VOL. 42. The Huntingdon Journal OBice in new .JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street TIIE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. NASH, at 52,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or 32.50 if not paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 53 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearages are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisenavuts will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-HALT CENTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALT CENTS fur the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. . Itogular quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates 11yr 1 1 9m 16m • ___ • • - • • - Hu $3 30 4 50 550 8 001 , 4c0l 900 18 00 $27 $3B 2‘• 500 8001000 12 00 %col 18 00 36 00 50 6,5 3 " 700100014 00 18 001%oul 34 00 30 00 65 80 4 " 8 (8) 14 00,20 00 18 0011 col 36 00 60 00 80 100 An Resolutions of Associations, Communications of limited or individual interest, all party aunonaceinents, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. All advertising =aunts are due and collectable when the advertisement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and everythinc: in the Printing ' line will be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards• TAIL 0. B. HOTCHHIN, 204 Mifflin Street. Office cor' 1 / ner Fifth and Washington Ste., opposite the Post Oh See. Huntingdon. [Junel4-1878 11 CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law. No. 111, 3rd street. U• Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods .11 Wil liamson. [apl2, - . I DR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional sen - ices to the community. Office, N 0.523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. ijan4,'7l D. ITYSKILL has permanently located in Alexandria to practice his profession. [jan.4 '7B-Iy. E. C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's 124. building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. .1 Greene, 11 untiugdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76. GE 0 . B. ORLADY, Attorney-at. Law, 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. Dr017,'75 G. ROBB, Dentist, dike in S. T. Brown's new building, . No. tan, Penn Street, llnntingdon, Pa. [apl2.'7l HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn H • Street, Huntingdon, Pa. LaPl9,'7l T SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, el • Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. [jan4,'7l J.W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Street. [jan4,'7l T S. GEISSINGER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, L. S. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 l'onn Street, oppo site Court House. [febs,'7l Q E. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., O. office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful 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. rap 19,71 Miscellaneous. AVERILL BARLOW, 45 South Second Street, Has the largest and best stock of FURNITURE IN PHILADELPHIA. All those in want of Furniture of any quality, examine goods in other stores, then call and compare prices with his. He guarrantees to sell low er than any other dealer. Every ar ticle warranted. [ jau.2s-Iy. FOR SALE. CHOICE FARMING LAM MINNESOTA AND DAKOTA, BY THE Winona & St. Peter Railroad Co. The WINONA & ST. PETER R. R. Co., is now offering for sale, at VERY Low prices, its land grant lands along the line of its Railroad in Southern Minnesota and Eastern Dakota, and will receive in payment therefor, at par, any of t he Mortgage Bonds of said Company. These lauds lie in the great wheat belt of 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. H. M. RURCHARD, Land Agent, for Pale of Lande of Paid Company, at MARSHALL, LYON COUNTY, MINNE SOTA, GEO. P. GOODWIN, Land Commissioner. General Office of Chicago St North-western Railway Co., Chicago, To all persons requesting information, by mail or oth erwise, Circulars and Also 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 leas coot, than other patent attor neys, who are at a distance from Washington, and who have, therefore, to employ "associate attorneys:, We make preliminary examinations and furnish opinions as to patentability, free of charge, and all who are interested in new inventions and Patentsare invited to send for a copy of our "Guide fur 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 Sweedish, Norwegian, and Danish Legations, at Washington; Hon. Joseph Casey, late Chief Justice U. S. Court of Claims; to the Officials of the U. S. Patent Office, and to Senators and Members of Congress from every State. Address: LOUIS BAGGER k CO., Solicitors of Patents and Attorneys at Law, Le Droit Washington, D. C. [apr26 '7B-tf L ao : , A LECTURE TO YOUNG MEN_ A. Lecture on the Nature, Treatment, and Radical Cur. of Seminal Weakness, or Spermaturrhu•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 T. CULVER WELL. M. D., author of the "Green Book," Ac. The world-renowned author, in this admirable Lecture, clearly proves from his own experience that the awful consequences of Self-Abuse may be effectually removed without medicine, and without dangerous surgical opera tion, bougies, instruments, rings, or cordials ; pointing out a mode of cure at once certain and effectual, by which very sufferer, nu matter what his condition may be, may tire 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., N. Y; Post O f fice Box, 4586. J a ly 19-9 mos. CHEVINGTON COAL AT TR 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 st., or Guss Raymonds may 3,'78-Iy.] J. H. DAVIDSON. TT ROBLEY, Merchant Tailor, No. -A--A-• 813 Mifflin street, West Huntingdon Ps., respectfully solicits a share of public pat ronage from town and country. [octl6, SCHOOT . of every BOOKS L variety, cheap, JOURNAL STORE. at the .• 0 i --k t ' t .1 : • „ _ . 4 1 • 1 _ t U T ll * 1 - - • - Printing, The Huntingdon Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, -IN THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, No. 212, FIFTH STREET, HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, TERMS : $2 00 per annum, in advance; $2.50 within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year. 0 0 0 0 000 0 0 0 00000000 A PROGRESSIVE 0 REPUBLICAN PAPER. 0 00000000 SUBBCRIBE. 00000000 o o 0 o 0 0 o o Niggggfl TO ADVERTISERS Circulation 1800. FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING MEDIUM 5000 READERS WEEKLY. The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the It finds its way into 1800 county. homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus waking it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order gguggg JOB DEPARTMENT "6. ;:' cr ra ct ga td 0 PC' Ota ^as cr. I Di" 41 pr b Et PRINTING A - COLO g All letters should be addressed to J. A. NASH. Huntingdon, Pa. Ely uses' They sat alone by the bright wood fire, The gray headed dame and the aged sire, Dreaming of days gone by. The tear-drops fell on each wrinkled cheek, They both had thoughts that they could not speak, As each heart uttered a sigh. For their sad and tearful eyes descried Three little chairs placed side by side, Against the sitting room wall ; Old fashioned enough, as there they stood, Their seats of rush, and their frames of wood, With their backs so straight and tall. Then the sire shook his silvery head, And with trembling voice he gently said : "Mother, those empty chairs ! They bring us such sad, sad thoughts to-night, We'll put them forever out of sight, In the small, dark room up-stairs." But she answered : "Father, no, not yet, For I look at them, and I forget That the children went away ; The boys come back, and Mary too, With her apron on of checkered blue, And sit here every day. "So let them stand there, though empty now, And every time when alone we bow At the Father's throne to pray, We'll ask to meet the children above, In our Saviour's home of rest and love, Where no child goeth away." Ely *tory-Erlirr. 00000000 0 The Story of Two Singers. An Italian vessel had reached the shores of America. Its passengers had landed. The wealthy had been taken to their ho tels, or their friends' homes in carriages. The poorer fblk, who still had some certain destination and some one to meet and greet, had been led away under friendly guidance, after many embraces and much gesticulation, or had taken cars or omni bus for the purpose of reaching the homes and welcome that awaited them. Some, poor and forlorn, were wanderino. ' vaguely about the Battery—the prey of emigrant boarding-house keepers—and one, poorest and most forlorn of all, sat upon a bench under a great tree and wept silently. She was a woman. She was younc , and of the peasant class. Her husband had died upon the voyage. She had not a friend in America, and some thief had stolen her purse from under her pillow, as she slept between her little children in her berth in the steerage. She had only a great bag, with a few shabby garments, and these two children, and a pair of earrings, which she might, perhaps, sell for a little bread—in all the world. As she stared out upon the water, which had swept away the body of her dead husband, and which still covered it, she was very miserable. "If it had been the Lord's will that I also should be buried in the sea," she sobbed. '•I and my children." And she bent her head upon her hands, her eyes were blinded with tears, she saw nothing or what was going on just then. "Mother 1" cried the eldest child.— "Mother, look. The bad boy has carried off our lag." The poor creature started to her feet.— She stared wildly about her—a boy was running away at full speed with the bag of clothes on his back. Uttering a scream, she began to run at full speed. People stared at her, but did not know why she ran, or understand that the interpretation of her cry was "stop thief." The boy outran her very soon—her breath failed her. She saw him turning a corner of the street, and regardless of the wagons, cars and carriages in her path, dashed across the road. There was a cry—a crash—a policeman strode out upon the crossing and stopped the vehicles, and the body of the Italian woman was lifted from the ground ; her black hair fell over her shoulders, her eyes were fixed, her face pallid, and the yellow 'kerchief about her head soaked in blood. No one knew anything about her. They carried her to the hospital. Thence to the morgue. Afterward she was buried where they buried paupers. When their mother ran after the thief, the little girls sat where she had left them, for awhile ; each were playing with some thing. To amuse them their mother had given them her earrings—two hoops of gold They had their own little ears pierced, but as yet there were only threads in them. Their father had promised that, when he made his fortune, they should have golden earrings like their mother's. But their father was buried in the sea, and their mother was poor. It did not seem likely they should ever have any of those nice things that they had been promised when they came to America. However, children are light-hearted, and they were on land again, and not stuffed into the steerage of the crowded ship; and they had no doubt that their mother would catch the boy with the bag. They played with the earrings and stared at the pedes trians and the carriages, with no anxieties about their mother until they grew hun gry. Then the youngest began to cry. "Mother stays a long while," said the eldest. "Let us go and look for her, and tell her we want supper ;" and away they went, hand in hand, each clutching her earring. • _ . . • El co The eldest was a handsome girl of eight ; the youngest, a little six-year-old beauty, wonderful to contemplate. They spoke only Italian, of course. As they wandered on looking for their mother, and growing more and more frightened at every step, there came marching up Broadway a mili tary procession. The bugles blared, the drums beat, the banners waved, a crowd of hangers-on tramped over the sidewalk.— Rough men and boys took no heed of the little girls, and they were at last separated. The eldest was helplessly pushed forward by the crowd, the little one, who had clung to the railings of a restaurant, was left be hind. C-1 0 0 '7 O "st When the procession and the crowd had passed. she sat there still. weeping bitterly. "What a beautiful child !" said many, and one or two spoke to her, but she did not understand, and could not answer them.— At last, there came along the street an old Italian with an organ on his back, and a monkey perched upon it. lie paused in front of the restaurant and held out his hand to the child. ' 0 CIQ P E 6..... 0 - ..., ti CL., CD CD 1 'I “What has happened to the prettly lit tle girl ? 11as she lost herself?” he asked ; and the child, glad to hear words that she could comprehend, told him her story. The old man listened kindly. "Dry your tears, pretty one," he said. "We will find your mother, and meanwhile you shall have supper with me and my monkey. See, what a fine monkey ! He will shake hands with you. l'epa, shake hands with the pretty little girl, and bow." The monkey put out one brown paw and took off his velvet cap by the crown with the other. Y. -i The Three Little Chairs. HUNTINGDON, PA,, FRIDAY, AUGUST 30, 1878. His pranks amused the child. She trotted along by the side of the organ grinder, and had macaronia with him in a dismal little room in a terrible old tenement house. She had no doubt that he could find her mother for her—her mother and her little sister Francesca; for Bianca was only six years old, and at that age we aro always hopeful. Bet the old man who, after the frugal supper, went about to do what ho could to find the child's mother, soon learnt the truth. Ho knew Bianca was the child of the pour woman who had been killed ; and though he kept the knowledge to himself with a dread of mys terious evil personal consequences peculiar to foreigners who do not quite understand the laws of the land—and scarcely to be wondered at—he generously resolved to take care of the little girl to whom he did not tell the truth. Bianca believed that her mother would soon come back, until she forgot her grief; but the old man bought a little bit of black ribbon and sus pended to it the solitary earring. "Never part with it," he said. "It is a memento of your mother, pretty one." He had a little poetry in his breast, as most Italians have, though he was only a poor organ grinder. Every day whon he went out with his monkey and his organ, he took the child with him. She held the plate, into which the patrons of this cheap concert dropped their coin. After awhile, he taught her to sing some little songs. Italian children can always sing; and it was no loss to him to hare adopted this little creature, fur he never made half as much before. The child brought him luck. One day a musician heard her sing, and offered to teach her to sing better. Iler voice was full and rich. She studied carefully. She was beautiful and attractive. As she grew up, the old man began to see that he must no longer take her into the street. "Stay at home, pretty one," he said. "Study at the school. A better fate awaits you than to sing be fore windows, and catch pennies in a plat ter." The girl was glad to obey. She worked harder than ever to improve. She kept the poor place neat ; she cooked her adopted father's meals, and made her own cheap garments neatly. Hope rose high within her ; but, alas ! misfortune was at hand. The old man made very little, now that his young singer was not with him. One day the monkey was killed by a large one, who threw it from the ropes where the two dangled together on holidays—ropes swung from pulley•liues fastened to the windows of the houses. Poor Pepa, was thrown to the pavement below, and his neck broken. Bread grew scarce, and the old man, lamed with rheumatism, could scarcely carry his organ about and, at last, the hope that had inspired both, perished in an hour. The kind musician died; the free music lessons were over forever, and they could never pay for instruction. One day Bianca found her father, as she called him, actually ill, and their humble means of subsistence at an end, for the present. "Forever," said Bianca to herself, "if I cannot earn his bread in his age as he has earned mine in my youth. Surely, even my little knowledge of music is of some avail " Sitting with her bead upon her hands, she remembered the beautiful young prima donna who sang at the opera, and whose voice she bad heard through the open window of a certain great hotel. "She is said to be charitable," she said. "At least she would tell a poor girl if it might be possible for her to earn her living by her voice, where to apply, what to do." And full of that ardent trust in human nature which is part of youth, she tied on her poor little hat, and made her way through the wretched streets in which she lived to the great thoroughfare in which stood the hotel which was the prima donna's home. "Can I see the Signora ?" she asked timidly of a servant who answered her timid ring. "Well, it isn't likely, young woman," sail the man. "She's just going out to ride. Does she know you ?" "No," said the poor girl; "but—" "Oh—begging, or something, I sup pose," said the man. "No you can't." "Let me be the judge," said a soft voice; and a beautiful lady clad in velvet swept towards her. "What have you to say to me ?" she asked, kindly. And Bianca was about to reply when she suddenly caught sight of something pendant from a chain which the lady wore that struck her dumb. It was an earring —a hoop of gold—the mate to that about poor Bianca's wk. She remembered how her mother had given one to each of them to quiet them on that day when she sat desolate upon a foreign shore. Strange fancies filled her mind. Could this be Francesca ? If it were, would she not de. spise the poor organ-grinder's adopted child ?—an ignorant girl, so shabby that the servants took her for a beggar. "Come with me, my child," said the beautiful young lady. "At least you are of my country. I know it by your accent. We have that tie. Come." She led her to her sumptuous apartment and closed the door. 'Now let me know what you came for," she said, smiling. Bianca bent her bead, trembling. "I came for something else," she said, "but I can only think of one thing now— that hoop upon your chain. What is it ? Where did you get it ? And you look— oh you look—you are like—" She fal tered and paused. "This bit of gold," said the lady, "is all I have to rewind me of my lost mother. I wear it for that. And besides—l have been told it may be a means of—of—" She broke off and covered her face with her hands. "Why did you notice the ring ?" she said. "Of whom do I remind you ?" "Of my mother," said Bianca. "My mother, who on the day of our arrival in this country, left me with my sister upon the Battery. She was killed in the street, though I did not know it for years after ward. An old man—good and kind, but very poor—cared for me. I never saw my sister again. I came to MC you, Signora, to ask you what one could do with a good voice and love for music, but with little musical education. I heard you were charitable, but—Oh, Signora, what does it mean ? As we sat on that ench on the Battery, my sister and I, our mother gave us each one of her golden earrings to play with. See ! I have mine yet." She drew it from her bosom. "Your name ?" cried the prima donna "Bianca," said the girl. "I am Francesca !" — cried the other. She held out her arms, and the next moment the two girl's sobbed upon each other's bosoms. Francesca had been adopted by a rich roan, who had developed her great talent by all the means in his power. And now she herself was winning fame and fortune. A great joy had come to her in the restora tion of her sister, and she took her at once and forever to her heart and home. And the old Italian, in the comfort of a luxurious home, and the society of his adopted daughter, who soon followed in her sister's footsteps and became a great singer, found himself well repaid for his kindness to the orphan child, and ended his days in peace and happiness. (stiert Visa Hang. Birds in the Air, and the Air in the Birds. The chief peculiarity of birds is their power of flight, and, although there are a few birds which do not fly, most of them do, and the various organs of their bodies are all constructed in such a way as to fit them for a life in the air. Their bodies are very solid and compact, in order that most of their weight shall be near the place where the wings are attached. The feet, legs, head, and neck are light, and so ar ranged that they may be drawn up close to the body while the bird is flying. As the neck is long and very flexible, the body does not need to he pliant, as with most creatures having backbones ; but it is important that the wings should have a firm support, so the bones of the back are united. The body of a bird must also be well protected from the cold ; for, as it as• cends and descends through the air, it passes through regions of very different temperatures, and it must be provided with a thick and warm covering in order to endure these sudden changes, and one also which shall be very light and able to shed the water ; for, otherwise, a bird would be unable to fly. The feathers of a bird answer to all these needs, and are so placed upon the body that they form a smooth surface which does not catch against the air when the bird is passing through it. In its rapid ascents and descents, the bird is exposed to another danger even greater than the sudden changes of tem perature. You all know that air presses in every direction with great force and that we do not feel it because there is air in all parts of our bodies as well as outside them, and the pressure of the air inside exactly balances that of the outside air.— If we should suddenly take away the out side air in any way, such as covering a person up with an air-pump receiver, and quickly and completely exhausting the air, the consequences of the inside pressure would be very terrible, and if the experi ment could be tried quickly enough the body would burst like an exploding gun, with a loud noise. When people go up rapidly in a balloon or climb very high mountains, they are troubled by a ringing noise and a feeling or great pressure in the ears and head, by palpitation of the heart, bleeding at the nose, and fainting. These unpleasant and often dangerous symptoms are caused by tae expansion of the air inside their bodies. In ascending very high mountains it is ne cessary to go very slowly and to stop very often, to give time for some of the expand ed air to escape, and equalize the pressure again. Now, many birds, the condor, for example, fly over the tops of the highest mountains, and nearly all birds, either oc casionally or habitually, ascend to very high altitudes, and unless there were some plan for regulating the pressure of the air inside their bodies, they would suffer great inconvenience and even pain and danger. But they are provided with an arrange. ment by which the air within them can escape cagily as it expands and thus keep the pressure within just equal to that out side, so that they can ascend as rapidly as they wish, without feeling the least incon venience. In the body of the bird there are several large bags, like the lungs, call. ed air-chambers ; many of their bones are hollow, and others are pierced with long winding tubes called air tubes. All these air chambers and air-tubes are connected with the lungs so that air can pass into and out of them at each breath. The connec tion between these chambers and the lungs is so complete that a wounded hawk can breathe through a broken wing almost as well as through its mouth. When a bird mounts upward, the air inside its body gradually expands, but the bird does not feel any inconvenience ; fur, at each breath part of the air passes from the air-chamb ers into the lungs, so that the pressure on the inside does not become greater than that on the outside.— St. Nicholas for Sep tember. Counterfeiting American Goods. In reply to the charge that American goods sent to South American markets are not equal to the samples exhibited by agents, a correspondent of the New York Evening Post . calls attention to the fact that enormous quantities of cheap imitations of American goods are made in England and Germany to be shipped to the West Indies and South America; and not only in the general appearance of Americun goods im itated, but the brands and labels of Amer ican manufacturers are placed upon the spurious products. In the single district of Elberfield, in Rhenish, Prussia over 30 factories were at one time at work forging "American implements, such as axes,mach etes, hatchets, and the like, with exact im itations of the private marks of reputable American firms. Law suits against some of the worst of these offenders have resulted in their conviction, but the petty fines im posed by the German courts have had little effect to stop the outrage. The trade is kept up, and American manufacturers find everywhere in the West Indies and Span ish America miserable imitations of their goods, bearing their town names, brands and trade marks.—Scientific American. Worth Remembering. It is the penny saved more than the penny earned that enriches; it is the sheet turned when the first threads break, that wears the longest; it is the damper closed when the cooking is done that stops the dollars dropping in the coal bin ; it is the lamp or gas burned low, when not in use, that gives you pin money for the month ; it is the care in making the coffee that makes three spoonfuls go as far as a teacup ordinarily ; is is the walking one or six blocks, instead of taking a cab or omnibus, that adds strength to your body and money to your purse ; it is the careful mending of each week's wash that gives ease to your conscience and length of days to your gar ments; and last of all, it is the constant care exercised over every part of your household, and constant endeavor to im prove and apply your best powers to your work, that alone gives peace apd prosperi ty to the family. SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL Postage Stamps. A DESCRIPTION OF THE PROCESS OF MA. KING THEM, A New Yotk correspondent. thus de scribes the process of making postage stamps for the Government at an establishment in that city : After the paper is "wet down," as the printers say—every hundred sheets being counted, and the number marked by a pro jecting tag—it is taken up to the printers. Each sheet is of the right size for making 200 stamps, of the ordinary size. Curious ly enough, none of the gentlemen of whom I inquired seemed to know what paper mill makes the paper ; but it is made es • pecially for the purpose. The printing room is crowded with hand-presses used for printing the stamps; no fewer than eleven presses being in operation. Each press has three persons in attendance—one to "tend press," one to ink the plate, and one—the "printer"—to brush off all the ink (in a wonderfully swift and dextrous way,) from the surface as soon as it has been put on. The reason of this, which would other wise be a piece of self stultification, is that the stamps "are counter-sunk" or cut in, and the ink is not wanted above them, or on the plane surface. It would cost too much and take too long to prepare sepa rate steel-engraved dies for every stamp, so a case-hardened steel die is made, down at the Continental Bank Note Company's, all carefully engraved and cut away to perfec tion, and then a steel plate softened for the purpose is by machinery rolled over the die, which leaves its impress, every time, until the entire plate is hardened and ready fbr use—one for every printing press in the room. These are hand presses, and the cylinder that makes the impression is merely turned by a single whirl of the wheel, obtained by the leverage aff)rded by the projecting spokes or handles. It is all done in a surprisingly quick way; and there is no "lost motion" of wheel, cylin der or elbows. The ink varies according to the kind of stamp. Some of the presses are printing the red 2 cent stamps, some the 3 cent green ones, and others, different colors. Two thirds of all the stamps, says the su perintendent, are the 3-cent green ones. The "ink," a queer substance in bulk, and queerer still when seen on the ink table and roller, is made by the note company, aad its secret is theirs. All they know at the printing room is that some kinds have "laundry blue" in them, and that all kinds are made with reference to canceling—to the effect of the dauby canceling stamp us ed in the post-office. For the orange toned 90-cent stamps (these are the highest de nominations I saw) and also fbr one of the vermillion stamps a peg or two below that, the materials are imported from Europe, and mixed in New York. All the others are wholly made here. The different col ored inks are apparently about the consist ency of some styles of newspaper ink, but not by any means so sticky. The "print er" who brushes off the plate the moment before it goes into the press, does it all in six swift motions—three with a sort of cloth, and three (to conclude) with his bare hand. The operation, for deftness and celerity, is like one of Heller's, the magician. The ink is rolled over the plate with a roller made of Canton flannel. The printers are paid by the hundred. Precisely how much they earn I couldn't find out, but it ought to be good wages, for they "work like beavers." There is no idling or play in that room—uor any where else in that busy establishment. The blank paper, all numbered, is charged to the printers to whom it is delivered, and the plates are also numbered and charged to them. When not in actual use the plates are kept carefully locked up in the Kife— a little room in itself. Each of these eleven presses turns out 1,200 sheets a day, or 7,200 a week. Each sheet contains 200, and as they are deliv ered to postmasters only in sheets of 100 it follows that each sheet must be cut right through the middle. This is done by hand. A girl, with a long pair of shears cuts them as accurately as a ruled line, showing what a good eye and a rapid band can do. There is no room in the crowded street for any error, and the girls make none. One girl, whom I watched for a while, cut 50 sheets a minute-11,000 a day ! It is a si lent cut, cut, cut—from morning to night —working as if her life depended upon it. She sits at her work. The girla are all busy at a variety of processes in the prep aration of the stamps, all of which require delicacy of touch as well as swiftness, rind their wages average $S a week, or a little over. From the printing room and the drying room (the latter an intolerable hot place, where the sheets are placed in frames on drying racks) they go to the gumming room—which is also a drying room, but not hot—the drying being aided by re volving fans affixed to a shaft, which send their influence through lofty piles of the gummed sheets in frames. The gum used is not gum arabic—that would in drying cause the sheets to curl and crack—but is simply a kind of potato starch. It is made, I believe, in Providence. A girl swiftly adjusts the edges of a heap of printed sheets so as to slide them all into place while she deftly daubs them at a single stroke with •the mucilaginous substance, which she ap plies with a single motion of a wide brush. This is the substance you "lick to make it stick" on the letter you drop in the post office. The sheets are dried in wooden frames. After the gumming and drying, the stamps in sheets, are flattened out and made smooth by being subjected to the persuasive power of a hydraulic press, the force being 450 tons. They are put in thin boards, which divide the several pack ages. And after they come out they are taken out and counted again by girls seat ed at tables, who also swiftly adjust them in even-edged heaps while counting. Let one of these damsels make a mistake, even of a single sheet, and she necessarily dis covers it on the final footings and adjust ment. Then there is a careful going over of all the weary piles—thousands of sheets —till the lost sheep is found. If he doesn't turn up then the piles are turned around, and gone through with from the edge on the side, not the. opposite edge—and 10, the delinquent is probably fonnd to have got turned under, and so, did not report at muster, fbr the count is done at the edges. THE chief source of human discontent is to be looked fbr, not in real, but in our fictitious wants; not in the demands of nature, but in the artificial cravings of de sire. KIND words are among the brightest flowers of earth; they convert the hum• blest home into a paradise; therefore use them, especially around the fireside circle. MORAL cowardice is the curse of our race. A Lesson to Mothers. One night not long ago, a young girl in a haunt of vice, in Philadelphia, accidently, while at supper, put her foot on a parlor match, which set fire to her clothing.— Another girl, who ran to her rescue, shared the same fate; their dresses were of thin material and blazed over their heads, while they fled shrieking to the street, and there burned slowly to death. The men, their companions, stood and afforded no help.— The significant part of this horrible story is that both women were young and at tractive, of good birth and social position, both educated (one a graduate of Vassar College); both had left homes of cotnfort and ease,husbands and children ,voluntarily, to take up this mode of life, which in their case could boast of no attractive gilding. The house in which they met their ter rible fate was one of the lowest in its class; the men whom they chose as friends be. longed to a wretched negro minstrel show —degraded, cowardly brutes who stood off in safety watching them die. Only two or three days ago the police records of our own city told an even more pitiful tale. A father found his daughter in an in famous place, and strove by legal means to take her out. She defied him, the eourta sustained her, and she went out gaily from the court room with her vile companion, giggling at the discomfiture of the broken hearted father and brother, who stood with heads bowed in shame as she passed by. The most frightful fact in our social life faces us in these stories. It is that there are women in the lowest deep who are not driven there by want or cruelty, nor led there by betrayed affection ; women who have been gently reared, educated, beloved, whose natures are so tainted that the choose to go out, like the prodigal of old, from the home God gave them, to feed with swine. How many such are hidden in these dens God only knows ; how many remain in their original positions, the re cords of our divorce courts, the foul gos sip with which so-called fashionable society reeks, in not only this country but En gland, gives us an appalling hint. It is useless to ignore this Act. Neither the pulpit nor the press, if it means to help at all in the work of bettering our social life, ought to ignore the fact that a certain portion of American and English society is rapidly becoming as licentious as that of Paris. Who is to blame for it? Not human nature. Women and men are born as pure as they were a generation ago. Not Christ's religion. His hand is as strong to save the Magdalen in the streets of New York as of Jerusalem. It is the mothers who are to blame. Mothers in fashionable society in the cities, and in that society which feebly apes the fashion in town and villages and farm places from Maine to Oregon, who set before their daughters, from their birth, dress, and show and style, as the solo god they are to follow. We venture to say that "Style," that most vul gar of words and things, has done as much to corrupt the women of America as liquor has. Not only was it the cause of our finan• cial downfall, but modesty, honesty, de cency are sacrificed to it. Fashion now publishes even the rules for "First Com munion Dresses," and sets forth the pipings and coifiure in which an innocent girl may properly approach her God. There is nothing so holy that it is not made sub servient to it. It is nct the wealthy mother alone who vitiates her child's mind by this worship of fully, but the mechanic's wife, the poor seamstress whose aim is to "push her daughter on in society," to give her stylish dresses instead of a modest heart, a clean mind, and a God fearing soul. The moral training which such mothers neglect is supplied by hot-pressed sensation juve nile literature, and the reports of foul scandal in the daily newspapers.—N. Y. Tribune. Girls. Olive L)oan, Grace Greenwood and oth ers of that class have given so much time - in discussing this important subject that we have made up our minds that if the girls arc trained at home in the followinc , manner, they would give their wise heads something else to talk about : Teach them self reliance. Teach them to make bread. Teach them to make shine. Teach them not to wear falls,: hair Teach them not to run up store bills. Teach them to wear thick, warm shoes. Bring them up in the way they should go. Teach them how to wash and iron clothes. Teach them how to make their own dresses. Teach them that a dollar is only 100 cents. Teach thew how to darn stuchings and sew on buttons. Teach them every day, dry, hard, prac tical common sense. Teach them to say no, and wean it; or yes, and stick to it. Give them a good, substantial common school education. Teach them to wear calico dresses, and do it like queens. Teach them that a good rosy romp is worth fifty consumptives. Teach them to regard the morals and not the money of their beaux. Teach them to have nothing to do with intemperate and dissolute young men. Teach them that the more one lives within his income, the more he will save. Teach them the further one lives beyond his income, the nearer he gets to the poor house. Teach them that a go)d, steady mechanic without a cent is worth a dozen loafers in broadcloth. Rely upon it that up3n your teaching depends in a great measure the weal or woe of their after life. Teach them the accomplishments of music, painting, drawing, if you have the money to do it with. Teach them that God made them in His own image, and no amount of tight lacing will improve the model. AN intelligent farmer, living in Des Moines county, has invented a henophone, modeled on the principle of the telephone, by which one old reliable hen occupying a central office in the henery, sits on all the nests about the establishment, leaving the other fowls free to lay eggs, scratch and cackle. As fast as a new nest contains the full compliment of eggs, it is connected with the central office by a copper wire, and the business is settled. The only trouble with the machine is that it sits so hard it hatches out the porcelain nest eggs along with the others, so that one chick in every nest is born with glass eyes, and the farmer has to buy and train a dog to lead it around. This makes it expensive.— Hatokeye. Laughter at Ninety Years. One of the saddest phases of old age is to see the paralysis of the muscles by which mirth expresses itself. It is unspeakably sad to see the sunshine go out of any life, but especially from the faces of those we love, and by whom we have been cheer ed, from whom we have caught the inspi ration of many a gleeful hour. But this might be borne with the dumb composure with which we accept the inevitable, if this loss of smiles from the faces of the aged were by divine appointment, or by the fatal necessity of sin; but in most ca ses mirth drops out of the souls of the aged not because the soul grows old—for if the soul has been poised and conversant with truth the soul keeps its youth, for it is immortal—but itis from habit and neglect. Many, we believe. lose mirthfulness, not because it is purloined by pain,but because through some misconception (no doubt the deception of sin) that it is not the becom ing thing, that it savors of levity or light ness, or that it does not comport with Christianity, or that one so near the grave must begin to put on the grave clothes and wait for death at the gate of the cem etery, or, in other words, stimulate his dark aspect. But this is unchristian. Christ's life in the soul may be as playful as the gambol ing of a sinless lamb. Then, again, as men and women grow old they may lose their mirthfulness by separating themselves from youth. A fatal mistake for both, for child hood is never more happy or being better trained than when grandpapa and grand mamma are young again, entering with zest into their sports. Neither is old age ever so fresh and attractive as when it, comes out for a romp with childhood. All day after it is sweeter, life has taken new relish, the sun has new vigor for those who have been with childhood, the heart is younger, its expansive and contractive for ces are more vigorous, and blood tints come to the faded lips and cheeks again; the whole man has been reclothing itself with immortality, and they are nearer the di vine pattern of men meet fur heaven ; fir the real saint life is a glorified childtoo 1. "For except ye be converted and become as little children ye cannot enter the king dom of heaven." Take a good laugh when you can. It will stretch out the contract ing wrinkles which gloom has deepened. Open up your souls to laugh at whatever will produce the sensation, as women open up the windows for a good, balmy summer breez - _ , .. We wish those hateful people who drop bitterness into every smile could live in a hell of their own creation. low hap py all would be if our fathers and mothers could keep their mirthfulness, and not have laughing eyed hope crushed out of them We cannot help having sympathy with the fierce rebuke of Robert Hall, at the piety whose chief virtue seems to be to look ugly and behave stupidly. Aftez one of his gra.iri sermons he was dining with a friend, and was as playful as a kitten, making all gleeful around him. Ono of the profession, who had tbe conception that stolidity was piety, rebuked him, saying "Mr. Hall, you shock me. You preach like an angel, but out of the pulpit you have the levity of a sinner." "Is that your honest opiniou of me," said Mr. Hall. "Yes." "Well," said Mr. Hall, "you have your foolishness in the pulpit and I have mine out of it." There is wine in your hearts that has not yet been crushed out. Do not then close the shutters; rather break open a place in the dark side of your house, for the light of the sun is yet bounteous. The command is, Bring forth fruit—joyous fruit—in old age, and be fat and flourish ing in soul till the last, for all the wealth of immortality is yours. You have not yet received God's best. He keeps the good wine for the by-and-by. Live in hope, and hope will keep you young The Pres byterian About Mending. In a large family the mere mending is something almost formidable; one regards the pile of debilitated garments fresh from the week's wash, with a hopelessness akin to despair ; each article needs the stitch is time, and many have passed far beyond that saving process, having accumulated a com• pound interest in stitches which is quite alarming. There is a great temptation to allow the small rents to run over into the next week—when we usually discover that that they have won the race—while we attack the larger and more urgent. ones; and a greater temptation to persuade our selves that these are really too bad to attempt; that things so delapidatod deserve to retire from active service into the asylum of the rag-bag ; that time spent upon them is so much money lost Must of us have bad reas3n to declare that we would rather make two new garments than repair an old one. It is such discouraging work to find the elaborately darned break of last week flanked by neighboring holes, as if they had rallied to its aid in the resistance against law and order and meant to carry the day ; to see oar patches verifying the Bible testimony that new cloth upon old maketh a rent; to be obliged to bear wit ness against the well-worn proverb that it is never too late to mend. Yet we doubt it' the efficacy of mending has been fully estimated ; if the sum that has been saved by timely stiches were calculated, it would perhaps, surprise us more than a little. It is considered a por branch of business at the best, only proper L to old women and those whose time is worth nothing; but if it should become a lost art, what a howl would ascend from the wearer of every buttonless shirt and frayed coat sleeve ! How speedily would we I?aru its value! What rewards would be offered for its dia• covery ! There is, however, an undoubted knack in mending effectively, in knowing at a glance how much energy it is worth while to devote to a fracture; when skill ful energy of the needle is demanded; when it will do to slight, to touch and go. We do not endorse the practice of those will expend as much time upon darning as would suffice to learn a lauguage, as it' there were nothing better than to weave threads in an old stocking, or who insert a patch to deceive the very elect. We would recommend neatness and des patch. Under any other regime the week's mending would last a lifetime in some houses, and be left as a legacy to one's heirs. Moreover, it is a stroke of genius to get it off one's hands at the earliest date, lest it darken the horizon like a thun der cloud, and overflow into the following Monday, if left till the inevitable Saturday, since every week has its own imperative duties, and it is poor management to shoulder the unfulfilled obligations of the past upon the next seven days.—lforper's Bazar. JUSTICE consists in doing no injury t..) men; decency in giving them no offence. NO. 34.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers