VOL. 42.
The Huntingdon Journal.
Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street.
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Professional Cards
TAB. G. B. HOTCHKIN, 204 Mifflin Street. Office cor"
nor Fifth and Washington Ste., opposite the Post Of
lice. Huntingdon. [jun3l4-1878
DCALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, Brd street.
1/ • °Mee formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Wil
iiamson. [apl2,'7l
DR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services
to the community. Office, No. 623 Washington street,
one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Uan4,'7l
DR. HYSHILL has permanently located in Alexandria
to practice his profession. DanA '7B-ly.
EC. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's
• building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. K
.7 Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76.
GEO. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Law, 405 Penn Street,
Huntingdon, Pa: [n0v17,'75
GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building,
. No. b2O, Penn Street, Iluntingdon, Pa. [apl2.'7l
HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn
1.1. fitavet, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l
JT SYLVANIIS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon,
. Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd
Street. [jan4,7l
t)W. ILiTPERN, Attorney-at-Lew and General Claim
. Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the
Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid
pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of
fice on Penn Street. [jan4;7l
LS. GNISSINGNR, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public,
. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo
site Court House. [febs,ll
CI B. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa.,
O. office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt
and easeful attention given to all legal business.
[augs,'74-6mos
WILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Hunting
don, Pa. Special attention given to collections,
and all other legal business attended to with care and
promptness. Office, No. 229, Penn Street. [apl9,'7l
Miscellaneous.
AVERILL BARLOW,
45 South Second Street,
Has the largest and best stock of
FURNITURE
IN
PHILADELPHIA.
All those in want of Furniture of
anyuality, examine goods in other
store, then call and compare prices
with his. He guarrantees to sell low
er than any other dealer. Every ar
ticle warranted. [ jan.2s-Iy.
FOR SALE.
CHOICE
Egli MG LANDS -
IN
MINNESOTA AND DAKOTA,
BY. THE
Winona & St. Peter Railroad Co.
The WINONA & ST. PETER R. R. Co., is now offering
for sale at yam Low prices, its land grant lands along the
lice of its Railroad in Southern Minnesota and Eastern
Dakota, and will receive in payment therefor, at par, any
of the Mortgage Bonds of said Company.
These lands lie in the greatwheat beltof the Northwest,
in a climate unsurpassed for healthfulness, and in a coun
try which is being rapidly settled by a thriving and indus
trious people, composed to a large extent of farmers, from
the Eastern and the older portions of the Northwestern
States.
11. M. BURCHARD, Land Agent, for sale of Lands of
said Company, at MARSHALL, LYON COUNTY, KINN&
SOTA.
GEO. P. GOODWIN, Laud Commissioner.
General Office of Chicago & North-western Railway Co.,
Chicago, 111.
To all persons requesting information, by mall or oth
erwise, Circulars and Maps will be sent free of cost by said
Land Commissioner or said Land Agent. [mchl-6m
Patents
obtained for Inventors, in the United States, Cana
da, and Europe at reduced rates. With our prin
cipal office located in Washington, directly opposite
the United States Patent Office, we are able to at
tend to all Patent Business with greater promptness
and despatch and less cost, than other patent attor
neys, who are at a distance from Washington, and
who hove, therefore, to tmploy"associate attorneys:,
We make preliminary examinations and furnish
opinions as to patentability, free of charge, and all
who are interested in new inventions and Patents are
invited to send for a copy of our "Guide for obtain
ing Patents," which is sent free to any address, and
contains complete instructions how to obtain Pat
ents, and other valuable matter. We refer to the
German-American National Bank, Washington, D.
C. ; the Royal Sweedisk, Norwegian, and Danish
Legations, at Washington; lion. Joseph Casey,
late Chief Justice U. S. Court of Claims; to the
Officials of tke U. S. Patent Office, and to Senators
and Members of Congress from every State.
Address: LOUIS BAGGER k CO., Solicitors
of Patent* and Attorneys at Law, Le Droit
Washington, D. C. [apr26
,110. - A LECTURE
- YOTTN - G MEN.
A Lecture on the Nature, Treatment, and
Radical Cu, of Seminal Weakness, er Spermatorrho•a,
induced by Sell-Abuse, Involuntary Emissions, Impoten
cy, Nervous Debility, and Impediments to Marriage gen
erally; Consumption, Epilepsy, and Fits; Mental and
Physical Incapacity, Ac.—By ROBERT J. CULVER
WELL. M. D., author of the "Green Book," &c.
The world-renowned author, in this admirable Lecture,
clearly proves from bin own experience that the awful
consequences of Self-Abuse may be effectually removed
without medicine, and withont dangerous surgical opera
tion, bungles, instruments, rings, or cordials ; pointing
out a mode of cure at once certain and effectual, by which
very sufferer, no matter what his condition may be, may
ure himself cheaply, privately and radically.
Sent, under seal, in a plain envelope, to any address, on
receipt of six cents, or two postage stamps.
Address the Publishers,
THE CULVERWELL MEDICAL CO.,
41 Ann St., IT / • Post Office Box, 4586.
N •
July 19-9 mos.
CHEVINGTON COAL
AT THE
Old "Langdon Yard,"
in quantities to suit purchasers by the ton or car
load. Kindling wood cut to order, Pine Oak or
Hickory. Orders left at Judge Miller's store, at
my residence, 609 Mifflin et., or Guss Kaymonds
may 3,'78-Iy.] J. 11. DAVIDSON.
TT ROBLEY, Merchant Tailor, No.
A A 0 813 Mifflin street, West Huntingdon
Pa., respectfully solicits a share of public pat
ronage from town and country. (octl6,
SCHOOL of every BOOKS
variety, cheap,
JOURNAL STORE.
at the
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Printing
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ser All letters should be addressed to
J. A. NASA.
Huntingdon, Pa.
Ely TMS' (*incr.
READ BEFORE THE PENNSYLVANIA EDITORIAL AS
SOCIATION, AT CRESSON SPRINGS, JUNE 19, IS7S,
BY EUGENE 11. MUNDAY.
Four hundred years have passed since she
Was duchess of proud Burgundy,
When brightest glowed its coronet
On England's daughter, Margaret ;
White rose of York, from parent stem—
When faetion rent the island gem—
Transplanted hither to uphold
And grace the Court of Charles the Bold.
Wit, beauty, graciousness of mien
Were hers; and, rarer still, were seen
A love of letters; care for art
Whose use might bounteously impart
Breadth to the brain, warmth to the heart.
Bred 'mid fierce strifes, she sought surcease
Of reckless wars in deeds of peace;
And much she feared, and half abhorred
The wild ambitions of her lord ;
Not caitiff fear—for Margaret
Was Neville and Plantagenet ;
Noble in thought as blood and name ;
In all she was a royal dame—
Margaret of Burgundy.
Among her train, by Edward sent,
Was Caxton, from the Weald of Kent;
A mercer, versed in arts of trade,
And wary of his ventures made;
But yet not wholly sordid; ho
Had quaffed deep draughts of minstrelsy
From Chaucer's full, untainted well,
Had bowed before old Gower's spell,
And liberal-minded he had grown,
Traversing countries not his own.
Thus trained, his ripened mind he bent
To master the Ne'v Art, which sent
The glorious message to mankind,
That knowledge, hence no more confined
To schoolmen's cells, was free as wind.
That learned, his talent to employ,
The brave old Histories of Troy
He turned from French to English, so
The first work of his hands might glow
With generous thoughts, and thus incite
The yeoman stout and gallant knight
To worthiness, and deeds of might
Few pages writ, his work he set
Before his mistress, Margaret,
Who, pleased his cunning to evoke,
Her faithful servitor bespoke:
"'Tie well begun, straightway proceed,
Complete it with thy utmost speed;
Amend thy English, Caxton, we
Ourselves will aid and counsel thee;
Then print the noble histories, so
Our youth may learn the worth they show;
And, for thy pains, the charge be mine,
The honor, laud, and profit thine."
With patient skill the mercer wrought,
The finished book to Margaret brought;
The book whose highest praise is sung—
" First in our glorious mother-tongue!"
His gracious mistress joyed at heart,
To view the triumph of his art,
And glowing spoke her fair command,
For honer of her native land :
"Home, Claxton, hie thee home, and teach
The mastery of our English speech ;
Gold thou shalt have; and, for thy zeal,
The richer guerdon—England's weal !"
Thus charged and cheered, with great content
The silver-bearded printer went,
And soon the echoes of his press
Rang through Westminister's loftiness.
Such debt as song and history tell
Columbus owed to Isabel—
Joining their names in proud acclaim—
Owed Caxton to the generous dame—
Margaret of Burgundy.
Four hundred years have paid their toll
To warden Time; and now they roll,
Unchallenged, o'er that mystic sea—
Inscrutable eternity.
Full-fed was Time when on they passed ;
And garnered in his wallet vast
Are alms whose richness may appease
The greed of coming centuries.
These gifts, the fruits of quickened thought,
Will last for aye, with blessings fraught.
Foremost in time, highmost in worth,
The Art of Printing had its birth ;
Weakling at first, it grandly grew,
O'er other arts its tegis threw—
Defying old Oblivion's call—
As great conservator of all.
Honor and laud for him whose mind
Conceives great gifts for humankind,
For ell who patient skill have brought
To realize the master thought ;
Honor and laud for all who stand
As sponsors for the working band,
And aid them with a liberal hand !
Then, while the busy echoes await
Columbus' debt to Isabel,
Let Justice from the throne proclaim,
In Honor's court, "Place for the dame—
Margaret of Burgundy !"
Four hundred years have passed, but yet
The meed of praise to Margaret
No poet's lyre has sung,
No pealing bells have rung ;
And save for Caxton's grateful rare,
Scarce lives her name on history's page.
Then, since HO defter hands essay,
Nor truer poet twines the bay,
Take ye the strong ill-fashioned chain,
Wrought by my insufficient strain,
And firmly link with Caxton's fame,
A memory of the noble dame—
Margaret of Burgundy.
Ely (toivErlitr.
A FLOWER'S MISSION ;
The Story that the Wood Rose Told.
I am a simple, unpretending Rose of
the woods. lam old now and faded, but
I have a little history and I wish to tell
it. If you could fully understand the
language of flowers, which lam told are
God's messengers, my story might be
prettier reading, but as you cannot, I must
use the language of people, and trust that
yon will remember that I am uncultivated.
All that I have learned, has been picked
up, as it were. Much that I have seen
and heard I know not now whether I un
derstand.
My first recollection is of solitude. A
spot of green sward, under a leafy canopy,
a dreamy atmosphere, and the gnarled and
knotted trunks of aged trees, made up my
surroundings. My first question to my
self was, "What was I made for ? No one
came to tend me, and I did not then know
of nature's God. I often wondered how
I came to be alone beneath the great
spreading oaks. That I was pretty I knew
—for I could not help seeing my face oc
casionally in the dew on the grass, and I
practiced grace in coquetting with the
wind and in courting the kisses of the
sunbeams that glinted through the forest
leaves.
After a while I became conscious of
sound, and began to notice the music of
the birds, and the hum of the insects, and
then at times the faint, far-off chime of
what I learned afterwards were bells. The
song of the birds seemed natural, for I
thought they were singing to me, but the
other harmony puzzled me. It gave me a
vague shadowy idea that there was some
thing beyond my little sphere and I longed
to know more of it. When I heard of
Heaven, I remember, I concluded that
this sound came from there, as did the
dawn. Later I learned better, but that it
should have impressed me in my wood
lawn home shows that the happenings even
in the life of a flower may not be accidental.
I must have been nearly in full bloom—
certainly my color was never prettier, as
the dew told me—when I first came to
know what people were like. I shall never
forget the day, for from it dates my
knowledge of the world, of human pas
sions, and of the existence of anything
save myself, the birds, the trees, the grass
and the insects. There were only two
people that came to my home, a man and
a woman. You may imagine how strange
they looked to me, yct I recall that I had
no feeling of fear. Something seemed to
whisper to me that I had only to watch
and listen to be wise. My heart beat
quicker and I drooped my head as the
woman sat down with her face opposite to
me and the man stretched himself at her
feet, but after the first surprise wore off I
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- OR, -
HUNTINGDON, PA,, FRIDAY, JULY 26, 1878.
did not feel that they were intruding upon
my bower. They were a pretty picture,
and I could but nod approvingly. If they
saw me at all they ignored my presence,
but my heart warmed towards them both.
Presently the man began to read what I
knew instinctively was poetry. It was a
story of elfs, and gnomes and fairies that
peopled the woods, but I lost the thread
of it in watching the woman's face. I
have seen many faces since then, but none
so beautiful, so sweet, and Po gentle. It
was fair and pure, like my cousins' the
lilies' ; yet at times a color flushed in that
I in my innocence thought. was reflected
from mine. When the reading was done,
the man talked a poem of his heart that
thrilled even me, flower that I was. I
knew that what he said to her was in
tended fur no other ears, but I did not
feel like an eaves dropper. Something
kept repeating to me that I had a destiny,
and that it was connected with theirs. I
wanted to creep nearer to them in the
gloaming of the eventide, and ask them to
take me with them. When they left me
I understodd the bitterness of desolation,
and what the man meant when he spoke
of yearning. I looked for the elfs and
gnomes and fairies he had read of,but they
came not, and the night was the longest of
my life. Nor did the morning bring hap
piness. The birds were no longer com
panions, and I shrank from both the wind
and the sunbeams.
In the evening the man came to my home
alone. I think he must have seen plead
ing in my face, f)r he carried me away,
and I bade good bye forever to the great
oaks that had shielded me from so many
storms. I was not ungrateful. nor did I
part from them without a sigh ; yet my
heart bounded at the prospect of meeting
the woman again. lie gave me to her, as
I foresaw he would, and told her I was
the emblem of love.
And then it dawned upon me as a glad,
satisfying thought must come to a child,
that after all I was made for something.
Love, love, I kept repeating to myself un
til the word seemed graven on my heart
and I understood that I was the type of
all that he had spoken to her. I did not
pause to reason, how I, a 14ttle obscure rose,
could be the means of expressing so much.
Perhaps I was too proud in the conviction
that it was so. Perhaps it would have
been beyond me to reason had I tried. I
was content to trust what he said as the
woman seemed to trust.
That night my mistress, as I shall after
wards call her, wore me on her breast and
to the ball. It was a scene of fair women
and handsome men, of bright raiment and
flowers, that dazzled me for a while, and I
thought it must be fairy land. My sisters
were there in all their beauty and culture,
yet I could but notice how they seemed
proud of their long names and partook of
the human arrogance around them. I had
been introduced into society. What a
mockery ! What a whirl ! How factitious
and soulless is the thing they call society !
What a spirit of unrest seems to pervade
it ! Masks and faces and deception is the
sum of it all. How the dancers swayed in
harmony with the music; how the heart
gave the lie to the tongue ; how the jewels
flashed beneath the artificial light, and
how the whole air seemed to quiver with
a merriment that was meaningless. Even
now the remembrance of that night makes
my poor head dizzy. But with all I was
happy. I was learning human nature. I
knew that I was unobserved, but I cared
not to be seen. There was joy and con
tent in the thought that my mistress pre
ferred me to my showy and confident
sisters. I only wanted to creep closer to
her. Her voice was sweeter thau all the
rest of the music to me, and every breath
of hers that fanned my cheek was like a
caress. I could not help feeling that she
was as much out of place there as I would
have been in a boquct out of a garden.—
When out under the starlight, after the
ball, he that gave me to her spoke another
poem of his heart, and I became still more
conscious of my value and the full defini
tion of love.
For some time after this there was a
blank in my life, and when I knew any
thing again it seemed that I was in prison.
The air was close and suflocatine• from my
own perfume, and I could hardly breathe.
I could hear my mistress' voice at times,
and I longed to go to her, but I could not.
Gradually, however, I realized that I was
in a book. I think I must have been
stunned when I was placed there. I was
crushed and misshapen, and my color was
gone, but I still had a heart. At times I
thought I had been cruelly treated, and
longed for the oaks and the bir Is. They
would not have done so, I said. This was
wrong and ungrateful. I did not know
then that if I had been left in my wood
land home I would long since have been
dead and forgotten. One day she opened
the book and kissed me with a kiss that
lingers on my cheek to this hour. I saw
tears in her eyes, but they were not the
tears of sorrow. No, her pure soul shone
through them with a soft, gladsome light
that was like the sun on the dew drops,
and since I come to think of it, I wonder
if nature's tears of joy are not the dew, and
her tears of sorrow the rain that comes in
the storm.
Yes, she opened the book and kissed
me, and I saw her tears. But I saw some
thing else. My book prison was a book
of poems, and I had lain with my face
pressed to these :
So gathering up the dreams of.years,
Thy luve doth to its destined scat
Rise sovereign thro' the light of tears
Achieved, accomplished, and complete."
You ask how a litttle untutored rose
could understand this. Perhaps you asked
how it was I could know a poem when I
heard it in my bower. Poor humanity'.
Do you not know that God has established
a sympathy between poetry and flowers ?
I understood more than these lines—that
I was bringing back to her his heart-poems
of the wood, and the night after the ball,
and that they found each in all her loving
nature.
To tell you how often I was taken out
and kissed and her sweet voice poured ca
ressing words in my ear would bn to re
peat the same story over and over again.
It is sufficient that I strove to answer her
and let her know that I was in sympathy
with her. I talked to her of him in the
language of flowers (for I did not then
speak the language of people), and I be
lieve she knew all I said, Why should
she not have known ? Was she not a
human flower transplanted from God's
garden ?
At last she changed me to another book
prison and bade me go as a messenger to
him. I was sad, very sad, in parting, but
my heart told me it was in the way of ac
complishing my mission. I was in the
Book of Books. It is said that its pages
are illumed with a divine light. It must
be so, for I no longer seemed in darkness,
and could read what was around use. On
my long journey this was the sentence that
was ever before me, and this was the toes•
sage I knew I was to bear to him—" Search
the Scriptures."
I came to him in the evening tide, and
I knew by his glad smile that he recognized
me, and his memory was wandering back
to the day when lie bore me from my
home. Like my mistress, gently and al
most reverently he touched me, and I could
see that I gave him another message be
sides that which was in the book. His
eyes read one—the other crept into his
heart.. ; ,lie, too, kissed me, and I remember
I felt rebellious. I asked myself if he
was not trying to rob me of her kisses.—
Perhaps he was, but I do not begrudge
them to him now, for we became great
friends—aye,
more, we became companions.
We searched the scriptures together. I
say together, for did lie not keep changing
my place ? Night after night, when his
work was done, he would turn to the page
where I had been all day, and begin read
ing, and when he had finished he would
leave me where he had left• off to think
and wonder. It is a grand thing to see a
strong man strugglinc , for faith—striving
to become as a little child. c Sometimes I
would think that it was a sad thing to be
learned and wise and capable. Had he
been as untutored and ignorant.as I was,
peahaps he would have found comfort in a
few lines. I remember that after I read
that not a sparrow falleth without the
knowledge of the Father, and that even
the hairs of the head are numbered, I
needed no other consolation. If, I said, I
can typify the love of this woman and this
man, the one so pure, and the other labor
ing to achieve purity, can I be less than
the sparrow or a hair?
I do not know how long we searched
together, but it was for some time. Then
I took another journey. I went back to
my mistress to be greeted with more kisses,
more caressing words, more glad tears. I
was vain enough to think that they were
all for me alone until I bethought me that
I bore another message, which was in these
words : "Nevertheless we, according to
his promise, look for new heavens, and a
new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness."
It was his way of telling her that he
had found what she bade him seek, and
that in his heart-poems of the future there
should be mingled with love of her a love
of Him that watches over the sparrows and
even the flowers.
There is little more to tell. The man
and the woman are together now, never
more to be separated, and I am with them.
Sometimes they talk of me and my wood
land home, and sometimes, when the bells
that used to puzzle me so are chiming, I
go with them to be thrilled by the deep
toned music of the organ, and hear their
voices blend in a song of praise. I would
not go back to my woodland home if I
could. Freedom, and the air, the com
panionship of birds are, I know, very
sweet, but sweeter still is the knowledge
that I have not been useless—sweeter still
is the faith that is in me. Ido not say
that these two would not have become one
but for me, but something in my heart
tells me that I have been the means of
making their love more perfect. In typify
ing an earthly love had I not led to a love
that is greater? I believe I have; and as
I watch them in their happiness and trust,
I also believe that it is by no accident I
find my heart resting upon these words :
"Whereof I am made a minister accord
ing to the dispensation of God."
If I am wrong there is no harm in the
conceit. If lam right, my life may be a
lesson to the humblest, bidding them to
be of good cheer. Faded as I am, I would
rather be myself with my fancies than the
freshest abd most beautiful of my sisters,
who are conscious of having done no good.
I have never seen it in my Book of Books,
but I cannot believe that the heart of 'the
flower that doeth good can ever die.—From
the Richmond (Va.) State.
cfflisttliang.
Rocky Mountain Avalanches.
The 26th of February, was a .day of
avalanches in South Western Colorado.—
Snow began to fall before daylight, and
continued during the day. Seven inches
fell. The day was mild, thermometer 34
at 2P. 31. The old snow had become
granulated in the form of small hail, and
was very loose, so much so that in walkinc ,
through it where it was untrodden the
feet sunk to the ground at every step. I
judged it to be in weight about four times
that of newly fallen snow. The snow of
Tuesday, together with the mildness of the
day, had the effect of starting avalanches
all along the mountains on both si'les of
the river. At short intervals they could
be heard thundering down during the en
tire day. As the snow continued to fall
it was impossible to see clearly even to the
mountain on the opposite side of the river,
so that I saw but one during the day.—
That, however, was one of the largest, and
came from the top of. or at least high up
on the mountain. I was standing at the
inner end of the tunnel, 150 feet from the
mouth, when I heard a rumbling sound
which seemed to come from out through
the rock. Suspecting the, cause, I ran to
the mouth and reached it lust as the ava
lanche got down. For above a quarter of
a minute the snow poured over the shed
(built over the mouth of the tunnel in a
line corresponding with the flee of the
mountain) which we have for the purpose
of protecting the mouth from filling, and
from drifting snow. It was like a water
fall, and counseled me to remain inside
until this was passed. The tunnel being
on a ridge between two small gulches, after
the first rush the ridge divided the ava
lanche, and it no longer flowed over the
mouth of the tunnel. As soon as it ceased
pouring over the shedi although still coming
upon it, I got out and was in the middle
of a river of snow, which was rushing down
with the speed of a railway train, and the
roar of a heavy storm, or of a waterfall,
mingled with a crashing of rocks which
were being carried clown by it. At the
point where I stood the face of the mountain
is depressed, so that the flow was here con
tracted in breadth, yet was about two hun
dred yards in width. In tN_deepest
gulch, which is narrow, and was full and
overflowing, its depth was about twenty
feet. The bulk of' the snow rushed on
until it struck in the river and against the
mountain on the opposite side. But just
besore reaching the river, for a breadth of
from 25 to 50 yards, where the incline is
less steep, the snow is left hard packed to
a depth of several feet.
WAS it ever a subject of wonder to you
why those persons who have the most de
sirable boxes in the post office never give
them up, nor die, nor move away, nor
break up, nor do anythinz,?
FIE is not rich who lays up much, but
who lays out much.
Phisilogical Effects of Thirst.
Last summer a company of the 10th U.
S. Cavalry nearly perished of thirst du
ring a four days' march without water,
among the arid sand hills of the Staked
Plain of Texas. They set out in pursuit
of a band of marauding Indians, and to
wards sunset of the first day the trail they
had followed broke up into a multitude of
ill-defined tracks, making further pursuit
useless. By this time their canteens were
dry, and the men were so exhausted by
the intense sun heat that many fell from
their saddles. All the afternoon their
guide .had searched in vain for water
among the hills, and now the horses were
suffering from thirst scarcely less than their
riders. The captaies private horse, the
toughest of the party, was given to the
guide, who set out in search of water, but
was never seen again.
The next day an attempt was made to
fall back upon "Double Lakes," where
water was expected, but having no guide
they lost their way, and wandered for three
days among hills before water was found.
During this time their suffering from heat
and thirst was terrible. The salivary and
mucous secretions were dried up, and
the sensibility of the mucous membranes
of the mouth was so much impaired that
they could neither swallow nor even per
ceive when anything was in the mouth.
Their voices became weak and strange;
all were deaf, and appeared stupid to each
other, questions having to be repeated sev
eral times before they could be understood.
Vertigo and dimness of vision affected all.
Many were deliriqus and all tottered on
with feeble and stumbling gait. What
little sleep they could get was disturbed by
dreams of banqueting, with visions of ev
ery imaginable dainty to eat and drink.
At this stage all would probably have
perished had they not resorted to horses'
blood. As the animals gave out the men
cut them open and drank their blood, al
most fighting for the little moisture con
tained in their viscera. Later the horses'
blood became so thick from lack of drink
that it could not bo swallowed. It coagu•
lated instantly, and had to he broken up
between the teeth and slowly forced down
the parched throats. And when swallowed
it gave nq relief, quickly passing through
the bowels, developing diarrahoe. Their
own scanty urine was sweetened with sugar
and thankfully drunk, and a few drank
horses' urine. Usually, however, it was
caught in cups and given to the suffering
animals.
To avoid the terrible mid-day heat they
traveled as much as they could by night.
As they toiled on they suffered severely
from tightness of breath and a sense of
suffocation. It seemed as though the sides
of the trachea were adhering. To mitigate
the consequent distress they breathed
through the nose with closed mouth, Fro•
longing the time between the breaths as
much as possible. At this stage the lips
were covered with a whitish dry froth, and
presented a ghastly aspect. The fingers
and palms were shriveled and pale ; and
some who bad removed their boots suffered
from swollen feet and legs.
As the situation became more desperate,
mental tortures were added to the purely
physical. The feeling of despair was made
worse by suspicion and loss of confidence
in each other. Toward the end persistent
wakefulness aggravated the mental anguish
though they tried to sleep at every halt.
At last, on the morning of July 30th, a
part of the company succeeded in reaching
Double Lakes, and a supply of water was
sent back to those along the road. The
fortunate arrival of a detachment of Yon
koway scouts at this moment helped to save
many. On reaching water the desire for
drink was irresistible. They could not
refrain from pouring down water, though
it was immediately rejected by the stomach.
Warm coffee was the only thing that re
vived them at all.
Assistant Surgeon King, from whose
report this, account has been condensed,
remarks that the failure of water to as
suage the thirst, though drunk again to
repletion, seems to show that the sense of
thirst, like that of hunger, resides not in
the stomach, but in the general system,
and could not be removed until the re
mote tissues were supplied. And the ac
tivity of the regenerating process was pre
vented by the deficiency of water in the
absorbent vessels themselves. The same
condition explains the over-powering
dyspncel which threatened the ex
istence of the company. Their lungs
were filled with the purest air, yet the
lining membranes were so dry that the free
passaage of the oxygen to the blood was
prevented.
It is a noteworthy circumstance that
while the horses suffered as much as the
men did, and many gave out completely,
the mules suffered little, and were able to
graze at every halt. The total loss on this
disastrous scout was two men dead and
two missing, probably dead, out of twenty
six privates and two commissioned officers.
—Scientific .nmerican.
Small Means.
We think that the power of money is,
on the whole, over estimated. The greatest
things ;which have been done fbr the world
have not been accomplished by rich men,
or by subscription list, but by men gen
erally of small pecuniary means. The
greatest thinkers, discoverers, inventors
and artists have been men of moderate
wealth, many of them little raised above
the condition of manual laborers in point
of worldly circumstances. And it will al
ways be so. Riches are oftener an im
pediment than a stimulus to action, and in
many cases they are quite as much a mis
fortune as a blessing. The youth who in
herits wealth is apt to have life made too
easy for him, and so grows sated with it
because he has nothing left to desire.—
Having no special object to struggle for,
he finds time too heavy on his hands, re
mains mentally and morally asleep, and his
position in society is often no higher than
that of a polypos over which the tide flows
AN erring husband, who had exhausted
all explanations for late hours, and had no
apology ready, recently slipped into the
house about one o'clock very softly, de
nuded himself gently, and began rocking
the cradle by the bedside, as if he had
been awakened out of a sound sleep by in
fantile cries. He had rocked away for
Eve minutes, when Mary Jane, who had
silently observed the whole manoeuvre,
said, -Come to bed, you fool, you the
baby ain't there."
THE Sultan of Turkey, we are told,
never wears an article of dress twice. He
keeps it on until it is "worn out." He
would make a good Missouri editor.
.Wrru love, the heart becomes a fair and
fertile garden, glowing with sunshine and
warm hues, and exhaling sweet odors.
Hunting Wild Horses.
The wild horse can run away from a
man; but this protection fails at times.
The horse catchers—or "vaqueros," as
they are called—are famous riders, and to
see them capture a wild mustang is better
than to go to a circus. The vaquero puts
a Spanish saddle on a tame horse, and
starts out to see what he can find. In front
on the high pommel of the saddle, he
hangs in large coils a leather rope, about
a hundred feet long, and called a lasso. It
is made of strips of raw hide, braided by
hand into a smooth, hard and very pretty
rope.. One end is secured to the saddle,
and the other end has a slip knot making
a sliding noose.
The vaquero has not long to wait, fur
there are droves of horses cantering or
walking about over the swells and hollows
of the prairie, with here and there a small
er group looking on, or watching a battle
between two horses who wish to be captains
of their bands or companies. Presently,
there is a strange sound of tramping hoofs,
like the sound of a squadron of cavalry,
except that it has a grand, wild rush and
swing such as no cavalry ever had, and a
cloud of dark heads rises over a swell of
land. The leader sees the vaquero, and
he halts suddenly, and the others pull up
in a confused crowd, and toss their heads,
and sniff the air, as if they scented danger
near. The leader does not like the looks
of things, and turns and slowly canters
away, fbllowed by all the rest, tramping in
confusion through the yellow grass and
wild barley. Presently they become
frightened, and away they fly in a dusty
throng.
The vaquero's horse seems to think his
chance has come, and he pricks up his
ears, and is eager for the glorious fun of a
dash after the mustangs. Away they go
pell-mell, in a panic, and the tame horse
galloping swiftly after them. Down they
tumble—some knocked over in the con
fusion, snorting and flinging great flecks
of foam from their dilated nostrils, tramp
ling over each other in mad haste, each for
himself, and the Ainerican horse sweeping
after them. Now the vaquero stands up
in his saddle, and the lasso swings round
and round in a circle over his head. Swish !
It sings through the air with a whirring
sound, and opens out in great rings, while
the loop spreads wider and wider, and at
last drops plump over the head of a mus
tang. The vaquero's horse pulls up with
a sudden halt, and sinks back on his
haunches, and braces his fore feet out in
front. Ah! How the dust flies ! The
mustang is fast, held by the slip knot, and
he rears up and plunges in wild and frantic
terror. The rope strains terribly, but the
vaquero watches his chances and takes in
the rope every time it slackens. It is of
no use ! The poor mustang is hard and
fast. Perhaps another rider comes up and
flings another lasso over his head. Then
they ride round him, and the mustang is
twisted and tangled in the ropes till he
can hardly move. He falls, and kicks
furiously, and all in vain. Panting, ex
hausted and conquered, he at last submits
to his fate. Ells free days are over, and
he seems to know it. A few more strug
gles, and he recognizes that man is his
master, and, perhaps, in one or two days
he submits to a bit in his mouth, and be
comes a tame horse for the rest of his life.
If, by any chance, he escapes before be is
broken in, and runs away to join his wild
companions, he seems never to forget that
terrible lasso, and if he sees the vaquero
again, he will stand, trembling and fright
ened, too much terrified to even run away.
—From "The Wild Mustang," by Charles
Barnard, St. Nicholas for April.
Golden Rules.
The person who first sent these rules to
be printed says truly if any . boy or girl
thinks it would be hard work .to keep so
many of them in mind all the time, just
think also what a happy place it would
make of home if you only could.
1. Shut every door afcer.you, and with
out slamming it.
2. Nevcr shout, jump or run in the
house.
3. Never call to persons up stairs, or
in the next room ; it' you wish to speak to
them, go quietly where they are.
4. Always speak kindly and politely to
servants if' you would have them do the
same to you.
5. When told to do, or not to do, a
thing by either parent, never ask why you
should not do it.
C. Tell of your own faults and niisdoings,
not of those of your brothers and sisters.
7. Carefully clean the mud or snow off
your boots before entering the house.
8. Be prompt at every meal hour.
9. Never sit down at the table, or in the
parlor, with dirty hinds or tumbled hair.
10. Never interrupt any conversation,
but wait patiently pur turn to speak.
11. Never reserve your goad manners
for company, but be equally polite at borne
and abroad.
12. Let your first, last and best friend
be your mother.
Cheap Girls.
A girl who makes herself too cheap is
one to be avoided. No young man, not
even the worst, excepting for a base pur
pose, wants anything to do with a cheap
young lady. For a wife, none but a fool
or rascal will approach such a woman.
Cheap jewelry nobody will touch if he can
get any better. Cheap girls are nothing
but a refuse; and the young men know
it, and they look in every other direction
for a lite-long friend and companion before
they will give a glance at the pinchbeck
stuff that twinkles at every turn for fusel
natin,, the eye of any that will look. You
think it quite the "correct thing" to talk
loudly and coarsely, be boisterous and hoy
denish in all public places; to make your
self so bold, and forward, and common
place, everywhere, that people wonder if
you ever had a mother, or home, or any
thing to do. So be it. You will probably
be taken fi.r what you are worth, and one
of these years, if you do not make worse
than a shipwreck of yourself, you will be
gin to wonder where the charms are that
once you thought yourself possessed of,
and what evil spirit could have befooled
you. Go on, but remember, that cheap
girls attract nobody but fools and rascals.
A BIT OF SARCASM.—This sarcastic
notice was recently evolved from the brain
of some one whose life has been soured by
dealings with the class to whom the notice
is addressed : "Office hours for listening
to commercial travelers, seven to eleven ;
solicitors of church subscriptions, eleven
to one ; book agents, one to three ; adver•
tising men, stationery peddlers and insur
ance men all day. We attend to our own
business at night.
SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL.
Relics of an Unknown Race.
The Wilmington, N. C., Star of the
22d ult., records the following : The atten
tion of scientists has recently been attract
ed to the vicinity of the residence of A.
R. Black, upon Middle Sound, some ten
miles east of this city, by the discovery
there of large quantities of human remains
of an unknown race and period, scattered
at intervals along the ocean front of the
plantation. Recently a party of gentle
men, consisting of Rev. Dr. Wilson, Ed
ward Kidder, and Col. Edward Cantwell,
of the Historical Society, attended Mr.
Black, at his request, upon the opening of
two mounds he had discovered, and which,
he conjectured, some memorials of the
aboriginal inhabitants.
The party first proceeded to examine
the remains, of which two specimen skulls
had been exhibited to the Historical So
ciety. Dr. M. J. De Rosset, of New York,
pronounced them of European origin.
These bones appear to have been originally
deposited in square pits about twelve feet
in diameter, and to consist of fragments,
some perfect and some fractured, mingled
together confusedly apd covered with
heaps of oyster and clam shells, apparently
deposited there a long time ago.
The plantation has been in the possess.
ion of the present owner and the Moore
family fur more than one hundred years.
There is not the slightest record or tradi
tion which explains the presence of these
interesting European remains, probably
centuries old, in this locality. Proceeding
up the creek, a little over a mile, Mr.
Black carried his visitors to a field near
his house, in the corner of which the land
rose some twelve or fifteen feet into broken
knolls or ridges, covered with a thick
forest growth, and consisting of the usual
sandy soil, underlaid with clay and marl.
In the neighborhood there is a large
lake, some four or five hundred yards
across, covered with water lilies of unusu
al size. There is also, as is nenally the --
case in the vicinity of Indian remains. a
fine spring of cool, delicious water. The
mounds are situated at the terminus of
one of the ridges we have- described, and
elevated some twelve or fifteen feet above
the level of the adjoining fields. Follow
ing the instructions of the Bmithsonitin
Institute for the opening and examination
of these tumuli; Mr. Black first caused a
trench to be dug from the circumference
to the centre of the first mound, some
twelve or fifteen feet long and about four
deep, without result, except in the ex
humation of a few fragments of charred
bones, which from their great age could
not be positively located. _ _
The examination of the second resulted
in a very interesting discovery. Digging
a circular well in the centre of the mound,
at a depth of six it seven feet, there was
round a circular deposit of charred coals,
mingled with fragments of human bones,
which had evidently lain there undisturb
ed for a long period of time, and in their
original deposit. The gentleman employ
ed verified portions belonging to the
human cranium, vertebrate, the clavicle,
humerus, ulna and phalangus. These
fragments were, however, too minute for
more particular identification. Among
the bones they discovered a black, glitter
ing and unknown substance resembling
mica, which they reserved for farther
examination, and a fine specimen of brown
and transparent quarts.
The persons to whom these bones be
longed wire evidently fastened together
and burned at this spot, and afterwards
covered with soil. Who they were, or
what the occasion of their fate, is of course,
a matter of conjecture. Possibly we may
be on the eve of a solution of the history
of the sufferings and the fate of that party
of Sir Walter Raleigh's colonists whose
only monunaPnt has hitherto been the
word "Croatan," carved upon one of the
trees of the forest of Albemarle and around
whose subsequent fate there is such a glow
of romantic and melancholy interest.
The Galleys.
It was by a revival of classical strategy
that England was, in the l'ith century,
put into extremest peril. Louis the Mag.
nificent's galleys in Torbay were a more
real danger than the fleet with which De
Ruyter had burned our ships in the Med
way. For however great the alarm caused
in London by the sullen roar of the Dutch
guns, the Hollanders had not a single reg
iment to disembark, whereas the French
King had sent to the Devon coast a form
idable force of white-coated grenadiers, to
co operate with the expected Jacobite ris
ing. The galleys were an especially French
as they had been an especially Roman in
stitution. The force had been patronized
by several Kings, nor was it until the reign
of Louis XIII , that the general of the
galleys was made subordinate to the high
Admiral of France. For harassing an
enemy's coast, and for the transport of
troops, this fair-weather flotilla was unsur
passed. But a galley of Louis XlV.'s
time, rowed by wretches chained to the
oar, the vilest felons mingled with runa
way Protestants, whose sole crime was
their attempt to escape to Holland or Eng
land, was the nearest approach to a float
ing pandemonium ever devised. To every
tea convicts was allotted a Turkish or
Moorish prisoner of 'war, whose knotted
cord fell on the bare shoulders of all who
flinched, while boatswain and officers
patrolled the narrow space between the
row-benches, and plied rattan and lash
unsparingly. It was by sheer fear of phy
sical suffering that the chained rowers
were urged to keep the great oars rising
and falling with such mechanical regular
ity. The galley slaves were not expected
to fight ; they were soldiers on board to do
that. But they were expected to row,
and no plea of illness or exhaustion was
admitted. So far from the sick or weary
being sent to an infirmary, they were de
liberately beaten to death. Fainting,
bleeding, the miserable wretches were to
the last regarded as sa much mechanism
to be stimulated by cuts of the whip, and
when they died, their bodies were unchain
ed from bench and oar, and tossed into the
sea.—.lll the Year Round.
A STORY is told of Ben. Wade's inter
view with a lank resident of the alkali re'
gion at a railroad station. The man was
peddling cakes ou the train while it stop
ped at the station. Wade asked the cake
vender what sort of a country it was around
there. The man said it was as fine a patch
of country as could be found in America,
they lacked but two things—water and
good society. Wade replied : "Humph !
That's all hell needs," and the train start
ed, to get out of the alkali country as quick
*as possible.
THE largest college library in the Uni
ted States is that of Harvard, containing
160,000 volumes. 01 the 356 American
colleges only 16 have libraries of over 25,-
000 volumes.
NO. 29.