VOL. 41. The Huntingdon Journal J. R. DURBORROW, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS. Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Streei THE TICNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. It. Drasounow and J. A. NASH, under the firm name of J. R. Duaeoaaow &CO., at $2,00 per onnum IN anvaitcs, or $2.50 if not paid for in six months from date of subscription, and $3 if not paid within the yeAr. Ito piper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub- Helens witil all arrearages are paid. •To paper, hatkever, will be sent out of the State unless absolutalroaid for in advance. Transient advertlibments will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-ESL? CENTS per line for the first insertion, saves AND A-HALT CENTS for the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates • 1 ' 1 1 3m 16m 1 9m 11 yr 1 13m1 6m 19mallyr ------ --- ltn $3 50 450 4 50 R 001 1 4 col 9 00118 00 $27 $36 2 " 500 80 0 10 0011:: 00 %col 18 00 36 00 50 65 3 " 7COIOOO 14 00,18 00 9 col 34 00 50 00 65 80 4 " 8 00114 00 20 00118 00.1 col 36 OD 60 00 80 100 All Resolutions of Associations. Communications of limited or indivi•lual interest_ all party announcements, and notices of illArriages and 'Jeanie, exceeding five lines, will be charged TIN CEPU:S per 'mile. Legal and other notices wL: be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission'outside et these figures. All adver icing _accounts are dsee and ,ollectable when t.e advertieernent is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Band-bills, Blanks, Carts, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style, printed e the shortest notic., and everything in the Printing line will executed In -is most artistic manner and at the lowan rata-. Professional Cards• CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street. . Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Wil liamson. rapl2,'7l DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH. -rfers his professional services to thecoramanity. (Noce, No &Washington street, one door east of the Catholi_ Parsonage. [Jan4,7l E.Q. STOCKTON, St -geon Dentist. Office in Leister's building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. J. Greene, Huntingdon, Pe_ [apl2B, 16. aIIO. B. ORLADY, Attorney- .Law, 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [norr,"is G. L. ROBB, Dentist, office in o. T. Brown , t new building, No. 520, Penn Street, llutAingdou, Pa. [ap12.71 II W. BUCHANAN, Surgeon Dentist, No. 228, Penn H Street, Huntindon, Pa. [mchl7,'7s C. MADJEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No —, Penn 11 . Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apt9,'7l JFRANKLIN SCHOCH, Attorney-at-Lava, Hunting . don, Pa. Prompt attention given to all legal bugi nee& Office, 229 Penn Street, corner of Court house Square. [dec4,'72 JBYLVANITS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, . Pa. Office, Penn street, three doors west of 3rd Street. Lian4,7l T W. ILATTERN, 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 Street. [jan4,'7l T R. DURi3ORROW, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., e. will practice in the aeveral Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular attention given to the settlement of estates of decedents. Office in the JOITANAL building. T S. GElSSDHlER,..eittorney-.t-Lm and Notary Public, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Court IJ'use. [febs,"/ 1 R. A. OBBL4ON, Attorney-at-Law. Patents Obtained. Office, &d Ponn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [my31,"71 Q E. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., 1.3. office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal business. [augs,l4-Bmos IiXTELLL&M A. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Hunting , don, Pa Special attention given to collections, and all other legal business attended to with care and promptness. Moe, No. 229, Penn Street. [apl9,'7l School and Miscellanecus Books GOOD BOOKS FOR THE FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD. The following is a list of Valuable Books, which will be supplied trom the Office of the Iluntingdor. JOCRNAL. Any one or more of these books will be sent post-paid io any of our readers on receipt of the regular price, which is named against each book. Allen's (R. L. ik L. F.) New American Farm Book $2 50 Allen's (L. F.) American Cattle.* Allen's (R. L.) American Farm Book 1 50 Allen's (L. F.) Rural Architecture 1 50 Allen's (R. L.) Diseases of Domestic Animals 1 ('0 American Bird Fancier American Gentleman's Stable Guide* American Rose Culturist 3O Americas Weeds and Useful Plants 1 75 Atwood's Country and Suburban Houses. . bu Atwood's Modern American 'iounesteade* 3 50 Baker's Practical and Scientific Fruit Culture....._ 2 50 Barber's Crack Shot...y 1 75 Barry's Fruit Garden Beh's Carpentry Made Easy* Bement's Rabbit Fancier Bicknell's Village Builder and Supplement. 1 V 01... 12 00 Bicknell's Supplement to Village Builder* 6 0o Bogardus' Field Cover, and Trap Shootiug. 2 ou Rummer's Method of Making Manure 5......... masingauit's Rural Economy 1 00 Brackett'e Farm Talk-* paper, Wets.; c10th.... Bredt's New Book of Flowers Brill'm Farm-Gardeuing and Seed-Growing Broom-Corn and Brooms paper, butts.; cloth Brown's Taxidermist's Manual* Bruckner's American Manures. Buchanan's Culture of the Grapeand Wino making 7O Buel's Cider-Maker's Manual* Buist's Flower-Garden Directory Buist's Family Kitchen Gardener 1 00 Burgas' American Kennel and Sporting Field. Buruham's The China Fowl. Burn', Architectural Drawing Book. Burns' illustrated Drawing Book. Burns' Ornamental Drawing 800 k.......... Burr's Vegetable. of America. Caldwelre Agricultural Chemical Analysis titi Canary Birds. Paper 50 cts Cloth Chorlton's Grape-Grower's Guide Cleveland's Landscape Achitecture. Clok'e Diseasui of Sheep. Cobbett's American Gardener Cole's American Fruit Book Cole's American Veterinarian. Cooked and Cooking Food for Domestic Animate.... 2o Cooper's Game Fowls. 6 Od Corbett's Poultry Yard and Market.pa.socta., cloth 75 Croft's Progreeeive American Architecture....... ..... Cummings' Architectural Details lO 00 Cummings & Miller's Architecture. lO 00 Cupper's Universal Stair-Builder 3 50 Dadd's Modern Horse Doctor, 12 mo 1 50 Dadd's American tattle Doctor, 12 mo 1 50 Dad', American Cattle Doctor, Bvo, clothe 2 5 0 Dada's American Reformed Horse Book,B vo, cloth 2 50 Dada's Muck Manual 1 25 Darwin', Variations of Animals k Plante. 2 vole [new ed.] Dead Shot; or, Sportsman's Complete Guide* 1 75 Detail Cottage and Constructive Architecture. lO 00 De Toe's Market Assistant* 2 50 'links, Mayhew, and Hutchison, en the Dog. 3 00 Downing's Landscape Gardening.— . ... 6 50 Dwyer's Horse Book* ..... . . 200 Eastwood on Cranberry 75 Eegleston'e Circuit Rider* 1 75 Eggleston's End of the World 1 50 Eggleston's Heade , School-Master 1 25 Eggleston's Mystery of Metropolisville 1 50 Eggleston's (Geo. C.) A Man of Honor Ellie Vs Hand Book for Fruit Growers. Pa., 60c. ;do 1 Ou Elliott's Hand-Book of Practical Landscape Gar dening* Elliott's I.awn and Shade Trees. 1 50 E notes Western Fruit-Grower's Guide 1 50 Eveleth's School House Architecture. 6 00 Every Horse Owner', ............... 3 75 Field's Pear Culture 7 25 Flax Culture. [Seven Prize Essays by practical grow ers I . . Flint (Charles L.) on Grasses* Faure hiller Cow, and Dairy Farming. Frank Foreier's Amer:can Game in its Season* Frank Forester', Field Sports, 8 vo. 2 vols.. ..... Frank Foresters Fish and Fishing:Bw,, 100 Rugs Frank Foi,ster's Horse of America, 8 vo., 2 vols Frank Forester's Manual fa Young Sportsmen, 8 vo French's Farm Drainage Filler's Forest-Tree Culturiat Fuller's Grape Culturist Feller's Illustrated Strawberry Culturist Fuller's Small F• lit Culturist . Fulton's Peach Culture Gardner's Carriage Painters' Manual Gardner's Bow to Paint. Ceyelin's Poultry-Breeding Gould's American Stair-Builder's. Gould's Carpenter's and Builder's Aasistaut ...... Gregory on Cabbages Paper-. Gregory on Onion Raising* Gregory on Squashes paper.. Guenou on Mulch Cows Guillaume's Interior Architecture. Gun. Rod, and Saddle. Hallett's Builders' Specifications* Hallett', Builders' Contracts* Harney's Barns, Out-Buildings, and Fence5'.........-. Harris'. Ineects Ejurious to Vegetation... Plain $4; Colored Engravings Harris On the Pig ~ Hedges' nit Sorglio or the Northern Sugar Plant. Helmsley's Hardy Trees, Shrubs, and Plants Henderson's Gardening for Pleasure Henderson Gardening for krofit THE JOURNAL STORE Is the place to buy all kinds of A v 1 10tItt 800/ AT HARD PAN PRICE3I J. R. DURBORROW, - - - J. A. NASA. The Huntingdon Journal, J. A. NASI EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, No. 212, FIFTH STREET, HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA $2.00 per annum, in advance; $2.50 within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year. 00000000 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. 00000000 gmugg TO ADVERTISERS : Circulation 1800. ADVERTISING MEDIUM 2 50 5 oo The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, 75 1 75 1 00 75 1 00 1 50 and is read by the best citizens in the county. homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus making it the LEST 4 00 1 00 1 00 1 00 1 00 3 00 advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both .. 1 5) 1 24 local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order. ggggm JOB DEPARTMENT R; . go 1 IZS • t.l t7' 0 0.. 0 1:1 0 250 2 50 3 00 6 00 3 50 10 00 3 00 1 50 1 50 1 50 15, 1 50 1 00 1 00 1 25 4 00 3 0 0 6 50 1 .50 1 50 7 50 1 50 1 50 • COLO ate' All business letters should be ad dressed to J. R. DURBORROW & CO., Huntingdon, Pa. „--- Y - 1 .:., ~ ''-. he '-': "-' tv..--:tingdon Journal. Printing PUBLISHED -IN TERMS : 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 00000000 PROGRESSIVE REPUBLTCAN PAPER. 0 o 0 o 0 0 o o FIRST-CLASS 5000 REIDERS WEEKLY, It finds its way into 1800 Fd I:r' cr. st. ".-.., as 0., c 1 4:r I:rj gT , ...t CD a S Ely ginSts' *him Alone with my Conscience. I sat alone with my eonecience, In a place where time had ceased, And we talked of my former living In the land where the years increased. And I felt I should have to answer The question it put to me, And to face the answer and question Throughout an eternity. The ghosts of forgotten actions Came floating before my eight, And things that I thought were dead things, Were alive with a terrible might. And the vision of all my past life Was an awful thing to face— Alone with my conscience sitting In that solemnly silent place. And I thought of a far-away warning, Of a sorrow that was to be mine, In a land that then was the future, But now is the present time. And I thought of my former thinking Of the judgment day to be, But sitting alone with my,conscience Seemed judgment enough fur me. And I wondered if there was a future To this land beyond the grave; But no one gakte me an answer And no one came to save. Then I felt that the future was present, And the present would never go by, For it was but the thought of my past life Grown into eternity. Then I woke from my timely dreaming, And the vision passed away, And I knew the far-away warning Was a warning of yesterday— And I pray that I may not forget it, In this land before the grave; That I may not cry in the future, And no one come to save. And so I have learnt a lesson Which I ought to have known before, And which, though I learnt it in dreaming, I hope to forget no more. So I sit alone with my conscience In the place where the years increase, n d I try to remember the future, In the land where time will cease, And I know of the future judgment, How dreadful soe'er it be, That to sit alone with my conscience Will be judgment P-ongh for me. Pt *tug-Celia. EMMA'S EXPERIMENT. Addison Gaylord was just about to lock his office door, and start for the bachelor apartment he rented from old Mrs. Quirk, and where he was often lonely, when a low voice caused him to turn hastily and drop the key on the hall floor. "Please, sir, have you any copying to do ?" asked the sweet voice. "Do you do copying ?" asked Mr. Gay lord, looking with evident admiration at the pretty face and drooping eyes of the girl who stood before him. "It is only an experiment, sir. I think I could copy, for I write a very good hand, sister says, and I must do something." Now, Addison Gaylord had really no copying in his law office which he could not do very well himself, but he was touched by the piteous pleading of the girl's voice, and then there was such a world of entreaty in the large brown eyes raised to his. "I really don't know; suppose you come is w aue ia.ssto alba Arita ycnat name tin a slip of paper. I can judge by that how you write, and whether your copying will answer." "0, thank you; if you can only give me work. Sister and I need it so much." She went into the office, and Gaylord handed her a pen and paper, and she wrote "Emma Tyner," and handed him the sheet with a look so questioning and anxious that Addison Gaylord did not have the heart to tell her what he really thought, and although her writing was pretty and ladylike. it was too delicate and feminine for copying. "I think you may come to morrow," he at length said, "if you are willing to write here in the office. I may find other little things besides copying for you to do. I can give you seven dollars a week. Will that do ?" "0, yes, thank you ever so much. Alice will be so glad when I tell her that my experiment has succeeded. She was sure I could not get work, but we were so poor I was determined to try. I could only fitil." "Alice is your sister ?'' ' Yes, she is a cripple ; and cannot go out at all. She sometimes gets work at millinery—Allie has so much taste—all the young people around us get her to trim their bonnets. We have lived some how. But seven dollars will pay for every, thing every week." Into the girl's fair, childish face came a look of such delight and happiness that Addison Gaylord felt rewarded for what he had done. As he walked slowly home or rather to his lonely room, be could not help think ing of the girl be bad befriended, and caught himself wishing it was the next day that he might see her again. On reaching his boarding house he found his brother's wife, Fannie Gaylord, waiting to see him. "I've come to get you to go home with me, Add," she said. -You must be dull enough here sometimes. Robert often says be wishes you would come up to the house frequently. The fact is you ought to take my advice and come home with us for good. It would be lively enough for you if you would live with us." Addison thought of his sister-in-law's miserable housekeeping, of the untidy house, and of the slatternly appearance Fannie always presented on her entrance to the breakfast room in the morning, and he was fervently grateful that fate had not obliged him to make his brother Robert's house his home. But he went to dinner as Fannie desired, and tried to make himself agreeable and entertaining, and as he was an able con• versationalist he sucoeeded admirably dur ing the dinner hour, but after the trio had returned to the parlor he caught himself falling into meditative moods from which he could with difficulty arouse himself. "What on earth is the matter with you, Add :"' asked Robert. "From the symp toms I should say you were in love, old boy." Addison started \violently from the brown study which Robert's words had inter rupted, and blushed guiltily, for he had been thinking of Emma Tyner, and of the earnestness which had lit her brown eyes, and lent to them such a charm. Fannie looked up from the stocking she was darning as Robert spoke, [lt'd said, quickly— t:C co "Addison has no such nonsense in his head. Love indeed ! I hope he isn't thinking of that Catharine Drum again." Addison Gaylord turned a trifle pale, for in days gone by, Catharine Drum had been his ideal of all that was beautiful and good, and when she had cruelly jilted him for a richer man he had borne his cross patiently, and resigned himself to a single lot in life, for lie imagined that he could never find a woman as lovely as Catharine Drum had been. He made no reply to Fannie's remark, HUNTINGDON, PA , FRIDAY, JULY 27, 1877. knowing that her constant fear was that now Catharine was a widow, and a rich one, he might again propose for her hand, and for 5 owe reason she could not explain to herself. Fannie always opposed the idea of Addisun's ever marrying any one. The next day Emma Tyner came early to the dice and went to work with a will int,t' heart and happy face. Addison Gay lord d could not help glancing repeatedly at the pure, sweet face of his young copyist, who bent over her work so industriously. Poor child ! she did not guess how badly her woik was done, how many errors she made, and how poor a hand she wrote for copying. But dayafter day, rain or thine, the young girl was at her desk, always ready to do everything she could to help her employer, and with a sweet smile ever on her face when he spoke to her ; and almost unconsciously to himself, Addison Gaylord learned to love the girl he had befriended with a love far better than that which he had given to Catharine Drum. One evening it was raining fast when Emma Tyner gathered up her work, and putting it neatly away, prepared to go home. She gazed in dismay at the heavy drops pattering.down =o fast and the sky gave promise of a heavy storm. "You have no umbrella, Miss Tyner," said Addison Gaylord, rising from his desk, "and you must make use of mine.— I will get it for you." "Ido, no!" exclaimed the young girl.— "I will not take it, Mr. Gaylord. indeed, I will not. What would you do ?" "Oh, it does not matter aboutme. But there is another way—let me go home with you and then I can protect you from the rain, and have the umbrella for my exclu sive use afterwards." After a long demur against his taking so long a walk, Emma consented, and the pair set out, Addison holding his umbrella (he wished it was a nicer one) over his young copyist.. After a long walk they reached the door of a small but neat looking house where Emma said she boarded with her sister. "Will you come in and see Alice ?" asked the young girl. "I have told her so often of you, 3.1 r. Gaylord, that she would like to bee you very much." On entering the little parlor Addison saw a pale, dark-haired girl lying on a sofa near the window, a crutch by her side, and her thin, white fingers busy with tulle, ribbons and lace. This is Mr. Gaylord, Alice," said Em ma, ass she kissed her sister's pale brow. "He came home with me so as to let me have the shelter of his umbrella." Alice greeted the lawyer very warmly and thanked him Ibr what he had done for them. Addison Gaylord was surprised to find how well educated this invalid girl was, and how ably she could converse on any topic he mentioned. Ile staid longer than be had intended, and went away ()harmed with his visit, and with the two girls who were struggling so bravely along by them selves to get a I:yin g . Ile was astonished to find Fannie again at his boarding house, this time fuming with indignation at having to wait so long for his arrival. "It is long past your dinner hour, Ad dison," she cried, as he entered. "Why were you so late ? I've come to see you about something important. Mr. Freeman told me this afternoon that you have a girl in your office doing copying for you, and he says there is no doubt but you are dreadfully in love with her. He says be could tell by the way you looked at her, and then he saw you start out this after noon with her, and you holding the um brella over her. Is all this true ?" Addison's usually quiet spirit was aroused "I don't see, Fannie, that it is any of your business, if I have got a lady copyist, or if I take her home under my umbrella. You have Robert to see to, and you need not worry over toy affairs." "Then you really have got a lady copy ist. I thought Freeman must be joking. He said she wrote a wretched hand ; does she?" "It is not all I would like, but, never theless—" "You arc not going to have any such foolishness as you had with Catharine Drum, are you, Addison ?" asked Fannie, delighting to torture her victim. This was too much for Addison to tol erate in his present frame of mind, and he left the room with more haste than elegance. Determined to go to ti;; root of the whole matter, Fannie engaged Mr. Free man to find out where Emma Tyner lived, and a day or two after her interview with her brother-in-law she obtained the desired address. Choosing a late hour in the afternoon sbe drove to the house and asked to see Miss Tyner. She was at once con ducted to the little parlor where Alice Tyner lay busy as ever with her work of muslin and lac, "You must excuse my calling on you as a stranger, Miss Tyusr," said Fannie, "I know you thin!: it odd, Lut Mr. Gaylord it my husband's brother, and I came to see you, knowing that you must love your sister dearly, and will help me to save her from future misery. I know she is going to love Addison, and he is engaged to a rich widow, so you ought at once to remove Emma from his office." In telling this deliberate falsehood Fan nie Gaylord's face never changed. She did not care what slia did so long as she saved her brother-hi-law from what she thought would b a very rash and impru dent marriage—that is if he had a thought of loving his young copyist. The end of the conference, which lasted au hour, was that Alice promised to take Emma away from Mr. Gaylord's office, be coming convinced that it was for her own good, and save her from future unhappi ness. Addison Gaylord was very much sur prised when his copyist did not appear at the usual hour the next morning, and as hour after hour pissed, and she did not make her appearance, he became alarmed, and putt:ng on his hat, went to the house where she boarded. The servant showed him at once into the parlor, and there sat Emma alone, her pale face and heavy eyes showing plainly that ebe had been crying. Touched by the sight of her evident suffering, Addison forgot how utterly un prepared the girl was fur an avowal of love, and he poured out to her the depth and strength of a passion which he made no effort to hide. Emma Tyner made no reply until she had told him all Fannie had said to Alice, and then she looked up shyly : "If you really love me, Mr. Gaylord, I will not mind your once loving Catharine Drum." "I love you a hundred times better than I ever loved Catharine, my darling, and Fannie shall not part us. I never thought I could ever love any one so well as I love you." He clasped her in his arms, and she rested her happy innocent face on his shoulder, looking lovingly into his blue eyes which were luminous with love for the fair creature who had grown so of late into every thought and feeling for the past six weeks. "Are you sorry you engaged we for a copyist, Addison ?" she asked. He fondly kissed the rosy lips that formed the words, and murmured softly— "l have engaged you for life, my Em ma, and 0, I cannot be too thankful—" "That I made such an experiment," finished the laughing, joyous young voice in his ear. (sdect Vistellany. A Powder Mill. . A powder mill is not in the least like other mills. Instead of one great build ing, it is composed of many rough-looking little sheds,—sometimes as many as seventy or eighty. These are long distances apart, separated by dense woods and great mounds of earth, so that if ono "house" is blown up the others will escape a like fate. Of some the walls are built very strong, and the root very slight, in the hope that if an explosion happens, its force will be ex tended upward only. Other houses have enormous roof's of masonry covered with earth ; the roofs of others are tanks kept always full of water. The constant danger inseparable from the work would be greatly increased were there not strict rules always enforced. No cautious visitor can be more careful than the workmen themselves, for they know, if an explosion happens, it will be certain, instant death to them. So no lights or fires are ever allowed; no one lives nearer the mills than can be helped; some of the buildings are carpeted with skins and the floors are always kept flooded with an inch or two of water; and in front of every door is a shallow tank of water. Before entering, every person must put on rubber shoes and walk through this water, for tb• ,nails in a boot heel might strike a spark from a bit of sand or gravel, which might cause wide-spread disaster. So the rubber shoes worn in the mill are never worn elsewhere. Then, too, every one is expected to keep his wits about him; there is never any loud con. versation and laughter, and no one ever thinks of shouting. Yet, with all this extreme care, explosions sometimes occur, and then there is seldom any one left to tell how it happened.— St. Nieholas fir July. Seasonable Diet. Somebody has said that "Bad dinners go hand in hand with total depravity; while a poorly fed man is already half saved," and certainly, all of the sin and suffering to which man is heir has often been directly traced to the eatinc , of for bidden fruit. While there may be' a doubt about a.43r-itaing the soul's salvation di rectly to the stomach, the body's health is certainly dependent upon it. If healthful, active brains and bodies are wanted, the stomach must be supplied with the right materials for their manufacture. It can no more find health and strength in im properly chosen and badly prepared od than a man can gather grapes from thorns or figs from thistles. The divine law of nature says no, in both cases. In choosing the food for the different meals the season of the year should be kept in mind and the thermometer may, to a certain extent, be used as a guide.— In the cold, blustering winter the body requires very different food from that needed in the spring and summer. In the winter, warmth and strength are wanted while in the summer the demand is for strength and warmth. A diet which sug- gests coolness and lightness is grateful to us during the spring and summer months. The man who works heartily invariably eats heartily, but he who works with his brain needs a different diet from the one who labors with hand and muscle, and the wise housekeeper will always bear this in mind. Co'd meats are as nutritious as those just from the oven and a regimen composed largely of vegetables, milk and eggs will be found both beneficial and agreeable during the warm season. Salads of all kinds are easily made and arc very grate ful, while ripo finit pleases the palate and regulates the system. Va!ue of a Trade. Many a young man has been ruined for life because he never learned how to do anything. "My father," once said an in telligent young friend, who found it ex tremely difficult to earn a s2anty livelihood by his pen, "did not think it worth while for me to learn any trade or business."— He had been thrown on his own resources, and although a man in stature and years, he was a mere infant in his capacity to earn a living. There are too many men of his class floating around the world— men who have talents, but do not know hoii to use them. Such cases lead us to look upon the culpability as very great, cf any parents, who bring up a son without having been practically and thoroughly in structed in souse way of earning an honest living. Every man should have some pro fession or trade; should know how to do something. Then, whether he steadfastly pursues it or not, he at least has an occu• pation to which, in an emergency, he may resort for the support of himself and others who may be dependent on him. Of all men the practical know nothing is most to be pitied. A 'Curious Calculation. It is asserted by scientific writers, says an Irish newspaper, that the number of persons who have existed on our globe since the beginning of time amounts to 65,- 237,074,255. These figures, when divi ded by 3,095,000—the number of square leagues on the globe—leaves 11,320,989,- 732 square miles of land. which, being di vided as before, gives 1,424,626,075 per , sons to each square mile. If we reduce these miles to square roods, the number will be 1,853,174,600,000, which, divided in like manner, will give 1,373 inhabitants to each square rood, and these being re duced to ten feet will give about five per sons to each square foot of terra firma. It will thus be preceived that our earth is a vast cemetery. On each rood of it 1,283 human beings lie buried, each rood being scarcely sufficient for ten graves, with each grave containing 128 persons. The whole surface of our globe, therefore, has been dug over 128 times to bury its dead. A CONTEMPORARY says of a veay prom inent military C3neral that "his sword was never drawn but once—and then in a raffle." The Wife of Wild Bill. TWICE MARRIED AND TWICE MADE A WIDOW BY MURDER IN SEVEN YEARS' TIME-A LOVE•LETTER FROM CUSTERS' SCOUT IN HIS HONEYMOON JUST BE FORE HIS DEATH. A special correspondent of the New York World, dated Cheyenne, Wy., June 26, says : There is now staying in this city a woman whose matrimonial experience has been sufficiently singular. She has had two husbands both in a measure pub lic characters, and both doomed to a vio lent death. In 1847, then a girl of fifteen, she married William Lake, a well known clown and showman, whose circus was fa mous all over the Union in the earlier days of the business before mammoth aggrega tions like Barnum's took the field: She was financial manager of the concern, and, being a woman of natural parts andi posi tive character, proved a successful finan cier. August 21, 189, while the circus was exhibiting at Granby, Newton county, Mo., a loafer named Jake Killian slipped in without paying. Lake noticed ifiis, and, summoning a couple of men, ejected the dead-head, who armed himself, return ed to the tent, paid his way in, and, seek ing out Lake, shot him dead. The mur derer escaped, but was tracked, captured, tried, convicted and sentenced—to three and a half years' imprisonment in the Pen itentiary ! After her husband's death Mrs. Lake took the management of the circus, which she conducted for three sea sons, visiting all pans of the Union. She then sold off her menagerie, apparatus and stud and settled in some Western city— Chicago I think—whence in the winter of 1875 6 she proceeded to San Francisco. There sbe remained but a few weeks, com ing to Cheyenne a year ago last April, when a little while afterwards she married again, her second husband being W. B. Hickok, so widely known as "Wild Bill." Custer has given a graphic picture of "Wild Bill," and Eastern readers may re member a sketch of his adventures which appeared in Harper's "He was," says Custer, "a plainsman in every sense of the word, yet unlike any other of his class. In person he was about six feet one in height, straight as the straightest of the warriors whose implacable foe he was ; broad should ere, well formed chest and limbs, and a face strikingly handsome; a sharp, clear, blue eye which stared you in the face when in conversation ; a finely shaped nose, in clined to be aquiline; a well-turned mouth, with lips only partially concealed by a handsome moustache. His hair and com plexion were those of the perfect blonde. The former was worn in uncut ringlets, falling carelessly over his powerfully-form ed-shoulders. Of his courage there could be ne question; it had been brought to a test on too many occasions to admit of a doubt. His skill in the use of the rifle and pistol was unerring, while his deport ment was exactly the opposite -of what might be expected from a man of his sur roundings. It was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He seldom spoke of himself unless requested to do so. His conversation, strange to say, never border. ed either on the vulgar or blasphemous. His influence among the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law, and many are the personal quarrels and disturbances which he has checked among his comrades by his simple announcement, 'This has gone far enough,' followed, if need be, by the ominous warning that if persisted in or renewed the quarreller 'must settle it with me.' Wild Bill is anything but a quarrelsome man, yet no one but himself can enumerate the many conflicts in which ho has been engaged, and which have al most invariably resulted in the death of his adversary. He always escapes unhurt. Wild Bill always carried two handsome ivory-handled revolvers of the large size ; he was never seen without them. In all of the many affairs in which he has been engaged which have come to my knowl edge there is not a single instance in which the verdict of twelve fair-minded men would not be pronounced in his favor." With this Adonis of the plains, as I have already said, Mrs. Lake fell madly in love. Hickok certainly reciprocated her passion, as the following letter, written not long after their marriage, when he had gone to the Black Hills to seek fortune and adventure, will testify: DEADWOOD, BLACK BILLS, Dakota Territory, July 17, 1876. Mr OWN DARLING WIFE AGNES-I have but a few moments left before this letter starts. I never was so well in my life. You would laugh to see me now. I have just got in from pros. peeling. Will go out again to morrow. Will write again in the morning, but God knows when it (the letter) will start. My friend will take this to Cheyenne, if he lives. I don't ex pect to hear from you, but it is all the same. I know my Agnes, and I only live to love her. Never mind, pet, we will have a home yet. Then we will be so happy. lam almost sure I will do well here. The man is hurrying me. Good-bye, dear wife. Love to Emma. W. B. lIICKOK (Wild Bill). Such a letter, betraying the most lover like aspirations and a strorg vein of ro mance, was to be looked for from such a man as Custer had described and analyzed, though it will read oddly to any one at the East accustomed to regard the fron tiersman of many brawls as of necessity a bully and a blackguard. This was probably the last letter Wild Bill wrote, for his death ensued a fortnight later. No Sioux took his coveted scalp. No hero of the frontier "got the drol." on him. It might be said of him as of the Jewish warrior, "Died Abner as the fool dieth," or as Johnson wrote of Charles XII.: 'His fall was destined to a foreign strand, A pretty fortress and a dubious hand." lie does not appear to have set out on the prospecting tour to which he alludes in his letter, for August 1, he was still tt Deadwood, where the f'ates brought him to the same card-table with one Jack McCall, a gambling sharper and ugly character. Of him Bill got the better at poker. On the last hand McCall bet $lO and lost, and when he came to settle found that he ha.l only $7.50: Bill, remarking, "you oughn't to overbet your pile ' • that's no to play cards," handed him back a 05 :All to pay for his lodging and breakfast, and the men parted. lie thought no more of the mat ter, neither did any one else who knew of it. Next moraine , Bill was Eat: ig with a number of ear I.players in the Senate sa. loon, when McCall came behind him noise lessly, placed the muzzle of his revolver to the back of his head and crying, "Take that, damn you," fired. Wil B'll lied and never knew how, why or by whom he was killed. The ball traversed the skull, came out under his right Lye, and entered the arm of' his opponent, 1. steamboat cap tain, disabling him for life. McCall, keep ing his revolver -ocked and pointed on the players, backed out of the room and (lea ped. A miners' court was formed, which acquitted him, mainly because of his dec laration that Wild Bill had killed his brother in an affray, so that he was but the avenger of blood. California Joe, another of Custer's scouts whom he des cribes at length in his book, however, ap proached him after the acquittal and said significantly, "I guess you had better leave Deadwood. It isn't a healthy place." Mc- Call looked in his eye and left. Deadwood was not a healthy place. A little while later California Joe was killed; not that he had assisted at a notable funer al accorded to the remains of Wild Bill, whom the people of Deadwood seemed to have regretted sincerely. McCall went on to Custer City, and there could not keep from boasting that he had killed Wild Bill. A United States Marshal overheard him and arrested him, and on the Ist of March last the murderer of the second of Mrs. Lake's husbands was hanged in due course of law at Yankton. Ile died game. • As Marshal Burdick was returning from the execution, he received the following let ter : LOUISVILLE, KY., Feb. 25, 1877 DEAR Sin—l saw a piece in the morning papers about the sentence of the murderer of "IVild Bill," Jack McCall. There was a young man of the name of John McCall left here about six years ago, who has not been heard from for the last three years. Ile Luisa father, moth er and three sisters living here in Louisville, who are very uneasy about him since they heard about the murder of "Wild Bill." If you can send us any information about him we will be very thankful to you. This John Mc- Call is about 25 years old ; has light hair, in clined to curl, and one eye crossed. I cannot say about his height, as he was not grown when he left here. Please write as soon as convenient, as we are very anxious to hear from you. Very respectfully, _ . _ _ MARY A. McCALL, It was the same John McCall who had left home six years before, a boy still at the growing age, who bad turned gambler and ruffian and had trodden the red path of murder to the scaffold. Mrs. Hickok, or Mrs. Lake, a her friends will more readily recognize her, leaves in a few days to visit her relatives in Cincin nati. Was I not right in saying that there was a sufficiently singular romance inter woven with her married life ? His Last Call A STRANGE STORY OF THE LAST HOURS OF AN OLD PROMPTEd,—"RING DOWN, THE DRAMA IS OVER." Fron; the New York Grophie, He was an old man, his hair white and thin. lie had been sick for some titne past at the M- lintel. The company would occasionly drop in to see h'►w the poor fellow thrived, and administer t) his wants.as well as they could. A drizzling rain WA S falling in the lamp lit street below. The fire or the grate played with a ghastly eff3ct upon the old man's emaciated face, and he tossed his head restlessly on Lis pillow. Two ladies of the company sat by his bed; one with fair hands sa:),: , thed the tangkal gray hair from his damp broT. The silence in the room was really oppressive. Nothing could be heard but the jowl ticking of the clock on the mantel, and the pattering of the rain on the window without. The door opened noiselessly and the phy sician entered. All made way fur the Limn of science. How eagerly they watched him as he felt the invalid's pulse ? The fair-haired soubrette was the first to break the silence : "Doctor, is there any hope ?" The physician slowly sho3k his bead, as be tenderly dropped the poor thin loud and softly said : "The end is very near." Ten minutes pissed—twenty. The suf ferer was very quiet. A gamin in the street below called loudly to a companion. The old man suddenly opened bis eyes anddistinctlyslid in an authorintive voice : "Half hour—half hour !" All was quiet again. The company in the room seemed awed by the presence of death, and reverently bowed their heads, waitity , ' mutely for the end. Some one below the stairs opened a door, and the soft aotes or a piano were distinctly heard in the room. The old prompter roused him self from his stupor, and clearly called : "Overture—all down to begin !" Then they understood him, poor o!cl man. Actor and actress looked into each other's faces and truly realized that the ruling passion was indeed strong even in death. In his last moments his heart was with his beloved profession. Ah ! alas! it was his life drama, and be was in the last scene of the act. From this moment he began to sink rapidly. The friends gath ered closer around the bed side with piti ful faces. One of the ladies, with a sob, turned away. It sterned to rotrq! him. He feebly said : "Everybody ready to end act'." A terrible paleness came over his face, dark rings Ihrwed around his eyes. It was the ghastly hue of death. lie did not move. They thought he had passed away, he was so quiet and motionless. The doc tor leaned over softly and listened. The loud ticking of the clock grated harshly on their ears, but no one moved. The door of the parlor below opened, and again the soft notes of the piano could be heard. At this instance the clock upon the mantel struck one. His dim. eves brightened for a moment. The old look oc intelligence stole over his wan face. The physician stooped to ca.ch the feebly-whispered sen tence : "Ring - sown—i!Je drama is over !" The lair haired girl silently closed his sightless eyes. and thus, like a plaint ive melody, the old prcrutpter's pissed away. "CumpLAy." What a ceremonious affair we tna'at (-Ten tertaining company ! To- army of us lose all sense f being at home the moment a stranger crosses our .hreshold ;. and he instantly feels himself to tie a mere visitor —nothing more—and acts aecoreingly. The man who knows how to "drop in" of an evening, draw up his cha'.:. to your heart) - as if it were his own, and fai. into the usua evening routine or the household as if lie were a member of it—how wel come he al - ays is! "'he man who comes to stay unc:- your roof for a season, and woo, without being intrusive or familiar, makes you feel that he is "at home" with you and is content in his usual fashion of ocep2atimi—how delightful a guest he And the houses—ah, how few of them !—into whic.i one can go for a day or a week and feel sure that the family routine is in no wise alter, l, the family comfort in no wise lessened, but, on the contrary, increased by one's presence— what joy it is to cross the thresholds ! What harbors of refuge they are to weary wanderers ! What sweet reminiscences they bring to the lonely and homeless ! LYING is,like trying to hide in a fog ; if you move about you are in danger of bumping y Jur head against the truth ; and as sGor the fog blows up, you are gone anyhow. Buying a Bridal Trawl. One day last week a powerful young man to whose right arm was linked a tall, thin girl of eighteen, with a sharp nose ' pale blue eyes, and hair the color of an old knife handle, entered a Lake avenue store with both eyes full of business. As the pair took seats, the clerk intimated that he was ready to make bottom prices on any goods in the store, from the finest silk to the glaciest calico. "This is kinder delicate business for us," replied the young man, casting sheep's eyes at the girl. "Thtit is to say—this is—yes, hem !" stammered the clerk. "But I guess we'll lire through it Molly, and so here goes. What we want is a trossy for this girl—a bridal crossy, believe they call it." "That's exactly what they call it," re plied the clerk. "And if you please ten ure what article you want, and I'll give you the lowest figures." The pair looked at each other in a luilf foolish way fir a minute, and then the girl hid her face behind a stack of goods. "A little skeery, but she'll get over ir," mu-ed the lover. "The first thing I suji. pose, is a dress." "From one to sixteen ilte-st.s, as you like," replied the clerk "You'll take black silk, perhaps." "And perhaps I wont. Tlierc's no style about us Mister. We marry tier love. and we've got to make a little money go a long ways. Is calico pretty low ?" "Oh ! Zekel !" gasped the &fir: sudden ly showing her face. °•d'e'll go a little better, then, thint,:h calico is my motto. Hand us down t. , Lone thing about thirty cents a yard. Give us dove color, for doves are meek and lovely, and so is 31011 y." Twelve yards of dove colored goods were cur off and Zeke looked around :“.ct said : "Les see, I Suppose a black calla, two yards blue ribbon, a bunch of hair pins, and two nr three c)ilars ought to figure in somewhere." The clerk agreed, aril the articles were figured in. "Let's see, wear her sister's hat to stand up in, and her shoes won't show if she has a long dress on. I guess that's about all, isn't it Molly. The girl blushed red, beckoned hiw closer, and after a minute he turned to the clerk and said : It's kinder dimwit!' money away, but she's purty, goad and gentle, and I don't mind. Sig© thinks she might to have -a fifty cent eer,et and two pairs of stock ings " The articles were iospeeted, botigh.t and placed with the "troosy," ;Ind after the lovers held another comukatiau in whisplrs, Zeke observed : -Well, that's all. Figger'er up and there's your cash. We've got to go and get some hair cil and a dollar goil chain with a locket to it, and a pair of sleeve buttons and souls shoe strings and yqa seg the outfit is going to squeeze me bad." ..When doe 3 the marriage come off?" asked the clerk. -[n about ten dap She's a good girl and loves me, and I'm trying to do the square thing by her. 'Tain't many young men that would put up seven or eight dol lars for a bridal trossy for his girl; but when I make up my mind to marry any one I'm al host reckless as to wealth. She didn't need the corset any more than I need gallowses, but she bad a sister mar ried with a corset on, and she don't want to he behind her." ..[ hope you will be happy." "We shall be—can't help it—this ere girl can sling more enthusiasm into a met* oVtaters than any Queen io Europe, and as far as fried pork—yucu! She can com pose poetry, chop wood, draw pictures. milk a cow, build a suit of clothes, or spell down any that stands on legs; and when winter howls around our little home, we'll set with our feet in the oven, chew apples, and remember that I had to take her old dad by the collar and jerk his heels to the ceiling, before he'd consent to this mar riage. Well, good bye. Come gal." Fancied Ills. I can mention a score of women (and men, too, for that matter; but let them rO, for once.) who pride themselves on their ill-health ; acearding to their own account, they are never well ; never in robust health. The other evening, iu a crowded assembly. I was compelled to listen tc a long catalogue of the ills to which flesh is heir, drearily enumerated by a lady for the entertainment of a gentleman : "She never expected ti be well again. The doctor said her nervous system was cam pletely gone." Carious to see a person who had lost her nervous system, yet was able to endure with fortitude the heat and excitement of a ball-room, I looked at the speaker attentively. Shc was a pretty little woman, with bright eyes, black hair, rosy cheeks, arid the counterfeit present ment, at least, of excellent health. We concluded that she thought it iateiestiug to he a semi-invalid, like the school girls of the last generation. who used to eat slate pencils and sip vinegar to make them selves pale. While many ladies think that sickness is '•interesting" and genteel, there is no doubt that a morbid desire for sympathy is at the betrom of half the u.e less complaints in the world. It is sweet to be pitied, and the cheapest way to get pity is to tell over your troubles. So there are some who are forever relating afilie !;i;ns. Some of them are real enough.— But for all human woes there are compen cations, unless we willfully shut our eyes and refuse to recognize them. One trial may be ours, or two, or six, or seven, yet. we have joy end gladness to balance it or them, and we ire not crushed By need less reiteration in the ears of the kindest lisi.ier, we may double the extent of our misfortune. If speech is silver, silence is goh'en, as reg-rds the inevitnble vexations. defeats and calamities of life. DANDELION GitEENS —They were sit ting by the window. Her head of golden brf wn aPst:cd lovingly on his shoulder, while his arm encircled her waist with a tender pressure. The soft moon east its mellow light upon them, bathing them in a flood of silver radiance, while the little stars, as they viewed the charming sight, winked wickedly, though lovingly at each other. "Darling," he whispered, in a voice full of meaning, "what do you love the most, what do you most wish for ?" Her head nestled closer to his loving bean, and her sweet voice was strnng with mild enly firmness, as she softly murmured : "Dandelion greens—don't you, darling'" By a strong exercise of power he managed to keep his seat.—Rockland Courier. WHEN is a plant a hog ? When it begins to root. And when is it like a soldier ? When it shoots. NO. 29.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers