VOL. 49 The Huntingdon Journal, J. P.. DIJRBORROW, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. Oifive on the Corner of Fifth and Washington rtreete. Tax llnstuannoa JOURNAL is published every Wednesday, by J. It. DURBORROW and J. A. NASH, under the firm name of J. It. DURBORROW .t Co., at 82.00 per annum, is ADVANCE, or $2.50 if not paid for in eta months from date of subscription, and $3 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, enless at the option of the publishers, until all arrearagee are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-HALF CENTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CENTS forthe second, and FIVE cetivs per line fur all subsequent inser tions. ..--• Regular quarterly and yearly business advertise ments will be inserted at the following . rates : 3m 6m Omlly 900 18 00 $ 271$ 36 24 00 3616 NI 65 34 0016900 65 SO ,36 00100 00 80 100 I 3nal 60119 m lc °° nal 4 501 551: 2 " 5001 0)10 1800 A 3 " 00 10 00 14 001113 001% c 4 " 800 1100 2000 21. 1 ol 1 Local notices will be inserted at FIFTEEN CENTS per line for each and every insertion. All Resolutions of Associations, Communications of limited or individual interest, all party an nouncements,and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notiees will he charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. All micertieing.accounte are due and collectable rhea the adrertisement ie ease inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— liand-bills, Blanks, Cards. Pamphlets, Ice., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and every thing in the Printing line will be execu ted in the most r rtistic manner and at ilw lowest rates. Professional Cards . AP. W. JOHNSTON, Surveyor and • Civil Enzineer, Minting...lon. Pa. Orrice: So. 111 Third Street. aug2l,lS7l DR. 11. W. BUCHANAN, DENTIST, :Co. 223 Hill Street, TIUNTINGDON, PA, July 3, I) CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, • N O . 111, ad street. (Mice formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Williamson. [apl2;7l. DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, otters his professional services to the community. Ohre, No. 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan.4,'7l. EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re • moved to Leieter's new building, Hill street Prrntingdon. Dan.4,'7l. CI L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. ' , LA • Br, wn's new building, No. no, mu St., Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2,"ll. TT C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law 1i• °See, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon, Po. [np.19,71. X FRANKLIN SCHOCK, Attorney %, • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Prompt attention given to all legal business. Office 229 Hill street, eorner of Court House Square. idec.4;72 JSYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, hree doors west of Smith. [jan..47l. J• CHALMERS JACKSON, Attor• • ney M Law. (Moe with Wm. Dorris, Esq., No. 403, Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. All legal business promptly attended to. panls It. DURBORROW, Attorney-at- J• Law, Huntingdon, Ps., will practice in the several Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of °litotes of dece dents. Office in he JOURNAL Building. [feb.l,7l. W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law J • and General Claim Agentilluntingdon, Pa., Sohiders' claims against the Government for back pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ed to with great care and promptness. Office on Hill street. Dan.4,'7l. S. GEISSINGER, Attorney -at- L• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. 4E. one door Easit of R. M. Speer'• office. geb.s-ly J. HALL MUSSER. K. ALLEN LOVELL. L OVELL & MUSSER, Attorneys-at-Law, HUNTINGDON, PA. Special attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settlement of ESTATES, Ao. ; and all other legal business prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch. in0v6,72 RA. ORBISON, Attorney - at-Law, • Office, 321 11111 street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l;7l. JOHN SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. M. BAILET QOOl7, BROWN & BAILEY, At torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, an•l all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against the Gorernment will be promptly prosecuted. oMce on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. -Nv-ruaAm A. FLEMING, -Attorney at-Law, lluutingdon, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other hgal business attended to with care and promptness. Office, Nu. 22V, Hill street. (ap 1:1,7 I. Hotels. JACKSON HOUSE, POUR DOORS EAST OF TUE UNION DEPOT, HUNTINGDON, PA A.B. ZEIGLER, Prop. N0v12,73-6m. A. joßrasoN HOUSE, OPPOSITE PENNSYLVANIA R. R. DEPOT TIUNTINGDON, PA J. 11. CLOVER., Prop. April 5, 1871-Iy. Miscellaneous. TT ROBLEY, Merchant Tailor, in • Leister's Building (second Hunting don, Pa., respectfully solicits a Aare of public patronage from town and country. [0ct111,72. A. BECK, Fashionable Barber R• and Hairdresser, Hill street, opposite the Franklin Howse. All kinds of Tonics and Pomades kept on bandana for sale. [apl9,'7l-6m 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 gircn to repair ing. A shlre of public patronage is respectfully solicited. [jan.ls;73y WM. WILLIAMS, MANUFACTURER ON MARBLE MANTLES, MONUMENTS. HEADSTONES, &C., HUNTINGDON, PA• STER PARIS CORNICES, MOULDINGS. ALSO SLATE MANTLES FURNISHED TO ORDER. Jan. 4, 'IL Go TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE For WI klivin of print;ng. FOR ALL KINDS OF PRINTING, 00 TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE -., 1 : -.. co A . t.. . , .....„, ..:s .i. , t,.. .. .t. 1 I. . AL 4 , ' V , I, iTM - t, T ... ~ : . ' ..1 i • 4 4'• I l• 7 • , . ~.i. ., i t k 17, -ig i t . 4 .1--. ilt,p, t, . , , It_ r. agl e pugs' eater. The New Church Organ. J. A. NASH, BY WILL. M. CARLETON. They've got a bran new organ, Sue, For all their fuss and search ; They've done just what they said they'd do, And fetched it into church. They're bound the critter shall be seen, And on the preacher's right They've hoisted up their new machine In everybody's sight. They've got a chorister and choir, Ag'in my voice and vote; For it was never my desire To praise the Lord by note ! I've been a sister good an' true For five-an'-thirty year; I've done what seemed my part to do, An' prayed my duty clear; I've sung the hymns both slow and quick, Just as the preacher read, And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick, I took the fork an' led! And now their bold, new-fangled ways Ts comin' all about; And I, right in my latter days, Am fairly crowded out! To-clay the preacher, good old dear, With tears all in his eyes, Read, "I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies." I al'ays liked that blessed hymn— I s'pose I al'ays will; • It somehow gratifies my whim, In good old Ortonville ; But when that choir got up to sing, I couldn't catch a word; They sung the most dog-goudest thing A body ever heard ! Some worldly chaps was standin' near, An' when I see them grin, I bid farewell to every fear And boldly waded in. I thought I'd chase their tune along, And tried with all my might; Rut though my voice is good and strong, I couldn't steer it right; When they were high, then I was low, An' also contrawise ; An' I too fast, or they too slow, To ' mansions in the skies." An' after every verse, you know, They play 5. little tune; I uidn't understand, an' so I started in too soon. • I pitched it pretty iniddliu' high, I fetched a lusty tone, Bu' oh, alas ! I founi that I Was singin' there alone! They hught d a little,! am told: But I had done my nest, And not a wave of trouble rolled Across my peaceful breast. And Sister Brown—l could but look— She sits right front of me; She never was no singin'-hook, An' never meant to be ; But then she :Ways tried to do The best she could, she said; She understood the time right through, An' kept it with her bead ; But when she tried this moruin', oh, I had to laugh, or cough ! It kept her head a-bobbin' so, It e'en a'moat came off! An' Deacon Tubbs—he all broke down, As one might well suppose ; Be took one look at Mister Brown, And meekly scratched his nose. He looked his hymn-book through and through And laid it on the seat. And then a pensive sigh he drew, And looked completely beat. An' when they took another bout, Be didn't even rise, But drawed his red bandanner out An' wiped his weepin' eyes. I've been a sister, good an' true, For five-an'-thirty year; I've done what seemed ray part to do, An' prayed my duty clear; But death will stop my voice, I kaow, For be is on my track ; And some day I to church will go, And never more come back; And when the folks get np to sing— When'er that time shall be— I do not want a patent thing A-squealin' over me ! glu Mor2-Zeller, FAIIIP:D. BY I'AULE PLUME. Just outside the quiet little town of B—, resided Mr. Childers and his wife. Once he had been wealthy, but bad mis management or a want of prudence, or something of that sort, had left him with less than one-fourth of what he was orig inally possessed. He had two daughters, Cora and Lucretia, who possessed very great beauty; and Mr. and Mrs. Childers ought to have considered themselves blest, by having children amiable and popular, as well as pretty. But an extraordinary fioality. that appeared to attend the sis ters, a .on converted the happiness of the parents into inexpressible misery. • The only difference observable in the characters of the sisters was, that the sus ceptible Cors was more disposed to melan choly, while the lively Lucretia was all spirits and gaiety. The vivacity of the latter seemed insensibly to bias the hearts of her patents in her favor. It was as though her disposition held forth to them pro-pests of brighter happine-s than her sister's, and the unfortunate Cora was too early destined to verify their gloomy fore bodings. The parents, who were fond of company. had nut watched the first dawn ing t.ftlie passions and ideas in the minds of their children, with that fond anxiety by which many a dangerous preponderance might probably have been prevented.— They carefully avoided everything that tended to disturb the even tenor of their lives; atra hence It — Was natural that they should be better pleased with the merry Lucretia titan with her-reserved sister.-- Hence Cora, thrown back still more upon herself, had but ton much occasion to in dulge in a propensity to reverie, which of ten bordered upon melancholy. With feelings naturally quick and pro found, she combined in her affections all the ardor and energy of the warmer cli mates, and these affections fell unfortu nately on an object, which, though from intrinsic merits not unworthy of her, was yet greatly her inferior according to the established notions of civilized society. It was a young person, who was gener ally known in the garlance of the initiated as a 'sporting man," for whom she con ceived an attachment. Mindful of his own station he would not have ventured to raise his eyes to a female so far removed from him ; but she, on the other hand, seemed attached to him by a magic spell, which appeared impossible for her to dis miss. She met him frequently in her walks, and the expression of a peculiar kindness which unknown to herself, beam ed front her countenance, could not fail at length to attract the notice of Urban Barclay. He, too, now ventured to fix his eyes upon hers, lich were riveted with such intense interest upon him ; and where is the man whose heart, however so unas suming, would not hare been encouraged by such a discovery. He was struck with her loveliness, and thoughts and feelings began to arise within him which filled his own mind with amazement and dismay. It was not long before they contrived opportunities of conversing together again and again; and Cora found that her be loved Urban possessed a tender heart, gen erous sentiments, and good natured, though uncultivated abilities. All this served to raise her fondness for him to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. She regarded not I the station he occupied in society, but re solved to be his, or never give her hand to any man, while he was tossing about on an ocean of dreams of a happiness which he' could not have anticipated, and of wishes which he dare scarcely own to himself. Cora needed nothing but the consent of her parents to be supremely happy. She threw herself at their feet, confessed her passion for Urban Barclay, and implored their pardon and their blessing. Mr. and Mrs. Childers, however, viewed the connection in a very different light from that in which the young enthusiast beheld it. They had placed upon the set tlement of their daughters all the hope of their latter years, and, pale with horror, they looked aghast at each other,and burst into impassioned lamentations on the an guish which they were doomed to experi ence lion. the misconduct of their child. This was a thunderbolt to the tender heart of the susceptible Cora. During her whole life.it had been her chief study to give pleasure to her parents, and now she was all at once doomed CO hear that' she rendered them miserable. In the in toxication of her unhappy passion, it had never occurred to her that she would grieve them by this romantic attachment, and Lucretia, who might perhaps at first I have given it a different direction, as the two sisters placed unbounded confidence in each other, happened just at the time to be absent from home. Love had meanwhile gained such an ascendency in her heart, that it could not bare sacrificed that sentiment at the shrine of filial duty without bre.►king. From the resistance which it encountered, - her pas sion now assumed a more heroic character, and instead of the hope which she had hitherto obscurely indulged, of raising her lover by the aid of her parents to a better position in society, she now felt sufficient courage to descend herielf to his level. With a flood of tears she merely besought her parents not to deny her their blessing. She declared to her parents that she wish ed not for the smallest portion of their property, that she would gladly share the !ot of her lover, be it bright or dark, if' she could but enjoy the happiness of be ing the wife of the man to whom she was attached with inexpressible fervor, for she well knew that his heart had not conceiv ed any idea of deriving advantage from her fortuue. Her parents, who were only the more incensed to see their daughter so positive ly disregard their wishes, made her feel the full weight of their indignation. They called her passion mewl and disreputable, and even banished her for a time from their presence.. This was too much for the tender heart of Cora whom they left in a state more resembling death than life. Their anger oppressed her with alniost annihilating force, and the expression of disdain with which they quitted her, gave her a dread ful foretaste of the universal contempt which would be her future portion. On the other hand, her love only acquired new energy, as she turned to the image of her lover, whom she worshipped with all the intensity of her nature. Such were the thoughts and feelings that now distracted her. No sympathizing soul was near her, for even the servants, dreading the tempest that raged in the minds of her parents, ventured not to ap proach the unhappy exile. She dare not go in quest of her lover, nor indeed did she know where to find him, as his busi ness made his life a rather rambling one. She was, besides, forbidden to stir abroad. Towards evening she went into the garden by the side of the house, with a basket on her arm, in which she was accustomed at that hour to select fruit and vegetables for the next day's dinner. She pursued unconsciously her wonted way, but this time she left the herbs, fruit and flowers, and strolled to the lower end of the garden, which sloped towards the river. Here she stood with her eye in tently fixed on the water, which whirled along in wild eddies at her feet. The flowers which she used to tend ex haled their most fragrant odors, and waved their many-colored heads, as if to disdain her in the scene of beauty. The blooming shrubs clung to her . garment, and wound themselves around her feet to hold her back, but in vain, Her broken heart, her spirit oppressed with gloom, longed for rest, and the impetuous waves hurried her away in their cold, yielding bos.m. One swift, wild, desperate plunge, with no eye but Heaven's to note the deed—and all was over. AA she did not return, and one of the maid-servants declared that she was seen going towards the ricer, her offended pa rents began to grow uneasy, and dread the consequences of her despair. Search and inquiries were instantly made, and it was not until a late hour that some fishermen, who were several miles down the river, perceived by the last Lint gleam of twi light, her white garments, which had caught and held fast by the bushes that overhung the margin or the stream. All the efforts that were commonly em ployed to_ restore animation were used, but without effect. Life had fled forever from her gentle bosom. Urban Barclay, the unfortunate cause of her sufferings, heard the melancholy tidings on his return to town, from which he had been absent sev eral days. Regardless of everything around him, he seemed wholly absorbed in grief for her who had devoted herself to him with such ardent affection. The night succeeding the day upon which Barclay received the news of Cora's death, a report of fire arms was heard in his chamber, and he was discovered with his brains literally blown from his head. The grief into which this catastrophe plunged Mr. and Mrs. Childers and Lu cretia, for a long time estranged them from every pleasure. All the hopes of the pa rents were now fixed exclusively on bu ' cretin—on her whom their secretpartiality had ever preferred to the unfortunate Cora ; and Lucretia, rich in charms of mind and person, seemed fully to justify those hopes. Her choice fell upon a gentleman who was in every respect her equal in rank and fortune. Not only her parents, but ev erybody else admitted that there coultrilot be a more suitable match, though the for mer felt a secret dislike to the man to whom their most precious jewel, their own beloved daughter, was to be consigned. But having had reason to repent most bit terly their too great harshness towards one of their children, they thought to make amends for it by so much the more indul gence towards the other. Lucretia pas sionately loved the matt of her choice. They strove, therefore, to suppress their HUNTING-DON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18, 1874 dark.presentiments, and gave their consent to a match which was to confer happiness on the lovers, and the consummation of which depended only on some family ar rangements. They knew not exactly themselves what it was that occasioned their dislike to Gilbert Webbe. He was accomplished in mind, person and manners; but his features wore an expression of selfishness, rather than goodness of heart. Excessive indulgence had probably spoiled his dispo sition at an early age. The only child of wealthy parents, he was accustomed to consider himself as the oentre of all the wishes, and all the efforts of those about him ; and thus all his caprices and pas sions were gratified without the slightest opposition. Whatever ho took into his head, he would have done, no matter how much others might suffer by it, so it spared him the mortification of the slightest self denial. Lucretia thought it no hardship to give way to all his hUmors, as she wa.saccus towed to regard everything in life on the favorable side; and in this respect also the match was considered as well assorted. But this very abnegation of the innocent girl rendered her more liable to incur the displeasUre of her lover, before the slight estsuspicion of the kind had entered her mind. She had never remarked jealousy in him, nor did .she imagine that he could ever harbor that passion. He knew that he was the idol of her soul, and the -con sciousness of her own purity rendered her the less scrupulous. about appearances. Webbe -had le't home for a few days. and during his absence a young and handsome stranger, named George Montague, called on Mr. Childers with letters of recomnien dation. They were pleased with their vis itor., and neither they nor their daughter deemed it at all indecorous to take many a little excursion with him into the adjacent country, or to accompany hint to the play. The presence of her parents on all these occasions scented to secure the young lady from all imputation. One evening Lucretia and her mother were alone in a box at the theatre with the interesting stranger. The latter knew and respe , .ted the floting on which he stood to Gilbert Webbe; but, as a man of the world, he thought there was no harm in testifying the interest excited in him, by the amiable girl, with whom, but far that prior conLectiou, he might have wish ed to be more intimately aequa:nted. He was standing behind her chair, deeply en raged in conversation with her, while her mother was similarly employed with an acquaintance in the next box, when Webbe, who had returned before he was ex pected, entered the parquet. . . . His ardent looks were soon fixed en the box which contained Lucretia. An offi cious tell-tale had already informed him of Lueretia's excursions with the wealthy visitor, and not only his affection, but also his self love was severely wounded by this intelligence. He now beheld her engaged between the acts in f:miliar conversation with him; the glass which he employed seemed too dull to follow each of ,their looks. His blood boiled, and he could scarcely await the conclusion of the piece. At length the curtain fell, and Lucre tia, hanging on the left arm of Montague, who had given his right to her mother, was proceeding to the carriage which was awaiting them, when a well-known, but now terrific voice cried out, "Halt, faithless wretch !" And before Lucretia could distinguish the figure of Gilbert Webbe, he rushed through the crowd and stabbed her just below the heart. With a shriek of pain and horror, she sank into the arms of her trembling moth• er. The assassin was immediately secured; in fact, he made no resist-ace. In a state of insensibility Lucretia was ccnveyed to her home, where, upon examination, the wound was found to be deep, but not mor tal. She complained not of the pain she suffered, her only concern being for Gil bert Webbe's fate. Whenever she thought of it she reproached herself in the severest manner, because she had innocently given him occasion for committing the outrage. She was incessantly engaged in devising means for alleviating his situation. All her little savings she expended on delica cies, which she sent to him in prison, and as soon as she was able to go abroad, she ceased not her entreaties until she obtain ed permission to visit him there. On entering the gloomy cell in which he had hitherto passed his joyless days, her whole soul flew to meet hint ; bat though he was thoroughly convinced that her heart bad not harbored even a shadow of infidelity, still his wounded self love could not pardon her having given the slightest appearance of it to the world. Nay, all the afflicting proafs of her affec tion lavished on - him during the whole of his imprisonment, drew from him but faint thanks and superficial excuses liar his crime. "But how was it ?" asked one of the officers of justice, who had procured Lu. cretia and her mother admission to the prisoner, •how was it that you turned the murderous weapon against your future wife and not against him whom you sup posed to be favored by her ? For nature herself has implanted in the character of man such a respect for the weaker sex, that he never attacks the woman whom ho regards as faithless, but only his rival." 'And now," cried Webb; with a Sa tanic grin, 'diow if, while we sacrifice one another, the faithless woman should forget both me and my victim, and become the wife of the third ? No, no ; the trusty dagger planted in the bosom of the false one guarantees me against that, and as sures me that no other shall possess her if I cannot." While he uttered these words. Lucretia felt as though the deggar was piercing her heart. The deliberation evinced by his cruel and ungenerous sentiment filled her with horror, and in spite of herself, transform ed her ardent attachment into alienation and even abhorrence. At length he was liberated on bail. Love had forever fled from the heart of Lucretia, but neither had it henceforward any place for joy. A slow, consuming melancholy had succeeded her former gay ety. Her parents beheld with anguish their darling drooping to the grave, and they could not flmd tuck with her steadi ly rejecting all Webbe's overtures for re newing their former connections. Their melancholy thoughts now turned more frequently to the unfortunate Cora, and to her choice, which they had so rig idly condemned, and which they now con trasted with that of Lucretia. Their de ceased daughter reposed by the side of an adoring lover, who, they now admitted, not without painful remorse, might have made her at least a happy wife t even had her station been something obscure. Their living child had chosen a monster who destroyed her piece of mind forever. About this time a young cousin named Walton, who had been absent abroad for a number of years, returned to his native town. He appeared like a messenger from heaven to the sorrowing parents. Lucre tia and himself in their childhood had al ways manifested an extraordinary fondness for each other, and they hoped that he might perhaps dispose her heart to a new and happier attachment. Walton, naturally of a tender and af fectionate disposition, was exactly adapted to the office. It was with the utmost deli cacy that ho approached her wounded heart, and though that heart, owing to the painful mistake into which it bad al ready fallen, withstood every new impres sion with extraordinary perseverence, yet it was soothed by the society of the sym pathizing friend of her youth. She re garded him as a dear brother from whom she had long been separated, and began by degrees to find same relief in the connnu nication of her feelings and ideas. Lucretia had always taken particular delight in the beauties of nature. Walton was now the companion of her solitary walks, and her parents felt that she was safe under his protection. 01. e day site concluded him to her sister's grave. She, as well as her parents load, since her own misfortune, thou g ht wore frequently of the heplees Cora, and she reproached her self with having thought so little of her beloved sister during the happy days of her passion. One lovely afternoon Walton and Lu cretia sauntered out fur a stroll, and the hitter involuntarily led the way to Cora's grave. Lucretia sighed as she stood be side the hillock. `•How solitary, how neglected," she sighed, "is thy grave. my poor sister - ? Nut a stone or any friendly mark points out where thou repasest. Is this all the reward for thy faithful attachment ?•' "Aly dear cousin, cried Walton, affec tionately taking her hand, '-do not give yourself up thus, I entreat you. Strive to control your sadness." "Gh! my cousin," she replied, with im passioned warmth, 'Allis spot will ever be dear to me; ever will my lov--" "Thy love ! Ha! traitress !" Such were the words that all at once resounded in Gilbert Webbe's terrific voice. Like an evil spirit he had watched Lucre tia's motions, and at this moment rushed from the thicket behind Walton. He had not heard Walton's gentle supplication; he only saw his tender look and attitude, and heard the commencement of her reply, which alluded, as he imagined, to a pas sion for her-cousin. He dashed impetuously forward, and be fire they had time to turn around, his dagger, aimed this time with greater pre cision, was buried deep in the heart of Lucretia Childers, who, streaming with blood, sank on the grave of her lamented sister. hr the pan. A Personal Explanation. Senator Scott's Reply to the Standers of the Phil adelphia "Press." In the United States Senate on Friday, Hon. John Scott rose to a personal expla nation, as follows : Mr. Scott—Mr. President, I send to the Chair, and ask' to have it read, a very .brief extract from a paper called the Leb anon Courier, published at. Lebanon, Penn sylvania. The President pro tempore—lt will be read if there be no objection. The Chair hears none. The Chief Clerk read as follows: "But our other Senator, Hon. John Scott, am sorry to state, took side with the contractionists, giving as a reason (if cor rectly reported) that he believed it to be the only means of bringing about resump tion of specie payment, and that it would tend to reduce wages so as to enable our manufacturers to compete successfully with those of, foreign countries. This means, in plain English, exactly what Mr. Killinger says, to reduce our producing classes to the level with the pauper labor of Europe." . . Mr. Scott—That article refers to a re port, and says that I occupied a certain position, •'if correctly reeported." For the purpose of showing the origin of the report, I send to the Chair alsn an article, a very brief extract from which I have marked, contained in the Philadelphia Press of February 21, 1874, and ask to have it mid. The President pro temporc—lt will be read if there be no objection. The Chief Clerk read a ., follows : "The Senate Finance Committe and the contraetionists and specie•resumptiouists were badly beaten in the Senate to-day by the adoption of Mr. Merrimon's amend ment, instructing the committee to report a bill increasing the national bank (Arm , latioa $4G.000,000, making it $400,000,- 000 in all. The vote stood 28 to 25. Five Senators were absent and the remain der•not voting were paired. Of the fire absentees three are in favor of more cur rency and would have voted for the amend ment, and two against it. This would still r give the friends — of more currency a ma jority of four or five. Senator Scott, who is a member of the Finance Committee, voted with the contractionists, while Sen ator Cameron voted for the amendment. Senator Scott is in facor of resuming spe cie payments, and he thinks the way to do it is to keep down the volume of cur rency. his theory about specie payments is that, could this be reached, the rate of wages would be reduced, and we would then be in a better condition to compete with Europe." Mr. President, both these extracts reached me this morning in letters from numerous portions of the State of Pennsyl vania, from those whom.l consider my friends, and who advise me that, however averse my private feeline's may be to a personal explanation, it is my duty to the State to correct whatever may be false in these extracts. The paper which is given as the original authority for the extract in the Lebanon Courier claimed to be respec table. Lebanon Courier, so far as I tun aware of its character, is a respectable newspaper circulated in the interior of Pennsylvania. This announcement ap peared originally in a newspaper claiming, as I have said, to be respectable, and the tone is such as to carry the idea that it speaks for me, and .states my opinion and my theories by authority. It is again quoted and referred to in a paper in the interior of my State. So long as this has been confined to misrepresentation and fabrication chiefly of a personal character, I have declined to answer them. So re peatedly has this been the case that I can come to to other conclusion than that the reporter of the Philadelphia Press is un der orders of his superior systematically to misrepresent and defame me. When I have striven for and secured appropriations in which the city of Philadelphia was large ly interested, I have been represented as neglecting her interests. When I advo cated the expulsion of the Senator from Kansas, (Mr. Caldwell,) for reasons seem ing to me to demand it, I was represented as defending him. When the books of the Secretary of the Senate showed that I had not drawn the back pay authorized by the law of the last Congress, bis dis patches represented that I had drawn it. I might refer to a more recent article in this same newspaper affecting a question in which Philadelphia and the State of Pennsylvania are largely interested, and in which it is complained that both the Sena tors from Pennsylvania have failed to force upon the Senate a measure which it was their duty to bring before it, or have been cowardly in advocating it. I forbear, how ever, to notice that, only referingto it that the Senate may bear witness as to whether either of the Senators from Pennsylvania has been derelict in his duty or cowardly in maintaining the interests of the State. Beth of them, I trust, have too much re spect for themselves and their associates to suppose that they would or could cam -ent to force any bill upon the Senate. When falsehoods are published as my opinions upon public questions in which the people of my State are largely interes ted, as if uttered by me, my duty to them they say, requires that I avail myself of the only means left me of meeting and re futing such an assumption: The reporter of the Philadelphia P>css had no authori ty to write any such opinion or theory. I hold no intercourse with him. I have not hesitated to announce my belief that specie rayments could sot e resumed in the near future, ar.d could not be maintained under all circumstances. I favor free banking upon United States notes issued through the banks, based up on a bond bearing a lower rate of interest than those upon which the present natien al bank currency is issued, and rAecula ble primarily by the banks, and ultimate ly by the Government, either in coin or in interest.bearing bonds. If I cannot t•e cure that. I wiil favor the best system of free banking that can be secured by nucl ifications of the present national .bank laws, incorporating among them some pro vision for the redemption of these notes. To a paper currency unlimited in amount arid Irredeemable in anything more valua ble than itself when it falls below par I am opposed, believing it to be injurions to to the permanent and best interests of all classes of society ; and these opinions I have not hesitated to express upon the floor of the Senate, although the condi tion of my threat, in consequence of a bronchial disease, has been such that I have refrained from speaking at length upon this and many other questions that I desired to have spoken upon. But upon this very subject, upon the very day on which this despatch was sent from the city of Washington to Philadelphia Press, in answer to a suggestion of my colleague, I said upon the floor of the Senate, and it is so reported in the Record. "Now, on the subject of specie pay ments, while I do not wish to be diverted for the purpose of discussing that qustion, my colleague equally misapprehends my position. lam not only not in favor of the immediate resumption of specie pay ments, but I do not think it possible for us to resume specie payments immediately,.. nor at any time in the very near future. He and I, I think, agree on that subject. I go further, and say that after we have resumed, it is not possible that we should keep up that resumption during all time, and especially during panics." The closing inference of this dispatch, which is but as if it were my declaration, is that I favor this policy because I desire to reduce the wages of labor here to a level with that of the pauper labor of Europe. That it is in substance. Now, sir, if there be any Senator upon this floor who is open to the charge of advocating a policy which, instead of diminishing, will increase the wages of labor, think I am open to that charge, and it can be sustained by numerous quotations from my speeches when the tariff and rev enue bills have been under discussion, to none of which will delay in refering here; but I condensed my whole opinions upon that question, in speaking upon that sub ject, into the declaration that I believed that the policy which I was then advocat ing would keep up the wages of labor, and that that policy would make labor conten ted and capital secure. I have never en tertained or uttered such a sentiment about the wages of labor as that reported in the Press and quoted in the Courier. It is a fabrication and a falsehoon. Now, Mr. Pre3ident, with the proprie tor of the paper which first gave currency to this falsehood. or with the instrument he uses to furnish such materials for his columns, I can have no controversy. I have referred to instances of misrepresen Cation which have been, perhaps, intended to affect ma both personally and in my public character, but not for the purpose of entering into any personal controvery. I depart, in this instance, from the rule of my lig; to live down slander instead of noticing it, because my constituents have demanded it of me as a public duty. It is only in response to their demand that I rise for the purpose of saying to the con stituency, who thus consider it my duty to notice this unauthorized fabrication of my opinions upon a- public question, nor my conduct in the Senate upon any question, is likely to be either correctly or fairly re ported in the dispatches of a paper repre sented here, with the knowledge of its proprietor, by one who, when speaking of me, has been more frequently an eaves dropper and a libeller than an impartial journalist. A Dodge of Oftentimes doctors advertise their im mense practice by having some one to call them out of church during sermon time. It was cruel on a certain disciple of Escu lapius who once got enough at this little game. "Doctor I Doctor 1" called a young ur chin, sticking his head into a church door one morning just before prayer time. '•\Yell who is sick now ?" inquired the sexton. "No one, as I know on," answered the innocent youth, loud enough to be heard all over the church," but the doctor gave me a ten-cent shinny if I'd call him out of the church during sermon time." The only serious countenance in that church during the prayer that followed, was that of the doctor. CHICORY is said to be one of the most hurtful things that can be taken into the stomach, causing inflammation and dys pepsia, and several of the Eastern States arc talking of laws against its being put into coffee. Personal Mrs. General Sherman is opposed to round dancing. and forbids her daughters from it even at home. Judge William Strong, of the United States Supreme Court, and family, are an nounced to sail for Europc.. in June. Senator Brownlow, of Tennessee, is suf- Tering so severely from his paralytic at tack as to prevent his attendance in the Senate. Horace Greeley used to say that he had rather see an old woman take snuff than to stand before the finest painting in the world. The fortune left by the late Baron Meyer de Rothschild, though not so large as was expected, is likely to exceed $15,- 000,000, gold. Mr. Lincoln found out what was the matter with a once distinguished but soon extinguished general. die said_ George had the "slows." Ex-Senator Wade, of Ohio, being a na tive of West Springfield, Mass., has been invited to attend th.) centennial soon to be observed in that place. Some of the prominent witnesses in the Tichborne trial are aboit to be arrested on chat* of conspiring with the claimant to get possession of the Tichborne estate. Shakspeare was wiser than Solomon, and Oliver Cromwell was grander than Moses —at least, s) Ree. Dr. Porteus said in a lecture at Brooklyn, the other evening. Alexander H. Stephens is a close stu dent of the Holy Scriptures, and on his table, covered with public documents, mail matter, etc., etc , may always be seen the sacred volumn Cora Pearl, the notorious English ad venturess, resident in Paris, is said to live at the rate of 500,000 francs ($100,000) a year. She finds new admirers and makes new dupes every month. With Sanborn at the Internal Revenue books and Jayne gnawing at the Custom House entries. the mercantile community became convinced of the truth of Shylock's statement that. "there be land rats and water rats." A Michigan paper intimates - that Miss Anna Dickinson is upwards or 300 years old. We certainly never should have sus pected her, front her comparatively youth• fnl appearance, of being over fifty-five or sixty at most. Minister Bancroft occasionally seeks re lief from the perplexities of diplomacy by appearing on skates at the Thiergarten Pond ; in Berlin. With becoming pride of country, he did the "eagle" with the high est skatorial success. The sultan Abdul Aziz, it is said, was most graceful in his bearing toward the Empress Eugenie during her stay at Con stantinople, his habitual brusqueness giv ing place to an untoward amiability. After her departure be actually moped. It does not appear to be the fate of the gallant Sheridan to meander through this vale of tears soothed and sustained by the companionship of a loving wife, but he enjoys the next best thing, in having had a co„ king stove named after him. The Lowell Courier says that the Hon. Frederick Smyth. lately Governor of New Hampshire, was once a resident of Lowell. He began as porter at the Merrimac House, then kept by Mr. Murdock, and used to black boots at four cents per pair One Bartley, a Government contractor in the clothing department at Philadel phia, has been arrested on a charge of em bezzlement. He denies the charge, Kit claims that in making up the cloth he had a right to retain the "cabbage," that is to say the remnants. We never could account for Forney's course until we saw that anecdote about his habit of dictating to three short hand reporters at once. A man who dictates to three reporters at once is bound to be oc casionally inconsistent and inconsequential. —Louisville Commercial. A rumor is gaining ground in Boston that Postmaster Burt is to retire, and Sen ator Bailey, who represents the Fira (Mid dlesex) District in the ,llassaehusetts Sen ate, is to be made Postmaster of Boston. Bailey was au earnest worker for Gene.al Butler in both his canvasses for the Gov ernoiship. A Maryland lady, Mrs. B. 11. Conway, of Frederick county, who has establi,hed a reputation as a contractor f. , r “fids' and "cuts," has filled several contractmin Penn sylvania, and been awarded a $lOO.OO I job on the Western Maryland Railroad, and now takes the work of excavating a tract in Baltimore for building sites. The factthat Barbara Frietehie ha= not yet turned up in Washington with a claim of $25,000 for holding the National flag out of her window in Frederiektowu and scaring Robert Lee, goes far to prove that Whittier was fooled in that little trans te action, and that B. F., is, and has been suspected a myth.—ltioneapli3 Tribune. Congressman Cox is good-authority on natural history, entomology, and agricul ture. He says Boss Tweed is as extinct as the Dodo, and adds that "parties were sometimes killed by one man, just as one hornet, if he felt good, could break up a camp. •eeting." He wants to know "who is the Republican hornet." Boston knows. The London News says that Disraeli has never succeeded in thoroughly mastering the English language. He has an idiom of his own, not without its piquancy and gorgeous efforts, but it is not the tongue of our great writers or our common speech. It was sometimes said by Bulwer that he himself never understood English gram mar as taught in his time. 3lar3hal Von Moltke, who has hereto fore been able to hold his tongue in innu merable languages, makes use of some pretty broad German, to inform the world that fatherland having got all she wanted in the way of French treasure and terri tory, has no yearning for any more worlds to conquar. The marshal goes further, and assures the world that there is no need to be afraid that Germany only wants, like Jeff Davis, to be let alone. There will be a good deal of satisfaction at the report that Castelar is about to re join the Spanish Ministry, though there is sonic danger of his putting too much confidence in Serrano's assurances of his support of the republic. The marshal has never been hampered by promises or oaths of allegiance in the past, and having lost the confidence of the party of Isabella, it may be that he sees in the republic a greater chance for his ascendancy than in any other regime. But he is not to be trusted. NO. 11 tbr The Shadow of the Rock By nor' G. SPAULDLNG. Throne: open fields and smiling lawns My noontide pathway led, Along the cliffs, whose clinging weeds By ocean's tides are fed. Like feathered arrows flew the foam Across the breaking waves, While low murmuring sounds I heard Within the seaside caves. The sun, like ball of glowing fire, Shed down on sea and plain Its dazzling rays, till every sense Was overcome with pain. Then looking down the slanting ledge, A quiet, cool retreat I spied, from rising billows safe, A shade from light and heat. Of shelving rock its roof was framed, Its floor with pebbles laid, And in the wall the waves of yore A scat of stone had made. Long hours I sat-0. musings sweet! 0, day-dreams by the sea ! Till evening's shadows crept upon The weary world and me. Giver of sunshine and of shade, From Thee the dazzling rays Of life descend; from Thee the heat And burden of our days. But ever by our path we find Some calm retreat of prayer, Where tides of love divine flow in,— A shelter sweet from care. The "Shadow of the Rock" art Thou ; From Thee the munnurmings come Of far-off seas that wash the shores Of our eternal home. Death Each day calls to remembrance the fact that death cannot be far from any of us ; but do not let the thought sadden you.— As God planned the time of our birth, so he will plan the time of our departure.— The apostle said, "To die is gain." By and by we shall need to rest; to begin again in a fairer abode. If you are Christian, death will only be like the go ing home of a child to long expectant arms. Do not expect in health to have ail the feelings which belong to the last hours; we cannot practice the resignation, nor ex perience the comf,rts which only come when they ar,, needed. God will see to it that his children are supported in that new, strange hour. With the experience will come the revelation. Sufferings are necessary to our complete preparation for heaven, to the full devel opment of the soul, of which we shall sec the use hereafter; and this reflection will enable us at the last to ride at anchor in peace, hard by the inner light-house, wait ing for the Pilot. When death comes and knocks at our door, it is true the heart beats quicker, for to give up one's bold on life, to look eter nathings fair in the face, to go alone, to think of meeting God, summons the whole of our natural and acquired fortitude. At the hour we need to be able to say, 'I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." The sting of death is sin. . The previous sickness prepares the soul and body for separation, and takes away dread. Let us give our 'friends such as surance of our preparedness fur another life, that•they may be spared great sorrow at our departure. Let us use our speech as we should wish we had done, when one of us is silent in death. Let us give all the communications, make all the explanations, speak all the loving words ere it is too late. "Bhold a door is open in heaven."— Through that door our loved ones have gone; light streams through it, cheering us with the hope of re-union. What is death to the brave 1 Do we stop to cower before the outside portal of our Father's mansion ? Straight on, straight in, with the same step that we al ways walked ! Oh ! death, where is thy victory 'I" A Hundred Years to Come, No man ever appears to think how soon he must sink into oblivion—that we aro one generation of millions. Yet such is the fact. Time and progress have, through countless ages, come marching hand in hand—the onedestroying, the other build ing up. They seem to create little or 09 commotion, and the work of destruction is as easily accomplished as a child will pull to pieces a ruse. Yet such is the fact. A hundred years hence, and much that we now see around us will have passed away. It is but. a repetition of life's story ; we are born, we die; and, hence, we will grieve over these venerablepiles, finding the com mon level of their prototypes in Nature ultimate: We all within our graves shall sleep, A hatched years to come; No living Soul for us shall weep, A hundred years to come ; But other zueu our land will tilt, And other men our streets will fill, And other birds shall sing as gay, AS bright the sunshine as to-day, A hundred years to come. Justice and Mercy. No obligation of justice does force a man to be cruel or to use the sharpest sentence. A just man does justice to every man in everything; and then, if ha be also wise, he knows there is a doubt of mercy and compassion due to the infirmities of man's nature; and that it is to be paid; and he that is cruel and ungentle to a single per- son, and does the worst to him dies in his debt and is unjust. Pity, and forbearance, and long suffering and fair interpretation, and excusing our brother, and taking in the best sense, and passing the gentlest sentence, are as ceatainly our duty, and owing to every person that does offend and can repent, as calling to account can be owing to the law, and are first to be paid, and he that does not so is an unjust person. The Bread of Reconciliation In parts of Switzerland, when two men have quarreled with each other, and their friends arc au xions to seee them reconciled, they endeavor to bring them unawares un der the same roof. If the two enemies sit down at the same table they are pledged to peace. They break a piece of bread to gether, and are friends once mare. It would be a good idea if every boy or girl, who quarrels with another boy or girl, should "make up," and become reconciled the moment they happen to eat bread to gether in the same county ; at least that is what we think about it.—St. Nicholas for Kovcmber. WE may say what we please of the dif ficulty of repenting, but it would seem to be a thousand fold more difficult to refrain from repeating.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers