VOL. 48 The Huntingdon Journal .1. K. DURBORROW, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS Ogee on the darner of FJM and Wnehing,on streets. Tan Rurrtaanoy JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. R. DURSORROW and J. A. NAAR, under the firm name of J. R. Dunuonnow it 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, pnless at the option of , he 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 vwci.v.. AND A-HALF CENTS per line for the first insertion, sevFix AND A-HALF CENTS for the second, and rive cerrs per line for all subsequent inser tion.. 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JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and 7.tncy Colom, done with neatness and dispatch.— liand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphmts, &e.. of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notioe, and every thin; in the Printing line will be 010C11- tea in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards A P. V. JOHNSTON, Surveyor and INALIIL. Civil Engineer Huntingdon, Pa. Orrice: No. 113 Third Street. aug21,1372. DR. H. W. BUCHANAN DENTIST, No. 22S Hill Street. HITNTIN6DON, PA. July 3, '72. CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, Dario. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods t Williamson. [apl2/71. DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the eemmunity. Office, No. 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan. 4,71. EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re • moved to Leieter'o new building, Hill street _ . . Avltingdon. (2. L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. 'LA • Brown's new building, No. 520, Hill St., Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,ll. C. 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[janA,'7l. . S. GEISSINGER, Attorney -at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office with Brown A., Bailey. [Feb.s-ly ii. A LLAN LOVKLL. J. HALL liussEß. L'vELL & MUSSER, Attorneys-at-Lam, HUNTINGDON, PA. Speoial attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settlement of ESTATE'S, he. ; sad all other legal business proseouted with fidelity and dispatch. 0003;72 ip A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, • Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l,ll. , OZIN SCOTT. S. T. EROWN. J. Y. BAILEY ..:1(3017, BROWN & BAILEY, ttJJ t orneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, a a 1 all claims of soldiers andsolthere heirs against the Got-eminent will be promptly proseented. Office on Hill street. WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law. Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention given to oolleutions, and all other legal business attended to with care and promptness. Offioe, No. 1.29, 11i11 street. [apl9,'7l. Hotels MORRISON HOUSE, OPPOSITE PENNSYLVANIA R. R. DEPOT HUNTINGDON, PA J. IL CLOVER, Prop. April fa, 1871-Iy. 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BAIRD k GBIIRETT, Shirleysburg, Pa. nol-27,72M1 FOR PLAIN PRINTING, FANCY PRINTING, 00 TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE The 1 untingdon J ournal. Printing. T 0 ADVEICTISERS J. A. NASH, :o:- THE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL PUBLISAND EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING J. R. DURBORROW & J. A. NASH. Office corner of Fifth and Washington Sta., HUNTINGDON, PA. THE BEST ADVERTISING MEDIUM CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA. CIRCULATION 1700 rjan.4,'7l, :o: HOKE AND FOREIGN ADVERTISE MENTS INSERTED ON REA- SONABLE TERMS, A FIRST CLASS NEWSPAPER TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION $2.00 per annivn in advance.. $2 50 within six months. $3.00 if not paid within the year. , JOB PRINTING ALL KINDS OF JOB WORK DONE "By Jure!" was Mr. Montague's ex clamation, as he opened a daily paper, and jerked himself up from the easy posture he had assumed in the seat of a car just crawling out of a New York depot.. "What is it ?" Charles asked, looking down from his superior stature. LATEST AND MOST IMPS ROVED !"It is the fourteenth," was the reply. "Well ?,, WITH NEATNESS AND DISPATC AND IN THE STYLE SUCH AS POSTERS OF ANY SIZE, CIRCULARS, WEDDING AND VISITING CARDS, BALL TICKETS. PROGRAMME 8, CON:CERT TICKETS, ORDER BOOKS, SEGAR LABELS, RECRIPTS, PHOTOGRAPHER'S CAREC BILL HEADS, LETTER HEADS, PAPER BOOKS ETC., ETC., ETC., ETC., ',ETC., Our facilities for doing all kinds of Job Printing superior to any other establish ment in the county. Ordeas by mail promptly filled. All letters should be ad dressed, J. R. DURBORROW & CO I stood upon a precipice, That overhangs "Blue Juniata's" tide, Whose base the pearly wavelets kiss As oceanward her current glides. The sun's meridian lustre fell Sublimely on the tranquil scene, The sunny hill, the dewy dell, Alike were robed in garb of green The farmer left his weary toil, And to his midday meal repaired ; The ripening product of his soil Gave promise of a rich reward. The cattle in the pasture grazed Upon the river's sandy bank, And eagerly their lips they laved As from its crystal stream they drank. The distant mountain, rising high, Whose summit cleaves the pendant veil But dim my searching view descried, Commingling with the ether pale. Reluctantly my steps I turned And homeward took my weary way, But on my memory's vision burned The landscape that before me lay. THE 'WESTERN COUSIN. Mrs. Montague, opening the door of her sewing-room, where her two daughtersand niece were stitching busily upon finery for the forthcoming ball, presented an unmis takable vision , )1 a matron very much an noyed, not to say out of temper. In her hand she held an open letter, which she had just finished reading. Irene, the older sister, spoke first. "From father ?" she said, pointing to the letter. "Yes. Your father will be at home on the fourteenth, in time for dear Clara's ball; but—l never was so vexed in my life—he is going to bring Charles Easton with him." "Who is Charles Easton, Aunt Ella ?" Clara West asked, looking up from her work, and revealing a very beautiful face, of classic regularitythf features, with large, violet eyes and a profusion of short, au burn curls clustering above the broad brow. "No relation to us, my dear," said Mrs. Montague. A cousin of the girls on their father's side. He is one of Mr. Montague's sister's sons, and was born in Illinois twenty-three years ago, moved out farther and farther West, as his father speculated more and more in land, until now he is settled in Minnesota. You may imagine him, Clara, when I tell you he has never been east of his birthplace in his life." "A nice addition to a ball to which all the aristocracy of G- have been invi ted," said Lois, the younger daughter, speaking for the first time. "I suppose he will wear homespun, out in the fashion of sixty years ago. I have a vivid recol lection of my uncle Easton, in his butter nut suit, as he appeared here ten years ago, and fould not talk of anything else but 'my boy Charles.' " "Well, my boy Charles is coming now," said her mother, "and your father will ex pect us to make as much fuss over him as if he was heir to the throne of Russia. I will see about his room." In the meantime, as fast as steam would bring him, the unwelcomed guest was speeding across tho iron road to 0- with his uncle Montague. Mr. Montague, a tall, powerful man, past sixty. was a rare combination of the physical development of a Western firmer, which he had been until past thirty, and shrewd mental activity of a city merchant, which he had been for the last thirty years. A man of ample means, he drew a large proportion of his income from spec ulations in 'Western land, conducted under the management of his brother-in-law, John Easton, and made yearly trips to the land of the setting sun to look after his investments. During this last visit he had been much pleased with his nephew Charles, and bad proposed to him to make a trip to 0-, stopping at some of the large cities on the journey eastward, where the young man's own native good sense and tact had taken note of city manners and bad replenished his trunk with garments of the fashion of the season. All at once, Mr. Montagne remembered it was the day of the ball, as he said to Charles, "which your aunt is going to give to her neice, Miss t.lara West, to cel ebrate her coming of age, and also coming into possession of a neat hundred thousand dollars." "And we won't be there. I should be outof my element altogether, I presume." "Not a bit, boy, not a bit. Let me see. This train is due at G- by nine. I'll tell you what we will do. We will go to the hotel, and put ourselves into dress coats and white kids, and go to the house when the later guests arrive. You'll have an early chance to air that new dress suit you got at B-'s." Mrs. Montague heard the mantel clock chime the half hour between ten and eleven with a sensation of unbounded relief. The ball, upon whose preparation she had spent many days, and drawn heavily upon Mr. Montague's hank account promised to be a success. Already her lirge rooms were filled with the cream of G- society, and theee girls, in stylish and becoming cosi tomes, were the belles of the evening. BUSIN - ESS CARDS, LEGAL BLAN KS, Clara West was smiling graciously upon the son and heir of the Montagues, Wal ter, and raising his mamma's hopes of a match upon which her heart was set ; and, beat of all, there was no sign of the com ing of the Western savage. "They could not have come on the nine o'clock train," thought the matron, "or they would be here by this time. Once get the ball over, and I do not care so much about the backwoodsman. Indeed, I imagine he will be a good foil for the elegance of my Walter." As the thought passed through her busy brain "my Walter," with his cousin Clara upon his arm, left the crowded room to find cooler air in the wide hall, and en evuntered at the doer her father and a stranger, at whom the dapper little dandy gazed in half envious astonishment. Walter, small, dark and dainty, dressed in the extreme of fashion, certainly pre sented a strong contrast to the young giant looking down upon him. Tall, fully two inches above the regulation six feet, broad shouldered, and perfectly proportioned, PA3IPHILETS Original *Mfg. A Landscape , BY THE BARD OF TOR MOrIiTAIN at gitoril-Mer. HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1873 with