VOL. 40. The Huntingdon Journal .1. EL DUREORROW, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS, ()thee in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street TIIE 111.7.STINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. R. DURBoRROW and J. A. NASH, under the firm name of J. li. Dualioartow & co., at $2,00 per xuoum IN A OVINCE, or $2.50 if nut laid for in six months from date or eu. ocription, and $3 if not paid within the year. No paper dke , intinueil, unless at the option of the pub lishers, until all itrrearagt:s are paid. No paper, however, will be sent uut of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Trausieni ad , •.rtisements will be inserted at TWELVE ANT, A-HALF Cr.N is per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CEN,s for the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequ •at insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business adrertisero.•nts 'sill Iw invrte,i at the following rates: 3m I 6m • 9m!lyr snr 4 .'.! S 51; S oops nois27ls iRI BR, 9ru Iyr 5 S • , !10 66'12 00' , ;',01i18 (/0136 001 3 70910• • 14 6010 00 1 0 ' 7,01134 00150 001 65 SC 4 " li l 14 •••1:21 00;IS 00,1 co) 311 00160 001 80 10(1 All ltesolnamo of Associations, Communications of limit...l or indi‘ idual interest, all party announcements, and notices of larriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will he charged I EN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will Le charged to the party having them ii,erted. Advertising Agents must find their comnthision'outside of these figure, _ _ All adnertleing accounts are due and collectable when the wirer , i , ernent is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of bvery kind, Plain awl Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch. liand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and everything iu the Printing line will tie executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rate,. Professional Cards• 11 CALDWELL, Attorney-et-Lew, No. 111, 3rd street. Y Office formerly occupied by Metiers. Woods 34: Wil -1 am:s4 at Dtpl2,'7l I )I:. c r o , ,, R , l2llA ty UG I c %( e )rf e er i Llii s saf as es i s t i j o n n a a t l on ee s rv tr i e e „ e t s to one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. [jan4, 71 C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dontkt. Office in Leister's .li. building, in the room formerly occuideirby Dr. E. J. Greeue, Iluutiugdou, Pa. (apl2,S, '76. G SO. B. MILADY, Attorney-at-Law, 414 Penn Street, Huntingdon, P.L. [n0v17,'75 G L. /88, I/t‘ntiat, offleo in S. T. Brown's new building, U . No. ;i2ll, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2:7l 11DITHANAN, Surgeon Dentist, No. 228, Penn . Huntingdon, Pa. [unhl7,'73 IT T C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn struet, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l FRANKLIN SCROCK, Attorney-at-Law, Hunting /1 J• don, Pa. Prompt attention given to all legal busi ness. Office, 229 Penn Street, curlier of Court House Square. T SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-nt-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. (nee, Penn Street, three doors went of 3rd Street. [jan4,'7l TW. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim . Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Et reet. [jan4;7l JT DURBORROW, Attorney-at-Law,Huntingdon, . will pract.ce in the several Conits of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of estates of decedents. Office in the JOURNAL bnilding. 'T S. HEISSINGER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, IJ. Huntingdun, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Court House. ItA. °HINSON, Attorney-at-Law. Patents Obtained. . Office. Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [my3l,'7l S,E. FLEMING, Attorney-at-La, Huntingdon, Pa., Attorney-at-Lair, office in Mraitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal business. [angs,'74-limos IITILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Hunting don, l'a. Special attention given to collections, and all other lenl business attended to with care and pr ooptness. Ot; , .e, No. 229, Penn Street. [apl9;7l Miscellaneous HEALTH AND ITS PLEASURES, - Olt - DISEASE AND ITS AGONIES: CHOOSE BETWEEN THEM HOLLOWAY'S PILLS. NERVOUS DISORDERS. What is more fearful than a breaking down of the Re:- vow' system? To be excitable or nervous in a small de gree in moot destreesing, for where can a remedy be found? There is one:—drink but little wine, beer, cr spirits, or L•ir better, none; take no eoffee,—weak tea being prefera ble ; get all the fresh air you can ; take three or four Pills every night : eat plenty of solids, avoiding the use of slops; and if these golden rules are followed, you will he happy in mind and strong in body, and forget you have auy nerves. MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, If there is one thing more than another for which these Pills are to fatuous, it is their purifying properties, es pecially their power of clensing the blood from all im purities, and removing dangerous and suspended seers. tiune. Universally adopted as the one grand remedy fur female complaints, they never fail, never weaken the system, and always brings about what is required. SICK HEADACHES AND WANT OF APPETITE. These feelings which so sadden us, most frequently' arise from annoyances or trouble, from obstructed prespi ration, or from eating and drinking what is unfit for 11P, thus disordering the liver and stomach. These organs must be regulated if you wish to be well. The Pills, if takes according to the printed instructions, will quickly restore a healthy action to both lier and stomach, whence follow, as a natural consegence, a good appetite and a clear head. In the East and West Indies scarcely any other medicine is ever used for these disorders. HOW TO BE STRONG Never let the bowels be confined or unduly acted upon. It may appear singular that Holloway's Pills should be recommended for a run upon the bowels, many persons supposing that they would increase relaxation. This is a great mistake, however; for these Pills will immediately correct the liver and stop every kind of bowel complaint. In warm climat•s thousands of lives have been saved by the use of this medicine, which in all cases gives tone and vigor to the whole organic system, however deranged,— health and strength following as a matter ofcourse. The appetite, too, is wonderfully increased by the use of these Pills, combined in the use of solid in preference to fluid diet. Animal fmd is better than broths and stews. By removing acrid, fermented, or other impure humors front the liver, stomach, or blood, the canoe of dysentery, diar rlicen, and other bowel complaints isexpelled. The result is, that the disturbance is arrested, and the action of the lspwels becomes regular. Nothing will atop the relaxa tion of the bowels so quickly as this fine correcting med icine. DISORDERS OF THE KIDNEYS, In all disea6es affecting these organs, whether they secrete too mach or too little water ;or whether they be afflicted with st•.ne or gravel, or with aches and pains settled iu the loins over the regions of the kidneys, these Pill, himuld be taken according to the printed directions, and the ointment, should be well rubbed into the small of tLe back at bedtime. This treatment will give almost im mediate relief when all other means have failed. FOR STOMACHS OUT OF ORDER. No medicine will so effectually improve the tone of the stomach &a the. , pills; they remove all acidity, occasioned either by intemperance or improper drat. They reach the liver and rehire it to a healthy action; they are won• derfully efficacious in cases of spasm—in fact they never fail in curing all disorders of the liver and stomach. lever* a all Ague. kinds, Fits, Gout, Headache, Indigestion, Intlamniation, Jaundice, Liver Complaints, Lumbago, Piles, Rheumatism, Retention of Urine, Scrofula, or King's Evil, Amthina, Bilioa+t'nmplainti Dli itches on the skin, Dowel Complaints, Cones, Ci.instipation of the Bowels, Consumption, Deliility, Dropsy, Dysentery, Erysipelas, Female Irregu larities, CAUTION!—None are genuine unless the signature of J. liaydock, as agent for the United States,surrounds each i'v of Pills and Ointment. A handsome reward will be given to any one rendering ouch information as may lead to the detection of any party or parties counterfeiting the inr.dielnes or vending the same, knowing them to be sptuims:_ _ _ _ *** Sold at the Manufactory of Professor HOLLOWAY it Co., New York, and by all respectable Druggists and Dealers in Medicine throughout the civilized world, in boxes at 25 centa, 62 cents, and 61 each. 4. - e- There is considerable saving by taking the larger N. 11.—Directirme for the guidance of patiente in every dieurder are affixed to each box. apr. 28, 187ti-eow-ly. WEDDING CARDS ! WEDDING CARDS !! We have just received the largest assortment of the latest styles of WEDDING ENVELOPES, and WEDDING PAPERS, ever brought to Huntingdon. We have also bought new fontes of type, for printing cards, and we defy competition in this line. Parties wanting Cards put up will save money by giving us a call. At least fifty per cent cheaper than Philadelphia or New York. al•; tf.] J. U. DURBORROW It CO. J. R. DURBORROW, - - - J. A. NAS'II. • The Huntingdon Journal, J. A. NASII EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING. No. 212, FIETII STREET HUNTING DON, PENNSYLVANIA $2 00. per annum, in advance; $2.50 within six months, and 83.00 if not paid within the year. 00000000 A 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. 00000000 guggggg TO ADVERTISERS Circulation ADVERTISING MEDIUM The JOURNAL is one of the best piloted papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the county. It finds its way into 1800 homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus making it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order. ;gulligg JOB DEPARTMENT cs, I 0 0 sore Throats, Stone and Giuvel, littecoadary /Symp. toms, Tic-Douloureux, Tumors, Ulcers, Veneral Affections Worms ofall kinds IWeak (less from any cause, Ac. O 0 , r 1 g —co: Mir All business letters should be ad dressed to J. R. DURBORROW & CO., lluntingdon, Pa 1 „, , --, "'. he . A_untingdon Journal. Printing PUBLISHED -IN TERMS : 0 0 o 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 00000000 I'HOGRF:SSIVE REPUBLICAN PAPER. o o 0 o 0 0 o o :o:--- 800. - FIRST-CLASS 5000 READERS WEEKLY, a r -g r . V eb it .4 0 7 . 5 2 $l2 9 SPECIAL' :NU A PRINT: Origin!, 714)ortry. "A Phule." BY A SCHOOL-BOY A little boy, with common sense, Is now attending school, Whose talents are not bright enough To make of him a "Phule." But in weight, his talents arc, According to the rule, ()f weights that measure unto men, Too heavy for a "Phule." "A Prodigy," one terms himself, Who never needed school, To teach his talents how to shoot.;— Thus, likewise, is a mule. By chance, one day, he made a rhyme,— Of course he is a poet ; Then, thought no'one could do the same, More than become a "go-at." But when at last he found there were Exceptions to his rule, He gnashed his teeth and tore his hair, And called himself a "Thule." It pains his inmost soul to see A line that's not his own, Appearing in "The Muses' Bower," And this was plainly shown, By his "Advice," to one "Pearl Herbert," A n d others ;—let me see;— Oh, well, no matter who they were, But now he's challenged me,— Because "A School-boy" had the grit To prove that lie's so zealous In criticism and ridicule. Merely because he's Jealous. To measure swords with him in verse And bathe in hts vile pool, But, I do not think that it will pay, To trifle with a "Phule." Yet if he craves to test his weight In a poetic duel, I'll measure off the challenged ground,— Three lengths of "A Bigge Phule." Eljt citot'-Etlicr. EULALIE LASALLE. A STORY OF THE REIGN OF TERROR, 0, what was love made for if 'twas not for this The same amidst sorrow, and transport and bliss? The fascination of the French revolu tion had reached its heighth; the excit able population, intoxicated with power, and maddened by the vague dread of the retribution of despair, goaded on by pro• fligate, ferocious, or insane leaders, was plunging into the most revolting and san guinary excesses. The son of St. Louis had ascended to heaven, the beautiful Marie Antionette had laid her head upon the block, the baby heir of the throne of the Capets was languishing in the hands of his keepers, and the Girondists, the true friends of republican liberty were si lenced by exile or the scaffold. In short, the Reign of Terror, the memorable sway of Robespierre, hung like a funeral pall upon the land which was fast becoming a vast cemetery. The provincial towns, faithful echoes of the central capital, were repeating the theme of horror with a thousand variations. Each considerable city had its guillotine, and where that in strument of punishment was wanting, the fusillade or the mitraille supplied its place. At this crisis, Eugene Beauvallon, a young merchant of Toulouse, presented himself one morning in the drawing room of Mademoiselle Eulalie Lasalle,an orphan girl of great beauty and accomplishment, to whom he had long been betrothed, and whom he would ere this.have married but for the political troubles of the period.— Eulalie was a graceful creature, slenderly and symmetrically formed, with soft blue eyes, and an exceedingly gentle expres sion which was indicative of her character. She seemed too fair and fragile to buffet with the storms Of life, and ill fitted to endure its troubles, created to be the idol of the drawing room, the fairy queen of a boudoir. Eugene was a handsome, manly fellow, of great energy and character. The rev olution surprised him in the act of making a fortune ; the whirlwind had stripped him of most of his property but he had yet left him liberty and life. He had contrived to avoid rendering himself obnoxious to the sansculottes without securing their confidence. The tri colored cockade which he wore in his hat shielded him from the fatal epithet of aristocrat—a certain pass- port to the guillotine. Beauvallon then seated himself beside Eulalie, who was struck with the radiant expression of his countenance, and begged to know the reason of his joyous excite- ment. "I have good news to tell you," he said, gayly; "but we are not alone," he added, stoppinc , short, as his eye rested on the sinister face of an old woman, humbly at tired, who was busily engaged in knitting not far from the lovers. 0, don't mind poor old Nannette," said Eulalie. "The poor old creature is past hearing thunder. it is a woman, Eugene, I rescued from absolute starva tion, and she is so grateful and seems so desirous of doing something to render her self useful, that I am mortified almost at her sense of the obligation." _ _ "I hope she has not supplanted your femme de chambre, Julie, of whom you threatened to be jealous. My admiration, I hope, has not cost the girl her place." 'Oh, dear, no ! I couldn't part with Julie !" replied Eulalie, laughing gayly. "But come, you must not tantalize me— what has occurred to make you so gay, at a time when every true Frenchman wears a face of mourning?" 'The Marquis de Montworencl is at liberty." "At liberty ? how happened it that the Revolutionary Tribunal acquitted him?" "Acquitted him ! Eulalie, does the tiger that has once tasted the blood of his prey permit him to escape. Is Robespierre more lenient than the beast of prey ? No, Enlalie, be escaped by the aid of a true friend. He fled from Paris, reached Tou louse, and found shelter under my roof!" The cheek of Eulalie turned ashy pale. "Under your roof !" she faltered. "Do you know the penalty of sheltering a fu gitive from justice ?" "It is death upon the scaffold," an swered the young man calmly. "But bet ter that a thousand times than the sin of ingratitude; the sin of turning a deaf ear to the claims of humanity." "My own noble Eugene ?" exclaimed the young girl, enthusiastically pressing her lover's hand. "Every day increases my love, my respect for you, and my sense of my own unworthiness. But you will never have to blush for the inferiority of your wife." "What do you mean, dearest ?" inquired Eugene with alarm. "This is no time for marriage," said Eulalie sadly. "Images of death and vio lence meet our eyes whichever way they turn. We were born, Eugene, in melan choly times, and our lives are misplaced. cv- M .-r er, il m I o, mcf ‘e O, ! r. 4 ! HUNTINGDON, PA., FRIDAY, TUNE 23, 1876. We shall meet hereafter ; on this earth, I fear, our destinies will never be united." "Prophetess of evil !" said Beauvallon gayly. "Your rosy lips belie your gloomy argury. No, Eulalie, this dark cloud can not forever overshadow the land—even now I think I can see glimpses of the blue sky. Le bon temps viendra,—the good time is coming,—and then, Eulalie, be sure that I will claim your promised hand." The conversation of the lovers had been so animated and interesting that they did not notice the moment when old Mannette had glidad like a spectre from the apart- ment. Bcauvallon lingered a while,—" parting in such sweet sorrow,"—and finally re luctantly tore himself from the presence of Eulalie, promising to see her again on the ensuing day, and let her know what ever had transpired in the interim As he approached the streets in which his store and house were situated, he heard the confused murmur of the multitude, and soon perceived, on turning the corner, that a very large crowd was collected out side his door. There were men and women —many of the former armed with pikes and sabres—the latter, the refuse of the populace, who appeared like birds of evil omen at every scene of violence and tumult. A hundred voices called out his name as he approached, and menancing gestures were addressed to him by the multitude. "Citizens," said the merchant, "what is the meaning of all this?" "You shall know, traitor," shrieked a palsied hag of eighty, whose lurid eyes had already gloated on every public exe cution that had taken place in Toulouse. "Here is citizen Dumart of the revolu tionary colinnittec—ah, he is a truefriend of the people—he is no aristocrat in dis guise! jive le Citoyen Dumart !" "Long live Citizen Duman. Down with the aristocrats !" shouted a hundred voices. The Citizen Duniart was a sallow-faced man, dressed in a rusty black, wearing a large tri-colored cockade in his three cornered hat, with a sash of the same color girt around his waist. His bloodshot eyes expressed a mixture of cowardice with fe rocity. He was flanked by a couple of pike men as hideous as the Afritcs of Eastern romance. Moore, "Citizen Beauvallon," said he, in a voice whose tremor betrayed his native timidity, "I arrest you in the name of the revolutionary committee of Toulouse.— Citizen Beauvallon, it is useless to resist the authority of the representatives of the people; if' you have any concealed weapons about you, I advise you to surrender them. You see I stand here protected by the arms of the people." "I have no weapons," replied • Beauval lon. "I have no sinister designs. I know not why I am arrested. Acquaint me with the charge, and confront me with my accuser." "Seize upon the prisoner !" cried Pu. mart to his satelites. And he breathed freer when he saw the merchant in the grip of two muscular ruffians, whose iron hands compressed his wrists as if they were manacles. "Away with him'." screamed the hag who had spoken before. "Away with him to the revolutionary committee ! Down with the aristocrats !" Followed by the imprecations of the crowd, Beauvallon was conducted to the town house, and in a few moments was placed at the bar of the revolutionary committee—a body vested with the power of life and death. On his way thither be found means to speak a word to au ac quaintanae in the crowd, and to beg him to inform Eulalie of what had happened. So soon as he heard the accusation read, and knew that he was charged with the crime of aiding the Marquis de Montmor enci, a fugitive from justice he felt that his situation was indeed critical ; but min gled with his astonishment and dread was a curiosity to learn whence his denuncia tion could have proceeded—who could have lodged the information against him. lie was not long kept in suspense, for the witness brought on the stand to confront him was no other than Mannette. the sup posed deaf servant of Eulalie Lasalle, who had overheard his confession of the morn ing, and hastened to denounce Though his sentence was not immediately pronounced, and the decision of his case was deferred till the next day, Beauvallon felt that his doom was sealed. He was conveyed to a house in the vicinity of the town ball for confinement, as the prisons were all over-stocked. His jailor was a man whom the merchant had formerly befriended, and whose heart was not inaccessible to emotions of pity, though be was above the bribery, and evidently determined to execute his duty to the letter. "I have a favor to ask of you, my friend," said the prisoner, slipping a golden Louis into his hand. "If it is one that I can grant without violating my duty," replied the jailor, re turning the money to Beauvallon, "I will do so for the sake of old times but not for gold." Beauvallon explained that he wished to send a note to Mlle. Lasalle, requesting her to visit him in prison—an interview which would probably be their last, and the jailor undertook readily to see the missive delivered, and to permit the visit. The note having been dispatched, Beau vallon sat down to wait for the arrival of his mistress. The dread hours passed away,but though he learned from the jailor that his errand had been performed, no Eulalie made her appearance. "She forsakes me !" he murmured bit terly. "The wounded deer is abandoned by the herd, and an unfortunate man is shunned by his fellows. Well, the dream was pleasant while it lasted—the regret of awakening can scarce be tedious—a few hours, and all the ineidents of this transi tory life will be forgotten. But Eulalie —whom I loved better than my life itself' —it is bard to die without one word from thee." When on the following day Bcauvallon was again taken before the revolutionary committee, he looked anxiously around the court room to see if ho could discover the face of Eulalie among the spectators, many of whom were women. But he was dis appointed. Her absence convinced him that she had abandoned him. and wholly absorbed by this reflection, he paid no at tention to the formula of his trial. He was condemned to death, the sentence to be executed on the following day. "Mr. President," said he rising, "I thank you, and I have merely one favor to ask. Anticipate the time of punishment —let it be to•da_y instead of to-morrow— let me go hence to the scaffold." "Your request is reasonable," replied the president, in a bland tone, "and if cir cumstances permitted, it would afford me the greatest pleasure to grant it. But the guillotine requires repair, and will not be in a condition to perform its functions un til to-morrow, at which time, Citizen Beauvallon at the hour of ten A. M you will have ceased to exist. Good night and pleasant dreams !" This sally was received with roars of applause, and the unhappy prisoner was reconducted to the place of confinement. The night was a sleepless one. Beau vallon's arrest, his speedy trial and con demnation, the desertion of Eulalie had followed each other with such stunning rapidity, that, until now, he had hardly time to reflect upon the dismal chain of circumstances—now they pressed upon his attention, and crowded his mind to over flowing. At midnight as I►e lay tossing upon his bed, upon which I►e had thrown himself without undressing, he thought he heard a confused noise in the apart ment of the next house adjoining his.— The noise increased. Ile placed his hand upon the wall and felt it, jar under succes sive shocks. Suddenly a current of air blew in upon him, and at the same time a faint ray of light streamed through an open inn in the partition. "Courage'" said a soft voice. "The opening enlarges. Now. Julie !" "Julie !" Beauvallon was sure he heard the name, and yet uncertain whether or not he was dreaming. "Julie !" he exclaimed, cautiously. "Yes, monsier—it is Julie,sure enough ," answered a pleasant voice. "Then you, at least, have not forgotten me." "No one who has once known you can ever forget you. Courage ! and you will soon be free. Aid us if you can." "Then you are not alone ?" "Have patience and you will see." His own exertions, added to those of his friends without, soon enabled the pris oner to force his way into the next house; but there disappointments awaited him. Two soldiers in the uniforms of the xlis darnzerie stood bethre hint. ""On tie passe par iei,—you can't pass here," said one. "What cruel mockery is this ?" cried Beauvallon. "Is it not enough that lam condemned to death, but you must subject me to an atrocious pleasantry? This is re finement of cruelty." "It seems that our disguise is perfect Julie," said the soldier who had not yet spoken." "Eugene does not know h:s best friends." In an instant the speaker was folded in the arms of Beauvallon. It. was Eulalie herself, as bewitchingly beautiful in her uniform as in the habiliments of her sex. She hurriedly explained, that the moment she heard of Eugene's arrest, she prepared to meet the worst contingency. She had already converted her money into cash. Learning the place of his imprisonment, she had hired through the agency of anoth er person, the adjoining house, which hap pened to be unoccupied. The task of making an aperture in the partition was an easy one—the difficulty of passing through the city was greater. The idea of military disguises then occurred. Julie and herself had already equipped themselves, and they were provided with a uniform for Beauvillon. Secured by this costume, the three fu gitives ventured Rirth. In the great square of the city, wog kinen were busily employed in repairing the hideous engine of death and Beauvallon passed, not with. out a shudder, beneath the very shadow of the guillotin, to which he had been doomed. Seated on the cold ground, beneath the fatal apparatus, was an old woman mutter ing to herself. "Good evening, citizens," said she. We will have a tine day fir the show to mor row. Look how the bonny stars are winking and blinking on the gay knife blade they've been sharpening. It will be darker and redder when the clock strikes again. Down with the aristocrats !" The fugitives needed no more to quicken their steps. They reached the frontiers in safety, and beyond the Rhine, in the hospitable land of Germany, the lovers were united ; nor did they return to France till the star of Robespierre had set in blood, and the master mind of Napo leon had placed its impress on the destinies of France. *dal Visa Our New York Letter. NEW YORK, June 19, 1876. The Centennial—Extravagance-The Other Side— Political—The Stewart Estate— The Dull Season—The Mustang Rare. OPINIONS ON THE CENTENNIAL As Decoration Day was, appointed for the opening of the Bankers Building. at the Exhibition in Philadelphia, the direc tors of most of the large banks gave their clerks a holiday for forty.eight hours, and paid their expenses to the Centennial. This was a treat to men who are tied down to the desk the year round, and about 200 of the gayest men rode off in the bright morning with their wives and sweethearts, to the exhibition. Brown Brothers, one of the largest banking firms in the city, gave each of their married employees $5O, and the single ones $25, so that all might have a taste of the pleasure. Another firm provided a drawing room car for their employees. Such liberal dealings charac terize firms of standing, who keep their trusted clerks for years, till their custom• era know the very peculiarities of their hand-writing and fold of the letters, and would hardly recognize correspondence coming in any other way. But the Centennial did not see,ni to im press all its visitors in an extremely favor able way. One of the young men who went in this excursion expressed himself without reserve on his return as to the value of the Exhibition, and his remarks are given for what they are worth. "See it all !" he broke out in answer to a question. "I saw it all in six hours. Went through all the buildings. took two lunches, and was back im New York the next morning. In my opinion, the Cen tennial is the biggest F-r-oal ever perpe trated on an unsuspecting people. There is hardly a thing to be seen that one can't find in the Broadway shop-windows. There is an enormous display of flue dry goods and furniture, nothing better than we see every day. There isn't $50,000 worth of jewelry in the whole exhibition, and not more than 2,000 pictures. The machinery is wonderful, and the buildings are large and showy. The Women's Pavilion is nearly as large as any of them, and was full of brie a brae, which my lady friend with me said was rather cheaply done." And ho expressed in other language that he didn't want any more centennial in his. This is only opinion, and, as Josh Billings says, opinions are like other vegetables, worth only what they fetch, but it may console the few who are prevented from seeing the Centennial, to know that they have not I ast all there is in th; world by not voia..r. But, notwithstanding the adverse opin ion of these bank elerks. I say th V...) tennial is a big thing ; anal one whit-h everybody nnght to see. There are art pictures in plenty. anal the her 4 in the world ; there is statuary ; there is net chinery ; there are goods from every coun try in the world, anal there is everything that can delight and instruct. It is pre cisely what was intended—an exhibition of the world's progress ; anal whoever aloes not see it. misses an exceedingly good thing. But don't let it cost you too much. There are not enough people in Philadel phia to stock the boarding-houses. by a long way ; and there are rooms for a hun dred thousand more than arc there now. or will be there at any time. Pay no high prices. Stop by the day till yon :;et what you want. at the pi ice you want, anal then settle down quietly to see what is to be seen. The hotels and boarding houses are more anxious to have you than you are to have them. There has not been that rash that was expected, nor will there he. Six months is a long time ; and it will spread out the exhibition tolerably thin, so far as people in attendance i 3 concerned. There is no necessity far paying ex ifbi taut prices. One can live in Philadelphia this summer as cheaply as in any other city, it' one knows how. The secret is: wait. Go till you find what you want ; and don't he frightened by any reports of crowds. There is no such thing. There are more runts than people. awl there will be to the end a,t' the exhibiti.an TZnt go, by all means. It is worth the going ten thousand miles to see. METROPOLITAN EXTRAVAGANt•E. There is money hi the country some where, or people could not afford such in dulgences as are w'rered by our nietropol itan shops of ►.uanry. At. a fashionable furnishing-house, where the designs are al ways in the best of taste, I was shown some of the new fashions for decorating houses. The heavy hand-wove Japanese brocades, in rich, subdued colors, made of raw silk, mixed with gold, were certainly very handsome for chair coverings, and looked as if they might he a joy forever, like all truly beautiful things. They were of ordinary width, but when the attendant mentioned the price—only fifteen dollars a yard—awe took possession of my soul. -How much would the quantity sufficient for upholstering a set of furniture cost?" I ventured to inquire. "From one thou sand to fifteen hundred dollars," was the answer. And I didn't ask any more qnes tions. But the dealer went on to show a satin, figured with gold embroidery, at $l5 a yard. with which he was to cover the walls of a large room in place of wall paper, and I thought of the country suffer ing from stagnation of business and grew sick. This is no exaggeratim, and no more are some different facts with which I am going to contrast this. SIIADOWA oF CITY LIFE At a desk in the room where this let. ter is written, sits one of the best stock actors in the city, who two months a z o was receiving a salary of Slio a week. with steady employment fur the summer. in an evil hour, in hopes of making a big success, be was persuaded to give it up and go "in a stir part," as it is called, in the country, :it a much larger salary, to be sure, but still on a venture. It was nut a foolish thing; to do, in fact his friends congratulated him when they heard of it, that he had a chance to I:is tinguish himself. and make a reputation like Mulberry Sellers, which would make him rich for life. Itut the play proved not a success as was anticipated, and the n.an was left out of employment, with a family on his hands, and not a stroke of work to be had. The companies are all full for the season, and the pour man sits there within reach, penniless, living on one meal a day, of bread and witer. sup plied through the chance gift of friends. li, , htheaded with fiintness, and unable t keep his children from hunger. Firmers. who gather your families round a plenti lul table daily, it' it is ever so plain. con sider yourselves f)rtunate POLITICAL Governor Tilden's friends are in list water. About five hundred p.ipers. dem ocratic, of course, in the West and south. received an offer from an ativertis'n!ra,•en cy in this city. to publish as "quoted ter," five notices urging Tilden for the presidency. The papers receiving them who were opposed to the Gavernor, invite diatcly raised the howl that he was attempt ing to subside the press. and a pretty little row it raised. The anti-Tilden papers took it up venomously, and charged the old fox with all sorts of corruption and fraud. lay ing particular stress upon the fact that the advertising agents who sent nut the propo sition were republicans. and wanting. to know what republicans had to do with democratic nominations. Now the facts are these: Bates & Locke, 3t l'.irk Row. New York, are advertising agents. Their business is to place advertising in news papers for whosoever desires it, 1,..r which they get a commission from the newspa pers. They advertise, just as a shoemaker makes shoes, for whoever comes to them— Jew, Gentile. Christian or Pagan. It happened one morning that a costo met. of theirs who is a democrat. came in to their office, and wanted five notices a fere,' to five hundred paper?, urging t h e nomination of the Governor. They did it. just as they would of sent nut five notices of a piano. or a sewing machine. Proba bly flow. Tilden knew nothing about it. Probably it was the tribute a friend wish ed to pay him. But be that aI it may. the people opposed to him have maiP a terri ble howl about it, and it. has made more talk than any one incident of the cam paign. THE ~ T F,WART ESTATE. My aiivice is, don't get. rich. 1 never will. t;lr it isn't safe. One never knows what is to become of his money alter he is gone. Alexander T. Stewart died worth forty millions ; and he disposed of it as well as it could be done, before heilieti. But now comes a dozen or more of people who claim that they are cousins of th e o ld man; awl they insist that the will by which be disposed of his property was forced out of him by his wife and Judge Hilton ; and, in short, that they are en titled to their share as relatives. And they have employed lawyers. and have commenc ed suit to break the will ; and there is a prospect ahead for lively business. The probability is that others will get their fin gers in this very rich pie before it is done with. It is stated that he has relatives which he never publicly acknowledged ; and that they and their friends are also after their share of the dead merchant's money. Ile never had any children, and cousins—first, second and third, are spring ing up all over the world ; and it' the will or the , Iel•I mi•rA3rot •in he hr Aen. the•• i 4 en , ,nzh t•, ntok , 4.••-n 1 , 1 , -.bnif LigrvPr4 hire 1 ,...,1 1,.nr..1 h ..,1 4 T Mire (-trine... It i. 4 that %f r•. :itesart ark.' Hilton will NJ, v•ry V. hrly them •r o's•—r h•*l h•-t• ter rty thin •inhntit t.. th, vu ',MA* ar le;11 The hitter• will hln.l A , ,tne ' , irkinv. The ria , m-,wt. mar. , may not. stet ...m..thTnt.f. Rsit .m.• thin?, i. t•plerahly rert tin • Ow e.tite 7.41 h.. Ahorn Th • ,-0•1 my, f...rzht Atra..r.!_-1,• , 11n1 wprrie.l iii hiA itt• h ern a score (.1 pepple. 'xi...tette.- he !;:+ iw.rv• , _rive art , i fiz,ht . hy , n34. 5n..11 f.i. it n.t too tw irl ) 44T On' 11l • -.P-1 Di !date th , Pit; thrst C. a nirr; ti •• ,rtes. The einhot are wAI! nich ln i hiveine44 nnbo.ly..sr.- vein; ;••ne to the e..iintry they w nr to-f• •re K iy illy, iiplee 1. 1 di- n-wer •Prel eh , ap , •r the p!aee ti. it ti, ern the better Fatnili , 4 aro fen , ' 4 tinilinr n,•1111 r•.intry pheet th it wihogly in town know, 4 but thPnmelt - ,• , . . 1 . 1 .1 i ft..-r Ow, w i ll he hei'.l erin! , 3 113 rit with 3 1 1 the ..iv 1nt1..041 e.iintry pi ii••• 1•4 , r , e kaolin As p