VOL. 42. New Advertisements. War, War, JOSEPH R. CARMON TO THE FRONT WITH AN ELEGANT STOCK OF SPRING AND SUMMER DRY-GOODS. We offer a nice line of Black and Drab, Gros Grain and Striped Silks, at 75 cents per yard, All-Wool Cashmeres from 50 cents to 90 cents, for goods 48 inches wide. We offer also 100 pieces new styles Dress Goods, Melange, Debege, Armures, Alpacas, (all colors), Coburg Poplin, &c., from 15 cents to 25 cents. ile call attention to our nice stock of Plaids, from 6 cents to 12i cents, have just opened 4000 yards of best Prints, which we will sell at 5 cents, Appleton A Muslin, 71- cents, Fruit of Loom, 4-4 10 cents, Chapman, 4-4 8 cents. Notions ! Notions ! Notions ! Our stock of Hosiery for Ladies, Gents. and Misses is complete ; we have the cheapest Hose from 5 cents a pair to 75 cents for the finest lisle thread. A large stock opening of Silk Sun Umbrellas, Counterpanes, Jacquard Quilts, Silk Handkerchiefs, Hamburg Edgings, Cheap; Cheap. Ladies' and Gents.' Shoes! We keep constantly on hand a full line of Ladies', Misses' and Children's Shoes, Gaiters and Slippers. For Men, we have Brogans at $1.25, and $1.75, for Plough Shoes, Ties and Congress Gaiters. Call and be con vinced that we sell the cheapest. Groceries! Groceries! Groceries! The Best Syrup at 70 cts. Choice Syrup at 50 cts., 10 pounds A Sugar for $l.OO, best Green Coffee, 20 cts., best Brown, 23 cts. A liberal dis count allowed persons buying a large quantity. Goods delivered free of charge to all parts of the town. Fish and Salt a Specialty! J. R. CARMON, 420 Washington Street. CARPETS, CARPETS, CARPETS. OIL CLOTHS , OIL CLOTHS, OIL CLOTHS. Another tumble in the Price of Carpets and Oil Cloths. We are just in receipt of another invoice of Three-Ply, Extra Super—Super—lngrain, Hemp and Rag Carpets, and the Prices are lower than ever. We have just received a full line of samples, of the latest designs in Body Brussel and. Tapestry Brussels, at greatly reduced prices. We have just received a beauti ful line of FLOOR/ OIL CLOTH 1 yard wide, 1 1-4 yard wide, 1 1-2 yard wide and 2 yards wide, at Prices that defy competition. If you need a Carpet or Oil Cloth, come and examine our stock - before you pur chase. It will pay. We are the sole agents in the county for the celebrated EIMEIG .WHITE SHlRT—can't wrinkle. HENRY & CO March22-3mos. ... A GRAND OPENING .• , ';fg 41 —AT— tz VIARCES' OLD STAN 44 _D, 4. 4 NO. 615 PENN STREET, HUNTINGDON, PA. fr.( . ENTIRE NEW STOCK OF C") O ' 13E :. N1-Xlci'tar C4•CX C)34 r : - } Z CP CID Z Great Bargains Offered for Cash or Trade. _ ....4 .—( We respectfully invite the public generally to call and ex- z Pc 4 .4 amine the large and entire new stock just re -0 ceived and ready for inspection. tt Z Dry Goods, Notions, Groceries, ;;;' QUEENSWARE, WILLOWWARE, TINWARE, ti PO OIL CLOTHS, TRUNKS, SATCHELS, GENTS. ' FURNISHING GOODS, U) E - ' 4 HATS, CAPS, BOOTS, SHOES, I H 0 ..t and a great variety of other goods, which were purchased for CASH, at bottom figures and will WI be offered at scull profits for CASH. If you desire to buy GOOD GOODS and at prices lower than any other place, come and see our stock and learn oar prices. We mean to do a business of Z SMALL PROFITS AND QUICK SALES. ~ 0 We guarantee our goods to be A No. 1, and at prices cheaper than the cheapest. In conducting 0) our business, we shall be governed as fellows : (1) 1. Justice and one price to all. i 7. No misrepresentation of goods. 0.." 2. Goods sold at small profits. 8. Due attention and respect to all. (71 4 3. Predate taken at market prices. 9. No trouble to show goods, 4...) 4. Cash or Trade only taken for goods. 10. To accommodate the trade, doors will be open 5. Alt mistakes willingly corrected. early and late for business. C. No extra profits on produce. 11. Goods delivered free in town. CD tri (3) ........_ r__. 73- m 33 m IR, . All kinds of Lumber on hands, such as Hemlock Boards, O Scantling, Plastering and Roofing Laths, Shingles, Etc. Any Ct kind of BUILDING MATERIAL furnished at short notice, at ~,f, prices to suit purchasers. tl O A Share of the Trade of Huntingdon and Vicinity Solicited. P t) (...D April 25-6 mos. Mrs. J. MARCH. . Professional Cards - I Miscellaneous. 11 CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street. 1/. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woode k Wil liamson. [ap12,71 D ll.. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional 'orrice. to thecommanity. Office, N 0.623 WarhingSen street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Listl4,7l E.C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Offlos in Leister's building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. .1 Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [npL, '76. fl_F.O. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at , Law, 405 Penn Street, Jilantingdon, Pa. [n0y17,16 GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in B. T. Browne new building, U. No. Mk roost Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [ap12.71 C. UDDXN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l T SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-At-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Penn Street, throe doors west of 3rd Street. Dan4,'7l TW. MAIVEBN, Attorney-at-law and General Claim t) . Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of- Ace on Penn Street. Lian4,7l yGICISSINGEB, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Oourt House. Lfebs,'7l FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., 4.3 e office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and walla attention given to all legal busineee. [angt,'74-6enoe IVILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney -at-Law, Hunting- TY don, Pa. Special attention given to collections, and all other legal business attended to with care and promptness. °Eke, No. 229, Penn Street. [ap19,71 New Advertisements pumors of War ! and NOTlCE—Application will be made by the Board of School D irectors of the Borough of Huntingdon to the Court of Common Pleas of Huntingdon county, at an at gument court of April term of 1878, on the 24th day of May, 1878, for authority to borrow money fo.r the purpose of erec ting a new school house in the borough of Hunt ingdon; character of security, amount, rate per centum, and time at which it s hall be reimbursa ble to be decided by the decree of the said Court. THOS. .S. JOHNSTON, ALEX. ELLIOTT, Pre, 4. School Board. Secretary. [Apr. 28-4 t CHEVINGTON COAL. • T TES Old "Langton 'Yard," in quantities to suit purchasers by the ton or oar load. Kindling wood cnt. to order, Pine Oak or Hickory. Orders left at Judge Miller's store, at my residence, 609 Mifflin at., or Guss raymonds may 3,'78-Iy.] J. 11. DAV IDSON. NOTICE OF ADMINISTRATIO N [Estate of GEOWE WELLS, deed.) Letters of Administrati(sn having been granted to the undersigned, living in Huntingdon, on the estate of my late husband,. George Wells, late of said borough deceased, all persons knowing them selves indebted to said es tate will make payment without delay, and those having claims against the same, will present th em properly authenticated for eel tlement. ILLA WELLS, apr,?tl-et] Admizistastrix. The Iluntingdon ournal. ilt 1,1 MS' Nam. May. HY JOHN 'VANCE CHENEY, When beeches brighten early May, And young grass shines along he way ; When April willows meet the breeze Like softest dawn among the trees ; When smell of Spring fills the air, And meadows bloom, and blue-birds pair ; When Love first bares her sunny Lead Over the brook and lily-bed; Nothing of sound or sight to grieve From choiring morn to quiet eve,— My heart will not, for all its ease, Forget the days to follow these. This loveliness shall be betrayed, This happiest of music played From field to field, by stream and bough, Shall silent be as tuneful now, The silver launch of thistles sail Adown the solitary vale ; That blue solitude of sky Bent over beauty doomed to die, With nightly mist shall witness here The yielded glory of the year. Will He be Home To-Night ? BY L. V. FRENCH. The light fades out from the purple hills, The woodlands are turning brown, On rock, and river, and musical rills The shadows are coming down. A faint blush lingers along the sky, And over the mountain's height— Oh I speed dark hours, like swift birds by, For he must be home to-night See nestled soft in their snowy beds O'er which the fire-light glows, Peer out three golden, curly heads, And cheeks of richest rose. The board is spread with dainty cheer— The tapers are all alight— My flowers in bloom—but—can this be fear ? Oh I will he come to-night? My eyes are bright—it's because they see And mirror with faithful shine, The stars of love thou wilt bring with thee In those soft dark eyes of thine ? And the golden gleams, lik3 the sun on streams, And the floating fancies light, That will glance o'er my heart iu its glad- some dreams, If thou wilt come home to-night ? My cheek's aglow—it's because I'm drest In his fancy 'o favorite hue ? Come, tell me, Elsie, do I "look my best" In this robe of richest blue ? Is my hair in the way he loves, you know— Is the fall of the ringlets right? Do you think me vain ? Ab ! it is not so— But—he will be home to-night. "Look well," yon say? I am glad the while, And I hope he will note the glow, And the lighted eye, and the many smile, Which charmed him—"long ago." I know that my summers are passing away, That I'm not as beautiful—quite— But I know what he'll say, with his smile so gay, If he should come home to-night. Yes—l think he'll come ; over the crimson keys Of my heart cloth a music swell, Like the soft, sweet chiming of distant seas Through the folds of a lonely shell ; And something that's neither of earth nor air, But endowed with an angel's might, Has met my spirit, and whispered there, "Rest i he will be home to-night 1" Oh l God be thanked—who bath kept him safe In his wandering wild and wide, And guided him back, like a precious waif Adrift on a stormy tide. Ho I there's the train—with his signal shrill Oh I dark hours speed your flight ! Oh I soul rejoice—oh! heart be still— He has come—he ha. come to night 1 Et *torg-Etlitr. A WHARF RAT. He was a levee "Rat," and his name was Dick. As a child he managed some. how to escape the massacres of want, ne glect, and disease in great cities ; and we find him a small boy twelve years old, living where he may, eating what he can get, his hand against every thing (that will sell at a junk store), and every one's against him. A human rat—a thing to bide itself in dark places, and to be chased and wor ried when it ventures into the light. The levee which Dick infects is that of New Orleans ; down at the foot of Jack son street, where the English steamers lie, is his happy hunting ground, and on the day when we make his acquaintance, it is not very productive. The hunting has all been on one side, and how Dick is discovered hiding between two bales of oatton is the query. He is kicked, pushed, dragged, jostled backward and forward by the stevedore's man, like a ragged shuttle cock, every one has a curse and blow for the "Rat," with whom things are going hard, when— "Oh, how shameful to beat that poor boy so !".exclaimed a soft voice, with a ring of genuine indignation in it. The speaker is a lady, clad in crisp, cool muslin—a lady, beautiful in face and form. "Oh," she exclaimed, "how shameful to treat that poor child so' Do, please, Cap tain Gilbert, make them let him alone." Captain Gilbert, whose guest she is, and who leads her up to the stage, shouts : "Idalloa! quit that Let the boy go, and go on with your work.". Dick—who, unable to dodge his tor mentors, had emulated the position of a hedge-hog, and made himself as nearly spherical as possible against a cotton bale —does not rise. The foe has not sufficiently retreated, but he keeps a bright lookout from the corner of one eye, so as to be ready for a jump. "They have hurt him," said the lady. "He can't get up, Foor little fellow !" and before any one can interfere, she trips down the stage and is stooping over the "Rat," who is so taken aback by the apparition that he forgets to jump, and rolls over straight. His plight—when it appears that -no bones are broken--makes the lady smile He has been kicked into a coal heap, and is black. He has been cuffed against a lot of oil cake, and is russet brown. He is fluffy all over with cotton waste. His mouth is open and his eyes are wild with astonishment. He had never been so near to a lady, and don't know what will be done with him. "Come, get up," says the Captain, "there's nothing the matter with you." "Can you rise ?" asks the lady, and she touches him with the most wonderful thing Dick ever saw—her band ! The creamy glove upon it, the shimmer of lace and the , glitter of gold at the wrist, and the soft, white flesh beyond ; never had he felt such a touch, or been spoken to in such -a tone. "Oh, ain't I in for it now ?" he muses. and then he looks up into the lady's face. There was no chance for a bolt now.— The lady,the gentleman who came with her, the captain of the steamer, and its chief officer formed a semi-circle in front; be hind was the bale of cotton against which he had rolled himself for protection. He eits up, drinking in that strange expres sion which at once scares, puzzles, and HTJNTINGDON, PA„ FRIDAY, MAY 17, 1878. pleases him, till a sort of sleepy, faint feel ing makes him close his eyes. "He's going to faint," says the lady.— "I knew he was hurt. Oh, see how he is bleeding." .._. . He is bleeding badly. Big drops are trinkling fast down his ragged sleeve, which will soak no more. These come from an ugly tear (caused by a nail in the wharf planking) on his arm, just above the elbow. "Don't look, Mrs. Austen," says the captain ; I'll have him attendd to. Ho, quartermaster! come and carry this boy on board, and give my compliments to the doctor, and ask him to plaster up this cut." Dick has no power to resist. He is car ried on board, muttering, "Come, I ain't done nothing to you." _ _ A cold lunch is served under the awn ing on the main deck. Two other ladies, with their escorts arrive, but the meal is delayed by the appearance of some of the crew, bearing squat heavy boxes, which jingle as they are lowered through a trap- door in the deck, partly under the lunch table. "Mexican dollars," explains the captain. "What a lot of money !" the lady re marked. "Not so much as you suppose, but a tidy sum. Each box contains $2,000, and there are fourteen of them—eh, Mr. Mans field ?" This to the officer in charge, who confirms the count. They have got to their first glass of champagne, when the doctor joins them. "Well, how's your patient ?" asks the captain. "All right, and clean for once in his life, but rather weak," is the medical re port upon the Rat. "Poor child," sighs the lady, "what ought he to take ?" "I should prescribe something to eat," the doctor replies, helping himself to a slice of tongue. "Captain, I should like to give him some dinner." It is unnecessary to say who speaks, and the skipper would indeed have been a stern man if he could have resisted the pleading of those kind brown eyes. The quarter. master is summoned again, and appears, leading Dick. It has begun to dawn upon him that he is not going to be abused. "What is your name, little boy ?" asks the lady. "Dick." • "Are you hungry, Dick ?" "Rather." "Only rather ?" in a tone of disappoint ment. "Rather," explains the Captain, "in that tone, means 'very.' " The lady takes the plate and fills it with cold chicken, stuffing, sallad, bread, and what not ; adds a knife and fork, and gives it to Dick. "I should keep some of that for to-mor row, if I were you," observed the doctor. "Then you'd be a fool," Dick replied with a scoff. "The big fellows on the levee would take it 'fore you'd gone two blocks. To morrow ain't here, but the grub is, and so I'm going to get outside it while I can " There was a general laugh at this phil osophy. Dick "gets outside" his grub without further comment, and is walking off, when the Captain calls him back with a- "Why, you young rascal ! are you going without saying, thank you ?" "Thank ye." "No, not me. Thank the lady." "Thank ye kindly, ma'am," says Dick. It was the first polite speech he had ever uttered, and heaven knows where he picked it up, The party remained on board till about 6 o'clock, and by the time it had broke up every one had forgotten the "Rat ;" but as Mrs. Austen was crossing the levee he ran up, much to the annoyance of her companion, who had had enough of him. "I say," says the Rat, "do you like him ?" with a chuck of the thumb toward the steamer. "Captain Gilbert ?" "Yes—is be your feller ?" "Get out, you scamp," cries the gentle man, indignantly. "Let him speak, Fred," the lady pleads. "No, Dick, I am married, and this is my husband ; but Captain Gilbert is our kind friend. I crossed with him once, and he was very good to me when I was sick." "Was you ever sick ?" asks Dick, with a face full of wonder. "Often. So I can answer your question and say that I like the captain very much. "You'd hate for anything bad to happen him ?" "Why, of course—to him or any one else." "Wot, to me ?" "Indeed I would, my poor boy, 0, Fred, see how wistful he looks ! Mayn't I give him some of Charley's cast-off things ? I have a little boy at home," she goes on, seeing astonishment in her husband's eye, "About your size." "Does he get chickens to eat ?" asks the Rat. "Yes." "Every day ?" "No, not every day," she answers, smi ling ; it is well she does qualify her reply, for Dick's credulity was not yet sufficiently elastic to bear such a marvel as a boy about his size who had chickens every day. So they bade him follow them, and more wonders were in store for him. He sees Charlie. He was taken up to the lady's own room, where the promised things were produced, and tried on over his rags. Here he stood lost in admiration. He gazed about him bewildered, and same dim sense of shame stole over him as he saw his own reflection in the looking-glass. "Mayn't I put 'em on now ?" he asks, as the things are selected. "Better not," says the lady. "Pat them on in the morning. Come here again about 10 o'clock, and we will see what we can do with you." He subunits and goes down very re luctantly, with two whole suits of Charley's left-off clothes bundled in a large hand kerchief and fifty cents in his pocket. As soon as the hall door closes after him the brute instincts of secrecy and evasion pull his jellybag hat over his eyes and send him off at a run. Captain Gilbert spends the evening with his agent, and then returns to the ship about 11 o'clock. "Sorry to say, sir" begins the chief offi cer, "that most of the men are on .shore." "Without leave ?'' A shrug of the shoulders is his only an swer. "Whose watch is it ?" "Mr. Andrews." "Send him here." "How's this, Mr. Andrews ?" asks the Captain, angrily. "It's not my fault, sir. They don't go over the gangway. They crawl over the side and on to the beams of the wharf.— It's impossible to stop them." The Captain knows New Orleans, and, being a just man, had no more to say. It is very provoking. lle is going to sail to morrow, and these men will come on beard either drunk or stupid from the effects of drink. Some of them, perhaps, will not come at all. The weather for the last few days has been oppressively hot, and now there is hope of fain. The sky is dark and low, and the faint evening breeze has ggne down. The Captain has gone down tolais cabin, and tries to read, but the mosquitoes won't let him, so he gets into bed, tucks in his bar, and sleeps the sleep of a tired man. Something makes him conscious that two bells (1 o'clock) is striking. Then he hears a whisper, "Cap'n ! Cap'n !" close by his side. In an instant he had his re volver ready, and in the aet of striking a match, when the whisper says, "Hush ! It's me—Dick. Don't say a word; don't light a match. Hush !Is there a man named Phil Woods in your crowd ?" "Yes, a fireman ; but he deserted last week," the Captain whispers back. "Have you got any specious aboard ?" "Specious? Oh, specie, you mean." "Sot's that ?" "Money." "I thought so. Well, Cap'n, Phil Wood and five more are after that there specious, and they are aboard now." "Good God ! why didn't you tell me before ?" gasps the Captain. "P'liceman cheved me, cos I'd got a bundle that the lady gave me. He took it away, he did, and locked me up," ex claimed Dick, "but I got out." "On board now, do you say ?" asks the Captain. "Yes, and at work, too. Listen !" What the Captain hears sends him out of his berth with a spring. "Fire that," he says, thrusting a pistol into Dick's band, "and run forward shout ing for help as loud as you can scream." Then be darts out on deek. And no time to spare! The thieves have overpowered and gagged the man on watch, have cut round the fastenings on the hatch leading to the specie room, and already two boxes are out and ready for spiriting away. It is a brisk affair while it lasts; which is until the chief officer, doctor, steward, and some others aroused by Dick's shouts and firing, come upon the scene. Then such of the thieves as can do so jump overboard—for their re treat forward is cut off. Three remain; one, the leader, dead ; another with his thigh splintered, and a third with several balls in his body. The first thing they do is to release poor Mr. Andrews, whom they find still insen• sible from a blow on the head. By this time the police have come, and are search ing the ship, lest others of the thieves might be hiding. "What's that in the wheel-house ?" says the chief officer; "bring a light here.— Ah ! it's another of them. Turn him oiler. Oh, Lord ! captain, look here.— Here's gratitude! If it isn't that d—d Rat that the lady—" "My God !" cries the Captain, "I for got all about him Is he hurt ?" "Shot right through the body, and serves him right," is Mansfield's reply. It struck the speaker "silly," as be afterward said, to see the skipper fall down on his knees beside the "Rat," lift his head upon his shoulder, and in a voice hoarse with emo tion say, "Are you hurt bad, my boy ! Don't start. I'm your friend, the captain, Dick—speak to me!" "Is the police gone ?" he moans. "They shan't hurt you, Dick—no one shall. Oh, doctor, come and attend this poor, brave little fellow. Any drop of his blood is worth more than all the lives of those scoundrels. Do your best for him, and send for all the survons in the city, if they can help poor Dick ! Poor little faithful chap." The wounded thieves are carried off to the charity hospital by the police. Dick is taken to the Captain's cabin, and placed in his bed. The ship's doctor does his very best for him. The most famous sur geon in the city comes and looks grave.— Captain Gilbert never leaves him. "Say ?" Dick's voice was very low and tremulous—"was that there money yourn?" "No; but it was in my charge." "You'd a got it if you'd lost it, eh ?" "I should have been ruined." "She wouldn't ha' liked that." "She ? Who do you mean, my boy ?" "The lady—her as you was good to." The Captain turned aside, and tried hard to swallow something which had never passed his lips. "Was it for her sake," he asked, "that you did this ?" "She said she'd hate to have anything bad to come to you," replies the Rat, "cos you was good to her when she was sick. Two nights ago I heard Phil Woods and his crowd talking about robbing a ship of specious. They said they were going to 'tice all the men ashore with drink, and there'd be only one man forward beside the cap'n. There was to ha' bin one put at the cap'n's door to knock him on the head if he came out. 1 didn't know for sartin it war your ship, and I was a coming to ask if you had specious, when the p'lice man chevied me." "Who was it that shot you ?" "Don't know. When I see the p'lice I crawled away to where you found me. I was skear'd, for fear they'd think I be- longed to the other crowd." The Rat is skin and bone, and nervous as a oat. He has lost more blood than he can spare from that slight wound on his arm When the lady comes early in the morn ing, the Rat is sinking slowly. His face brightens up as he sees her. "I say—don't you cry like that," says he. Childlike he puts up his hand to withdraw hers from her eyes. He touches it with awe. It does not break or fly off, and nothing is done to him for his daring. Encouraged by such immunity, he ventures to give it a little pat, and then the face which he is watching intently is lit up with a smile through its tears. Into his unloved life—into his half-savage mind dawns the first idea of a caress. He clasps the lady's hand and draws it down and presses it there with both his little brown paws. Then he leans back with a long drawn sigh. and shuts his eyes. * * * * * Three years have passed, and Captain Gilbert's steamer is again at her wharf at the foot of Jackson street; and again Mr. and Mrs. Austen are to lunch on board. As the lady is stepping down from the gang way, a well-grown, handsome boy, in a blue flannel knickerbocker suit, and straw hat with ship's ribbon, came slyly forward. "Why, that is never Dick ?" she ex claims. "Dick all over," says the Captain, proudly. "Oh, Dick, how you have grown, and how improved !" "There was plenty of room for that," laughs the quondam Rat, Then the Captain takes her aside and explains. "lie's been at school ever since he got well, and has learned more than other boys in double the time. Oh, he's smart ! I'm educating him now for my profession, and believe he could pass for mate to-morrow." "What name have you given him ?" asks the lady. "My own. My wife thinks as much of him as I do; and we've no children of our own, why—" "Captain Gilbert, you are a good man !" "and," lowering her voice, "a grateful." This is the end of the Rat's tale. Some scraps from a lunch table, kindly given, stood between a man and ruin ; and the tender touch of a woman's hand saved a boy's life. ,*elect 1,1 isallany. The Story of May Day. Olive Thorne, in st. Nicholas for May.] Alas, children ! the world is growing old. Not that dear old Mother Earth be gins to show her six thousand (more or less) years, by stiff joints and clumsy move ments, by clinging to her winter's rest and her warm coverlet of snow, forgetting to push up the blue eyed violets in the spring, or neglecting to unpack the fresh green robes of the trees. No, indeed ! The blessed mother spins around the sun as gayly as she did in her first year. She rises from her winter sleep fresh and young as ever. Every new violet is as exquisitely tinted, as sweetly scented, as its predeces sors of a thousand years ago. Each new maple leaf opens as delicate and lovely as the first one that ever came out of its tight ly packed bud in the spring. Mother Na ture never grows old. But the human race changes in the same way that each one of us does. The race had its childhood when men and women played the games that are now left to you youngsters. We can even see the change in our own day. Some of us, who are not grandmothers, either, can remember when youths of fourteen and fifteen played very many games which, now•a-days, an unfort unate damsel of six years, ruffled, embroil• ered, and white gowned, with delicate shoes, and hips in the vicelike grasp of a modern sash, feels are altogether too young for her. Well, well ! What do you suppose our great grandchildren will do ? When the Romans came to Britain to live, many hundred years ago,they brought, of course, their own customs and festivals, among which was one in memory of Flora, the Goddess of Flowers. The heathen— our ancestors, you know,—adopted them with delight, being in the childhood of their race. They became very popular; and when, some years later, a good prielt, Gregory, came, (from Rome also) to con vert the natives, he wisely took advantage of their fondness for festivals, and not try ing to suppress them, he simply altered them from heathen feasts to Christain games, by substitutinc , the names of saints. andmartyrs for heathen gods and goddess es. Thus the Floralia became May-day celebration, and lost none of its popularity by the change. On the contrary, it was carried on all over England for centuries, till its origin would Save been lost but for a few pains-taking old writers, who "made notes" of everything. The Floralia we care ncthing for, but the May-day games have lasted nearly to our day, and some relics of it survive in our young country. When you crown a May queen, or go with a May party, yon are simply following a custom that the Ro mans began, and that our remote ancestors in England carried to such lengths, that_ not only ordinary people, but lords and ladies, and even king and queen, laid aside their state and went "a-Maying" early in the morning, to wash their faces in May dew, and bring home fresh boughs and flowers -to deck the May-pole, which reared its flowery crown in every village. Flower Pots. Save the tin fruit cans and convert them into tasteful flower pots in the following manner : With a can opener cut off any rough or projecting portions of the cover, leaving a narrow rim to project inward. With a pair of pliers or a small hammer, bend this rim down, This gives firmness to the top of the can. Punch three or four small holes through the bottom of the can. Then paint it with varnish made of gum shellac dissolved in alcohol, and col ored with lamp black and a little yellow ochre to give a dark brown color. The cans may be ornamented by pasting on them little medallion figures or pictures. They are handsomer than the flower pots, require less watering, and keep the plants free from all insects, owing to the presence of iron rust in the can. One of the pret tiest arrangements for plants we have ever seen, was a window with two narrow shelves placed one above the other, on which there were these home-made flower pots, containing heliotropes, geraniums, pinks, bignonias, petunias, fusohias, and other plants, all as thrifty as if grown in a greenhouse. They should be showered once a fortnight with lukewarm water, using a whisk broom for the purpose, and watered sparingly every second day. The Benefit of Laughing. In his "Problem of Health," Dr. Green says that there is not the remotest corner or little inlet of the minute blood vessels of the human body that does not feel some wavelet from the convulsion occasioned by good, hearty laughter. The life principle, or the central man,is shaking to its inner most depths, sending new tides of life and strength to the surface, thus materially tending to insure good health to the person who indulges therein. The blood moves more rapidly, and conveys a different im pression to all the organs of the body, as it visits them on that particular, mystic journey when the man is laughing, from what it does at other times. For this reason every good, hearty laugh in which a person indulges, tends to lengthen his life, conveying, as it does, new and dis- tinct stimulus to the vital forces. Doubt less the time will come when physicians, conceding more importance than they now do to the influence of the mind upon the vital forces of the body, will make their prescriptions more with reference to the mind, and less to drugs for the body ; and will, in so doing, find the best and most effective method of producing the required effect upon the patient. THE Home Mutual Insurance Company, of Boston, has been enjoined and will close up its affairs. Assets $741,880; liabilities, $1,449,193. Outstanding risks at present $900,000. Dot Voman of Mine. Dot voman of mine ! dot voman of mine! She bodders mine life oat all der dime; She slaps mine hair and pulls mine face, Und knocks mine nose all out of blace; She drives me out mine own house out, Und makes me wander der night about, Till ven morning comes, mit a dove-like smile I am goaxed back to my domicile By dot voman of mine, Dot voman of mine ! dot voman of mine! My love for her is most sublime. I vould go mit myself through thick and thin, Of I never could see dot voman again. Before I was married I could midout fear Eat my Limburger and drink mine beer, But since I am married, I'm all forlorn, Because dose britches of mine are vorn By dot voman of mine. Dot voman of mine ! dot voman of mine She vakes me up in der midnight time, Und tells me a pain in her stomoch she's got, Und vants me to make her a visky hot. I goes down stairs in my night shird-dail, Und skins my shine on der bucket pail, Und scalds myself mit der coffee-pot In drying to make a visky hot For dot voman of mine. Dot voman of mine ! dot voman of mine! Ven I goes to der tavern in der evening dime I sits me down in my easy chair To smoke mine pipe and drink min beer,— Ven in she comes mit an old broom-stick, Und hurries me off on der double quack. She follows behind, vile der peoples stare Und ♦onders who wears the britches dare— Me or dot voman mine ! Dot voman of mine! dot voman of mine ! Venever will come der habby dime Ven on this earth her mortal breath Forever shall be stopped mit death— Ven in der day no more I'll see Der leetle ethars she makes for me! Ven dose dime gomes I'll sing mit glee, For I shall be so habby, so free From dot voman of mine. Thoughtful Thoughts. What ever is, is right, excepting man's own sinful self. Characters never change; opinions alter; characters are only developed. Character gives splendors to youth and awe to wrinkle l skin and gray hairs. Ennui is a malady for which the only remedy is work ; pleasure is only a pallia tive. A man shows his character by what be laughs at, and his culture by the way he does it. Look well into thyself; there is a source which will always spring up if thou wilt always search there. When we are alone we have cur thoughts to watch; in our families, our temper, and in society, our tongues. Dare to change your mind, confess your error, and alter your conduct, when you are convinced you are wrong. If you wish to know whether anybody is superior to the prejudices of the world, ask him to carry a parcel for you. As time passes memory silently records your deeds, which conscience will impres- sively read to you in after life. The three most difficult things are—to keep a secret, to forget an injury, and to make good use of one's leisure. Virtue and reason reciprocate; for what ever is virtue is rational, and whatever is rational is also virtuous. Every one looking downward becomes impressed with his own greatness, but, looking upward, feel his own littleness. The atheist, vainly seeking good through nature, is like the shadow denying the ex istence of the sun because it never sees it. There is no union between the thoughts, the words and actions of the wicked ; but the thoughts, words and actions of the good all agree. The vicious, notwithstanding the sweet ness of their words and the honey of their tongues, have a whole storehouse of poison within their hearts. "Train up a child in the way he should go," says the proverb ; but it is well if you want to do the thing properly, to travel, in the first instance, by that train yourself. Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No re ward is offered, for they are gone forever ! It is no disgrace not to be able to do everything; but to undertake and pretend to do what you are not made for is not only shameful, but extremely troublesome and vexatious. Mrs. Lincoln in France. There are two women across the water the melancholy of whom is well calculated to excite the deepest commiseration. Car lotta, the widow of Maximillian, hopeless ly insane in her castle, and Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, the widow of the assassinated President, living secluded in an interior town of France, declining to return to America, lest she may again be placed in a lunatic asylum. It is said that she still indulges to a moderate extent her propen sity for purchasing things for which she has no use, which was one of the forms her mild lunacy first assumed. It will be remembered that in 1875, Robert, Mrs. Lincoln's oldest son, commenced proceed ings in the Chicago courts to have his mother adjudged insane, in view of her reckless expenditures and her many acts inconsistent with sanity, and to have a person appointed to care for her property. The Court, after hearing the evidence, pronounced her insane, and appointed a trustee to manage her estate. About $50,- 000 in Government bonds were found on her person. After the decision of the Court she left her room at the Grand Pacific Hotel in Chicago, and tried to pro cure laudanum at a neighboring drug store, but received only a harmless drug, and was prevented from committing sui cide. The next day she was conveyed to a private asylum in Northern Illinois, and after a few months was placed in care of her sister, at Springfield, from whence she sought a quiet retreat in France. The loss of her husband bore heavily upon her, but the blow which wrecked her mind was the shaft of death which fell upon her loved child Thaddeus, or "Thad," as "everybody's pet" was affectionately called. There is but little hope of her recovery. Robert, the only son now living, is en gaged in the practice of law at Chicago, and holds high rank in his profession. TILEY were walking arm in arm up the street, and just ahead of them was a wo man in a new princess dress. The setting sun was gilding the western sky, and throwing a beautiful crimson glow all over the earth. He said in a subdued tone : "Isn't it lovely ?" "Well, I don't know," was the reply of his fair companion : "I don't think the trimming matches very well, and it doesn't fit her a bit." He shuddered. HAVE the courage in providing an en tertainment for your friends, not to exceed your means. Little Martin Craghan's Sacrifice. About six years ago, in one of the Penn sylvania mines, several chambers in the upper tier or vein were discovered to be on fire. It was feared that the flames, which were raging fiercely, would reach the shaft before they could be extinguish ed. Word was hastily sent to the men in the workings beneath to come up before all means of escape was cat off. Martin Craghan, a boy of twelve years, had been promoted to the position of mule driver the day before. He had just taken his mule to her dark stable, 900 feet trader ground, when a comrade called to him and told him of their danger, urging him to hurry to the shaft, for all the men were gone. — With a sorrowful look at his mule, which he knew he could not save, Martin ran with his companion, till they stood on a carriage waiting to be hoisted up. Then suddenly it flashed upon him that a Lum ber of men were working in a distant part of the mine, and had not been warned of their peril. "0, Johnny," be exclaimed, "we must go tell them 'ere men in No. 4, or they'll never get out !" "There isn't time. The shaft will be on fire in a minute, and then all the smoke and gas will rush down here and suffocate us." "But it will kill those men, too, and they've families to support. There's poor Bill Craghan, my cousin, with an old moth er and seven little children. If we run fast, we can get back before they hoist the elevator." "You may go if you are such a fool, but I'll not risk it," replied his compan ion. Almost before he had finished speaking, Martin had rushed awry through the dark galleries and chambers of the mine, till he reached the imperiled miners, and in frightened, breathless tones told his story. Then instantly turning, he fled back to the shaft, hoping the elevator had not yet ascended. But it had gone and his com panion with it. Martin looked up, saw the glare of the fire and that the wire rope had melted, and he knew all hope of escape in that way was cut off. With fleet steps he once more threaded the deserted tunnels, back to the men for whom he had risked so much. But they, taught by experience of the utter 'hope lessness of escape by that one imperiled shaft, had rapidly employed the time in building a barricade of rock and coal as a temporary protection from the noxious gas es and smoke that were already beginning to fill the mine. By the time little Martin reached the barrier it was solidly constructed, for on that depended their only chance to live till the burning shaft was extinguished. Com ing close to the wall, he begged piteously for admission, but the men persistently re fused him. "Bill! Bill Craghan ! ' cried, "won't you make them let me in ? would have been safe at home now but for you! Tom Reese, your brother Johnny would'ut come to tell you of the danger, and he was say• ed. Now you are going to let me die out here ?" The men inside trembled as they listened to the poor boy's sobs, and many a rough, black hand was drawn across their eyes ; and at last tenderhearted Bill ,rushed to the barricade to make an entrance for the little fellow. But strong arms Oiled him away, while in hoarse, broken voices they said : "No, no, man. He's but one. We are many. To make a hole big enough to pull him thro" would be death to all." "But be risked his life to save us. Will we let him die but a step away from us ? "Not if we could help it, you well know, Bill. But think of our wives and child ren at home. Would ye have us all per ish ?" Martin heard this conversation, and, putting his lips close to the wall, said, qui etly : "Never mind, Bill. I know you would all have saved me if you could. I . ain't sorry I brought you the warning. I'm going back to poor old Rosa. If you get out safely, bid good-bye for me to fath er and mother and little Eddie." Then, turning away, he went to the sta ble where his mule was peacefully feeding at her stall, unconscious of any danger. Martin's lamp was still burning, and the smoke had sot yet penetrated the wooden barriers between. At first he felt in hopes be would be safe there. But gradually the noxious vapors forced their entrance. As he saw that suffocation must soon come he found a piece of board, and wrote with chalk the names of those that were dear to him. As he wrote memory brought their pres ence before him—his tender mother, who bad kissed him such a loving good bye in the morning, and had looked so proudly him when he told of his promotion, and the better wages he would be able to earn. Then little baby Eddie, how he emoted and shouted whenever Blazt.in appeared ! Would hig4ather ever know that he had sacrificed his life to save others? It was hard to die so young, so full of hope, all alone in the dark. But creeping back to his dear old Rosa be lay down beside her, as he felt sick and faint with the stifling air; and. God .xeer cifully looked down on the little hero, and soon ended his sufferings. The others es caped when the fire was extinguished. But there, close beside the dead animal, his body was found, si4the memory of his noble deed is still cL, - -ished in those re gions.— Youth's Companion. - • • Cause of Hard Times, During the last ten years billiard and whisky saloon keepers have increased four hundred per cent. in this country, while farmers have increased but twenty-five per cent. These figures show better than any. thing else the tendeney of the country. Thousands of able-bodied men enter the tramp class, simply because they are de moralized and too lazy to come down to "honest toil." A large class of men go at once into the whisky business if they can scrape together a few hundred dollars. Sons of farmers turn their backs on the paternal acres and go to the cities where they enter stores at pitiful salaries, and spending their spare hours at gumbling , hells and houses of shame, soon drift into the gutter. Repugcanoe to toil is the ba sis of the tramp system, the basis of the current outlawry, both of which are dis tinguished features of the Northern States. The large cities are overrun with work shirkers who would not take the slightest interest in offers to work on farms at $2O a month and board, and yet go howling about the streets complaining of hard times and talking of the "rights of the poor man."— Courier• Journal. ST. Lucien, supposed to have been a na tive of Syria, was martyred on the rank in Nicomedia. NO. 20.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers