VOL. 49 The Huntingdon Journal. J. H. DURBORROW upY., 0,8 the Corner of Fifa and Washington greets. THE lluxxixonom JOURNAL it published every Wednesday, by J. It. DUREORNOW and J. A. NASH, under the firm name of J. It. Drnuonnow & Co., at 52.00 per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2.50 if not paid for in six months from date of subscription, and $2 it not paid within'the year. No paper discontinued, onless at the option of the publishers, until all arrenrages are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at xwei.vt: AND A-HALF CENTS per line for the first insertion, NEVF.N AND A-HALF CENTS forthe second, and Five CENTS per line for all subsequent inser tions. ..,.... 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FOR ALL KINDS OF PRINTING, GO TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE The Hunting. on Journal. 71'w aihsW Town'. J. A. NASH, [Original.] Philosophy of a Tear. I searched the ponderous lexicon Its import to descry, And thus the book did it define : " A moisture from the eye." But peering toward its mystic source, I played the doubter's part, And found, by marking well its course, Its fountain in the heart. stood beside a new-made grave, Whose mouth was yawning wide, And saw the tribute nature gave, Adown the pale cheek glide. Nfy sympathetic chord was touched, My bounding heart grew sad, And to the surface quick approached A tear, though I forbade. Into the eye a particle, By rude Boreas blown, The sane effect made visible, Though I no grief had known. To this methinks the Sage alludes It does not grief imply, But merely as the lens exudes, Profusely from the eye. But tell me not those gushing waves, Forced out by sorrow's dart, Which oft the pallid features lave, Arise not from the heart. The lexicographer is right, He well performs his pa , t, Yet though the channel is the eye, The fountain's in the heart. ight Morg-Zglitr. The Cornelian. Cross. HENRI CARDONE was a young French artist of distinguished promise. His neat little domicile and his pretty wife were situated in suburban Paris. One early twilight in the month of November of a certain.year, as he entered his home, his wife ran unto him, twined her plump arms around his neck, bestowing a full-blown kiss upon his responsive lips, and imme diately exclaimed, "Oh, dear Henri I had such a surprise, such an odd visitor, this afternoon--a man with such an inexplica ble foncy that I have been waiting these two hours for your arrival, and (bestowing a playful cut thereupon) your ears." "And now the ears have arrived, Irene, my pet, I suppose your 'miry tongue will rattle away as merrily as a newly wound up music -box; and, once started, I shall not have an opportunity to put a word in edgewise until you have run down com pletely. But for this odd man, with the 'inexplicable fancy.' Did he, utterly re gardless of the divine set of his trousers, go down upon his kneesand beseech of you to fly with him to some intensely rural re treat, there to subsist upon moonshine and his adorable moustache? and was it his inexplicable fancy that you should be ac companied by such little articles of avail able value as this poorhovel might afford? Or, was he a wandering gypsy lord, who predicted that you were to be the queen of all proud France, instead of one humble French heart? And did be, just as he was about to surround your august brow with the imperial crown, suddenly tuspend it and take an inexplicable fancy to have his dirty palm first crossed with a crown of silver? Or--" [412;71 'There, there ! do cease your badinage," eaid the pouting little woman, stamping her small foot impatiently. "You will never become wise listening .to your own wisdom." "Nor weary listenint , to yours, my charming sage," laughed the voluble Hen ri, caressin7, her soft, brown hair fondly; "proceed—from this on I am all ears." "Well, let all ears listen. At about three o'clock this afternoon, as I was sit-, ting intent upon taking the finest possible stitches in the border of your finest cam bric, there came a sharp rap at the door. I hastened, opened it, and found myself time to face with a man of middle age, who botied politely and inquired if be were on the Rue de Chalons. On being informed that he was, he thanked me very affably, and was turning to deprt, when his glance chanced to fall on this little cornelian cross, which then, as now, was lying on my bo som. He stopped short, gazed fixedly at it, as though it possessed some terrible fasci nation, turned first deadly pale, then livid purple, and in a hoarse whisper articulated, 'Madame, you will pardon me, for it is' no ordinary curiosity that prompts the ques tion, but might I venture to ask how that trinket,' pointing a trembling finger at the cross, 'came into your possession—under what circumstances?" ' , Well," queried Henri, in a low, inter ested tone, "what was my little wife's reply?" "Your little wife told him, sir, that it was a present from her husband, and that it had been in her possession about four years. How or where you came by it she could not inform him." "Then he departed satisfied ?'' "No, indeed." "Then he inquired your name, age, and profession ?" "Did he ? I do not know whether I ought to feel complimented or insulted.— Did you tell him ?" "I hesitated, and told him." "I wish you had not hesitated, and then not told him. Something of moment may grow out of this curiosity. But it will not matter. Then he departed ?" "No; he stood absorbed in troubled thought a few moments, as though weigh ing a deep problem, and the,' said he had taken a very strong and eccentric fancy for the trinket, and asked if I would for a con sideration part with it." "\Vhat was your reply to that very business-like proposition ?" , -That, being your gift, I should much dislike to let it go." •'Of course, that must have terminated the conversation ?" "Of course, but it did not, though. It became more pointed than ever." "Well, well lam eager tc learn the denouement," said Henri. "If lam not at fault in my surmises, something will shortly grow out of this affair that will in terest a very wide circle. Give me the ex act particulars. What followed ?'' •'lle said he was wealthy and did not value money ; and that he had conceived so strong a desire to possess the cross that, wild as the offer might seem, he would not demur at giving 500 francs for it." "Five hundred, porbleu! The trinket is not worth five francs," said Henri, excited ly. 'The man'is either a lunatic, or— what I more strongly suspect him of being—" "And what is it possible for you to more strongly suspect hint of being ?" asked Irene. "A knave. In spite of the temptation of 500 franc., I see that you still bear your cross. I would have thought the sum suf• ficient to buy up all the crosses in Paris and all the women bearing them. How did you resist it ?" "If I did not know that your slurs on women and their crosses was said more in humor than earnest, I would not give you another word of information. I told the man that the offer was very tempting, but that I could not possibly accept it without first consulting you." "That was a noble reply, my darling," said Henri. drawing his wife close to his side, bestowing on her an eloquent glance and several passionate kisses. "Hereafter I shall consider you cheap at 50,000 francs ! What said old Crcesus to your priceless answer ?" "At first he appeared much discomfitted. After a little while he said he was going into the country to remain one week; and that he should return this way, and if I in the meantime gained your consent, or con cluded to part with the cross without it, he would make good his offer. And then he bade me a reluctant adieu, went to a post-chaise that was waiting in the road, got in, and drove off rapidly towards Chalons." Finally we have the finale of net first," remarked Henri. "Yes," responded the musing Irene. toying with the object of so much discus sion, which was in reality of but little in trinsic value, and in no way remarkable, excepting from peculiarity of design. It was of a clear, blood-red cornelian, the up right pintr being carved to represent a de scending arrow, and the cross piece a very fine wrought imitation of wings. "What attraction this bit of a thing, which, aside from being your gift, I look upon as worthless, can possess to render it so exceedingly pracious in the eyes of the man, I cannot conjecture." continued the puzzled Irene. "I think I can furnish you with a clue to the foundation of this extraordinary in terest," remarked Henri. "What was his general appearance? That of a coarse, ill bred person ?" "Far front that. He was quite tall, net over-fleshy, well dressed, and refined in bearing and language. His countenance betokened much illness at some early pe riod of his life or excessive dissipation." "Should ycur cross enamored friend call again, and I should much doubt if he ever does," said Henri, "I am the person with whom he must deal." "Why, with you, dear ?" "Because the object he is so extremely solicitous to possess has a mysterious his tory known only to myself." "And that mysterious history affords a key to the solution to theses:l - Jingly insane offer of fire hundred francs?" "I apprehended such to be the case. That cross was found upon a spot where, but a few days previously, a revolting crime had been committed. If my surmises are correct, this strange visitor of yours was the author of that crime. If so, he and that little red cross are old acquaintances, and he would readily sacrifice several times the five hundred francs to compass its pos session. Why ? Simply because soloug as it remains in other hands than his own, be is painfully conscious that it may at any moment rise up in judgment before him, and cost him the more irreparable sacrifice of his head." "And you have kept all this dark rays. tery from me," complained Irene. "I have, but will no longer. I have re frained from making you acquainted with the circumstances that are associated wiih my finding of the trinket solely from a fear that the knowledge might cause you to conceive a morbid disliketo it, and, as it is really a pretty toy, I like to see you wear it. And now for the mystery. Do you re member the murder, six years ago, of a nobleman of the name of Comte de St. Ar mande, in the Rue de Germaine ?" "Distinctly," replied Irene. "All Paris was thrilled with horror at the mystery and barbarity of the deed. But what associa tion can this cross have with that dreadful affair ?" "An intimate association. That cross was found by me on the identical spot of the murder, and but three days thereafter. If you will closely examine the underside. you will observe a small drilled bole at each extremity. From these holes lam led to infer that it was worn b the unknown as sassin on the fatal night in question ; and, furthermore, that it was wrenched from its fastenings by the hand of the hapless Comte in his dying struggle. Naturally enough, it fell to the ground, where I found it. To this day, in spite of the superhu man efforts of a by no means obtuse police, and the incentive of a fabulous reward by St. Armande's relatives, the murderer is undiscovered, and the whole affair remains wrapped in impenetrable mystery. After all these unrevealing years, who shall say that the coming together of this man and the cross is not the working of a retribu tive fate? Too well does the man of inex plicable fancy know that the little toy he so covets is adequate, if it falls into proper hands, to work the crucifixion of a great scoundrel." "Ugh !" shuddered •Irene. "And I have been wearing it all this time, and ad miring it, totally ignorant of the terrible thing its blood•red color symbolizes. I can wear it no longer. Here"—removing from her shrinking neck, the•chain by which it was suspended—"l can now view it with no interest but that of horror; and she threw it nervously into her husband's lap. "Why, you little fool!" slid Henri, in a jocose tone, "are you going to faint? Are you afraid of it?" It is just as harmless as it has been, and just as beautiful." "I do not fear it," replied Irene, shrink ing from it nevertheless. "I am not that foolish. But I dislike it. Its innocent charm is lost to me forever." After weighing the matter iu his mind until the specified week had nearly elapsed, Henri suddenly and sagely concluded to acquaint the prefect of police wiTh the story, in all its bearing, real and supposi tory. That astute functionary proved to be an intelligent and patient listener, and was only too glad to detail two subordinates to further a scheme that promised to re sult in the capture of the criminal who had succeeded in eluding the pursuit of jus tice. Early in the morning, a week sub sequent to that on which the supposed criminal had called, Henri sent Irene into the city on a visit to saute friends, with -the explicit understanding that she was not to return until he came for her. Fol lowing close upon her departure came the arrival of two gendarmes, who were forth with secreted in her but recently vacated bedroom, tbereafter to make their entree in the presence of the expected stranger or not, as he might not criminate himself in the interview with Henri. All the preliminary arrangements being made, our artist detective took station at the window, and behind his closed blinds became a silent and intense watcher. He HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1874. was a brave and resolute man; but, never theless, an occasional misgiving flitted across his mind. The business before him was of an extremely hazardous nature.— Should the supposed criminal prove to be the real criminal, his capture would be likely to be preluded by a desperate en counter. If fatal, fatal to whom ? Henri thought of this, then of Irene, and closed his eyes. Then he thought of the gen darmes in the next room, set his jaw, and in a spirit of grim defiance put all forebo dings from him. Morning, noon,afternoon and evening glided by with no result.— Henri yawned with impatient discourage ment. His allies took to the bedroom floor and played cards early in the forenoon.— Hitherto the excitement of the chase had been quite strong enough to sustain Hen ri's interest. But now would the expected not come at all ? A brief consultation with the officers, who adhered to the opinion that he would come, and was. much more likely to make his appearance within the next three hours than at any time previous during the day, especially if he was a rogue, and was not I•icking in the usual cunning. braced Ilenri somewhat. Lighting a lamp fur the quondam gamesters, and another for himself, be camped on the lounge.. He had got but comfortably settled, however, before a resonant rap on the street door brought him instantly to his feet. School ing himself to meet the probable crisis with quiet deliberation, he leisurely proceeded to the door and opened it. From Irene's graphic description he had no difficulty in recognizing his visitor. The expected man of the cross stood before him. His heart gave a tremendous thump against his breast; but his voice was steady and quiet as he saluted the stranger with "Good evening, sir." "Good evening, sir." responded the visitor, scrutinizing Henri closely. "Is the madame at home?" "My wife is the lady to whom you refer, I presume," said Henri. "She is nbsent on a visit. Can I serve you in anything? Will you not step in, sir ?" llenri threw the door wide open, that the man might see the room was vacant, and hence might imagine him to be aline. "Alt ! you are the husband of the lady," remarked the stranger, who, after peering in, walked' in. "•I have the honor. Pray be seated." '•I will trespass upon your hospitality but for a few moments—" "No trespass, I assure you. Solitude is not the best of companions." Without removing his hat the stranger took the proffered chair. "I can tarry but a short time," he said. "Probably your wife has informed you of an offer she re ceived a week ago, for a small fanciful cor nelian cross that was in her possession ?" "Yes, she did mention the matter to me and we both wondered at the strange fancy of the man, and the excessive price he offered." "Well," replied the stranger, with a forced laugh, "the fancy cannot matter to you; and as for the price, if you get it that ought to satisfy you on that point. lam the man, and I renew the offer." "Ah No, certainly not, the fancy does not concern us, of course not," and Henri eyed the stranger keenly. "But you know that unusual occurrences will set the least curious of mortals to surmising." "Of course, of course," said the stranger with strong symptoms of uneasiness "People cannot help thinking; that's what brains were made for. But to the point; if you still possess the cross, and will ex change it for the sum offered, that sum is yours. Your answer? You will excuse my seeming abruptness; I am pressed lib time and cannot daily." "I hold you perfectly excusable," said Henri, drawing the coveted cross from his pocket, and noting the eager flashing of the stranger's eyes as his gaze fell upon it. Deriding to thrust the probe home at once, he deliberately added : "Another reason, other than want of time, may exist to oc casion your abruptness, my friend—want of confider-ce." "What, sir !" ejaculated the man, start ing up in a threatening, apprehensive way. "What do you mean by that remark ?" "Listen, and I will tell you," replied Henri, fully convinced that he was on the right track, as his visitor indecisively sat down again. "Listen, and I will tell you what I mean. This cross, for which you have taken such an inexplicable fancy, came into my possession under very pecu liar circumstances—circumstances that in vest it with extraordinary interest."— Pausing a moment to note the effect of his language, Henri fixed his burning eyes on the stranger's. Speaking slowly and em phasizing every word, lie continued : "I found this cross on the 3d of January, 1849, en the Rue de Germaine, on the very spot on which three days previous, the Comte de St. Armande had been brutally murdered." During the utterance of the concluding words of the above, the countenance of the listening man underwent a most appalling change, and dreadful, indeed, as though he had heard the sentence for his immediate execution pronounced. The musoles of his face twitched convulsively. his miner jaw fell, and his eyes rolled in their sockets as though following the fantastic evolution of some horrid goblin. The paroxysm lasted but for a moment. By a superhuman effort of the will he re covered his faculties, sprang to his feet, and with the demoniac fury of a madman. dashed at Henri, hissing between his teeth, "D-you, the telling of that tale is your death-knell." Just as his muscular hand closed op pressively on Henri's throat, lie was vio lently jerked backwards, and Ibund himself in the tenacious clutches of the two gen darmes. "So, ho ! my fine fellow !" ejaculated one of the officers. •'We are altogether too deeply concerned for the future welfare of your soul to permit you to perpetrate such a crime. You have done. bad enough al ready to bring you to hanging, and that is quite sufficient for our purpose." The foiled villain glared suddenly from one to the other, and made no attempt to escape. "That is right," remarked the officer who spoke before. "Take it easy—shows you to be a philosopher and a man of com mon sense." The prisoner coolly folded his arms and stood silent. "Mmsieur Cardime," continued the of ficer, "as your friend seems to take kindly our interference with this little plan to avoid you a long resting spell, you will, with equal disinterestedness, provide us with a rope for his .benefit? Unluckily, we came from town and forgot to bring the professional bracelets—au uninter.tion al oversight which, I assure you," address ing the prisoner, "we deplore even more than you yourself can. In fact, we were rather uncertain of having the pleasure of your company on our return." "Nor will you have that pleasure," growled the hitherto quiescent captive, suddenly striking out with his two power ful arms, upsetting the officers, kicking over the table on which stood the light; and leaping out into the darkness. As he vanished, a bullet hissed by either ear, but he escaped unhurt. The report of the pistols hurried Henri back into the room from which he had gone in quest of a rope. "Quick !" exclaimed one of the officers. "The devil has outwitted and escaped us. We must be after bim at once. It is Le one Breme, the most reckless and feroci ous of the many cut throats who infested Paris six years ago. He most miraculous. ly disappeared aout the time of the St. Armande murder, and the department had given him up for dead. We must not al low him to have his length for a moment. Our first move is to lodge information at the three heads of the police department. Ile is an astute dogof infinite resource, and the whole force on the scent will hardly suffice to capture him." Breme was eventually taken. But so adroit was he that he contrived to remain. at large for three weeks after his escape from Cardone's house. He was tried, con demned, and executed fur the murder of St. Armande, several witnesses beingfuund who identified him, and testified to having seen fastened to his shirt bosom on the evening- of the murder that blood-red Cross. Irene was never afterward persuaded to wear it. It hung over the mantel in her boudoir, and many an evening visitor has been beguiled by Henri with a recital of the two dark epiodes in its history which are embodied in this story, and have de parted shuddering at its sanguinary hue. glrivitng tor At (-34 Our New York Letter, Culls, Bears, Finance—Society, Politicians —Balls—linmigration— The Poor—The Grant Trade. NEW YORK, Feb. 18, 187-1. WALL STREET-BULLS AND BEARS. I spent a day or two in Wall street this week, and learned somethidg. The man who learns anything ought to lose no time before, he communicates it to his fellows, hence I shall give what I learned to your readers at once. Do you know what a "bull" is, or a "bear," in Wall street? I spent two days learning. In Wall street a "bull" is an operator who believes he can push the price of any particular stock to a h.gher point. Take Toledo and Wabash, for instance. Sup pose it is selling at 48. The bull from certain indications believes it will go up to 50, or higher. He buys at 48, and then deliberately goes to work to put it up. He will lie like a—like a—politician--he will „invent bogus dispatches—he will spread Ireports of the death of Presidents of rail roads—publish bogus reports of the busi ness done—in short, there is no villainy Lid the range of lying, perjury and fraud that he will not commit to make that stock go to a figure above 48 The be — ar is the man who has sold the stock. I forgot to say that the bull buys the stock to be delivered at a certain date, say thirty days. Now, if on that date To ledo and Wabash is worth 50, the bear simply pays the bull the odd two—if, on the other hand it goes down to 46, the bull pays the bear the odd two. It thus becomes a struggle between them—the bear to toss it up, the bull to pull it down. The fight is deadly. The bear will get into the uewspape.ts alt sorts of stories con cerning the road. He will have Gov. Cox, the President, dead or stricken with par alysis, he will invent horrible accidents, and spread reports of defalcations and gross mismanagement. The bull practices tac tics precisely the reverse: The settlement is made on the basis of the selling price of the stock on the day named. Very frequently bears turn bulls. If a bear sees that it is impossible to pull down a stock, he frequently buys and becomes a bull to cover. This he can do, if he can buy more of the stocks than he has sold. These transactions very frequently in volve millions, and they embrace every thing under Heaven, Gold, Railroad and other stocks, grain, lumber, everything in fact that is merchantable is made the sub ject of their struggles. A "corner" is the buying of the entire stock of a corporation, or at least more than can be.delivered. Thus we will as sume that there are 50,000 shares of the Toledo Sc Wabash in all. The bears igno rant that a corner has been made in Wa bash, sell the stock to be delivered in, say thirty days, supposing that there is enough of it in the market to he had, to make do livery at a profit possible. The time ap proaches and they begin to look about to get the stock. They find to their dismay that there is not a share to be had; for the very good reason that the bulls have it all. They become frantic, but to no . purpose. The bulls hold, and run the price up to any figure they choose, to which the poor bears are compelled to submit. But don't suppose it is all plain sailing with the bulls! If the bears are strong enough they buy up one of the bulls, which makes a break and if they get a break made, Heaven help thebulls. It is war to the knife and no mercy is shown or expected. Watering stock is where a corporation becomes exceedingly profitable--too profi table, in fact, for the public to endure qui etly. Suppose a railroad having a monop oly makes money enough to declare divi dends of 20 per cant. The public would clamor for a reduction of fares, so the di rectors double the number of shares— watering the capital. There is no more capital than before, but they coil it more. If they double it, they declare 10 percent. dividends on $2,000,000, instead of 20 per cent. on' $1,000,000. It is all gambling of the most deplora ble kind. There are legitimate stock bro, kers, but the rule is gambling. SOCIETY Is fermenting in this city just now. Balls, parties, theatres, operas and entertain ments of all kinds are in full blast, and the fashionable people are worked terribly. By the way the New York belie is a hard worker during the season. She rises at noon, because she was out late the night before. She breakfasts in her room and dresses herself lig the afternoon round, She enters her carriage and drives to re ception after reception, until night has come, when she goes home, dresses herself in evening toilet, and again enters her car riage to make a round of three balls and a German, ending up at the last somewhere about three A. m. Then she goes to bed, sleeps till noon, and is up and at it again. And this is pleasure ! Were they compelled to do this for a living , there would be more strikes among thm than among the laborers. But they do it. POLITICIANS. A reputation in New York is a singular thing. Brennan, the Sheriff, indicted for the escape of Genet, and in jail therefor, has more friends among the controlling element than ever. Theshort-haired look upon Brennan as a martyr. The other night a ball was given in his honor, which was run by the most desperate villains in the city. But, mark you, the leading res pectable Democrats of the city were there, for they dare not stay away. Mr. Bren nan's broken-nosed adherents run the can cusses, and not one of these broad-cloth gentry could get a nomination if they op pose him. Therefore all these men attend the balls of the Brennan kind, and shake hands with them, and smile and fawn on the doubtful women they bring there. New York is under the control of the ruf fians, and the Democracy recognize the fact, and acknowledge their rule. There is no hope of anything good from this Nazareth. The country is the on:y sal vation. I MMIGRATION. The decline in immigration is now very marked. During the past week the total number of immigrants landad at Castle Garden was only 456, which is the small est number received in a single week for several years. But they are of a good class. Germany is largely represented. Sweden, Norway end Denmark, contribute their quota. The Scandinavians mostly go to the Northwest, the Germans to the Wes tern Middle States, while the Irish, as many as possible, stay in the large cities, where they can run grog-mills, and finally become Aldermen, contractors, and run things generally. TILE POOR Are suffering this winter. There is work enough in New York for 80 per cent. of the working men, so there is no occasion for much distress among those who have health and strength. But the sick and the weak are in a pitiable condition. Every day sick men.and women are found in the garrets of the over-crowded tenements and in the cellars as well, dying from hunger and cold. The soup houses are doing a great and good work in feeding the poor, but what good is a soup•house to a woman who cannot get to it ? It is estimated that 400 men sad women perished from cold and hunger in this city last week. Why any human being comes to or stays in a great city, is something beyond my com prehension. I don't know why lam here. Where one succeeds a thousand tails, and success here does not mean as much as it does anywhere else. THE GRAIN TRADE continues to excite especial attention. The fact is that New York ought to lose it, for she has never done anything, to foster it. All the grain that comes to this city is handled by hand—it has to be carted from the depot to the vessels and the cost of transfer almost eats it up. A movement is on foot to build tracks by the water - side—to erect elevators as in the Lake Cities, so that the grain can be taken out of the cars and loaded into vessels at slight cost. This is all that can possibly save the trade, and this will not do it unless the Erie Canal is enlarged and the exhor bitant tolls thereon lessened. Montreal, Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore all have superior facilities and they are taking the trade. Why don't the farmer's or ganizations take some action in the matter of the canals ? There is little use in look ing to New York for relief. . List of the Principal Poisons, with their Antidotes or Remedies. Oil of Vitrol, Aqua Fortis, Spirit of Salt—Magnesia, chalk, soap and water. Emetic Tartar—Oily drinks, 'Oudot) of oak bark. Salt of Lemons or Acid of Sugar— Chalk, whiting, lime, or magnesia and water. Sometimes an emetic draught. Prussic Acid—Pump on back, smelling salts to nose, artificial breathing, chloride of lime to nose. Pearl•ash, Soap Lees. Smelling-salts, Nitre, Hartshorn, Sal Volatile—Lemon juice, and vinegar and water. Arsenic, Fly Powder or White Arsenic, King's Yellow or Yellow Arsenic—Emet ics, lime water, soap and water, sugar and water, oily drinks. Mercury, Corrosive Sublimate, Calomel —Whites of.eggs, soap and water, Opium, Laudanum—Emetic draught, vinegar and water, dashing cold water on chest and face, walking up and down for two or three hours Lead, White Lead, Sugar of Lead, Cioulard's Extract—Epsom Salts, castor oil and emetics. Copper, Blue-stone, Verdigris—Whites of eggs, sugar and water., castor oil, gruel. Zinc—Lime-water, chalk and water, soap and water. - Iron--Magnesia, warm water. Henbane, Hemlock, Nightshade, Fox glove—Emetic and castor oil, brandy and water. if necessary. Poisonous Food---Emetics and castor oil.—Paine's Practice. Using the Flail When I was a boy, says the Danbury man, I laid the corner-stone of my wealth working flu- a farmer named Wiggins, in the neighborhood of Oriskany, New York. He was engaged drawing buckwheat from the field across the road from the barn, one day. For this purpose lie employed a yoke of oxen and a heavy sled. He used the sled because it was low, and easier to load and unload. I went with him to do this work. The day before he put me to work threshing with .a flail. A flail is two sticks united with a piece of leather, and the novice can never tell where the loose stick is going to strike . when he makes the blow. I never saw a flail be fore, but I saw others using them, and I was surprised to see how easily it was done At the first blow the 'loose stick flew around, and nearly carried away one of my ears. At the next, it caught the old gentleman on , the back of the head, and drove him over a haMbushel measure, and head long under the fanning mill. The hired men immediately threw me down and took the flail away, "Owing to John Robinson's circus being in town, the regular Thursday evening prayer•meeting has been postponed," said a recent number of the Enterprise, of Dallas, Texas. AN ignorant old lady was asked by a minister visiting her if she had religion. She replied: "I have slight touches of it occasionally." Tit-Bits Taken on the Fly Richmond claims 61,000 inhabitants. Spring robins are announced in Alleg heny. Philipsburg aspires to become a summer resort. Crow; have arrived to await the coming corn. The Emperor of Russia will visit Eng land next April. The Chicago Fire Department cost $25,000 in January. A New Hampshire fighting-cock has been sold for $2,u00. Old John Harper, of Kentucky, is re covering from his late illness. The women's temperance movement is under headway in Brooklyn, N. Y. £32,000 in bullion went into the Bank of England on &tardy on balance. Nubar Pasha, the favorite Minister of the Khedive of Egypt, is a Christian. The New York Mail calls the Old South Church the sacred blarney stone. Chicago orders a quarter of a million tons of ice for her drinks during the heat ed term. "The Lord's Day Gale" is Edmund C, Stedman's promised poem for tho April .atlantic. The Legislature of South Carolina has extended the time for the payment of taxes sixty days. • John T. Longley, sexton of a Baptist church in Troy, has embezzled $2,300 of the pew rents. Chicago has embarked in a silk-raising enterprise, locating its experimental colony in Misoissippi. General Irwin McDowel is expected soon to arrive in Augusta, Ga. : on a tour of inspection. An lowa farmer who has been married seven weeks offers to bet that his wife can whip a panther. The son, daughter and widow of G. P. R. James, the novelist, are residents of Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Julius Howe, of South . Carolina. who was imprisoned at Albany for Ku Klux crimes, has been pardoned. A large emigration of colored people from Georgia and other trans-Mississippi States is settling in Arkansas. The Arkansas river has made a cut off by which South Bend is left, and three miles travel for steamers saved. A Maine servant girl is serving her eighty-second winter under the same roof. She ought to live a couple of centuries. William Dennis, who shot Judge Belt in Stockton about five years ago died in the California Penitentiary on the 22d ult. A Pennsylvania man went out to get his boots heeled eight years ago, and as be has never returned his wife is becoming Uneasy. There is a question of veracity now be tween the board of charities and the trus tees of the Pennsylvania State Lunatic Hospital. It is proposed to dispense with the St.. Patrick's day's parade in New York this year, and to give the money for the relief of the poor. A New Castle boy named James Hollis fell from a pair of stilts the other day and received injuries from which he died the next morning. PIETRO, Nearly three and one-fourth million bush els of coal go out on the present rise, from Pittsburgh. More than half of this is for Louisville. Conductor Westfall, of the Honesdale Branch, has applied for a patent for an automatic car-coupler. It is greatly prais ed by railroaders. Grace Greenwood is absent from Wash ington, and she says her constant fear is that Congress will say something fine or funny during her absence. In Mississippi the Lieutenant Governor, Secretary of State, Superintendent of Pub lic Education and the Speaker of the House of Representativeiare negroes. A western paper says: •'Mark Twain sets up to be the only true and genuine person who did not write tho Saxe-Holm stories All the balance are frauds." The total value of the imports to Pitts burgh since the establishment of that city as a post of entry, was $151,345, upon which there was paid a duty of $57,582. A Carbondale belle dropped her wire symmetry in crossing a muddy street, and a gallant Irishman handed it to her with the remark, "Madam, here's your muzzle." James Hasson convicted in Philadelphia in January, 1871, of rape and sentenced the succeeding month to 7 years an I 9 months, has been pardoned by the Gover nor. The Court of Pittsburgh has decided that the new city charter was unconstitu tional, and issued an order restraining the Council Committee from making appor tionment under it. An Allegheny man relieves the mono tony of Sunday morning by burning the soot out of his chimney, which has the ef fect of waking up hisneighbors and setting them to moving out their furniture. The daughter of a man named Brown, of Erie county, died on Thursday. When the father found that she was no more he reeled like a drunken man, fell to the floor and in a few minutes was dead. Rev. D. R. Miller, endowment agent i f the Ottenbein University of the United Brethorn church, pleads through the col umns of the Religious Telescope, for the en dowment of a lady's professorship in that institution. Mr. Milburn, the blind preacher, has been called upon for his popular lecture, on "Aaron Burr," President Grant, Speak er Blaine, Gen. Sherman and members of the Cabinet heading the list of subscribers to the invitation. A dispatch from Paris, France, an nounces the death in that city last Satur day night of Dr. Richard H. Rudd,. a prominent physician of Louisville, Ken tucky. Dr. Rudd went -abroad a month since for the benefit of his health. The oil well recently struck on the Mc- Cafferty farm, Butler county, and owned by Mr. R. M. Harper and Mr. Cochran, of North Washington, and Messrs. J. H. and A. C. Henderson, or Pittsburgh, is now producing fire hundred barrels per day. NO. 8. routtil tht [Original.] The Universe of God Far back in the gloomy past, beyond the reach of human sight, "when the morn ing stars united in harmonious song, and the angels of God shouted for joy around His heavenly throne;" the universe was the busy workshop of the Almighty in which were presented the changes of cre ation and decay. The Supreme Author of the universe, high exalted in the heav ens, surveys, with Omnicient eye, the vast structure of the uoiverse of God. He calls forth from the abyss of darkness myriads of worlds, and sets them in grand and ceaseless revolution throughout the regions of immensity. Suns are brought into ex istence cast their rays of golden light around them and dispel the darkness from the face of Nature ; then wane and pass en to their setting place, while eternity, with all its mysteries and wonders, like the mighty ocean, rolls onward with un ceasing flow. With what powerful force does the thought strike the soul as we stand at midnight's dreary hour, and gaze among the shining orbs of Heaven—that thus for unceasing ages Omnipotence has continued to control armies of the sky, and direct the wonderful works of His hands. We, of small capacity and limited understanding, in the covetous cases and selfish interests of life, are inclined to se gard our earth as the last offer of human existence—the only centre of life intelli gence. We conceive of God as having very limited views even in the creation of the universe and of man ; we conceive Him as having bestowed life and intelli gence—the richest boons of Heavenly gift—only upon the insignificant race that inhabits the earth, while all the vastness of his great dominions remains uninhabited and void, where darkness and eternal si lence only reigns and no human voice is heard to break the unutterable silence that there prevails. Yet if we could but break the spell of vision by which our mortal sight is bound, might we not then behold the heavenly worlds peopled with countless numbers of intelligent beings, active:) , en gaged in the busy scenes of life ? How delightful the thought that in those far off worlds perchance, dwell a people who have never yet incurred the wrath of an angry God, but whose years are crowned with happiness and peace untarnished with mis ery and sin. . . . . . - How overwhelming is the thought that tLe universe is unbounded in extent ! that myriads are joined to myriads, and yet no end is visible; where worlds on worlds arise to the very vestibule of Him who rides upon the circles of eternity, and stretch away in endless perceptive until the mind is lost in vain endeavors to com prehend the awful majesty of him who created and governs so vast an empire. Love Love !—the master passion of life ! the grand. the beautiful dream whose echo tone follows us as hidden music down the journey of life, whose memory is a never forgotten poem, filled with the rarest and sweetest perfumes of the heart's past; a faded flower whose freshness and morning dew have vanished, but whose odors still remain, reminding the lonely of the beau• ties that were ; of the song that never dies; of the youth that cannot grow old ; of the days of hope. when the slumbering soul was first awakened to dreams and aspira tions that can never fade away, and filled the world with beauties it knew not before. Oh! sweet to me still was the tone that was gentlest and dearest to me in that far off past, though I wander away from the scenes where I first learned to interpret its mystic power. Sweet is the memory awak ened as I recall the glorious visions that appeared before my youthful eyes. In the grand sublimity of my ideal world I live them over again, and each hope-flower blooms with the freshness of that happy spring time. No withering buds, no blighted flowers greet me then, when bright-winged fairies wave me their magic wands, gild the past with golden light.— No sickening sense of loneliness or broken plight steals over MC when I go back to that happy dream of love. The real is forgotten as I listen to the musical mur murs that surge up from the long ago.— I catch no more the wails of a heart crush ed and bleeding; this memory alone re mains to me—the undying essence of a sad, sweet dream. Oh deeply I drank tram the chalice of bee Bat it held no poison for me. 'Twos pore as the snow-flake that falls from above, And as holy as holy could be. Then why should I sigh that my lova was crossed ? Mayhap I am happier so; For I now hold that can never be lost— The cherished dreams of bog ago! 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 for fear of the Jews. It is many a man's temptation to disown Christ in a throng offashion, or in the press of secular vacation. Bat let it be remembered that the truths of Christ, the name of Christ, the ordinances of Christ, the Sabbaths of Christ, are an honor tohis people. Everything which associates with Christian service is honorable and ele vating. The apostles were not ashamed of Christ, though they were persecuted fur his sake. They owned him because they loved him; they preached him; the fol lowed him ; they suffered tbr him. And men by multitudes were saved by their-in strumentality. Let Pagans be ashamed of their timber gods; let Turks be ashamed of their Mahomet ; let Normons be ashamed of their brass; btit not let Christains be ashamed of Christ, or of any of his truths, or of any of his requirements.—Recorder. Little Thingi. From the highest point of view—that is from God's point of view—to him, noth ing is great, nothing small, as we measure it. The worth and the quality of action depend not on its prominence, or on any other accidents which we are always apt to adopt as the tests of the greatness of our deeds. The largeness Of the conse quences of anything we do is no measure of the true greatness or true value of it. . So it is in regard to God himself and his doings. To him, for his loftiness, there is nothing high ;to him. for his gentle ness, there is nothing low. He as gladly stands by the sick bed, and binds up the broken-hearted, as ho "telleth the number of stars." SUBSCRIBE for the JouRNAL.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers