VOL. 41.
The Huntingdon Journal
J. R. DURBORROW,
PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS.
Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Streei
THE TICNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every
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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
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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.