VOL. 42.
Ile Huntingdon Journal,
J. R. DURBORROW,
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School and Miscellaneous Books
GOOD BOOKS
FOR THE
FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD.
The following is a list of Valuable Books, which will be
supplied from the Office of the Huntingdon Jotrartat.
Any one or more of these books will be sent peat-paid to
any of our readers on receipt of the regular price, which
IS named against each book.
Allen's (B. L. L. F.) New American Farm Book $2 50
Allen's (L. F.) American Cattle.. 2 by
Allen's (IL L.) American Farm Book 1 50
Allen's (L. F.) Rural Architecture.
(P
Ailea's L.) Diseases of Domestic Animals lOO
American Bird Fancier 3O
American Gentleman's Stable Guides 1 00
American Rose enitarist
American Weeds and Useful Plants 1 75
Atwood's Country and Suburban Boma, 1 50
Atwood's Modern American :oulesteadas 3 50
Baker's Practical and Scientific Fruit Culture►...._ 2 50
Barber's Crack Shots.
Barry's Fruit Garden.
Beli's Carpentry Made Basy► b 00
Bement's Rabbit Fancier 3O
Bicknell's Village Builder and Supplement. 1 Vol► l2 00
Bicanell's Supplement to Village Builders 5 00
Bogardus' Field Cover, and Trap Shooting► 2 00
Bommer's Method of Making Manures 25
Boussingault's Rural Economy ......» ................... 160
Brackett's Farm Talk-► paper, 50cts.; c10th.... 75
Breck's New Book of Flowers ..... ....-..-....-... ........ 1 75
Brill's Farm-Gardening and Seed-Growilig
Broom-Corn and Browne...-. ..... .paper, bats.; sloth 75
Brown's Taxidermist's Manual* ...... ....-... ...... ........ 100
Bruckuer's American Menuress . 1 50
Buchanan's Culture of the Orapeand Wine makings 75
Buel's Cider-Maker's .Manuals
&list's Flower-Garden Directory.. - . ._ 1 50
Buist's Family Kitchen Gardener 1 00
Burg.' American Kennel and Sporting Fields 4 00
Burnham's The China Fowls 1 00
Burn's Architectural Drawing Book* .. 1 00
Burns' Illustrated Drawing Book* 1 00
Burns' Ornamental Drawing Book* . . 1 00
Burr's Vegetables of America* 3 00
Caldwell's Agricultural Chemical Analysis 2 00
Canary Birds. Paper 50 cts Cloth 75
Chorlton's Grape-Grower's Guide 75
Cleveland's Landscape Achitezture* 1 50
Clok's Diseases of Sheep' 1 25
Cobbett's American Gardener 75
Cole's American Fruit Book 75
Cole's American Veterinarian 75
Cooked and Cooking Food for Domestic Animals' 2O
Cooper's Game Fowls*
Corbett's Poultry Yard and Market*pa.socts., cloth 75
Croff's Progressive American Architecture'.........._ 10 00
Cummings' Architectural Details .... 10 00
Cummings dr Miller's Architecture* . 10 00
Clipper's Universal Stair-Builder _ 350
Dadd's Modern Horse Doctor, 12 mo
Dadd's American Cattle Doctor, 12 mo— 1 60
Dadd's American Cattle Doctor, Bvo, cloth* 2 5 0
Dadd's American Reformed Horse Boek, S vo, cloths 2 50
Dada's Muck Manual
Darwin's Variations of Animals A Plants. 2 vols
[new ed.]
Dead Shot; or, Sportsman's Complete Guides 1 75
Detail Cottage and Constructive Architectures lO 00
De Voe's Market Assistants...-.
Dinka, Mayhew, and Hutchison, on She Dog*. ...... - 300
Downing's Landscape Gardening.-- ...... ..........
Dwyer's Home Books . ....... 2 00
Eastwood on Cranberry —. .. . 75
Eggleston's Circuit Rider' 1 75
Eggleston's End of the World
Eggleston's Hoosier School-Master 1 25
Eggleston's Mystery of Metropolisvilie.........— 1 50
Eggleston's (Geo. C.) A Man of Honor 1 25
Elliott'. Hand Book for Fruit Growers* Pa., 60c.; do 1 00
Elliott's Hand-Book of Practical Landscape Gar
dening*...e....-. .
Elliott's Lawn and Shade Tree* .. 1 50
E liott's Western Fruit-Grower's Guide . 1 50
Eveleth's School House Architecture* 6 00
Every Horse Owner's Cyclopredias......... .............
Field's Pear Culture ..
Flax Culture. [Seven Prize Essays by practical grow
-30
Flint ( lee L.) oa Grasses* . 250
Flint's Mitch Cows and Dairy Farming* 2 50
Frank Forester's American Game in its Seasons 3 00
Frank Forester'. Field Sports, 8 To.,
2 vole' 6 00
Frank Forester s Fish and Fishing,Svo., 100 Emits.- 3 50
Frank Forester's Horse of America, 8 vo., 2 vols* lO 00
Frank Forester's Manual for Young Sportsmen. Bvo 3 00
French's Farm Drainage..... ...... ...
Fuller's Forest-Tree Cultnrist . 1 50
Fuller's Grape Cultarist
Fuller's Illustrated Strawberry Culturist 2O
Fuller's Small Fruit Culturist 1 5
Fulton's Pesch Culture 1 50
Gardner's Carriage Painters' Manual * 1 00
Gardner's How to Paint*
Geyelin's Poultry-Breeding
Gould's American Stair-Builder's. . 4 00
Gould's Carpenter's and Builder's Assistaut ...... ...* 3 I 0
Gregory on Cabbages paper.. 30
Gregory on Onion Raising*...._ paper.. 30
Gregory on Squashes .paper.. 30
Guenon on Mitch Cows 75
Guillaume's Interior Architecture* 3 00
Gun, Rod, and Saddles 1 00
Hallett's Builders' Specifications. 1 75
Hallett's Builders' Contracts* .. — 10
Barney's Barns, Out-Buildings, and Fencess.......--. 600
Harris's Insects Injurious to Vegetation... Plain $4 ;
Colored Engravings 6 50
Haub' on the Pig - 160
Hedges' on Sorgho or the Northern Sugar Plants-. 1 60
Helmsley's Hardy Trees, Shrubs, and P1ant5'......... 750
Henderson's Gardening for Pleasure.... ........ .-.--.. 1 50
Henderson Gardening for Profit . 1 50
Henderson's Practical Floriculture __ 1 50
Herbert's Hints to Horse-Keepers 1 75
Holden's Book of Birds paper 25c.; sloth.. 50
Hooper's Book of Evergreens 3 00
Hooper's Dog and Gun paper 30c.; ; cloth 6O
Hooper' Wester'. Fruit Book* 1 50
Hop Culture. By nine experienced cultivators 3O
How to get a Farm and Where to find One 1 25
Husmann's Grapes and Wines 1 60
Husrrey's Home Buildings*
Hussey's National Cottage Architecture 6 00
Jacques's Manual of the Garden, Farm cad Barn
...
Yard. .
. - . . 175
Jennings on Cattle and their Diseases. . 175
Jennings' Horse Training Made 1 25
Jcnnings on the Horse and bin Diseases* 1 75
Jennings on Sheep, Swine, and P0u1try*......... ...... . 1 75
Jersey, Alderney, and Guernsey C0w...._.. 1 50
John Androes (Rebecca Harding Davis) . 150
Johnson's Hew Crepe Feed
o
Johnson'. Flow Crpa G r0w....„.„2 00
Johnson's Peat and its Pees ................... ........ 1 25
Johnson's Agricultural CheMistry. ........ 1 75
Johnson'. Elements of Agricrtltural Chemistry...— 150
Kern's Practical Landscape Gardening* 1 50
King's Beekeepers' Text Book—Paper 40c.........c10t1a 75
Klippart's Wheat Plait* .
Lakey's Village and Country Moines.
Leavitt's Facts about Peat* 1 75
Leuchar's How to build Hot-Houses
Lewis' People's Practical Poultry Keeper* 1 50
Long's American Wild Fowl Shooting* 2 On
Loring's Tarrn•Yard Club of Jotham*
Loth's Practical Stair Builder* lO 00.
Lvmsn's Cotton Culture
Manual of Flax Cultures
Marshall's Farmer'. Hand Book* 1 60
J. R. DURBORROW, - - - J. A. NASH.
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PRI
'ING A
Ely gluts' *tuff.
The Old Song.
BY MARY IRVINR
A simple song, a nameless song,
Sweet, tremulous and slow !
It blossomed on a human lip
Two hundred years ago
That lip has crumbled back to dust,
And centuries worn asunder
With stony clasp the chords that woke
Aolian breathings under!
Yet tell me not that long ago
The nameless ceased to be
Death never won a human heart
Embalmed in melody
This soul embodied in the thrill
Of one heart-touching tone,
Goes waking on a thousand lips.
The echo of his own !
It tells its own sad Story in
That sweet and broken lay ;
A soul that in life's labyrinth
Went wandering astray.
A soul that lived, a soul that loved,
A soul that watched and wept,
Then folded up its weary wings,
Lay down in peace, and slept.
Far better thus a nameless throb
Cast on the shoreless sea
Of human hearts, to circle on
In ceaseless sympathy.
Than heartless trump hung idly on
The brazen tower of fame,
Sending down deafened centuries
The clamor of a name!
Better to sing a cradle hymn
Than babbled mystery ;
Better to live in humble love
Than human memory !
Oh, sing that tuneful song again,
But soft, and sad, and slow ;
Sweet as the spirit sighed it forth
Two hundred years ago !
E4e oitou-Eelltr.
Daniel Webster's Religious Character.
From the "Reminiscences of Daniel
Webster," by- his friend Peter Harvey, a
volume of great interest, just from the
press of Little, Brown & Co., Boston, we
make the following extract:
The year before Mr. Webster died, in
the autumn of 1851, I was spending a few
weeks with him at his place in Franklin.
One pleasant morning he said to me :
"I am going to take a drive up to An
dover, and I want you to go with me."
Andover was about ten miles from his
place in Franklin. He added :
"We can start after breakfust, and it
will take us an hour and aa half or two
hours to go. We shall only want to stay
there an hour or so, and we will return in
time for dinner. When we get into the
wagon I will tell you who I am going to
see."
The horse was harnessed, and we started
off. As we rode along, Mr. Webster had
a great many reminiscences called to mind
by different objects that we passed. Such
a man used to live here, be would say, and
such a man lived in such a house, and there
I remtmber such a man lived in such a
house; and here he used himself to live
when a boy, and there he used to pitch
quoits, and in another place he used to
play with John Holden's boys.
After M r. Webster had recounted various
pleasing reminiscences of this kind, he
said :
"Now I will tell you the object of this
trip today. lam going to see a man by
the name of Colby. John Colby is a
brother-in-law of mine. He married my
oldest half-sister, and was, of course, a good
many years older than myself,—as she was.
I have not seen him for forty-five years, as
nearly as I can recollect. My sister, his
wife, has been dead many, many years ;
and any interest I may have had in John
Colby has all died out; but I have learned
some particulars about his recent life that
interests me very much, and I am going
to see him. I will tell you something
about him. When I was a lad at home,
on the farm, John Colby was a smart,
driving, trading, swearing yeoman, money
loving and money-getting. In that rather
rude perid, when there were not many
distinctions in society, when one man was
about as good as another, and when there
were very few educated persons, he was
considered a very smart active man. Ire
member him, however, with a sort of ter.
ror and shudder. He would pick me up
when I was a little fellow, throw me astride
of a horse bare-back, and send the horse
to the brook. The horse would gallop.
and I had to hold on to his mane to keep
from being pitched into the river. Colby
was a reckless, wild, harum-scarum, dare
devil sort of a fellow Well, John Colby
married my oldest half-sister. She was a
religious, good woman ; but beaux were
not plenty, and John Colby was a fine
looking man. His personal habits were
good enough, laying aside his recklessness;
he was not a drinking man, and he was, as
the world goes, a thrifty man. Any of
the girls in town would have married John
Colby. After he married my sister, I went
away to college, and lost sight of him.—
Finally, he went up to Andover and bought
a farm ; and the only recollection I have
about him after that is, that he was called,
I think, the wickedest man in the neigh
borhood, so far as swearing and impiety
went. I used to wonder how my sister
could marry so profane a man as John
Colby. I think she herself was very much
shocked, and I know her father was, who
was a religious man. And still Colby was
considered "a good catch " I came home
from college during vacation, and used to
hear from him occasionally ; but after a
few years—perhape five or six—my sister
died, and then, of course, all the interest
that any of us had in John Colby pretty
much ceased. I believe she left a child,
—I think a daughter—who grew up and
was married, and also left a child.
'i"» .
Cr'
or, tz
tc
Now I will give you the reason why I
am to day going up to see this John Colby
I have been told by persons who know,
that, within a few years, he has become a
convert to the Christian religion, and has
met with that mysterious change which we
call a change of heart ; in other words, he
has become a constant, praying Christian.
This has given me a very strong desire to
have a personal interview with him, and
to hear with my own ears hie accounc of
his change. For, humanly speaking, I
should have said that his was about as
hopeless a case for conversion as I could
well conceive. He won't know me, and I
shall know him ; and I don't intend to
make myself known at first."
We drove on, reached the village,—a
little, quiet place, one street running
through it, a few houses scattered along
here and there, with a country store, a
tavern, and a post office. As we drove in
to this quiet, peaceable little hamlet, at
midday, with hardly a sign of life notice
able, Mr. Webster accosted a lad in the
tz
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HUNTINGDON, PA,, FRIDAY, MARCH 15, 1878.
street, and asked where John Colby lived.
"That is John Colby's house," said he
pointing to a very comfortable two-story
house, with a green lawn running down to
the road. We drove along towards it, and
a little before we reached it, making our
horse secure, we left the wagon and pro
ceeded to the house on foot. Instead of
steps leading to it, there were little flag
stones laid in front of the door; and you
could pass right into the house without
having to step up. The door was open.—
There was no occasion to knock, because,
as we approached the door, the inmates of
the room could see us. Sitting in the
middle of that room was a striking figure
who proved to be John Colby. He sat
facing the door, in a very comfortably fur
niched farm house room, with a little table,
or what would perhaps be called a light
stand, before him. Upon it was a large,
old fashioned Scott's Family Bible, in very
large print, and of course a very heavy
volume. It lay open, and he had
evidently been reading it attentively. As
we entered, he took off his spectacles and
laid them upon the page of the book, and
looked up at us as we approached. Mr.
Webster in front. He was a man, I should
think, over six feet in height, and he re
tained in a wonderful degree his erect and
manly form, although he was eighty five
or six years. His frame was that of' a
once powerful, athletic man. His head
was covered with very heavy, thick, bushy
hair, and it was white as wool, which
added very much to the picturesqueness of
his appearance. As I looked in at the
door, I thought I never saw a wore stri
king figure. He straightened himself up,
but said nothing until just as we appeared
at the door, when he greeted us with,—
"Walk in, gentlemen."
He then spoke to his grandchild to give
us some chairs. The meeting was, I saw,
a little awkward, and he locked very
sharply at us, as much as to say, "You are
here, but for what I don't know; make
known your business." Mr. Webster's
first salutation was,—
"This is Mr. Colby, Mr John Colby, is
it not ?''
"That is my name, sir,'' was the reply
"I suppose you don't know me," said
Mr. Webster.
"No. sir, I don't know you ; and I should
like to know how you know me."
"I have seen you before, Mr. Colby,"
replied Mr. Webster.
"Seen me before !" said he ; "pray, when
and where ?"
"Have you any recollection of me ?"
asked Mr. Webster.
"No, sir, not the slightest ;" and he
looked by Mr. Webster toward me, as it'
trying to remember if he had seen me.—
Mr. Webster remarked,—
"I think you never saw this gentleman
before; but you have seen me."
Colby put the question, when and where ?
You married my oldest sister," replied
Mr. Webster, calling her by name. (I
think it was Susannah )
"I married your oldest sister !" exclaimed
Colby; "who are you ?"
"I am 'little Dan,' " was the reply.
It certainly would be impossible to de
scribe the expression of wonder, astonish
ment, and half-incredulity that came over
Colby's face.
"You Daniel Webster !" said he ; and
he started to rise from his chair. As he
did so, he stammered out some words of
surprise. "Is it possible that this is the
little black lad that used to ride the horse
to water? Well, I cannot realize it !"
Mr. Webster approached him. They
embraced each other ; and both wept.
"Is it possible," said Mr. Colby, when
the embarrassment of the first shock of
recognition was past, "that you have come
up to see me ? Is this Daniel ? 'Why,
why," said he, "I cannot believe my senses.
Now, sit down. lam glad, oh lam so
glad to see you, Daniell I never expected
to see you again. I don't know what to
say. lam so glad," he went an, that my
life has been spared that I might see you
Why, Daniel, I read about you, and hear
about you in all ways; sometimes some
members of the family come and tell us
about you ; and the newspapers tell us a
great deal about you, too Your name
seems to be constantly in the newspapers.
They say that you are a great man, that
you are a famous man; and you can't tell
how delighted I am when I hear such
things. But, Daniel, the time is short,—
you won't stay here long,—l want to ask
you one important question. You may be
a great man ; are you a good man ? Are
you a Christian man ? Do you love the
Lord Jesus Christ ? That is the only
question that is worth asking or answering
Are you a Christian ? You know, Daniel,
what I have been ; I have been one of the
wickedest of men Your poor sister, who
is now in heaven, knows that. But the
spirit of Christ and of Almighty God has
come down and plucked me as a brand
from the everlasting burning. I am here
now, a monument to his grace. Oh, Daniel.
I would not give what is contained within
the covers of this book for all the honors
that have been conferred upon tnen from
the creation of the world until now. For
what good would it do. It is all nothing,
and less than nothing, if you are not a
Christian, if you are not repentant If
you do not love the Lord Jesus Christ, in
sincerity and truth, all your worldly honors
will sink to utter nothingness Aro you
a Christian ? Do you love Christ ? You
have not answered me."
All this was said in the most earnest
and even vehement manner.
"John Colby," replied Mr. Webster,
"you have asked me a very important
question, and one which should not be
answered lightly. I intend to give you an
answer, and one that is truthful, or I won't
give you any. I hope that I am a Christian.
I profess to be a Christian. But while I
say that, I wish to add,—l say it with
shame and confusion of face,—that I am
not such a Christian as I wish I were. I
have lived in the world, surrounded by its
honors and its temptations; and I am afraid,
John Colby, that I am not so good a
Christian as I ought to be. lam afraid I
have not your faith and your hopes; but
still. I hope and trust that I am a Christian,
and that the same grace that has converted
you, and made you an heir of salvation,
will do the same for me. I trust it; and
I also trust, John Colby,—and it won't be
long before our summons will come,—that
we shall meet in a better world, and meet
those who have gone before us, whom we
knew, and who trusted in the same divine,
free grace. It won't be long. You can
not tell, John Colby, how much delight it
gave me to hear of your conversion. The
hearing of that is what led me here to day.
I came here to sec with my own eyes, and
hear with my own ears the story from a
man that I know and remember well.—
What a wicked man you used to be 1"
"0 Daniel !" exclaimed John Colby,
"you don't remember how wicked I was;
how ungrateful I was; how unthankful I
was ! I never thought of Gud ; I never
cared for God ; I was worse than a heathen.
Living in a Christian land, with the light
shining all round me, and the blessings of
Sabbath teachings everywhere about me, I
vas worse than a heathen until I was ar
rested by the grace of Christ, and made to
tee my sinfulness, and to hear the voice of
ay Saviour. Now I am only waiting to
go home to Him, and to meet your sainted
sister, my poor wife And I wish, Daniel,
that you might be a prayerful Christian,
and I trust you are. Daniel," he added,
with deep earnestness of voice, "will you
pray with me ?"
We knelt down, and Mr. Webster of
fered a most touching and eloquent prayer.
As soon as he had pronounced the "Amen,"
Mr. Colby followed in a most pathetic,
stirring appeal to God. He prayed for
the family, for me, and for everybody.—
Then we arose ; and he seemed to feel a
serene happiness in having thus joined his
spirit with that of Mr Webster in prayer.
"Now," said he, "what can we give you ?
I don't think we have anything that we
can give you."
"Yes you can," replied Mr. Webster ;
"you have something that is just what we
want to eat."
"What is that ?" asked Colby.
"It is some bread and milk," said Mr.
Webster. "I want a bowl of bread and
milk for myself and my friend."
Very soon the table was set, and a white
cloth spread over it ; some nice bread was
set upon it and some milk brought, and we
sat down to the table and ate Mr. Web-
ster exclaimed afterward :
°•D dn't it taste good ? Didn't it taste
like old times ?"
The brothers-in-law took au affectionate
leave of each other, and we left. Mr.
Webster could hardly restrain his tears
When we got into the wagon he began to
moralize.
"I should like," said he, "to know what
the enemies of religion would say to John
Colby's conversion. There was a man as
unlikely, humanly speaking, to become a
Christian as any man I ever saw. He was
reckless, heedless, impious ; never attended
church, never experienced the good in
fluence of associating with religious people.
And here he has been living on in that
reckless way until he has got to be an old
man ; until a period of life when you
naturally wouli not expect his habits to
change, and yet he has been brought into
the condition in which we have seen him
to day,—a penitent, trusting. humble be
liever. Whatever people may say, noth
ing," added Mr: Webster, "can convince
me that any thing short of the grace of
Almighty God could make such a change
as I, with my own eyes, have witnessed in
the life of Juhn Colby "
When we got back to Franklin, in the
evening, we met John Taylor at the door.
Mr. Webster called out to him :
"Well, John Taylor, miracles happen in
these later days as well as in the days of
old."
"What now, squire ?" asked John Tay-
"Why, John Colby has become a Chris
tian. 1f that is not a miracle, what is ?"
*elect istellany.
Unbelieved Slander.
It is doubtless a stimulant to some minds
to repeat scandal, not for the purpose of
injury, but for the titillation of the nerves
produced by dealing freely with names in
trinsically respectable. There is a con
sciousness and even a common understand
ing that it is not true, but it is none the
less repeated with pungent effect. It is
also a method of expressing momentary
dislike or opposition. A man irritated
with his friend exclaims, "Who would
would have thought that he would do such
a thing when be does not believe that
be did it, and expects to have the trouble
wholly cleared up. Party spirit especially
is full of this perfunctory indignation and
this unbelieved Blander. It is not to be
supposed that any American credited what
the 4urora said of Washington, or that
Fisher Ames really supposed that Jeffer
son's party were as bad as the French ter•
rorists; and the Spectator says very well :
"Every Democrat in America used to read
every day that General Grant was a drunkard
and a horse jockey and a plunderer, and
worse, but the D,mocrat who would not
dine with General Grant, or who judged
him differently on account of all these
stories, might be sought in vain. He read
in them expressions of an opinion that the
general should not be re-elected, and that
was all."
There was a great deal of truth in this
good humored statement, and a striking
illustration of it was the speech of Colonel
Ingersoll delivered in New York soon after
the election of last year, in which 'he ac
knowledged that he had done his full
share of feeding the angry tires of the
campaign. The fact is that as a"campaign"
proceeds, the audience and the orator de
wand stronger and stronger stimulants,
until at last brandy and cayenne are in
dispensable. There is perhaps an ancon
scious and even half amused conviction all
the while that the "other man" is not
quite so black as he is painted, and in the
high paroxysm of eloquence in which he
is prophesying the overthrow of the Con
stitution and the wreck of liberty which
are to follow the defeat of his own side,
the orator perhaps recalls with a smile,
Timothy Pickering's views of Jefferson and
his Jacobites, or Jefferson's grave remark
that it would not be advisable to resort to
arms against the tendencies of John Quincy
Adam's administration "until much longer
and greater Sufferings " This is one of
the most ludicrous outbursts of party spirit
in our political history, but it meant only
that the Federalists must be defeated in
the election, "and that was aII."—EDITOR'S
EASY CHAIR, in Harper' s Magazine for
Afar&
"I DIDN'T SAY BRISTLES."—The Louis
ville Journal relates the following anecdote :
We remember that some years ago,
Roger N. Sherman and Perry Smith were
opposed to each other as advocates in an
important case before a court of justice.—
Smith opened the case with a violent tirade
against Sherman's political character.—
Sherman rose and very composedly re
marked :
"I shall not discuss politics with Mr.
Smith before the Court, but 1 am perfectly
willing to argue questions of law, to chop
logic, or even to split hairs with him."
"Split that then," said Smith, at the
same time pulling a short, rough looking
hair from his own head, and handing it
over towards Sherman.
"May it please the honorable court." re
torted Sherman, "I didn't say bristles."
PLEASURE is manifested in different
ways, but we believe nobody ever heard q,
man sin; when he had dropped a scuttle
of ashes on the back stairs.
Voices of To-Day.
FIRST VOICE-INGERSOLL,
Believe in hereafter ? I do not know.—
I am aboard of a great ship ; I do not
know what port she left, or whither she is
bound. Ido not know the captain, and
am not on speaking terms with the pilot
She may go down with all on board, or
lie may reach some sunny port. Ido not
know. It is not more strange that men
should live again than that they have
lived.
SECOND VOICE-JOSEPH COOK
Our age has many in it who wander as
lost babes in the woods, not asking whether
there is any way out of uncertainties on
the highest, of all themes, and is suppressed
sadness beyond that of teats. Small philos
ophers are great characters in democratic
centuries, when every man thinks for him
self, but lost babes are greater. There is
a feeling that we can know nothing of
what we most desire to know. I hold,
first of all,to the truth that man may know,
not everything, but enough for practical
purposes. If I have a Father in heaven,
if I am created by an intelligent and be
nevolent Being, then it is worth while to
ask the way out of these woods. I will
not be a questionless lost babe, for 1 be
lieve there is a way, and that, although we
may not know the map of all the forest,
we can find the path home.
THIRD VOICE-EMERSON
Everything is prospective, and man is
to live hereafter. That the world is for
his education is the only solution of the
enigma. * * * The implanting of a
desire is in the constitution of the creature
that feels it. The Creator keeps his word
with us. * * * All I have seen teaches
me to trust the Creator for what I have
not seen. Will you, with vast cost and
pains, educate your children to produce a
masterpiece, and then shoot them down ?
FOURTH VOICE-DANIEL WEBSTER..
That there is a God all must acknowl
edge. I see Himself how wondrous !--
What would be the cogclition of any of us
if we had no hopes of immortality. Amongst
the Jews it is a tradition that communica
tion was made to the Jews by God him
self through Moses. The Romans never
reached it. But, thank God ! the Gospel
ofJesus Christ brought life and immortality
to light ; rescued it, brought it to light !
FIFTH VOICE-MARSH
And where shall our immortal selves
find a home when the wind of death has
passed over this mortal frame and blown
the life out of this perishable dust ? In
what province of God's great kingdom
shall we make our habitation when the
places which now know us on earth shall
know us no more forever ? * * * We
have only to learn diligently and cheerful
ly the lessons now set before us, and by
aud by the veil will be lifted, the doors of
our Father's house will be thrown open,
and we shall be free to range through all
its million fold mansions. Wings of light
shall be given us to fly with, angels shall
stand ready to bear us company in travers
ing God's mighty kingdom; and as
they lead us on and show us the way they
shall tell us all they have learned in thous
ands of years' study. With a wing that
never tires and a curiosity that is never
satisfied, we shall sweep on with the blaze
of suns upon our path and the rush of
planets around us. * * * We shall pass
over immeasurable reaches of apace, where
towering constellations scale the heights of
eternity, where infinite abysses of star
worlds are swallowed up in depts unfathom
able ; and before us shall be the life of
everlasting ages.
SIXTH VOICE—J. R. LOWELL
God of our fathers, thou who wast
And shall be, when the eye-wise who flout
Thy secret presence shall be lost
In the great light that dazzles them to doubt,
___
We who believe life's bases rest
Beyond the probe of chemic teat,
Shall, like our fathers, feel thee near.
The Uses of the Lemon.
As a writer in the London Lancet re
marks few people know the value of lemon
juice. A piece of lemon bound upon a
corn will cure it in a few days; it should
be renewed night and morning. A free
use of lemon juice and sugar will also re
lieve a cough. Most people feel poorly in
the Spring, but if they would eat a lemon
before breakfast every day for a week—
with or without sugar, as they like—they
would find it better than any medicine.
Lemon juice used according to this recipe
will sometimes cure consumption : Put a
dozen lemons into cold water and slowly
bring to a boil, boil slowly till all the juice
is extracted ; and sugar to your taste and
drink. In this way use one-dozen lemons
a day. If they cause pain, or loosen the
bowels too much lessen the quantity and
use five or six till you are better, and then
begin again with a dozen a day. After us
ing five or six dozen the patient will begin
to gain flesh and enjoy food. Hold on to
the lemons, and still use them very freely
for several weeks more. Another use for
lemons is for a refreshing drink in summer,
or in sickness at any time. Prepare as di
rected above and add water and sugar.
But in order to have this keep well, after
boiling the lemons squeeze and drain care
fully; then to every half pint of juice add
one-half pound of crushed sugar, boil and
stir a few minutes more until the sugar is
dissolved, skim carefully and bottle You
will get more juice from the lemons by
boiling them, and the preparation keeps
better.
HER WATERING-PLACE HOME.-It is
a strange thing to see a city chap at a
country party, but be was there, and in
his conversation with one of the prettiest
lasses, ventured to inquire:
"Were you ever at a watering place ?"
"Oh, yes," she replied, "I live right at
one."
"Indeed !" he exclaimed growing in
terested, "where might it be ?"
"Oh, just out here a little way," was
her reply, "my father keeps the railroad
tank." _ _
The city chap, wondering whether she
was in earnest or making fun of him,
dropped the subject.
AN Irishman found a government
blanket recently. and, rolling it up, put it
under his arm and walked off, saying:
"Yis that's moine—U for Patrick and S
for McCarthy. But this larnin's a foine
thing, as my fayther would say, for if I
hadn't any edication I wouldn't have been
afther findin' me blanket."— College Tran
script.
"THE Japanese have no cuss word in
their language. After seventeen futile
attempts to get the joints of a stove pipe
to fit, the indignant Jap goes out and
bumps his head against a post. kirks a
hairless dog twenty seven times around
the yard, and then—feels better."
The President's Little Speech.
BY ONE OF THE OLD TWENTY SECOND lOWA.
Well, neighbor, rye read your paper,
And the speech the President made,
And something slipped through my teeth—
'Twas an ugly oath, I'm afraid.
And I looked for my good right arm,
And saw but an empty sleeve ;
I thought I'd walk over awhile,
My burdened mind to relieve.
When the rebels fired on Sumter,
And the bloody fight begun,
Was it "no special credit,"
That each loyal man seized his gun,
And swore to keep the freedom
That our fathers died to win ?
That no other flag should ever float
Where the stars and stripes had been ?
We met them bravely and fairly,
We fought them long and well ;
We stormed their pits and earthworks,
We faced their shot and shell ;
We carried the dear old banner,
That the traitors had pulled down,
And set it proudly floating
Above each Southern town.
And now the President tells us,
'Twas no disgrace to them,
That they starved our loyal boys
In many a prison pen.
My God, and they were the traitors I
'Twas they began the '_uss ;
But I've not heard a word about
Conciliating us.
I'm sorry the President said it,
For I think he is good and true,
And means ;,o do as an honest man
And a Christian ought to do.
But it's like offering merit for treason,
And to me it seems too plain,
That there's nothing to hinder these fellows
From trying the same thing again.
The graves on the Southern hill-sides
May cover the mouldering forms,
But women's hearts are aching yet,
In our quiet Northern homes.
The cannon smoke is lifted
From fields where our heroes lay,
For the light died out of many a life,
And the shadows came to stay.
Well, just go home now, neighbor,
And let this matter rest;
Wiser heads than mine are running this,
And I reckon they know best.
But I'll take this old army overcoat,
And hide it from sight away,
For loyal blue is at a discount,
And the premium on the gray.
His Last Game of Poker.
TUOUSANDS OF DOLLARS BET AND LOST
ON A SINGLE HAND
The Dakota Herald says : James B.
Anderson, horn in the State of Maine,
reared in affluence, a graduate of Yale
College, and destined for the bar, arrived
in the great city of New York on the 19th
day of July, 1876, and entered upon a ca
reer of dissipation, which culminated in a
determination to seek excitement and ad
venture in the Black Hills. He started
from New York with a companion, having
in his possession $2,200, and arrived in
the city of Deadwood without once having
drawn a sober breath. In Chicago he paid
a visit to a noted gambling hell, where he
won $1,200. He left the tiger's den about
midnight, and as he was passing down
Dearborn street to his hotel he was attack
ed by two ruffians, wbo succeeded in hurl
ing him to the ground, and were about to
rob him, when steps were heard approach
ing, and the robbers hastily decamped. In
this adventure he had his arm broken. He
was taken to his hotel, where the injured
limb was set.
At the end of three weeks he was suffi
ciently well to proceed on his way to the
Hills, to which his companion had prece
ded him. He arrived at El Dorado in Sep
tember, and began anew his career of die
sipation. Strange to say, he was a most
fortunate gambler. Drunk or sober, he
invariably arose a winner, and one time, it
is said, he actually broke a faro bank,
cleaning the place out of nearly $7,000
Twice he was waylaid and robbed—but he
appears to have made a point of carrying
but a small amount of money. The pro
fessional gamblers grew to fear and hate
him for his extraordinary good luck. It is
said that while he was in the Hills he won
over $15,000, and spent his money as reck
lessly as be acquired it.
But fortune deserted the reckless youth.
@ne night he entered a gambling hell, and
encountered a man named Broy. They
were introduced, had some wine together,
and sat down to have a game of poker.
They played with varying fortunes for two
hours, at last Anderson proposed to make
the "ante" $5OO. Broy assented, the cards
were dealt, and Broy offered $lOO on his
hand. Anderson saw him, and went him
$2OO better. A crowd bad gathered about
the table. Broy saw the $2OO and went
him $5OO better. The Eilence of death
reigned in the gambling house. Anderson
looked at his hand,and cooly raised his oppo
nent $l,OOO. The money was deposited
as fast as called tor. Without hesitation
Broy saw the $l,OOO, and went $2,000
better. The excitement became intense.
A pin might be heard to drop while the
two men looked at the cards they held.
The face of Anderson was very pale; while
great drops of perspiration stood out on
the brow of the gambler Broy. It was an
agonizing moment to Anderson whose
"say" it was. He looked at the pile of
bills upon the table, saw it, and then gaz
ed into the hand upon which so much de.
pended, and in a low voice said : "What
Will you do, Broy ?" The latter looked at
the stake, and cried, pulling a heavily load
ed wallet from his pocket: "I see you
and go you $5,000 better." He deposited
the money. Anderson looked at the pile
with a shiver. He covered the money,
however, and then in a low, cool voice,
said : "And I cull you ?" "Four kings !"
cried Broy, throwing down his cards. They
were good. Anderson held four queens.
He laid down his cards and staggered up
from the table, and walked uneasily out of
the room. From that day to this nothing
has been seen or heard of James B. An
derson.
---.—... --.---
Giving Advice.
Advice is a first-rate thing when the
person giving it knows what he or she is
talking about. But. there are volumes of
advice and counsel which are utterly use
less, because it is simply the result of an
uncontrollable desire to say something—
what, makes no difference. Advice, to be
worth anything, needs to be matured in
the mind before it is uttered. It is alto
gether better, however, as a rule, to attend
to your business and let other people's
alone unless you are invited to interfere.
Public men are especially the victims of
the advice given. All men and women in
the world think themselves called upon to
give a man who happens to be in public
life a sort of advice, seeming entirely to
lose sight of the very importrnt fact that
any one who has mind enough to attract
any consideaable share of public attention
probably has enough to manage his own of
fairs. Get your own affairs in good shape
and keep them in it, and do not waste so
much of life in looking after other people,
The Precious Stones of Brazil.
SOME REMARKABLE FACTS CONNECTED
WITH THEIR DISCOVERY-A FORTU
NATE SLAVE-SNATCHES OF SOUTH
AMERICAN HISTORY NOT GENERALLY
KNOWN.
Some remarkable stories are connected
with the discovery of diamonds in Brazil,
so much regretted by the Marquis de Pom
ba], who vainly endeavored to arrest the
evil by forbidding search in the Province
of Bahia (Brazilian diamonds were known
first as "Bahian") on the plea that agri
culture would suffer from the diversion of
industry. We find these stories in Mr.
Streeter's valuable work on "Precious
Stones," in which every branch of his fas
cinating subject is made interesting. The
discovery of diamonds in Bahia was in this
wise : "A cunning slave from Minas Gre
raes, keeping his master's flocks in Bahia,
observed a similarity between the soil of
his native place and that of Bahia. He
sought therefore in the sand, and soon
found 700 carats of diamonds. Fleeing
from his master, be carried these with him,
and offered them for sale in a distant city.
Such wealth in the hands of a slave caused
him to be arrested, but he would not be
tray himself. The master, to whom he was
given up, tried to get at his secret by cun
ning but without avail, until he thought
of restoring him to his former occupation
in Bahia, and watching him." A year af
terward 25,000 people were digging dia
monds there (eighty miles long by forty
broad,) and at the rate of 1,450 carats a
day. Dreadful misery ensued on the dis•
covery of the "Diamond River." The gov
ernment wanted to secure the monopoly of
the new fou:d wealth to the crown, and so
the dwellers on the river's banks were driv
en from their homes to distant wilds and
despoiled of all they possessed. "Nature
seemed to take part against them ; a dread
ful drought, succeeded by a violent earth
quake, increased their distress. Many of
of them perished, but those who lived to
return, on May 18, 1865, were benevolent
ly reinstated in their rightful possessions.
Strange to say, on their return the earth
seemed strewn with diamonds. After a
shower the children used to find gold in
the streets and in the brooks which tra•
versed them. Often the little ones would
bring in three or four carats of diamonds.
A negro found a diamond at the root of a
vegetable in his garden, and the poultry in
picking up their food took up diamonds
constantly." Ason thus improbed upon,
in fullness of time we find Sinbad parodied.
In 1868 the child of a Dutch farmer nam
ed Jaeopns settled at the Cape, amused
himself by collecting pretty pebbles on the
banks of the neighboring river, and picked
up a specimen which attracted his mother's
attention, so that she showed it to one
Schlack Van Viekerk, who was curious in
such matters. He was puzzled about its
nature, and offered to buy it, but Mrs. Ja
copus laughed at his offer and gave him the
pebble, which afterward passed carelessly
through two intervening pairs of hands be
fore it reached, in a gummed envelope and
unregistered, Dr. Atherstone of Graham's
Town, an excellent mineralogist. This
gentleman, having examined its physical
character and tested its degree of hardness
and density, and its behavior when sub
jected to optical tests by means of polarized
light, pronounced it to be a diamond. .
This is the stone which was examined
by savants of all nations during the Paris
exhibition in 1867, and purchased at the
close of it by Sir Philip Wodehouse for
£5OO. In 1870, Mr. Streeter's diamond
expedition party were exploring the Trans
vaal far and wide, and ascertaining facts
which complete our knowledge of the new
wonder of the world. Amid dry geologi
cal details charming touches of anecdote
and adventure crop up, like the gems them
selves, from the gravel and the quartz; the
great solitary jewels, like the "Stewart"
and "Dudley," emerge and take their pla
ces in history with the Sauey, the Pitt, the
Great Mogul, the Hope Brilliant, and many
another bright bauble, blood and tear
stained.
The Transvaal, our new territory, is Sin
bad's Valley in prospect, and the origin of
the most celebrated group of dry diggina
—that called Du Toit's Pan, which does
not sound poetical—is as fantastic ass fan
cy of Hans Christian Andersen's, "A
Dutch Boor named Van Wyk, who occu
pied a house in this locality (20 miles south
east of Pneit), was surprised to find dia
monds embedded in the walls of his house,
which had been built of mud from a neigh
bor's pond. This led to an examination of
the soil, which was found to contain dia
monds. On continuing to dig lower and
lower diamonds were still brought to light,
nor did they cease when the bed of rock
was at length reached."
It was natural that the discovery of
diamonds at the Cape should excite only
moderate enthusiasm in Brazil, but the
Portuguese trick was long past, and the
merchants would have been wiser had they
been less angry, and especially incredulous;
had they remembered, to avoid them, the
incidents of a century before. They refus
ed to receive the warnings sent in good
faith, and in stolid unbelief beheld the
attention *of the trade divert to the Cape
stones, which were brought to market by
all kinds of holders, and so fascinated the
Amsterdam lapidaries that for a long time
they would cut no other. The Brazilian
market went down, and down, and has
never recovered itself.
The New Tax-Bill.
For kissing a pretty girl, $l.
Fur kissing a homely one $2.
The tax is levied in order to break up
the custom altogether, it being regarded
as a piece of inexcusable absurdity.
Fur every flirtation, ten cents.
Fur every young wan who has more than
one girl, five dollars.
Courting in the kitchen, 25 cents.
Courting in romantic places, five dollars,
and fifty cents each time thereafter.
For a girl giving a young man the mit
ten, five dollars and costs of suit.
Seeing a young lady home from church,
twenty cents.
Failing to see her home, 85 and cost.
For ladies who paint, two dollars. Pro.
ceeds to be devoted to the relief of discon
solate husbands who have been deceived
by outside appearances.
Bachelors over thirty years old, ten dol
lars and banished to Utah.
Each boy baby, fifty cents.
Each girl baby, ten cents.
Twins, one hundred dollars premium to
be paid out of the fund accruing from the
tax on old bachelors.
Head of families of more than thirteen
children, fined a hundred dollars and sent
to jail. _ _ _
BEFORE accepting Mr. Beecher's theory
we would like to hear from Km* of the
politicians who have me benipt. 4 •o7 city
Derrick,
NO. 11.