large, brown eyes, blonde riair and whiskers, and clear complexion, young Easton looked like some Norse warrior newly sprung to life. His tailor had pos sessed sufficient discrimination to tone his garments down to au easy fit of his grand proportions, and while they were handsome and becoming, they avoided the dandyism of extreme fashion. But it must be admitted the stranger was decidedly shy. Thrown suddenly into a sea of beauty and fashion, finding him self towering above the heads of the entire company and all eyes turned upqn him, he felt his face crimsoning with confusion, his hands and feet seemed to swell to twice their usual size, and be would have given all he possessed for a good excuse to run away. The introduction to his aunt and cousins did not mend matters. They but thinly disguised their reluctance to welcome him, and after the merest civilities of greeting left him to himself. Mr. Montague was surrounded by old family friends in a moment. and supposing his family would entertain his nephew had also deserted him. Charles stood at one end of the large rooms looking down the long line of hand somely dressed guests moving gracefully to one of the most inspiring waltzes of the band:feeling interested and amused. yet hurt at his chilling reception, when a low, sweet voice spoke his name, and he started and looked round, too see Clara West's beautiful face beside him. 'You and I are both strangers here," she said. with a wish to put him at his ease, and if possible to make some amends for the rudeness of her aunt and cousins, and I imagined you felt lonesome as well as myself." "Scarcely lonesome," he answered, smi ling, "but very much out of place. Our Minnesota balls have more of the social element, I imagine, Miss West; or per haps it is because I know every face in the room, there." "Do you live at Minneapolis ?" "No. We are country folks compared to the people of Minneapolis or St. Paul. My home is a large farm-house, nearly half a mile from any other habitation and four miles from the nearest village. But we cheerfully drive four miles fur a merry-making." Questions skillfully put soon roused the young farmer's pride in his Western home, and he gave eloquent descriptions of the scenery, the hunting, the bitter winters, when the snow lay piled upon the ground, in an atmosphere so clear and dry that one could walk miles in moccasins and not feel any moisture under foot. He told his listener of the hunting expeditions the young men joined in, and Clara found her own pulses quickening as he described some of the wild scenes and hair-breadth escapes of his adventurous life. Suddenly he pulled himself up with a short laugh. "I am wearying you," he said. "No, you are not," he answered, truly; . "you must tell me more another time." "Might I venture to ask you to waltz ?" he said. "I cannot see any difference in this step and ours." Without hesitation Clara put her little hand upon his shoulder, and with a grace ful movement he led her to the floor. She was surprised to find the tall grand figure could move so easily as Walter's own, while the strong arm held her firmly yet delicately, giving her perfect support, while allowing her graceful freedom of motion. "How beautiNly you waltz !" she said, as the music ceased. "There was a German dancing-master in Chicago when we spent a winter there some five years ago, and I took lessons of him. We aro not quite savages in Min nesota, Miss West, for most of us remem ber homes further cast." "1 never supposed you were," she re. plied. . . _ "1 think my cousins imagine I would scalp them upon small provocation. They looked absolutely horrified at the sight of m?.." "I see many bright eyes looking this way that have no horror whatever in them," said Clara, pleasantly. Let me introduce you to same of my new friends. For a week the young heiress found her self a self-appointed companion of the young Western cousin, whose position in the house was far from pleasant. Mr. Montague, absorbed in business, left his nephew to the mercies, far from tender, of his family, and the family voted hint an in truder. Walter was, ealous of him. Mr. Mon tague heartily wished him back in Minneso ta, and the girls voted him stupid. He could not talk small talk, could not inter est himself, as Walter did, in fashions, operas and parties, and they could not fol low him into the regions of literature, or sympathize with his enthusiastic love of nature. But Clara, aimingonly at a good-na tured endeavor to put the strang,er more at ease, fiend herself repaid by a compan ionship far more congenial than any she had before found at U-. The young farmer had been a student in a western college, and had a love of reading, equal led by a keen appreciation of the best lit erature of the day. Loving deeper studies, he could enjoy also the beauties of poetry and fiction, and meet Clara in many an an imated discussion of her flivorite authors. He was fond of music, too, and Clara soon dropped the waltzes and polkai she at first thought suited to his comprchen • siert, to give him rare musical treats in her requisite rendering of Mendelssohn and Beethoven. Corning in from walking•one morning, when her cousins were out, Clara heard the grand piano swept by a toaster hand to a glorious march, quite new to her. She entered the drawing room softly and took a seat unperceived in a for corner, from which nook site watched Charles Easton, as he took, one after another, the sheets of music from her portfolio, nod played the airs with a grand touch that in vested them with a new power and beauty. It was like a trumpet blast after the flute to hear his rendition, after her own. Then he played other new music from his own memory, till suddenly rising he turned to face his audience. In a moment he crimsoned as if detected in a theft. "How long did you propose to listen to me without doing your share ?" Clara asked very gravely. -•I hope yen admired the Jenny Lind polka and Uncle Ned as much as you said you did, the morning after you arrived ?" "I will ten you what I did admire," he answered, earnestly : "I admired the gentle kindness that prompted the fingers to play what was presumably suited to an ignorant ear, instead of trying to dazzle the country mind with a grand display of brilliant execution." What more might have followed can only he imagined, for at that moment the Montagoes entered the room, and the be wildered Charles found himself the centre of most smiling attentions. Mrs. Montagne, sweet and gracious, paid him more compliments in five minutes than she had found time for in the entire pre vious week. The girls found Cousin Charles was the very min they wanted for a series of future festivities, and Irene was already sketching scenes for the introduction of a blonde giant in a thrthcoming tableaux party. Walter, meantime. was hovering around Clara, trying to regain some of the ground lost by certain sneering criticisms of his cousin, by loudly declaring he was a "first rate fellow ," and he "wished he had his inches and strength " That was the introduction for the second week. Charles accepted the overwhelming at tentions of the fami:y as coolly as he had their rudeness, making himself agreeable while in the house, but finding much em ployment outside. While Clara West had been listening to the music of the grand piano, Mr. Mon tague, in his office. had been signing a check for a family shopping, and as he presented it to his wife, he said : 'Did you know Charles is negotiating for the purchase of the Will's place ?" "What ! I thought it was worth fifty or sixty thousand dollars." "Quite .correct. lie talks of settling in G-" "But the money !" gasped Mrs. Mon tague. "Oh. he can well afford it. His father gave him a start in the grain business two years ago, and he is worth two or three hundred thousand dollars. Besides being an only child, he will fall heir to all his father's immense wealth. The old folks talk of coming hero in a year or two if Charles concludes to stay." "And you never told me:" cried Mrs. Montague. "Have you no interest in your own girls ?" "Oh," said papa, grimly, "that's the idea, is it ! I am afraid, my dear, you are too late." And Mr. Montague was right. In spite of Walter's elaborate compliments, rare boquets, and devoted attention to Clara. her interest in the Western cousin could not be shaken. In spite of "the girls" sweetness and new dresses, their readiness to chat with "dear cousin Charles," to play for him, dance with him, ride, drive, walk with him, his allegiance to Clara's violet eyes, was firm. I:nd ;when the Will's place became ' , Easton's place," was refnrnishe4, deco rated and beautified, the master thereof brought home a ' bride, whose name was Clara West, but who bears now the title of Mrs. Charles Easton, wife of the Western Cousin. patling tor tite pillion. Good Manners a Duty. BY HENRY WARD BEECHER. Men often speak of good manners as an accomplishment. I speak of them as a duty.' -What, then, are good manners ? Such manners as the usages of society have recognized as being agreeable to men. Such manners as take away rudeness, and remit to the brute creation all coarseness. There are a great many who feel that good manners are effeminate. They have a feeling that rude bluntness is a great deal more manly than good manners. It is a great deal more beastly. But when men are crowded in communities the art of living together is no small art. How to diminish friction ; how to promote ease of intercourse ; how to make every part of a man's life contribute to the welfare and satisfaction of those around him; how to keep down offensive pride; bow to banish the raspings of selfishness from the inter course of men; how to move among men inspired by various and cbnflictive motives, and yet not have collisions—this is the function of good manners. . It is not effemiate to be refined. And in this land ho man should plead inability. There may be a peasantry in other coun tries, there may be a elass in foreign lands who have no opportunities; there may be those whose toil is so continuous, whose opportunities for knowing what constitutes good manners are so few, and whose ignor ance is so gross that they are excusable; but this is not the else with any within the sound of my voice. r That a man is a mechanic is no reason why he should not be a perfect gentleman. I affirm for every American citizen the right to be not simply a man, but a gond. mannered man. I have seen men at the anvil who were gentlemen as men of books or men of society. I know no reason wh a man who tans hides should not be a gentleman. I know no reason why a man who digs in the Foil, a man who works in metals and woods, a man who builds, should not. be a perfect gentleman. There is nothing in mechanical occupations which is incompatible with the highest courtesy. Not only is the violation of' good man ners inexcusable on ordinary grounds, but it is sinful. When, therefore, parents and guardians and teachers would inspire the young with a desire for the manners of good soeiety, it is not to be thought that they are accomplishments which may be accepted or rejected. Every man is bound to observe the laws of politeness. It is the expression of good will and kindness. It promotes bdth beauty in the man who pos sesses it, and happiness in those who are about him. It is a religious duty and should he part of religions training. There is a great deal of contempt ex pressed for what is called etiquette in soci ety. Now and then there are elements in etiquette which perhaps might well be ridiculed; but in the main there is a just reason for all those customs which come under the head of' etiquette. There is a reason which has regard to the facility of 1 intercourse. There is a reasou in the 1 avoidance of offence. There is a reason in comfort and happiness. And no man can afford to violate these unwritten customs of etiquette who wishes to act as a Christian gentleman. I may speak, also, of a tendency which is bled by our institutions—the want of veneration. There are various ways in which this want of veneration shows itself. We often hear that there is not the same respect shown to the aged that there used to be. We know that there is very little respect shown for magistrates and men in authority. This is partly dud, I think, to the institutions under which we live. One of the unfortunate effects derived from the early stages of Democratic training is the sense of personal sovereignty; the feeling, that we stand on as high ground as any body else. Under monarchial institutions men are taught to revere the great and glorious in government. The feeling of reverence does not prevail to any great extent among us. I discern a great lack in this respect. Children, nowadays, are brought up to be pert, to be saucy, to be almost without restraint. They are brought up to have very little regard either for their parents or their superiors. And, although there are a great many Christian households where ehikdren are rightly bred in this regard, it Seems to me there has been a decay of that instruction which used to prevail, the tendency of which was to make children modest and respectful. We bring up our children to be old and smart and impertinent. This courtesy, which carries with it respect; this testimony of veneration to the aged; this yielding one's self in a thousand little soeiety rites for the sake of making others happy—oh, what brightness it gives life What beauty, what adornment it gives to Christian character. There are many other points that I might speak of. The effect of punctuality and order; the relation which men sustain to each other's convenience and necessities —these and a hundred other branches of this subject I might discourse upon, but it is not necessary that I should go into them I have given such examples as I have merely as specimens, for the purpose of calling your attention to the minuteness and carefulness with which the Scripture inculcates these things. It enjoins not merely the right spirit, but theright spirit manifested in the most beautiful way. -••-~-~- [For the JOURNAL.] Wolves and Wolf-Children BY REV. J. D. BROWN, INDIA, According to Vedas and Shasters, of the Hindoos, it is sinful to destroy life of any kind, hence India, although densely pop ulated, abounds with wild animals, such as tigers, wolves, bears, deer, &e. Hun dreds of children are carried away by wolves every year, and thousands of men, women and children are killed annually by poisonous snakes. The myth of Romulus and Remus is in reality repeated again and again in India. Danfinism finds its counterpart here in human beings devel oping into wolves, under the training of wolfish foster mothers. Every year one or more of these strange creatures is cap tured by men who are hunting wolves. The following, taken from a daily paper published in Allahabad, gives us another instance of this kind : " It would be interesting to know if the Asiatic Society has heard any more of the wolf-children of the Secundra Orphange. At a recent meeting of the Society a letter was read from the Superintendent of the Orphangc, and it was resolved that furth er inquiries should he made, but the re sult of these inquiries, if ever made, has not yet beet., published. Our only infbr mation on the subject is from the Rev. 1 Mr. Erchardt, Superintendent of the Or phanage, who, in the letter we refer, says : 'We have had two such boys here, but I fancy you refer to the one who was brought 'tous on March sth, 1872. lie was found by Hindus, who kad gone hunting wolves in the neighborhood of Mynpooree, was burnt out of the den, and was brought here with the sears and wounds 'still on him. In his habits he was a perfect wild animal in every point of view. He drank like a dog; and liked a bone and raw meat better than anything else. He would never re main with the other boys, but would hide away in any dark corner. Clothes he nev er would wear, but tore them up into fine shreds. He was only a few mouths among us, as he got fever and gave up eating. We kept him wive for a time by artificial means, but eventually he died. The other boy found among wolves is about thirteen or fourteen years old, and has been here almost six. He has learnt to make sounds, speak he cannot; but he freely expresses his anger and joy; work he will at times, r, little; but he likes eating better. His civilization has progressed so far that he likes raw meat lea, though he will still pick up bones and sharpen his teeth on them.' The writer also refers to 'an el derly fellow in the Lucknow mad-house,' who some years ago was dur , . out of a wolves' den by a European but infor mation on the subject of his career is not sufficiently trustworthy fbr the guidance of physiological science." Had these poor children, instead of be ing carried away by wolves, been trained by careful and conscientious mothers, how different might have been their fate ! Run ning on all fours, and gnawing bones in a wolfs den, may develop muscle—but what becomes of the intellect ? After all what creatures of habit we are ! Few of us realize how much our intellec tual development depends on the charac ter of those with whom we associate. And if this be true of intellectual development, to how much greater extent is it true of moral development ? Much is said by some about natural goodness and natural perception of right and wrong. But where is this natural goodness found ? Has man naturally any just conception of what may be called mor al, good or evil ? Ilse, why do not these Htvolf children show sonic signs of such perception ? These children might have become philanthropists under proper train ing ; but for want of that training they would delight in nothing more than eating human flesh, or even gnawing the bones of the mothers that bore them. From these oft-recurring instances I can readily un derstand how a human being may fall to the level or the brute; but of all the thowatals of monkeys I have seen roaming over the plains of India, I have never yet known one to drop his caudal appendage and give his measure for a suit of clothes, as the first step toward humanity. And yet it is not for want of being with human beings, for they see and hear thousands of the natives every day, who are very low in the scale of humanity, but still there remains a dividing line between men and monkeys. Disowning Christ, Be not ashamed of Christ. Disown him never. Whatever dangers or troubles threaten, •'stand up for Jesus !" It was Peter's sin to deny Christ fur fear of the Jews. It is many a man's temptation to disown Christ in the throng of fashion, or in the press of secular vacation. But let it be remembered that the truths of Christ, the name of Christ, the ordinances of Christ, the Sabbaths of Christ, are an honor to his people. Everything which associates with Christian service is honor able and elevating. The apostles were not ashamed of Christ, though they were per secuted for his sake. They owned him because they loved hint ; they preached him ; they followed him ; they suf fered for him. And teen by multi tudes were saved by their instru mentality. Let Pagans be ashamed of their timber gods; let Turks be ashamed of their Mahomet ; let Mormons be asham ed of their brass; but let not ehristians be ashamed of Christ, or of any of his truths, or of any of his requirements.—Recerder. Tit-Bits Taken on the Fly. A Madison, Wisconsin, boy earns money at the wash-tub to go to school. Several prominent pysicians of Memphis fled ingloriously before the yellow fever. Planters who have no money send cotton seed to Memphis for the relief of the sufferers. Mr. Alexander H. Stephens denies that be is to form a connection with a Wash. ington paper. California proposes to cultivate buckeye trees for the purpose of making starch out of the fruit. Miss Theodosia Brown, of Whitehall, lives on one egg per day, and weighs four hundred pounds. Some medical students at South Bend, Ind., stole a wooden Indian from a cigar dealer for dissection. The Winchester armory at New Haven is mtnufacturing 100,000 catridges for the Turkish government. Sandusky, Ohio, has a machine that beheads, opens and dresses from sixty to ninety fish per minute. All the books of the Indiana Historical Society library have been stolen. There were once 3000 of them. It is definitely settled that General F. P. Blair. Jr., will be the new Missouri Super. intendant of Insurance. The citizens of Portland, Oregon, have presented the widow of Gen. Canby with a portrait of her late husband. The Rev. Dr. W. H. Lord, of Mont pelier, has been chosen president of the Vermont Historical Society. There is more confusion in Chicago over the mayoralty than has existed in Cincinnati in any legislative contest. There is in Virginia City, Nevada, an old colored man who has mane about $50,000 in the boot-blacking business. The Spanish Minister of War on Satur day presented to General Sickles an elegant sword made expressly for him at Toledo. The Democrats want to have Allen in augurated as the Governor of Ohio on the anniversary of the first battle of Bull Run. The valuation of Milwaukee has increas ed $2,000,000 during the past year, while the increase of business done wee $l2, 000,000. A favorite amusement in San Diego, California,s to enclose a mouse and a tarrantula in a bottle, and let them fight it out. It is said there never was, on the face of the earth, so much salvation and so little soap in one place as at Rome, except per haps at Naples. Capitalists are now jingling the keys in their pockets, that they may not be alarm ed at the sounds of the precious metal, a little while hence. A Danbury man woke up in the mid dle of the night to comment upon the extraordinary faot that the heaviest end of a match is its light end. Complaint is made that science is show ing that Saturn a Rings aro nuisances, whereby Saturn is proved to suffer from a complaint that prevails in our own planet. The troubles of the Tennessee doctors are greater than they can bear. If the patient recovers be never pays his doctor's bill, and if he dies bis relatives kill the doctor. The cotton ports generally have received one-third less cotton during the above pe riod than for the same time last year, so that the delay in marketing the crop is universal. Telegraphing is a game that prairie chickens do not understand, and in conse quence many of them are killed bycoming iu contact with the wires in their flight in large flocks out West. An Illinois mechanic has invented an improved tail light for railway trains. It is so arranged that the engineer of a train can tell with some degree of certainty bow fur the signal of warning is distant from him. Of tho one hundred and sixty-four country banks in Massachusetts only nine suspended currency payment during the late panic, and these only temporarily. All have since resumed. This speaks well for the financial strength of that State. A Kentucky firmer has a saddle-mare which was taken from him by some sol diers during the war, and was gone nine years and nine months, to the very day, when she astonished the whole family and neighborhood by returning home by her self and of her own accord. It has been found upon experiment that the exportation of live beeves to Eu rope will not pay at the present freight rates of steamship companies. Speculators who have endeavored to make a feature of this trade, state that the margin of profit is too small and that the risks are too great for them to continue it. An exchange says : "People who care what they dream about had better keep away from Bad mountain, Tennessee, where a noted den of rattlesnakes has long been the terror of the country. For ty have been counted on a single rock, and on any sunny day 500 may be seen projecting from behind a circular ledge The British government offered a free passage to Australia, New Zealand, or any othey of the colonies, to the three young women who were formerly connected with 1 the American forgers on the Bank of England. Two have accepted the offer, but the third prefers to remain in London. All three are well provided for. A man in San Francisco, who had a fire extinguisher in his house, has get disgusted because the house does not take fire, and offers , the machine for sale at a discount. "Sold," he says, "only for want of use." He had better keep it, for so long as he has it he is not likely to have any use for it, but as soon as he gets rid of it there will be a fire in the house, sure. The honest farmers of Rhode Island are, ne doubt, a God-fearing folk, but they are gradually acquiring modern ideas of "business." An enterprising rustic near Providence had a cow to sell lately, and a purchaser made an appointment to come and see her. The firmer arranged that his man should be milking the cow when the purchaser arrived, and had three pails on hand, each half filled with water. The man milked vigorously, and filled the three pails one after another, to the aston ishment of the purchaser, who at once closed the bargain at a very high figure. NO. 44. I 4round flu • tiroidt. Death of Summer. Another summer, with its smiles and flowers. Hath passed away into the sea of years I Where lies engulfed the loveliest forms That nature e're put on since God Spake into being this fair earth, To mirror forth His glory. How rapidly The odorous months have Bed ! And now all that remains to tell Of summer's sweet-breathed Bowers Are dry and wither'd leaves, that sigh Ia mournful cadence on the autumn breeze. The sweet-voiced birds That sang at early morn in tree and copse, And oft at set of sun, until the stars Twinkled their pleasure in the crown Of meek brow n'd eve, have gone To southern climes, where warmer suns And milder airs bold sway. A nameless sadness steals Over my spirit as the crickets sing In the dead heart of summer blooms Ere long the foliage of the billowy trees Will den autumn hues, and soon Their leafy glory will be laid In tinted robes on the dead summer's tomb , llethinks I bear Summer's last sigh, low breathing still Amidst the faded bowers that she loved, As loth to leave her roseate throne To autumn's chilling blasts. While 'midst her wither'd blown! I stand And lay this little tribute on her grave. There is a dime Where everlssting summer reigns! . . . . No frosts there nip the bode, nor roses pale From cheeks aglow with full immortal bloom May we, when mortal life shall close, Ascend to that bless'd clime, to dwell for aye 'Mid all its glory, loveliness, and song, . _ dad from the pearl gemm'd goblet of eternal life Quaff the pure nectar of unbounded bliss. RE, C. HARTLEY. Death of the First Born This beautiful extract from Dr. Hol land's new book, Arthur Boanicastle, will be read with deep and tender interest by many whose experience it truthfully por trays: :4 stand in a darkened room before a little casket that holds the silent Wm of my first born. My arm isaround the wife and mother who weeps over the lost treas ure, and cannot, till tears have their way, be comforted. I had not thought that my child could die—that my child could die. I knew that other children had died, but I felt safe. We lay the little fellow dote by his grandfather at last; we strew his grave with flowers, and then return to our saddened home with hearts united in sorrow as they had never been united in joy, and with sympathies forever opened toward all who are called to a kindred grief. I wonder where be is today, in what mature angeihood he stands, how he will look when I meet him, how he will make himself known to me who has been his teacher! He was like me! will hiv grandfather know him' I never can cease thinking of him as eared for and led by the same hand to which my own youthful fingers clung, and as hearing from the fond lips of my own father the story of his father's eventful life. I feel how wonderful has been the ministry of my children—how much more I have learned from them than they ever learned from me—how by holding my own strong life in sweet subordination to their help lessness, they have taught me patience, self-sacrifice, self-control, truthfulness, faith, simplicity and purity. "Ah! this taking to one's arms a little group of souls, fresh from the hands of God, and living with, them in loving com panionship through all:their stainless years is, or ought to be, like living in heaven, for of such is the heavenly kingdom. To no one of these am I more indebted than to the boy who went away from me•before the world had touched him with a stain. The key that abut him in the tomb was the only key that could unlock my heart. and let in among its sympathies the world of sorrowing men and women who mourn because their little cones are not. "The little graves, alas ! how many they are ! The mourners above them how vast the multitude ! Brothers, sisters, I am one with you. 1 press your hands, I weep with you, I trust with you, I belong to you. Those waxen, folded hands, that still breast, so often pressed warm to our own, those sleep•bound eyes which have been so full of love and life, that sweet, unmoving, alabaster face—ah ! we have all looked upon them, and they have made us one and made us better." Cultivating a Pure Expression. Every word that falls from the lips, of mothers and sisters espeeially, should be pure and concise, and simple; not pearls, such as fall from the lips of a princess, but sweet, good words, that little children can gather without fears ofsoil or after shame, or blame, or any regrets to pain through all their life. Children should be taught the frequent use of good, strong, expressive words— words that mean exactly what they should express in their proper place,. if a child, or young person, has a loose flung-together way of stringing words when endeavoring to say something, he should be made to try again and see if he can not do better. It is painful to listen to many girls' talk. They begin with "my goodness !" and interlard it with "on and "sakes alive !" and "so sweet;" and o ao queenly!" and so many phrases, that one is tempted to believe that they have no training at all, or else their mothers were very foolish women. There is nothing more disgust ing than the twaddle of ill-bred girls; one is provoked often into taking a paper and reading, and letting them ripple and gur gle on, like brooks that flow they know not whither. My heart warnm with love for sensible glris and pure boys; and, after all, if your girls and boys are not thus, I fear that it is not our fault, that this great truth rests in the hearts and hands of the women of our land. If we have a noble, useful purpose of life, we shall infuse the right spirit in those around us.—arthur's home Maga dote. Tu URE is folly at being disheartened at delay. God sometimes takes natural meth ods of removins , , obstacles even when they appear most dilatory. Philip II used to say, "Time and I will work wonders." WITTY sayings are as easily lost as the pearls slipping off a broken string; bat a word of kindness is seldom spoken in vain. It is a seed which, even when dropped by change, springs up a flower. WHAT is my duty in all my perplexi ties? Humbly to , wait on the Lord, and to seek his guidance step by GRATITunn is a keen sense of favors lo cone.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers