VOL. 49
The Huntingdon Journal.
J. H. DURBORROW
upY., 0,8 the Corner of Fifa and Washington greets.
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AP. W. JOHNSTON, Surveyor and
• Civil Engineer, Huntingdon, Pa.
OFFICE: No. 113 Third Street. aug21,1872.
pit. H. W. BUCHANAN,
DENTIST,
No. 22S 11111 Street,
HUNTINGDON, PA.
July 3,'72,
ll CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Lair,
•So. 11 street. Office formerly occupied
by Messrs. Woods & Lapl2,ll.
DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGII, offers his
professional services to the community.
Office, No. 523 Washington street, one door east
of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan. 4,71.
J. GRE'r.LNE, Dentist. Office re-
A 2.4• moved to Leister'e new building, Hill street
fr,ttingdon. , [jan.4,7l.
el L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
• Ilt,en's new building, No. 520, Hill St.,
Huntingdon, Pa.
HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law
• Office, No. —, Hill !street, Huntingdon,
Pa- [ap.19,71.
JFRANKLIN SCHOCK, Attorney
• at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Prompt attention
given to all legal business. Office 229 Hill street,
corner of Court House Square. [dec.4,'72
JSYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at
• Law. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street,
hrue doors west of Smith. Dan.4'7l.
CEI NLMERS JACKSON, Attor
tlP • ney at Law. Office with Win. Dorris, Esq.,
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All legal business promptly attended to. Lisnlb
It. DURBORROW, Attorney-at-
J• Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the
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attention given to the settlement of estates of dece
dents. _
Office in he JOURNAL Building. 1feb.1,71
T W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
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Office on Bill street. [jan.4,ll.
S. GEESSINGER, Attorney -at-
L• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office one door
East of It. M. Speer's office. [Feb.s-ly
J. HALL )I.cssEtt.
K. AL.?' Lovetx.
L OVELL & MUSSER,
Attorneys-at-Lail',
licsrtsoo" PA,
Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all
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[inay3l,7l.
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HUNTINGDON, PA
J. H. CLOVER, Prop.
April 5, 1871-Iy.
Miscellaneous.
ROBLEY, Merchant Tailor, in
H
Leister's Building (second floor,) Hunting
don, Pa., respectfully solicits a. share of public
patronage from town and country. [0ct16,72.
A. BECK, Fashionable Barber
R• and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the
Franklin House. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades
kept on handand for sale. [apl9,'7l—Cm
HOFFMAN & SKEESE,
Manufacturers of all kinds of CHAIRS,
and dealers in PARLOR and KITCHEN FURNI
TURE, corner of Fifth and Washington streets,
Huntingdon, Pa. All articles will be sold cheap
Particular and prompt attention given to repair
ing. A share of public patronage is respectfully
solicited. Den.ls;73y
- WM. WILLIAMS,
MANUFACTURER OF
MARBLE MANTLES, MONUMENTS.
HEADSTONES, &C.,
HUNTINGDON, PA
STER PARIS CORNICES,
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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."
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