VOL. 42.
The Huntingdon Journal
OBice in new
.JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street
TIIE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every
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No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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“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.