By taking revenge a man is but even with his enemy ; but in passing over it he is superior. Repentanee without amendment is like continual pumping in a ship without stop ping the leaks. Florida lemon squeezers have to be made so as to accommodate eight inch in diame ter specimens. Sargent wears black since he became Senator, out of compliment to his prede cessor Coal. The ladies do their hair up so high now that they have to stand on something to put on their hats. The memory, like a friend, loves to be trusted, and seldom fails to reward the confidence reposed in it. Every one's life lies within the present, for the past is spent and done with, and the future is uncertain. Though a state of pleasure may quicken the relish of life, an unrestrained indul gence leads to inevitable destruction. Not he who guesses, though he guesses aright, says Youmans, is to be adjudged the discover, but he who demonstrates the truth. "Just thirty years ago," as the novelists have it, the earth in Tennessee was cover ed with snow from ten to fourteen inches in depth. A medical student of some promise de fined the much talked of "foot and mouth disease" as a combination of chilblains and toothache. Two chiefs of the Winnebagoes are on their way to Washington to remonstrate against the removal of their tribe from Wisconsin. Railroad train despatchers play with trains as they would with men on a chess board, only a bit more carefully. They are always making moves. Men are often capable of greater things than they perform ; they are sent into the world with bills of credit, and seldom draw to their fall extent. Vermont forgets all the hardships of the past winter in jubilation over its maple sugar season, and cheerfully asks, "what's the odds so long as it's happy ?" The signal men on Mount Washington send word that they were enjoying them selves and leading a pleasant and import ant life with some dogs, cats, and raccoons. Fourteen years ago, fourteen black bass were placed in the Potomac river at Cum berland as an experiment, and now that river affords the best black bass fishing on the continent. A Kansas liquor dealer tacks up his business cards in the pews of the churches, and inserts them in the hymn-books and other localities where they will catch the eyes of the people. A shrewd old gentleman once said to his daughter : "Be sure, my dear, you never marry a poor man, but remember that the poorest man in the world is one that has money and nothing else." Ex-Gov. A. B. Moore died at Macon, on the morning of the sth inst. He was Governor of Alabama when the State se ceded. Of irreproachable character and of the highest virtues he was universally beloved and honored. Two children, aged eight and eleven years, residing at Harrisburg , conceived the idea of visiting their brother in New York, and started on their journey. They were intercepted at Lancaster and sent to their parents. We are inclined to believe that women are going for the polls in dead earnest, from the fact that of nine married men talking politics in a Danbury grocery on Saturday evening, seven were entirely bald.—Danbury News. It is said that the stockholders of the New York Tribune, when they put up their new building, will leave Horace Gree ley's sanctum exactly as it was when he died, so that it may in future be a sort of journalistic shrine. An Irishman's will : "I will and be queath to my beloved wife Bridget all my property without reserve, and to my eldest son Patrick one half of the remainder, and to Dennis, my youngest son, the rest. If anything is left it may go to Terence M'- Carty." A bright little boy hearing his father say that a man ought to "stick to his bu siness," emptied a bottle of mucilage in the old gentleman's office chair. The old man says he has not been stuek so badly since 1858, and rewarded his offspring by taking him on a whaling trip to the back cellar. A new volcano has been discovered in California, about seventy-five miles from Moleje, a town in Lower California, situa ted on a bay of the same name. More than twenty vent holes are reported, from which smoke is emitted in jets. Earth quakes have been rather common in Moleje for several years past, an& now it is be lieved they have had their origin in this newly discovered volcano. NO. 16. for the gittle Mtg. Captain Snariey. His right name is Wilfred Henry Alton, but he does not get called by it very often. When he is good, and pleasant and sweet, his mamma and grandma call him Birdie, and Sunbeam, but when he is naughty he is called Captain Snarley ; and his name. snits him very well at such times. • One morning he came down stairs look ing like Captain Shirley. Just as soon as hi mamma looked at him she knew it was Captain Suarley, but she smiled and said : "Good morning, dear, how do you do this bright day ?" Wilfred put his finger in his mouth. "I dess I've dot a headache," he said. "Have you? I'm very sorry, said mamma. "Where does it ache?" "Way round be back of it," snarled the Captain. "I guess you slept too long," said I.* mother. "You will feel better when you are washed and dressed and have your hair combed." So she brought his striped stockings and the little slippers with rosettes, and a new plaid frock, which she had finished only yesterday. But, oh, how he snarled and fussed all the'time she was dressing him. And when she was curling his hair he cried out loud enough to be heard in the neat house, and the lady there said, "I guess Mrs. Alton has got Captain Snarley over to her house." When his mother bad made him look nice and neat, she said, "Now come and have your breakfast." But the naughty little boy growled, "I don't fink I tan eat anything 'cept a piece of mince pie." "I have not any mince pie in the house," said his mother, "and you know I never let you eat it for breakfast. Here is some nice bread and milk in your little china bowl, and the cookies grandma sent you." "If I tan't have some mince pie I tan't eat anything," said Captain Snarley. "Very well," said mamma. So she pat the things away, and sat down to her sew ing. Wilfred pulled his little rocking chair near the fire, and sat a long time scowling at the stove. Presently he began to kick with his foot. He knew his mother disli ked the noise, but he did not care. She did not ask him to stop, and after a while he was tired of it himself. He was very unhappy, and he began to bo a little ashamed of himself. Besides, he was getting hungry. He wished his mother would speak to him, but she didn't. She was sewing on a little coat, and sing ing softly to herself. Wilfred knew the little coat was for him. Usually he liked to bear his mother sing, but now he wished she would not look so happy when he was so miserable. The more he thought about it the worse he felt. He began to cry softly, but his mother took no notice. Pretty soon he said, "Oh, dear I wish I could have the nosebleed or somefin, so somebody'd care." "People don't care much for Captain Snarley anyway," said his mother. "I should like to hurt him myself, so he would stay away, and let me keep my little boy all the time." "Should you prick his nose with your needle ?" asked Wilfred. "Yes, or I could whip him ; I think it would be better to whip him." Wilfred thought it over. He and Cap tain Snarley had a little fight all by them selves by the stove. In a little while his mother felt twos oft arms around her neck and two sweet kisses on hbr cheek. "Why, here's my little rosebud again." said she, looking down at the bright little face close to her own. "Captain Saarley's gone," said Wilfred, "and he isn't ever'n ever coming back again." "I hope not," said his mother. Then Wilfred had his breakfast, and he was so hungry that he never once thought of the mince pie. Afterward he sat down at his mother's feet and she talked to him a long time about his naughty temper. Wilfred prom ised to try hard to be a good boy, and he kept his word. The last time I saw hia mother she said she hadn't seen Captain Snarley for so long a time that she had almost forgotten him. If You Please Boys, do you ever think how much real courtesy will do tbr you? Some of the greatest men wore ever cautious in this respect. When the Duke of Wellington was sick, the last thing he took was a lit tle tea. On his servant banding it to him in a saucer, and asking him if he would have it, the Duke replied, "Yes, if you please." These were his last words. How much kindness and courtesy are expressed by them ! He who had commanded great armies, and was long accustomed to the tone of authority, did not overlook the small courtesies of life. Ah, how many boys do! What a rude tone of command they often use to their little brothers and sisters, and sometimes to their mothers ! They order so. That is ill-bred, and shows, to say the least, a want of thought. In all your home talk remember, "If you please." To all who wait upon or serve you, believe that "If you please" will make you better served than all the cross or or dering words in the whole dictionary. Do not forget three little words, "If you please." "Speak gentle, it is better far To rule by love than fear." Boys American boys are expected to become manly mcn. Tne mother of every boy is expected to teach him to be obedient to parental authority, to the civil law, and to acquire an education, a business, a trade, or an art, something for which he may be best adapted, and by which he may obtain an honest living. This is a privilege, nay more—it is a dhty, a duty to self, to fam ily, to friends, to the State, and to the na tion. When this is done, society has a guaranty for the good conduct and useful ness of each of her sons. When it is neg lected, and boys grow up in ignorance and idleness, society is taxed for their support, either in her reformatories, her jails, hos pitals, or asylums. How much cheaper it would be to have every boy properly edu cated, trained and disciplined so that he would be a blessing, instead of a curse, to the world. He is sure to become one or the other. OUR brains are seventy year clocks. The angel of lite winds them up once fur all, then aloes the case, and gives the key into the hands of the angel of resurrection.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers