VOL. 49
The Huntingdon Journal.
I. R. DURBORROW,
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Jan. 7,71.
D R. H..W. BUCHANAN,
DENTIST,
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lIUNTINGDON, PA
July 3, '72.
DCALTWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
by Messrs. Woods t Williadison. (ap12,71.
Dlt. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to the community.
Office, No. 523 Washington street, one door cast
of the Catholic Parsonage. [jan.4,'7l.
J. GREENE, Dentist. Office re
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Yontingdon. Dan. 4,71.
GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
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HUNTINGDON, PA
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April 5, iSil-ly.
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"Vii.tilaiarG THE PLANK,"
The history of the West is one
long list of bloody and atrocious
deeds. Not the least in the dark
and interminable catalogue is the
little event we are now about to lay
before . our kind readers. We heard
the story from the lips of one who
professed—and we had no reason
to doubt his word—to have played
a prominent part in the thrilling
occurrence, and we give it to you
just as we heard it.
Some years ago, (said the nar
rator,) a friend and myself agreed
to take a tramp, hunter fashion,
through the great wilderness of the
North-West. Having provided our
selves with what things we consid
ered actually necessary, and nothing
more, we started upon our perilous
journey; for that it was perilous we
were fully aware, and every reader
will admit.
After encountering innumerable
hardships and many dangers, we
found ourselves in the wildest kind
of a region, many miles distant from
the haunts of civilization. Already
we had passed through, enough to
discourage most men, but We were
young and full of blood, and not
easily put out or frightened. This
was particularly the case with my
companion, whose name was An
drew Huff.
Both of us were perfectly healthy,
as strong as iron, and considerably
experienced in the use of such ar
ticles as rifles, pistols and bowie
knives. In all these 'respects we
could hold our owi with the best;
had it been otherwise, we would
never have lived to reacli the point
at which we finally arrived.
_
Just about dark one evening in
the latter part of July, after a hard
day's tramp, we hilted for the night.
A darker, deeper, lonelier solitude
than that which surrounded us, it
would be hard to.imagine. Silently
we made a little fire and cooked our
supper;
silently we ate it. Worn
out, and for the time being slightly
dispirited, we were in no humor for
conversation.
• For some time we sat by our
camp-fire without uttering a single
wore, and almost without moving.
I was thinking of home and absent
friends, and it is only reasonable to
suppose that Huff was similarly oc
cupied.
After the lapse of some time, our
fire burnt low, and I arose to replen
ish it. The bark of a wolf startled
me, and I spoke to my companion.
Huff did not answer me, how
ver, but, without noticing the cir
umstance, I threw a quantity of
f agots on the fire,
and said:
"Take a few hours' rest, Andy,
and I'll keep watch, and "after that
you cau do the same by me." -
Still I got no answer, and then I
began to notice my companion's
unusual taciturnity.
"Anything the matter, Andy ?"
said I, regarding him closely.
•
No answer again.
"That's a little strange," I mut
tered, moving over towards my
companion.
Tuff was sitting facing the fire,
with his head bent upon his knees.
I shook him without arousing him.
Finally, I raised his head, and at
once became conscious that he was
soundly, deeply asleep.
Laughing off the fears which had
for a few moments oppressed me, I
left Huff to enjoy his nap, and set
tled myself down as comfortably as
the circumstances would permit.
I was dreadfully drowsy, and de
spite our perilous situation, despite
every effort I made to the contrary,
I could not entirely resist the over
powering influence of sleep. Occa
sionally I started up suddenly, and
found that I had been dozing. The
last time I was aroused, I was awa
kened by the barking of a wolf.
Jumping to my feet, 1 beheld the
fierce animal not a dozen paces dis
tant, his ravenous eyes glaring upon
me from the darkness. Seizing up
a brand, I flung it at the rapacious
monster, with all my strength. It
struck him full in the face, and,
with a terrible howl, he darted off
into the forest. My comrade did
not awaken—did not even stir—so
sound was his repose.
BUSINESS CARDS,
After that I did not feel much
inclined to sleep, though nothing
more was to be seen or heard. I
examined my rifle and pistols, piled
more faggots on the fire, and kept
on the move, with my eyes and ears
open for any more .nocturnal vis
itors.
Some time. passed away quietly,
and I began to grow insufferably
weary. Every muscle relaxed, and
a drowsy stupor gradually stole over
me. My eyes closed unconsciously ;
my knees bent beneath me, and I
was about dropping to the ground,
when I was suddenly aroused by the
sound of a man's voice.
LEGAL BLANKS
"Hello! fellers, how d'yer do?"
were the words which fell upon my
ears, and aroused me to full con
sciousness.
I looked around in bewilderment.
Our little camping-groun,d was en
circled by-a dozen or more brawny,,
fierce-looking desperadoes. It was
a complete surprise, and on the spur
of the moment, I yelled aloud :
"Andy, Andy, wake up!"
"Yes; wake up, Andy!" echoed
the outlaws loudly and derisively.
PAMPHLETS
Aroused at last, my companion
sprang to his feet, and at the next
moment was standing by my side.
Instantly a dozen or more rifles
were leveled at us with a deadly
aim.
" Yer ain't goin' to show fight,
are ye ?" demanded One of the out
laws, a brutal-looking wretch, and
Mr toxii-VOitr.
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 15, 1874.
the leader of the band, as it after
wards appeared.
"Thai depends entirely on circum
stances!" responded Andy, unhesi
tatingly. " We're two good men,
afraid of neither man or beast—
and if your intentions are hostile,
as they appear to be, you may take
my word for it that we'll give you
all the trouble we can."
"You won't now, will yer ?" re
joined the desperado, tauntingly.
" Guess ye'll have yer hands full of
yer try that sort uv a game."
"Well, what do you want here,
anyhow ?" I demanded boldly, fully
satisfied in my own mind that if we
got out of the present scrape we
would have to fight it out."
"What do we want h-yar ?" was
the rapid reply. "I guess the for
est's as free to us as it is to anybody
else. Don't karktilate that you're
boss here, stranger, do yer?" •
" No;" was Andy's quick reply,
(taking the words out of my mouth,)
" nor are you. But that's not the
point!" he added; "what do you
want with us?"
" Yer money an' yer traps ! Un
derstand that sort o' talk, don't yer?"
" Yes • we understand that jou're
a gang of thieves and cut-throats !"
responded Andy fiercely ; but if you
can get anything from us you've got
to fight for it, though we arc but
two against a dozen. Give 'em a
• shot, comrade !" added. the fiery
fellow, addressing hiniself to me.
"We can't make the matter any
worse !"
I thought so too, and raising my
rifle, Andy and I fired simultane
ously.
Immediately two of the outlaws
fell dead to the ground, and the
rest uttered a concerted yell that
sounded more fearful than the howl
of the wolf I had so recently driven
away.
" . 2sTow give 'em the pistols !"
shouted Andy, his whole soul in
the deadly conflict. _
Each of us carried a brace of
double-barrelled pistols, which gave
us eight shots between us, and as
quick as lightning we were dis
charging the lodes in the faces of
the outlaws. Six more cf the bri
gands fell before our aim, while we
remained uninjured, notwithstand
ing a number of 'tattering shots
whistled around our ears and over
our heads.
"Now charge upon the thieves !"
, elled Andy, in stentorian tones.
I followed my comrade's lead,
and together we charged upon the
remaining five outlaws, for that
number was left. A fierce and
bloody fight ensued. Andy per
formed miracles, and I did double
duty; but, as fate would have it,
we were both rent,lered hors du com
bat—my comrade y a pistol wound
iu his side, and I by a bowie cut
in the shoulder.
I knew nothing more after that,
for the next moment I became un
conscibus. When I came to myself,
I found I was in a cave, and it was
not long before I discovered that
the cave was the haunt of robbers.
This much I learned by listening,
for I could see nothing; the leight
light of day seemed never to pene
trate that dismal cavern. It was
the gloomiest, chilliest place I was
ever in, and from the bottom of my
heart I wished myself well out of it.
I thought of Andy, you may be
sure, but could see no way of find
ing out what had become of him.
After a while, however, an old
and outrageously ugly Indiarfsquaw
made her appearance. She brought
me food and medicine, and tempo
rary light. My wounds had already
been dressed. Of course, I was ea
ger to question her.
" My good woman," said I, very
pleasantly, "I would like to know
where I am ; will you tell me ?"
She shook her head negatively;
and to all I could say or do, I got
no other answer. I inquired about
Andy, and other matters, but re
ceived no satisfaction. Finally I
gave up in despair, and let the old
hag go. _
A. — week passed, and I was com
paratively well. About the expira
tion of that time, the old squaw
came to me one day and beckoned
me to follow her. Having no reason
to refuse obedie"nee, I complied with
her directions, and after traversing
a number of dark passages, found
myself in the open air. It was a
bright and sunny morning, and,
despite my situation, I inhaled the
pure atmosphere with delight.
Assembled on the spot I beheld
a gang of a score or more of the
worst:looking men I had ever en
countered, and in the midst of them
my friend and companion, Andrew
Huff. Andy looked pale and ema
ciated, and appeared to have suffered
much more than myself.
We had barely time to greet each
other, and say, "God bless you,
comrade!" when we were suddenly
and roughly seized and gagged.
At the same time one of the out
laws, whom I at once recognised as
the leader of the party we had first
encountered, stepped forward and
addressed us :
"Now, cuss yer!" he cried pas
sionately, "well rgike you pay for
yer hard work Vother night. Strip
'em!"
In a few minutes we were stripped
to the skin, and we had neither the
power to resist nor expostulate.
We were separately led to the
brink of a chasm near, and made
to look down into the almost un
fathomable depths. A stream of
water dashed along over the rocks
at the bottom. It made me dizzy
to look down! We were then sta
tioned a few feet from the brink,
with a guard over us. I then ,be
gan to comprehend that some hor
rible death awaited us, and my
feelings were fearful.
A plank about twelve feet long
and a foot wide was then brought
forward and placed half-way over
the precipice. My blood ran cold
at the preparations.
On one end of the plank two men
stationed themselves.
"Now, drive the chap forward!"
shouted the leader, pointing to my
comrade. "rother feller shall see
him drop, au' then he follers arter
him. Drive him on thar, bosses!"
Every effort was made to move
Andy, but the poor fellow continued
obstinate. The outlaws beat him
with their rifles, and pricked him
with their knives, but lie refused to
stir.
"Carry the man !" shouted the
leader madly.
Despite his struggles, Andy was
picked up and carried to the plank.
As the outlaws let him down they
gave him a violent push, which sent
him forward to the end of the plank.
Andy swayed from side to side, and
struggled wildly to regain his bal
ance. He failed, however, and fell
over—in his fall desperately clutch
ing the plank. There he held, with
his finger-nails buried in tke wood !
It was a horrid scene, and my blood
runs cold at the bare recollection
of it.
"Let him go!" shouted the fiend
ish leader.
The men who were standing on
the other end of the plank jumped
off, and the plank and Andy whirled
down into the seething depths below.
Despite the gag in his mouth, poor
Andy uttered a loud and terrifying
Shriek before he disappeared from
sight forever. The cry rings in my
ears now, though years have passed
since then; I shall never forget it.
The outlaws sprang to the edge
of the cliff; and with a savage ex
ultation watched Andy's descent.
"Now fur t'other one !' shouted
the leader, after a lapse of a few
minutes; but at that instant a loud
report of fire-arms suddenly rever
berated far and near, and at least
one-half of the bandits fell dead
to the earth. The balls whistled
around me a;• thick as hail, but
I escaped unhurt. Instantly after
wards a party of trappers rushed
upon the scene and charged at the
outlaws. The fight was short but
desperate. In the end not an out
law of them all remainee alive, al
though they fought like incarnate
devils.
In the first moment of the melee
I got away, out of the reach of all
harm. Pinioned and gagged, as I I
was, I would have been of no use
in the fight.
After it was over, I made my ap
pearance and gave a statement of
all that had transpired. From the
trappers I learned that Andy's cry
had directed them to the spot; but,
poor fellow, they came too late to
save him.
I thanked God and the mountain
eers for my own preservation, and
quitted the scene with, a sense of
relief mingled with a feeling of sail
ness.
Gentlemen, that was about the
worst situation I was ever placed in,
and may you never have a similar
experience.
aterfiliug for the
How to Succeed
The young man who thinks Ile can car
r his boyish pranks into the serious busi
ness of life is not a man and defrauds him
self and his employer. "After work, play."
That should satisfy the most sanguine.—
°•Business before pleasure" is the motto of
the prudent man whose guide is experi
ence, and it is sufficient for the most novi
tiate in active life. .
But it is despicable to sec a young man
just starting in life, so wedded to his for
mer enjoyments es to place them above
present duties. Yet this is often theease.
The young man, who steers his own bark,
launches forth on the sea of life, too often,
looks back on the pleasures he leaves be
hind, and forgetful of present duties, steers
back to past enjoyments.
There is no royal road to success any
more than to knowledge. He who would
succeed must work, and after all there is
more real enjoyment in work which has a
worthy object than in play or pleasure in
tended to kill time. We remarked a few
days ago to a business man whose present
means are amply sufficient, but who work
ed really harder than any of his numerous
employees, that he ought to "take it easy."
Said he "I am never so happy as when I
have more than I can do. 1 may wear out
working, but I dread to rust out idling."
He was right. His work was a part of
himself, a part of his life, and it was al
ways faithfully done. To apprentices espe
cially, this earnestness and interest in their
work is necessary if success is ever to be
attained.
Some et Eismark's Ma:drns,
When pushed to extremes, I prefer my
shirt to my coat.
A question of right can be settled only
with the bayonet in .our European quar
rels.
Parties and castes are mutable—they
perish, and new ones arise. •
The Kings of Prussia have never been
preeminently the kings of the rich.
Whoever makes the most promises is apt
to carry the election.
All classes r.:o a little smuggling, espe
cially the women.
A great country cannot be governed by
partis.um. _ _ _
. .
Put Germany into the saddle and you
will find that she knows how to tide.
Governments are like women the
youngest pleases the most.
It is nut possible to hasten the ripening
of fruit by holdidg a lamp underneath.
Centralization is tyranny, more or lens.
Whoever carries the money bag is the
people's master.
Every country knows that peace and
security rests in the sword.
Liberty is a luxury which not every one
can afford.
People are a great deal more lavish
whed they pay out of a common treas
ury than when they pay out of their own
pockets.
Clairvoyance—Theroy and Fact of Sec
ond Sight.
Tar said to be en ?<wort
when cr_a &:ie other, independently
of any method of communication,
as the shadow in the pool reflews surround
ing objects. The process is analogous to
telegraphy, the brain being the instrument,
the consciousness the operator or reader,
and it requires, as in that physics-mechan
ical art, two instruments, one to originate
the impression, the other to receive it. In
the cant phrase of the day it is called
clairvoyance, while it was known formerly
as second sight and by various other names.
The subject has reeeived the fillup lately
from Mr. Brown's exhibitions of some eu
ri-,us rhcr,:nu,a of thought reading. The
similar exhibitions of biolegists, mesmer
ists and spirit milists are more familiar and
are generally explicable under the broad
philosophy of humbug. But daily expe
rience furnishes an example quite as stri- •
king and far more reliable. A casual re
mark elicits the surprised rejoinder, "Why,
I was just thinking of that I . ' although no
previous subject or circumstance has led
up to it. Such a -coincidence may, it is
true, be purely accidental, the range of
ordinary thought, like the vocabulary of
ordinary speech, being very limited. But
the equation of changes shows flat the
concurrence should be infrequent, while,
in point of net, it occurs riot once, but
many times, in every man's experience. A
French philosopher seeks to explain such
phenomena by laying down this proposi
tion : "i\linds in habitual collision acquire
a quality of action by which the censori
um receives reciprocal impressions, inde
pendent of communication through speech
or sign." That the explanation issufficient.
I shall now undertake to affirm. I merely
cite it as the simplest, and because the
simplest the most probable elucidation of
the mystery.
After the first diffisuly of communica
ting without the aid of arbitrary sound or
sign is removed, the obstacle of distance
appears to be illusory. There is no reason,
apparently, why areas of space should af
fect the process more thau in telegraphy.
The current may pass and repass as getter-.
ously, obeying a law of equilibrium in the
minds affected. Of this we have many
historic examples. Plutarch tells us that
in the time of Domitian the report of a
battle in Gernmy was published in Rome
on the day on which it was fought, Pope
Ilonorius performed the funeral obsequies
of Philip Augustus of France the very
day on which the' King died. Froissart
relates how the Count de Foix was aware
of the defeat of John of Castile the day
on which it took place. "Saturday, the
Feast of Our Lady in August, 1385." I
take the brief account from the quaint
old chronicler: .The whole days of Sun
day, Monday and the fbilowing Tuesday
he was in his castle of Orthes, and made
such poor and melancholy Meals that not one
word could be drawn from him; nor would
he, during that time, quit his chamber or
speak to knight or squire, however nearly
related by blood, unless he had sent for
him;
and it
.also happened that he even
sentfor some to whom he never opened
his lips during these three.days. On Tues
day, in the evening, he called his brother
Arnold William, and said to him in a low
voice, 'Our people have heel a desperate
battle ' which has vexed me very.much,
for it Ins happened to them just as I fore
told at their departure." Arnold
liam who was a wise and prudent knight,
well acquainted with the temper of his
.brother was silent. The Count anxious
to cheer up his courage, 11,r he too had
nourished in his breast the sad news, ad
ded : 'By God, Sir, Arnold ! it is just as
1 have told you, and very as , a we shall
have news er it. Never has the country
of Beam suffered so severely these hun
dred years past as it has now in Portugal
Many knights and squires were afraid
to speak,but commented within thelbselvcs
on them.
.“Within ten days the truth was known
front those who had been in the battle,
and they first told the Count, and all who
wished to hear them, everything relative
to their disputes with the Castilians, and
the event of the battk of Aljnbarota. *
0 *y , 'Holy Mary!' Said I to the
squire, 'how was it possible the Count
to know, or even guess at it, on the mor
row after it happened ?' "
A still more striking illustration of the
phrenography of one mind on the sensitive
electro-plate of another occurs in Hugh
Miller's early reminiscences. Ilis father
was lost in a storm off Peterhead on the
loth of November, 1807.
A letter had boan received from him on
the 9th, and the evening of the following
day, the cottage door being unfastened,
Hugh, then a - child of five years, was sent
to shut it. "Day," he writes, "had not
wholly disappeared, but was fast posting
into night. Within less than a yard of
my breast, as plainly as ever I saw any
thing, was a deserved hand and arm
stretched before me. Hand and arm ap
parently that of a female; they bore a vivid
and sodden appearance; and directly front
ing me, where the body ought to have
been, there was only blank, transparent
space, through which I could see the dint
form of the object beyond. I was fearful
ly startled."
It will be observed that it is not the
father's form which appears; but his mind,
looking out on the ghastly night and
storm, among the whirling elements and
tooth-like crags of Cromarty bay and head
land, is reflected irethe child's,and brought
out more vividly in the chiaroscuro of the
twilight. The black storm, hideous night,
and bellowing tea, are vague concomitants,
but more intense and vivid in the father's
mind is the drowning woman's outstretch
ed arm and hand, and this image lays its
print upon the sensitive brain of the child.
I do not think the fact explicable in any
other way. To treat Hugh Miller's state
ment with scornful incredulity merely sug
gests the weakness of the scienti.4.
EVERY man's past life should be his
critic, his censor, his guide. He who
lives, and is done with life the ►noment
it drops hour by hour from his hands, is
net half a man. He is like a plucked
pllnt that stands in water without roots of
its own, and can have no growth, and
soon fides and passes away.
A VAGABOND beggar Jew applied for
alms to Dr. 'Raphael, the well-known Jew
ish rabbi, and threatened to turn Christian
if the doctor would not help hitu. The
doctor said to him : "Very well, go. Be
come a good Christbin, and I will he sat
isfied; for you have been a very bad Jew."
Tr= may come for wool and go back,
shorn.
LOVEis the beginning is most easily
cured.
A Man Visits the Editor to find "Who
Printed that Piece."
He came in with an interrogation in one
eye, and with a stick in one hand. One eye
was cover:El with a handkerchief and one
arm was in a sling. Il is bearing 'was that
of a luau with a settled purpose in view.
"It was to sec," said he, "the man that
puts things into this paper."
We intilliated that several of us earned
a frugal livelihood in that way.
"•Well, I want to sec the man which
scribe things out of the other papers. The
fellow who writes mostly with shears, you
understand !"
We explained to him that there were
seasons r•hen the most g7fte.d among us,
driven to frenzy by the scarcity of ideas
and events, and by the clamorous demands
of an insatiated public in moments of emo
tional insanity plunged the glittering
shears into our exchanges. He went on,
calmly, but in a voice tremulous with sup•
pressed feelings, and indistinct through
the recent loss of half a dozen or St) of his
front teeth.
"Juat eo. I presume so. I don't know
much about this business, but I want to
see that man, the man that printed that
little piece about pouring water down a
drunken man's spine 'of his back, and
making him instantly sober. It you please,
I want to talk with him."
Thep he leaned his stick against our
desk, and spit on his serviceable hand, Lnd
resumed his hold (41 the stick as though
he was weighing it. After studying the
stick a moment, he asked in a somewhat
louder tone :
"3lister, I came here to see that 'ere
an. I want to see him ball."
We told him t'•iat dparticalar man was
"Ju,:t so. I presumed 6o They told
me before I came that the man I wanted
to see wouldn't be anywhere I'll wait for
hint. I live up north, and have walked
seven miles to e9nver,e with that man. I
guess I'll sit down and wait."
Ile sat down by the door and reflective
ly pounded the tiger with his stick, but
his fbeliugs would cot albw hint to keep
still.
"I suppose not one of you didn't ever
pour much cold water down any drunken
man's back to mike him sober, perhaps."
None of us in the office had ever tried
the experimsnt.
"Just so. I thought just as like as not
you had not. Well. Mister, I have. I
tried it yesterday, and I have come seven
miles on foot to see the man that printed
that piece. It wasn't much of a piece, I
don't think ; but I want to see the man
that printed it, just a few minutes. You
see, John Smith, he lives next door to my
house, when I'm at home, and he gets bow
come you so every little period. Now,
when he's sober, he's all right, if you keep
out of his way ; but when he's drunk, he
goes home and breaks dishes, and tips over
the stove, and throws thebardware around,
and makes it inco:lvenient for his wife, and
sometimes gets his gun and goes out cal
-1 hog on his neighbors, and it ain't pleasant.
Not that I want CO cay anything about
Smith; but the and my with don't think
he ought to do so. Ho came home drunk
yesterday and broke all•the kitchen win
dows out of his house, and fidlowed his
wife mound with the carving knife, talk
ing about her liver, and after a while he
lay down by my fence and went to sleep.
I bad bean reading that piece, and I
thought if I could pour some cold water
down the spine of his back, and make him
sober, it would be more comfortable fbr his
wife, and a square thing to all around. So
I poured a bucket of spring water down
his back.
"Well," said we, as our visitor paused
"did it make him sober?" Our visitor
took a firmer hold of his stick and replied
with increased emotion-:
"Just so. I suppose it did make him
sober as a judge in less than you can say
Jaek Robinson; but Mister, it made him
mad. It made him the maddest man that
I ever seen, and Mister, John Smith is a
bigger man than me and sterner. Ile is a
good deal stouter. Bla—bless him I never
knew he was half so stout till yesterday,
and he's bandy with his fists, too. I
should suppose he 13 the handiest man I
ever saw."
"Then he went for you, did he ?" we
asks i innccently:
"Jhst so. Exactly. I suppose he went
for me about the best he knew, but I don't
hold no grudge against John Smith. I
suppose he ain't a good man to bold a
.grudge against. I want to see the man
who printed that piece. I want to see him
bad. I feel as though it would soothe me
to see that man. I want to show him how
a drunken man acts when you pour water
down the spine of his back. That's what
I come for."
Our visitor who had poured water down
the spine of a drunken man's back, ',-
maim(' until about 6 p. m., and then went
up street to find the man that printed that
piece. The man he is looking for started
for Alaska last evening. for a summer va
cation and will not be back before Septem
ber ,1878.
An Old-Fashioned Mother!
Thank God ! some of us have an old
fashioned mother. Not a woman of the
period, enameled and painted, with her
chignon, her curls and her bustle, whose
jeweled bands have never felt the clasp of
baby fingers ; but a dear, old-fashioned,
sweet-voiced mother, with eyes in which
the love-light shone and brown hair thread
ed with silver, !yin.' ' smooth upon her
check. Those dear hands, worn with toil,
gently guiding our tottering steps in child
hood, and smoothing our pillows in sick
noes, even reaching to us in yearning ten
derness when the swat spirit was baptised
in the pearly spirit of the river.
Blessed is the spirit of an old-fashioned
mother. It floats upon us now like the
beautiful perfume of some woodland blos
soms. The music of other voices may be
lost,
but the entrancing memory of her's
will echo in our souls forever. Other faces
may fade away and be forgotten, but her's
will shine on until the light from heaven's
portals shall glorify our own. When, in
the fitful pauses of busy life, our feet wan
der hack to the old homestead, and, cross
ing the well worn threshold, we stand
once more in.the low, quiet room, so hal
lowed by her presence, how the feelings of
childhood innocence and dependence comes
over us, and we kneel down in the molten
sunshine, streaming through the western
window, just where, long years ago, we
knelt by our mother's knee lisping, “Our
Father.' How many times, when the
tempter lured us on, has the memory of
those sacred hours, that mother's words,
her fi,ith and prayers, saved us from plung
ing into the deep abyss of sin ! Years have
filled great drifts between her and us, but
they have not bidden from our sight the
glory of her pure and unselfish love.
NO. 15.
A Sanctimonious Pokr:r
About two years ago a IcreitslK.:. rim
steamboat left Fort Benton with 1,;. , ..:* - rtyof
rough and well-to-do minera ea . :eitvd..—
There were also among the Fir.as. :agars
three or four -brace men," and before-ar
riving at Sioux City they had, generally,
cleaned out the pockets of the miners.—
The boat stopped at Sioux City to wood
up, and found, among others waiting to
get on board, a ruinisterial•looking person
age, with the longest and most solemn
countenance on him you can well imagine.
Ile was dressed in a suit of black, wore a
white stovepipe hat and choker collar, or
namented with a black neck-handkerchief.
W ea, he got on board, and the boat
started down the stream For two days
he was unnoticed by the other passengers,
but one of the sports at last thought he
saw a chance to make some.hiug out ofthe
sad and melancholy individual. The lat
ter would once or twice a day step up to
the bar, and, with a voice that was as mild
and gentle as a maiden's, ask for "A glass
of soda, if you please," and then he would
pull a roll of bills from his pocket and take
a quarter from their interior layers. Then
he would say to the barkeeper, as if under
a thousand obligations, "Thank you, sir,"
and walk aft again as if about to commit
suicide.
This thing had gone far enough, and
the gambler I have spoken of at last ap
proached him.
"Would you like a game of seven-up,
sir ?''
"Seven•up ? What is seven-up ? Please
tell me. my good friend r"
"Why, a game of cards, you know, just
tt, pass away the time. Letus playa game.'
"My good friend. I do not know any
thing concerning cards; I cannot play
them."
"Well, come along, we'll show you how
to do it." And the mild gentleman in
black, aftersome further protests, at length
consented.
They showed him how 'twas done, and
they played several games. The gentleman
in black was delighted. Gamblers want
to know if he will play poker, five cents
ante, just for the fun of the thing. Gen
tleman in black says he can't play the
game, but they explain again, and the
rker commences. 'the gentleman in black
looses every time. There are six men in
the game. Eseh one deals before the gen
tleman in black, and ante has been raised
to s dollar. Gent in black deals awkward
•
ly and looks at his hand. Next man to
dealer bets five—goes around, and bets are
raised to one hundred dollars. Gent in
black sees it and makes it one hundred
better. Gamblers look surprised but will
not be bluffed. The bet had reached fire
hundred dollars—a thousand. All draw
out except a Pike's Peak miner, who sees
and calls him : "What have you ?"
"Wall," answers the gent in black, "I
have—let me see, le.t me see—wall, I have
four ones."
The gamblers, who had suspicioned
some time before, now look wild, and the
light begins to dawn in the miner's mind.
He leaned across the table and said in the
most sarcastic tones he could command:
"Oh, you heave, heave yer ? You d—d
sanctimonious shuffier."
The gent got up from the table and
handed one of the gamblers his card. It
read "Bill Walker. New Orlerns"—one of
the most successful sharpers in the coun
try.
The Momeni of Peril.
A clergyman's son, one Sunday after
noon last winter, was amusing himself with
his velocipede. He was carelessly,
,dash
ing along at full speed, intending to cross
' the railway track, when atrain came thun
dering along the road. There was but
one course to pursue. He could not stop
the impetus of his vehicle; to attempt it
would be certain death. So he dashed
across within reaching distance of the en
gine. The slighest jar of his wheel, a
pebble in his way, a little unsteadiness of
his own, and hie doom was scaled. Do
you suppose any Flllll of money would. in
duce him again to run such a risk %
A boy was sliding down hilt and in the
excitement and enjoyment of the sport, he
forgot to watch for danger. His path run
over the railroad track, and, as he was al
most on it, 'he saw a slowly moving freight
train passing along:- To stop was impos
sible, and he dashed en, just passing be
tween two heavily laden cars. The slow
rate of motion was all that saved him.
But he will not go down that hill so reck
lessly again. It will serve as a warning to
other oys also, who witnessed his peril.
Whats pity they will not take warning
by the greskeimdanges;i the saddest fate, of
so many men and boys about them.
I see lads every dip in this town stand
ing on the steps of the billiard saloon and
the tobacconist's shop, who are near to a
more fterful doom than either? of these
Lads. They arc suffering themselves to be
drawn into a mmlstrom from which there
will be no retreat. They are preparing
for a plunge into the fearful gulf of intem
perance, where body and soul will both be
swallowed up. Look over into this gulf.
Listen to the fearful cries that come up,
and can you, dare you; risk the plunge?
The moment of deepest perilfor you is Ithe
one when you take your first glass,—Tem
perance Banner.
What must I do to be—Lost.
"What must Ido to be lost?" "Ne
glect so great a salvation." It is not ne
cessary to do anything. We are lost al
ready. Jesus offers to save us; but if we
reject his offers, we remain es we were.— '
"How shall we escape if we neglect so
great a salvation ?" Escape is impossible if
we neglect the only means of safety. If a
deadly serpent bites you,
and you refuse
the only remedy, you die. If you are
drowning and will not seize the life-buoy
thrown to you, you sink. Neglect is ruin.
Jesus alone can save the soul! Neither
is there sarvatiou in any other. 0 sinner,
your damnation is sure if you neglect
Jesus. If he that despised Moses' law
died without mercy, how much surer pun
ishment shall he be thought worthy who
had trodden ender foot the Son of God.
Dust thou think that God will not execute
his threatenings, that thou canst escape
his piercing eye, or that the rocks will
cover thee ? Vain hopes! There is no
escape but to come to Jesus, and simple
neglect is certain perdition ! Because I
called, but ye refused, * * then
shall they call, but I will not answer; they
shall seek me, but shall not find me !"-
0 sinner, escape this awful threatening !
Jesus now stands with open arms. He
entreats you to be saved ! Come with all
your sins and sorrows—come just as you
are—come at once ! He will in no wise
c •st you out. Come to Jesus.—Newman
Hall.