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.