VOL. 42. The Huntingdon Journal. Dice in new JOURNAL Fifth Street. TIIE I.II7NTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. Nasii, at $2,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or $2.50 if pot paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 83 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 advertisements will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-HALF COTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF orixs for the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. Reguiftr quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates : 13m 16m I9mll yr I l3m 16m 9m lyr llu Is 3 50 4 5(1 5 501 800 1 /col 900 18 00 $27 $36 2`' I 5 Od 00 10 00112 00 VpolllB 00 36 00 60 65 3" 700 10 00.14 00118 00 Xc01134 00 50 00 66 80 4 " 8 00;14 00120 00118 00 1 col 36 00 60 00 80 100 . All Resolutions of Associations, Communications: of limited or individual interest, all party announcements, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged rev 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 accounts are due and collectable when the advertisement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy Colors, clone with neatness and dispatch. Hand-hills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and everything in the Printing line will be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Legal Advertisements. SHERIFF'S SALES. By virtue of sundry writs of Ficri Facias Levari Facias and Venditioni Exponas, to me directed, I will expose to public sale, at the Conrt House, in Huntingdon, on FRIDAY, NOVEMBEII 8, 1878, at one o'clock, p. m., the following described Real Estate, to wit : All that certain lot cf ground, situate in the borough of Alexandria, Huntingdon county, Pa., fronting on second street, and exten ding back to an alley, being bounded on the north west by lot of Win. and Winfield S. Baker, and on the south-east by lot of Margaret Newell, be ing lot No. 43 in the plan of said borough, and having thereon erected a frame stable. Seised, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Louisa Baker and Elmira Beer. ALSO—AII that certain tract of land, situate in Clay township, Huntingdon county, Pa., bounded on the north by Sam'! Wagoner, on the south by John Jamison, on the east by 11. Slope. and on the west by J. B. Moreland, containing 8 1 1 acres timber land, more or less. Also, All that certain other tract of land in Clay township, Huntingdon county, Pa., adjoining land of Charles McCarthy, G. W. Cohill and others, containing seventy-five acres, with good young ORCHARD, good mead ow and brick-yard, and having ::; thereon erected two small DWEL- s I LING HOUSES and barn. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Geo. W. Hough. ALSO—AII that certain lot of ground, situate in the borough of Alexandria, Iluntingdon county, Pa., fronting on Second street, and exten ding back to an alley, being bounded on the north west by lot occupied by German Reformed church parsonage, and on the southeast by lot of Louisa Baker and Elmira Beer, being lot No. 49 in the plan of said borough, and having thereon erected a large, convenient and complete frame carpenter shop. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Wm. Baker and Winfield S. Baker. ALSO,—AII that certain messuage and lot of ground, situate in the Borough of Hunting don, fronting fifty feet on Fourth street, (formerly Montgomery.) and extending back at right angles therebu fifty feet to a lot now or formerly owned by Thomas Carmon, adjoining a lot of Richard Langdon on the north, and a lot of William Williatns on the south, being part of lot numbered 192 in the general plan of said Borough, andjeing the same premises which George W. JohnsoT and wife by their deed, dated the 18th day of April, A. D., ISi2, conveyed to Kate B. Cunningham, one of the parties of the first part, which said deed , recorded in the otfioe fair recording of deeds, iu deed book D. No. 3, page 2:35, PI &c., together with all and singular, the buildings, improvements, streets, alleys, - lanes, passages, ways, waters, water courses, rights, liberties, privileges, hereditaments and appurtenances whatsoever thereunto belong ing or in any manner appertaining and the rever sions and remainders thereof. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Wilbur F. Cunningham and Kate B. Cunningham, his wife. ALSO—AII that certain house and lot of ground situate in the borough of Huntingdon, Pa., and bounded and described as follows : Being No. 406 in the plan of said borough, fronting 50 feet on Second street and running back 153 feet to lot owned by Wm. Dorris, and adjoining lots of C. H. Glazier on the south and Murritts Hawn's estate on the north, and having thereon erected a TWO-STORY FRAME •a 'l, DWELLING HOUSE and other out- I buildings. Seized, taken in exeeution, and to be sold as the property of Wit. H. Thomas. ALSO—AII that certain house and lot of ground and premises,situate and being on corner of Washington and Bath streets, in the borough of Huntingdon, being 50 feet in front on Washing ton strut and extending in depth at right angles thereto and along east side of Bath street 200 feet to Mifflin street, as laid out on the ground and marked 154 in the plan of said borough, and ad joining lot late of James Hemphill on the east, be ing the said premises which was conveyed to the ss:d John K. MeCalian by deed of Rev. Sang tel 11. Roed. dated March 16, IS6G, ' and recorded in Record Book "W" No. Ila 2, page 23, having thereon erected a _ _ _ -__ TWO-STORIED F RAM 111 DWELLING HOUSE. _ . _ Also, All the 'right, title and interest of the said John K. MoC.aban, of, in and to a certain parcel or tract of land, situate in Warriorsmark town ship, Huntingdon county. and State of Pennsyl vania, adjoining !and of, tirtnerly of John Ben derson, deceased. tow John AVait, on the south, and the Laural Spring grit mill property and land formerly belonging to Thomas Weston, esq., deceased, on the north, bounded and described as follows, viz : Beginning at a post in lane, for merly Henderson's, now Wait's, south 35 degrees east 219 perches to a !Kist backed up with stones; thence south 1:4 degrees west 133 perches to a stone heap ; thence north 33 degrees west 301 4-10 perches to a post in lane, (formerly Weston's), and thence north 56 degrees east 91 49-100 perches to post in lane (Wait's), containing 143 acres, more or ',sit, and the usual allowance for roads, &c., the same being the balance or remainder of a larger tract of land surveyed on a warrant to Boynton and Wharton, dated the 28th day of July, 1766, which was sold and conveyed by Caleb Guyer, committee of Benjamin Johnston to John K. McCaban, as hy deed bearing date the 18th day of August, 1857, recorded in Book N. No. 2, page 292, ltc. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of J. K. MeCahan, executor and trustee under the will of John McCahan, deed. -•-- ALSO-111 of defendant's right, title and interest in all that certain tract or parcel of land, situate in the township of Shirley, county of Huntingdon, and State of Pennsylvania, bound ed the east by lands of Daniel Brandt, on the west by lands of John X. Lutz, on the north by lands of Spanogle's heirs and John Bowman, and on the south by lands of Joseph Miller and George Wakefield, and having thereon erected a LOG DOUSE and sail BANK BA'tN, and other outbuildings, II: Ll ' containing 190 acres, more or less, 140 acres of which are cleared and the balance in timber. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Henry S. Smelker. - - - ALSO—AII that certain piece or parcel of land, situate in Walker township, Huntingdon county, beginning at the corner of a piece of land this day conveyed by said S. S. and H. S. Whar ton to george 11. Lang, thence north three de grees east eighteen and eight-tenths perches to a post; thence by land this day conveyed to Joseph McCoy north twenty-nine and three-fourths degrees west twenty-five and five-tenths perches to a post; thence north twenty and a half degrees west sixty-five perches to a pest; thence north six and a half degrees west thirteen and two-tenths perches to a post; thence north three and a half degrees east thirty-nine and five tenths perches to a post; thence by land of Henry J. Swoope and Daniel Kyper south seventy-two and one-fDurth degrees east eighty-one and one-tenth perches to a post; thence by land of Daniel Kyper south one hundred and twelve perches to a post ; thence south sixty-six degrees west twenty-two and five tenths perches to a post ; thence north thirty nine degrees west four and five-tenths perches to a post ; thence south fifty-one degrees west twelve and five-tenths perches to a poet; thence north seventy-one degrees west six perches to a post; south seventeen and three-fourths degrees west nine perches to a post; thence north seventy-five degrees west four and seven-tenths perches to a post, the place of beginning—containing fifty four aoress and one hundred and twenty-seven perches, net measure. Also, A strip of Woodland, nine perches wide, running from the base to the summit of Tussey's mountain, adjoining the part ' this day conveyed to Samuel Peightal, be ing the same land this day conveyed by the said ..,,...,..., .t.., 1.,.. 0 Ir, -.$ ...!...,_ 4 , _A- # , ~. . 0 ,i- , 4 'I • ; i :::- at 1 # . tf- A • - I I 1... • IA •T ...e.-- a , # 1 -; - _ ~4 MA& V,,, r ~. . .1, • r r • = .43 :3 V ,t 1 ....„ 1 ~ , t. 1 - pk`h e .........._ " ~ ~ , , , Legal Advertisements. Samuel S. and Henry S. Wharton to Thomas Moore. [Mortgage dated April 1, 1859.] Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Thomas Moore. ALSO—AII that certain farm and plan• tation, situate in West township, Huntingdon county, bounded on the north by land of Samuel Myton's heirs, on the east by lands of Martin Walker; on the south by lands of Andrew Smith and Dr. Peter Shoenberger's heirs ; and on the west by lands of Josiah Cunningham, containing about two hundred and twenty and seven acres, more or less, together with all and singular, the Buildings, Improvements, Woods,W'ays, j Rights, liberties, privileges, heredita- Mei ments and appurtenances to the same 1 1 :-;. • belonging or in any wise appertaining, and the revision and revisions, remaind er and remainders, rents, issues and profits thereof. [Excepting from above described premises that part of the same which was sold to Jacob Stabley, by deed of Stewart Foster and wife, dated Sep tember 5, 1863, recorded in Record Book R, No. 2, page 294, containing 64 acres and 105 perches.] Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Stewart Foster. ALSO—AII those two certain lots of ground, situated in that part of the borough of Huntingdon, Pa., known as West Huntingdon, lying contiguous to each other and to gether, fronting 100 feet on Penn street 4 and extending back at right angles Ire thereto 150 feet to an alley, being lots Nos. 1 and 2 in block No. 24, and hav ing thereon erected an unfinished a TWO-STORY FRAME BUILDING.. _ _ _ Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Franz Bleicher. ALSO—AII that certain lot of ground, situate in that part of the borough of Hunting don, Pa., known as West Huntingdon, fronting 50 feet on Moors street, and extend ', ing back at right angles thereto, of 111 'P equal width, 150 feet to an alley, being 11 " lot No. 6 in block 4 of Wharton, Miller & Anderson's addition to said borough. and having thereon erected a TWO-STORY FRAME DWELLING HOUSE, and necessary out buildings. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of Arabella Silknitter. ALSO—AII that certain lot of ground, situate in that part of the borough of Hunting don, Pa., known as West Huntingdon, fronting 50 feet on Washington street and extending back at right angles thereto 150 feet to an alley, being lot No. 2 in block No. It! 3of Wharton, Miller & Anderson's ad- :: dition to said borough, havins , thereon erected a FRAME DWELLING HOUSE, and ne cessary outbuildings. Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of James V. Lee. ALSO—AII that certain tract and par cel of land situate in Union township, in said coun ty, on the south side of the Juniata river near the bead of Jack's narrows, surveyed on a warrant in the name of Samuel Drake, adjoining a survey in the name of Samuel Bell, and a survey in the name of Thomas Fisher, containing thirty acres and 19 perches and allowance &c., having thereon about 6 acres cleared, and an apple orchard. Also, A part of a survey in the naive of Samuel Bell, in Union township, in said county, contain ing about 30 acres, adjoining the Juniata river on the north, surveys in the name of Samuel Drake, Thos. Fisher and William Morris or_ the east, a survey in the name of Hagh McAllister on the north, and lands of Frank Ileffright on /" 1 ; r i the west, (excepting therefrom about 2 1 ., acres and small house owned by John I Greiney) having thereon a FRAME PLASTERED HOUSE, a frame barn, a granary and store house, about one acre cleared, with orchard, vineyard, Also, A certain tract of land situate in Brady township, in said county, surveyed on a warrant in the name of Daniel Igo, containing 57 acres and 40 perches and allowance,&e., adjoining lands of Elliott Robley on the north, on the east by A. W. Swoops, by other lands of John McComb on the south, on the west by lands of Eliza Crowley, and on the north-west by lands of Thomas Fisher, having thereon about 3 acres cleared. Also. A certain tract of land situate in Brady township, in said county, surveyed on a warrant in the name of Stephen Duncan and Jac. McAllister, cor.taining about 70 acres, adjoining other lands of John McComb, surveyed in the name of , , Daniel Igo. on the east by lands of A. 4,7 ' 4 W. Swoupe, on the south by theJuniata river, and on the west by the Juniata pAg, river having thereon an old STONE HOUSE (unoccupied) and about 15 acres of cleared and. Also, A tract of land situate in Union township, said county, surveyed the :id day of November, A. D., 1794, in pursuance of a warrant granted to Samuel Bell, containing 385 acres and 44 perches and allowance, &c. Also, A tract of land situate in Union township, said county, surveyed the 4th day of November, A. D., 1794, in pursuance of a warrant granted to Thos. Bell, adjoining survey in name of Jno. Bell, containing 403 acres and 65 perches and allowance, &c. _ _ _ Seized, taken in execution, and to be sold as the property of John McComb. TERMS:—The price for which the property is sold must be paid at the time of sale, or such other arrangements made as will be approved, otherwise the property will immediately be put up and sold at the risk and expense of the person to whom it was first sold, and who, in the case of deficiency at such re-sale shall make good the same, and in no instance will the deed be presented to the court for confirmation unless the money is ac tually paid to the Sheriff. Purchasers who are lien creditors must procure a certified list of liens for the Sheriff, in order to apply the amount of bids, or any part thereof, on their liens. SAM'L 11. IRVIN, Oct.lS-ISIS.] Sheriff. PROCLAMATION—Whereas,by a pre cep t to me directed, dated at Huntingdon, the 21st day of August, A. D., 1878, under the hands and seal of the lion. John Dean, President Judge of the Court of Common Pleas, Oyer and Terminer, and general jail deliv ery of the 24th Judicial District of Pennsylvania, compo sed of Huntingdon, Blair and Cambria counties; and the Hons. Graffus Miller and Adam Heeter, his associ ates, Judges of the county of lluntingdon,justices assign ed, appointed to hear, try and determine all and every indictment made or taken for or concerning all crimes, which by the laws of the State are made capital, or felonies of death and other offences, crimes and misdemeanors, which Lave been or shall hereafter be committed or perpetrated, for crimes aforesaid—l am commanded to make public procla mation throughout my whole bailiwick, that a Court of Oyer and Terminer,Quarter Sessions and general jail deliv ery will be held at the Court House,in the borough of Hunt ingdon. on the second Monday (and 11th day) of November, Is7B, and those who will prosecute the said prisoners, be then and there to prosecute them as it shall be just, and that all Justices of the Peace, Coronerand Constables with in said county, be then and there in their proper persons, at 10 o'clock, a. m., of said day, with their record', inquisi tions, examinations and remembrances, to do those things which to their offices respectively appertain. Dated at Huntingdon, the 18th day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and seventy-eight and the 153 d year of American Independence. SAM'L. H. IRVIN, SIIERIPP. - PROCLAMATION -1T hereas, by a pre - cept to me directed by the Judges of the Com mon Pleas of the county of Huntingdon, bearing test the 21st day of August, A.D. 1878, I sin commanded to make public proclamation throughout my whole bailiwick, UFA a Court of Common Pleas will be held at the Court House, in the borough of Huntingdon, on the 3d Monday, (a,d 18th day,) of November, A. D., 1878, for the trial of all his us in said Court which remain undetermined before the said Judges, when and where all jurors, witnesses, and suit in the trials of all issues are required. Dated at Huntingdon, the 18th day of October, in the ye • r ef our Lord, one thousand eight hundred aud seventy eight, and the 1024 year of Americas Independence. SA3CL. 11. IRVIN, SHERIFF. PROCLAMATION.—Whereas, by a precept.to me directed by the Judges of the Common Pleas of the county of Huntingdon, bearing test the 21st day of August, 1878, I am commanded to make public proclamation throughout my whole bailiwick, that a Court of Common Pleas will be held at the Court House in the borough of Huntingdon, on the 4th Monday (and 25th day) of November, A. D., 1878, for the trial of all issues in said Court, which remain undertermined before the said Judges, when and where all jurors, witnesses, and suitors, in the trials of all issues are required. Dated at Huntingdon, she 16th day of Octobor, :a the year of our Lord one thousand:eight hundred and seventy eight, and 103 d year of American Independence. SAMUEL H. IRVIN. Sheriff. LIST OF CAUSES FOR TRIAL at November Term, ISlS—Commencing No vember 11, 1878 FIRST WEEK. A.B. Kennedy for use vs. Benjamin Kyler. Mary Pheasant vs. Samuel Phelmant's adm'rs. Mrs. Elmira Dougherty et al vs. Wm. McCarty E. H. Myers of al TS. Silas Hess. SECOND WEEK. Dr. D. R. Good, Trustee under the will of Dr. D. Houtz, dec'd. vs. H. H. Shillingsford. Elijah White vs. Penna. Canal Co. Jas. S. Fleming vs. Same. George Fleming vs. Same. Henry Biabin vs. Same. Henry Whltsel vs. David Whitsel. R. B. Petrikea vs. A. P. Wilson. Gen. A. P. Wilson's Admr's. vs. R. B. Petrik in. Ellas Whited vs. T. K. Henderson. Robert B. Myton vs. Sam'l. McManigal et al. THIRD WEEK. John Rummel vs. John Dougherty. C. K. & J. 11. Shoenberger vs. Jno. Copenhaver et at. W. C. Bunnell vs. Jas. Gregory and wife. First Nat. Bank of Huntingdon vs. Richard Lang Jon. Geo. L Owens' use vs. Metropolitan Life Ins. Go. W. M. Phillips vs. Thos. E. Orbison et al. Jacob B. Bolinger vs. John Bolinger. Mary C. Oaks vs. Elizabeth Ewing's admes. W. S. Varner vs. George B. Wharton. A. B. Shenefelt vs. S. A. Steel et al. W. M. WILLIAMSON, PROTHY'S OFFICE, } Prothonotary. Huntingdon Oct. 18,1878. ~fZegiusts' *rim. Summer's Done. Thinner the leaves of the larches show, Motionless held in the languid air ; Fainter by waysides the sweet briars grow, Wild blooms laying their gold hearts bare, Languishing one by one, Summer is almost gone. Deeper hued roses have long since died, Silent the birds through the white mist fly; Down of the thistles, by hot suns dried, Covers with pale fleeces vines growing high ; Little brooks calmer run ; Summer is almost done. Later the flush of the sunrise sweeps, Shorteuingthe reign ofthe slow coming day; Earlier shade of the twilight creeps ; Over the shadows skimming away ; Crickets their notes have begun ; Summer is almost gone. Darkened to mourning the sad colored beech, Empty the nests in its purple boughs lie ; Something elusive we never can reach Deepens the glory of days gone by ; Aftermath left in the sun ; Summer is almost done. Child I why regret that the summer must go? Sweet the aftermath Bel in the sun ; Lives that are earnest more beautiful grow Out of a childhood in beauty begun ; Harvest of gold can be won Only—when summer is done. Ely *torji-Ettter. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. •It's no use !" exclaimed Hal despair ingly, throwing down his gun, and then throwing himself after it; "it's no use try ing any longer. We might as well give up and die at once. We shall never find our way out of this wilderness." "That isn't like you, Hal," I replied. You are famished, weak, low in spirits, and half sick, I believe. Otherwise you would not despond so easily. Do cheer up I" "Pin too nearly starved for that. I be _ lieve lam half sick, as you say. My head aches as if it would split." He sat half up, as he spoke, putting his hand to his brow, and looked disconsolately around. I was nearly as discouraged as Hal ; but I was careful not to betray my feelings, in word or look. Hal and I were very dear friends. He was twenty and I ten years older. He was the son of rich parents, in New York, and I was a sort of guardian to him ; at least during our summer recre ations; having been appointed to act in that capacity by his doting father. who re posed perfect confidence in my friendship Becoming tired of the seashore, Hal. with a restlessness common to persons of his age, had got it into his head that it would be a fine thing to make a pedestrian tour, northward, through the woods to Canada. He had heard of a party of stu dents who had started on this excursion a year before, and he longed to imitate their example. But his plans met with no sym pathy from me. I had settled at Old Orchard for at least a month, and I did not want to hear anything of adventure. But Hal was enthusiastic on the subject. "We would hunt, fish and camp," said he, and everything would be glorious. But I was an old campaigner, and I knew that camping out meant everything that was disagreeable, especially at that time of the year. I reluctantly consented, at last, how ever. Well, our journey up the Kennebec was very pleasant; but when we had left the boat and the stages behind us, and when we saw the last house, and began to camp out beneath the trees, Hal ggrew homesick. The realities were not what he had antici pated. Instead of sound slumbers we had to fight mosquitoes through the night; and when morning came the mosquitoes were reinforced by swarms of stinging flies. On the third day after entering the woods we had a rain storm. At night we tried to find a nook that would shelter us and in so doing we lost our way ; nor could we discover it again the next, morn ing. We wandered about until we were completely bewildered, and when night came were thoroughly exhausted. We hunted and fished now, not for pleasure, but from necessity. Our provisions were all gone, and we were in danger of literal starvation. That day Hai had been vainly trying to secure some game for our dinner. He looked already ten years older than when he had started on this journey. Exposure and unaccustomed exertion had told on him fearfully. There was a hectic tint on his cheek, and an unnatural look about his eyes. What if he should die here? And what should hinder him from dying, if his strength should fail, if he should fall sick? These thoughts were passing through my wind, when I caught the sound of something stirring in the forest. I in stantly grasped my rifle, and stationed myself behind a clump of shrubbery. Was it a deer ? Nervously I raised my rifle, and my finger was on the trigger, wit( n Hal sprang to his feet, knocked up the weapon, and cried excitedly,—"Hist ! look there." A light breeze at that moment had partly blown aside the bushes in front, disclosing a young girl, perfect both in form and in feature, lying on the forest grass, under an overshadowing birch, sound asleep She was dressed iu simple white muslin. Iler arms, half seen, hung listlessly at her sides; a broad brimmed hat lay by her knee; her long hair, un bound, flowed over her shoulders ; her lips, which were literally like the ripe rosebuds, were half parted, like those of an infant, smiling in its sleep. As I looked she moved slightly, and I recog nized the same sound which I had heard before and supposed to be the stealthy tread of a fawn. A picture of more be wildering loveliness I had never seen. My rifle fell to the around. lial's noise in rising, and his exclamation awoke her. She raised her head, looked around startled, and then, seeing us, sprang to her feet, and turned as if to run. I stepped forward, lifting my cap— '•Pardon us," I said, "for alarming you, but you have nothing to fear. We are lost in this forest. Can you guide us out?" She stopped at this, glanced from me to Hal, and blushed rosily over face and neck. "Lost," she said. "Why, it is only half a mile to the road, and my father's house is only half that distance. Lost, indeed'." with a gay little laugh of incredulity; and she shook her head. "Who ever heard of such a thing as get ting lost in my father's woods?" "But such is the fact," said Hal, com ing eagerly forward, his eyes showing his admiration, "and if you can guide us to a place where we can obtain refreshments you will do us a great service. We are nearly famished." "My father will be glad to receive you," she replied, demurely, her eyes falling be- L fore his. "I will show you the way. You HUNTINGDON, PAD, FRIDAY NOVEMBER 8, 1878. had better come now, fur your friend there looks sick." . She was addressing Inc now, but she was looking directly at Hal. Hal, the poor fellow, was by this time so weak that when we started to go he had to lean on me for support. Our fair conductor went tripping on before us, occasionally waiting for us to come up, and every now and then casting anxious looks at Hal's pale face. We soon reached the farm house, which was neat and commodious, situated on a gen tle slope, with grand old shade trees all about it. No palace could of given us more hospitable welcome. Before night Hal was in high fever. A . physician was called, who looked grave and said the case was a doubtful one though youth and good nursing might bring the patient round. For a week Hal was delirious. lii watched by his bedside night and day. Jennie, our little "sleeping beauty," as I called her, came and went, administering to the wants of the sick room in a thor• oughly womanly way, that one hardly would have looked for in one so young. At last Hal's youth brought him round. To me it was a ' ()Teat relief. I wrote to his father that he had been sick, but was better, and that we should probably soon come home. But Hal was in no hurry to return. What his reasons could be for staying in that out-of the-way place, puzzled me for a while. But one day it flashed upon me. all at once, that Hal was in danger of falling in love with Jennie. Ever since his recovery he had been in her society a great deal; and I noticed that she seemed shy and reserved whenever I met them together. I had seen many other little things, too, that were quite suggestive, when r came to think them over. "This," I said to myself, "must go no further. Jennie is charming enough in her way, but if Hal marries, it must be with sonie one of his own class. He, the heir of one of the first families of New York, to wed a mere forest nymph. Inapossible! What would bis father think of me." That very afternoon I said to Hal, "I shall get off to New York to-morrow morning. Can you he ready r Ile started suddenly and gave me a penetrating look, as if to read my thoughts. Then be flashed scarlet and said : "Of course I will be ready." That was all. But I felt relieved. "Once get him away," I reflected, "and he will soon forget all about it." That night after tea Jennie went out to pick some berries. Soon after, Hal was missing. I guessed where he was, and felt vexed. It was nearly dark when they returned, their hands full of bright maple leaves. When they saw me Jennie slipped quietly away, in the house, and Hal came directly towards me. His face was flushed and he seemed agitated, and in attempting to talk he male smile strange blunders. The next morning we were off on the early stage. We stopped a day at Old Orchard, to rest and pack trunks, and then went directly home, where we were gladly welcomed by our friend.; As we alighted from the hack at my hotel, Hal took out his di pry to pay the driver, and as he held it up in the gas light, I caught a glimpse of the page bearing the date of the day of our departure from the farm house; and on it were written two names, with a scarlet maple leaf fastened below them. Soon after our return. husine,s called me to California, where I remained for a year. During all this time I heard nothing from Hal. The little incidents of our tour in Maine, meantime, had been forgotten. But when I returned to New York I called on Hai at once. "Delighted to see you back again I" said llal's father, into whose presence I was ushered. "And how is Hal ?" I said. "Hal ? 1 have not seen hill' for an age." "Have not seen him ? Where is he ?" "He is in the city. I suppose you know Hal is married?" -I did not," said I, still wore surprised. "Yes, lie married a penniless girl, from somewhere in the wo)ds of Maine. Threw himself hopelessly away. I was so die. pleased that I told him he must look out for himself; and the boy was spirited enough ti do so. Ile and I have not met for six moat's. Ile is doing business in a small way for him=elf, and, I understand, successfully." "I amn sorry to hear this," I said. '•Cau nothing be done ' "Well, perhaps," answered the father, "we have b..th been to) headstrong and foolish ; and both too proud to acknowledge it. But I want Hal back again, wife and all. lie i 3 all I have. "I shall he happy to serve you i►► this." "When will you see him ?" "To-night. • The sooner the better." And so it was decided. The father was to remain in the carriage, while I went in house was a small neat cottage in the suburbs. A vigorous tug at the bell soon brought out the proprietor. He looked at me a moment, as if to identify the ; and then I felt a p of strong arms around toy neck. "Why, you dear old fellox," cried 1131. ""Where did you come from ? I urn so glad to see you! Where have you been all this time ?'' AS he spoke he whisked me into a c.)sy little sitting room, and before I had time to reply, had disappared. It was a cheery, home-like apartment, with nothing but plain furniture, and simple adornments; but there was :such a tidy appearance about everything, I knew llal's wife must be a jewel. When Hal returned I caught for the first time a glance at his face. It was the same fresh, joyous face, only there was a serious manliness now, in place of the old boyish expression. He was followed by a fair.headed, rosy faced young creature, whom, with a proud air, he introduced as his wife. Where had I seen her before ? She bad a familiar look, but I had met so many people in my changeful, roving life that I could not locate her for a moment. Sud denly, under my scrutinizing gaze, she blushed; I had seen that blush befcre.— All at once, the truth flashed on me. "Why, you are Jennie !" I exclaimed, and took both her hands in mine. "Yes, I am Jennie." she .answered, and blushed again, redder than ever. We sat down, and began to talk. I broached the subject of his father. "I can never go back to him," said Hal, "without he makes some advances first, and he will never do that." "Are you quite so sure ?" said a deep voice behind us. We looked around. So eager had been our conversation, we bad not observed the opening of the door. "Are you quite so sure ?" said Hal's father, for it was he who spoke. "My dear," he continued, advancing and bowing low to Jennie,"pardon an old man, who has come, though late, to ask your forgiveness. I want your husband to be my son again. I want you to be my (laughter. I want you both to come and live with me, that is if you can take pity on one utterly forlorn." His voice broke down as be finished. Jennie burst into tears, rushed forward, and impulsively threw her arms around the old man. If she had - studied her part for weeks, she could have hit on nothing that would have been so perfect as this.— As she clung to him, and kissed him, I knew that the reconciliation was permanent and complete. All this happened years ago. Jennie is now a leader of society in New York and the most beautiful matron at the Patriarch Balls. But she is still, to me at least, and I am sure also to her husband, the same unaffected character, as when we discovered her, in the woods of Maine, a "Sleeping Beauty." clect Viscellaq. Good Manners. More than one wise man has observed that "Manners make the state." Without some thought upon the subject one would hardly realize what is involved in the com mon courtesies of life. The word courtesy means elegance and politeness of manners ; civility; complaisance. Carried into daily life it acknowledges the individuality of every member of society, and accords to all, from the prince to the beggar, that re spect to which he is entitled. By good manners is not meant simply matters of etiquette as practiced in society, for outside of etiquette one's manners can be agreeable and even noble. Although a thorough knowledge of social usages is de sirable, it is not absolutely essential. A scavenger on the streets has rendered as sistance to a lady with as much grace and manliness as one accustomed to polite so ciety from his youth up, and yet, in all probability, that laborer had never known the ordinary comforts of a home. Some years ago, on one of our principal thor. oughfares, a sudden gust blew from the hands of a lady her umbrella. A carter passing by secured it, and handing it-back to the lady said, "Miss, if you were as strong as you are party, the umbrella could not get away from you." The lady, smi ling said : "Which shall I thank you for, the compliment or the umbrella ?" "Miss," said he, "that smile pays me well for both." "The first gentleman in -England" could not have acted with more gallantry. The statutes of the country are evidences of the manners and customs of the people. 11 their habits are severe and manners rude, the laws partake of that nature. If the manners are simple and gentle, so will bethe laws. Long before the laws become mild the manners become so. An exami nation of the laws will show the estimation placed up ,n human life, and, in fact, brings us almost face to face with the people. If woman is not sccorded political rights, nor deemed as important as she would wish to be in affairs of state, she is a very important and cintrolling clement. In her hand, broad as the assertion may appear, is the keeping of the manners of the world, and what higher task can she undertake ? By her influence home is made a paradise to which husband and children cling with unfaltering devotion. Here her pure unselfishness shines out brightly when contrasted with the selfish ness of the outside world, and teaches a lesson in self denial worthy of imitation. The "soft answer which turneth away wrath," the sympathetic look and manner are precious to man, and although they may pass unnoticed at the time, the good effect is felt, and shows itself in our being kinder to the feelings of others. The ef feet produced by good women upon the rising generation in home life is incalcu lable. Well would it be if woman occupied the same sound position all over the world as in America. In countries where she is not looked upon as the equal of man, the manners of the male sex are far below those where her refining influence has had full sway. To day in the East, where woman is in a state of vassalage, she sees springing up around her a host of sons, weak in mind and body, awaiting the ad vent of a more civilized race to fall an easy victim. Indeed it may be safely said that the promotion and perpetuation of civiliza tion depends, in a great measure, on good, manners as taught by good women. Turn for a moment from the more se rious contemplation of the subject and ob serve what inexpressible grace and beauty good manners add to the varied scenes of our daily life ; how they brighten the dark spots and smooth the rugged places in our path. how naturally we turn for sym pathy to the possessor of this charm, and how quickly we turn away from the harsh and rude in times when kind words are needed. Cultivate good manners in the home circle, and it will have a good effect outside. Bernember always that good manners, although an article having no fixed commercial value. yet adds very ma te•rially in the extinguishment of debt.— Good manners we always admire and they are believed to be contagious. It would be a good thing if' they were epidemic, and let us hope that they may become so. His Prayer for Help. "I'm a worthless fellow, Judge," slid George Thompson in a New York police court. "I've a family and Ido hot sup port them. A toiling wife, sir, who loves me too much to make a complaint against me. Two little ones, who put their arms about my neck and call me 'Dear father.' I drink and drink and cannot help it. I beg of you to send me where Icannot taste liquor." "Do you want a month ?" "More than that." He bowed his head in shame. "More than that, sir. Three —yes, six—months; a year. Do make it for that long. She will try to get me out, but keep me there. It is my last hope." Ilis prayer was granted. A local paper says George is more of a man than he thinks ; the drunkards who object to stop- ping are the hopeless cases. A PARENT, who claimed the right to educate his own children, sent the follow ing communication to a school board in England recently : "Jentlemen—l am at a luss to know why the chool Bord oficer is so desirous to have my childer oducuted. It is my only wish to make them cholars. There is plenty of street Arabes to look after • without annoying me so much. Yours, and so forth, The Jentleman Chool Bord." Old Desks and Chairs A correspondent at Washington has had a talk with Isaac Bassett, who has been Assistant Doorkeeper of the Senate for forty-eight years, and who, by the way, proposes to write a book embodying his recollections. Mr, Bassett said : ''l was appointed a page in the Senate in 1831, through the influence of Daniel Webster. Previous to that time there was only one page in the Senate, and he devoted himself too exclusively to the side of the chamber on which Mr. Benton sat. Mr. Webster thought that he wanted a page, too, and he insisted on my appoint ment. " 'ls it true, Mr. Bassett,' asked the correspondent, 'that the scats and desks which were once occupied by Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Benton, Cass and the Senate generally of half a century ago, are now in use in the Senate Chamber ? " 'Perfectly true,' was the reply. know the Senators who occupy the seats and desks of the statesmen you have named. lam the only person, I believe, who knows the history of the furniture of Cie Chamber. I have certain marks on the desks and seats which Clay, Calhoun, Webster, Benton, Cass, and a dozen other prominent Senators of their time occupied by which I can identify them. It cost me a great deal of trouble to keep the chairs and desks together during the sessions. The sweepers move the chairs about. Often I have found Webster's chair be fore Clay's desk, and the new chair of some member from a State recently ad mitted to the Union before Calhoun's desk. You see every time a State is ad mitted two new chairs and desks are made for the new Senators. Frequently I am asked by Senators to point out to them the seats of Webster and Clay, but I al ways refuse. If the history of the seats became known, curiosity seekers would cut and deface them. Just about the time the seats were moved from the old Cham ber, where the Supreme Court now is, to the new one, some one cut a few splinters from Webster's chair, but I had it repair ed an 1 changed the position of it, and it has not been marred since. It is not pos sible for me to be mistaken about the identity of the furniture. In an iron safe I keep a list of the seats and desks I have named, with the names of the Senators who occupy them at present. Some of them are very able men, I assure you. Others are not so able. —..--....----4. "Mercy !" When Napoleon was First Consul of France, a beautiful girl, about fourteen years old, might have been seen one morn ing at the entrance of one of the French palaces. Her tears and bitter sorrow touched the heart of the porter, who was a tender hearted man, and he allowed her to proceed. She went straight to the Con sul; and as he, surrounded by his minist ers, was walking through one of the apart ments, in the deepest grief the girl threw herself at his feet, crying, "Mercy, sire ! mercy for my father !'' "And who is thy father ?" said Napo leon, graciously, "and who art thou ?" My name is Lojolia," replied she, "and my father is condemned to die." "Alas, my child !" said Napoleon, "this is the second time thy father has rebelled against ihe State ; indeed, I cannot help thee." "Alt, sire !" wept the poor child, `•I know it. I know he has transgressed the law, but the first time he was innocent; this time I plead not because he is iuno• cent—l plead for mercy, mercy ! 0 mercy for him 1" The lips of Napoleon trembled, to,..rs filled his eyes, and taking the hand of the child in both of his, he drew her near him, saying, "Yes, my dear child, at thy request I forgive thy father " From this touching incident we may learn after what manner the sinner is for given. The young girl said, "I plead nut for my father's righteousness; I plead for mercy—for grace." Napoleon's heart could not resist that plea, and he gave her the desire of her heart. Had she pleaded her father's righteous ness, her case had been utterly hopeless; ho must still have said, "Alas ! I cannot thee." God cannot help the sinner who brings his own righteousness to him ; He has no remedy fur such cases. "Our righteousness ate as filthy rags," says Isaiah. "Enter not into judgment with Thy servant, 0 Lord ; for in Thy sight shall no man be justified." It would in deed be strange to be justified because of the nature of our filthy rags." But., instead of your righteousness, plead God's grace in Jesus. He cannot resist the plea; He never did, He never will, until the door of mercy is closed. The publican in the temple smote upon his breast, saying, "God be merciful to me a sinner !" and Jesus declared that he went down to his house justified, rather than the self-righteous Pharisee. Education for the Kitchen. Cooking schools are springing up in many places in this country and in Eng, land, and the English are taking the lead in organizing them as a part of their na tional and common school system. Of' the importance, the imperative necessity of this movement, there cannot be the slight est question. Our kitchens, as is perfect ly notorious, are the fortified intreuch wents of ignorance, prejudice, irrational habits, rule of thumb and mental vacuity, and the consequence is that the Ameri cans are liable to the reproach of suffering beyond any other people from wasteful, unpalatable, unhealthy and monotonous cookery. Considering our resources, and the vaunted education and intelligence of American women, this reproach is just. Our kitchens are, in fact, almost aban doned to the control of low Irish, stupid negroes, and raw set vile menials that pour in among us from various foreign coun tries. And what is worse, there is a gen eral acquiescence in this state of things, as if it were something fated, and relief from it hopeless and impossible. 'We profess to believe in the potency of education, and are applying it to all other interests and industries excepting only the fundamental art of the preparation and use of food to sustain life which involves more of econo my, enjoyment, health, spirits and the power of effective labor, than any other subject that is formerly studied in the schools. We abound in female seminaries and female colleges, and high schools and normal schools, supported by burdensome taxes, in which everything under heaven is studied except that practical art which is a daily and vital necessity in all the households of the land. WITHIN the space of 200 years pre vious to the Norman conquest, thirty Saxon kings and queens left the throne for the cloister. Autumnal. Upon the woodland avenues a balmy ca^pct iies. Of dappled leaves which glow and gleam like wino kissed butterflies Adown the walks, in reverie, Clarinda joyousgoes, And sentimental lingers o'er the pale September rose. The breezes woo the petals of the chaste fur-get me-note. Tho flowers look dyspeptic in the garden's lonely plots, The sombre wayside sutnaehs from the fields will soon adjourn, A dainty rime now glitters on the lily's milky urn. No longer on the sycamore doth coo the forest dove, No longer at the garden gate doth Phoebe speak of love, No longer doth the robin blithe among the blos soms flute, No longer doth the sportive swell have on a 'men suit. Round fern-embroidered valleys hangs the dreamy mellow haze, Which rests on hill and lakelet in the "melancholy daze," The lilac sky has here and there a snowy aureole, The while the gray philosopher lays in his winter coal. The orchard, full of luscious fruit, the youthful breast elates, The small boy will soon sell his gun to buy a pair of skates, Full soon Fall's tender beauties on the wings of death will go, And then look out for winter with its dash infernal snow. Beauties of Brazil. Those who sigh for a lodge in Brazil should read what Mr. Bigg-Withers writes of the beauties of that country. The mos quito makes his home in these winds. A tiny fly, called palvoia, from being as small and multitudinous as atoms of dust, pa. , ses through the meshes of the finest net, then penetrates the hair and beard and sticks its venomous proboscis into the skin. The loathsome tick named carapetto, when dis turbed on the cones and twigs by the foot of the passer-by, swarms up the trouser legs and fastens upon the flesh. It has so firm a bite that if it is plucked off, its head is buried deep in the flesh, diffusing a virulent poison of its own. The hairy caterpillar, by day or night, equally beau tiful, luminously phosphorescent in the dark, and with a covering of brilliant hues like delicately formed moss, the ends of which branch off into pointed antlers, in flicts with every point of these a very pain ful sting. There is a lively red ant, whose tormenting powers are not to be despised. But one of the worst enemies of mankind, as well as of cattle and hogs, is a big spotted fly which comes along silently and pricks . the body of its victim. It sucks no blood and instills no venom ; its minute weapon instantly withdrawn leaves no soreness or irritation at the time. The man thus slightly punctured does not rub or scratch himself: He little knows that he has received the deposit of an egg which will soon become a maggot, half an inch long, after one week's growth, but capable of growing to an inch and a quarter in length and half an inch in thickness.— With fine rings of black spikes or bristles around its body, it has a horrid trick of revolving on its own axis, tearing the flesh anew by each of its hourly revolutions.— Mules, oxen and wild deer suffer likewise from the hideous visitation. Wasps and hornets there are, of course. There is a small stingless bee, which crowds so thick upon exposed parts of the body as to leave no room for a mosquito to alight. As the bee only tickles, instead of biting, stinging or laying an egg, it is welcome, but it is impossible to eat without devouring half a dozen or more. The Treatment of Sleeplessness. So many persons suffer nowadays from sleeplessness that every contribution to the literature of the subject is of interest. Dr. Ainslie Hollis, in the London Practitioner, maintains that although the quantity of blood in the brain is diminished during sleep, this diminution is not the sole cause of slumber for we have the former without the latter. One of the most efficient means of inducing natural sleep is the application of mustard piasters to the abdomen.— Preyer of Jeux advocates the admiuistr '- Lion of a freshly made solution of lactate of soda, or of some milk or whey, on the hypothesis that sleep may be induced by the introduction of the fatigue products of the body. When the insomnia depends upon brain exhaustion, Dr. Hollis rococo mends the administration, just before bed time, of a tumblerful of hot claret and water, with sugar and nutmeg. The al kalies and alkaline earths are u•et•ul when acid dyspepsia is associated with the in somnia. Electricity has been used in the paresis of the vaso-motor nerves due to an overworked brdn. In hot weather sprink ling the floor of' the sleeping' tip trtnient with water• les-etis the irritant properties of the air, adding much to the e tudert of sleepers; possibly the quantity of t.z ,ne is at the same time increased. When steep is broken by severe pain, opium er morphia is of value, not only by redeving the pain, but by its action in producing anww:a of the cerebral vessels. In the wakefulness due to neuralgia, it is often better to in ject a small dose of morphia hypodermically near the branch of the affected nerve than to administer it by the mouth. It is doubtful whether the bromides possess hypnotic properties, although they un doubtedly act as sedatives on the n...rvous system, and as such may °cc tsionally ira duce sleep —Journal of Chemistry A Valuable Bird, Captain Thg;ardus possesses a very re markable stuffed bird, which he regards with unfailing interest, and fur a very good reason. "That." said he, "was the last bird I shot in England in the watch with Mr. Aubrey Coventry. It would have made a tie it I had not killed it. Was I excited ? Not a bit. I knew I could grass it, and I did. It was stone-dead be fore it reached the ground. I fancy there was something like $lOO,OOO on that bird, and it made a difference of $5,000 to me, and more than that to my friends. Kind of natural, ain't it, ►hat stuffed bird ?" and the captain's face beamed with at least a $lO,OOO smile. Nevada Obituary. At a dead-fall : "Hello, Jim 1" "How are you Jerry—take sutbin' ?" "Heard from your brother lately—Ar senic Bill, old pizan ?" "Well, yes, not d'rectly. You know he was in the hoss and cattle business in Texas. His operations extended over a large territory and didn't require much capital. One night they took him in. There were eight of 'em at one end of the rope and Arsenic Bill at the other. He couldn't keep his feet on the ground. When they raised him he passed out. Here, barkeep'r, two whiskey sours." Painless Death. The phenomenon of death is little un derSteod. The mystery which shrouds death is not greater than that which shrouds birth, or thought or volition ; yet religion and various other things have all conspired to misinterpret its attendant phenomena. One of the most common errors is the idea that pain and dying are inseparable companions. The truth is they rarely go together. Occasionally, the act of dissolution is a painful one, but this is an exception to the general rule. The rule is that unconsciousness, not pain, attends the final act. Convulsive twitchings, livid features, gurgling in the throat, and similar ghastly symptoms which mark the last moment, are only exhibitions of unconscious automatic ac- tion. The testimony of the dying, so long as they are able to give aoy testi mony, is that their sufferings do not in crease as the termination of life approaches but on the contrary grow less. The fol lowing incident illustrates the truth of this remark, and so far as a single in stance is of value, confirms what has been said to the painlessness of dissolution. A medical friend, whom I attended pro fessionally in leis last illness, was a victim of a most painful disease. He was aware of its incurable character. Supported by an intelligent faith in God and immortali ty, he prepared himself with admirable courage and unfaltering trust for the final change. In consequence of continual and severe pain, he was obliged during the last few months of his life to take opium daily. He sent for me one night soon after mid night. A brief examination was sufficient to show that the end was near. "Do these symptoms mean perforationr asked Dr. -. "They do," was the reply. "Then I have reached the end of the chapter," he quietly remarked, and added, "how long shall I probably last "That you know," I said, "as well as anyone; perhaps twenty four hours or thirty six hours." Scarcely heeding the reply he con tinued : "I am ready, but promise me this, that I shall not suffer pain if you can pre vent it." The promise was given, of course, and I agreed to see him every hour or two as long as he lived. This being done, I said to him, "One thing remains, how shall I communicate with you when, at the very close, the time comes that you canriot in• dicate whether you suffer or not ?" After a little talk the following signals were agreed upon. He was to indicate a negative answer, or no, by raising the forefinger, and affirmative, or yes, by raising the forefinger, and the one next it also. One finger was no; two fingers yes. Having arranged this matter, he took rather more than his habitual dose of opium, and was soon comparatively quiet. The pain did not return. For twelve or fifteen hours he appeared much' as usual ; conversed with his family and friends, and was cheerful and serene. Then as na ture's anesthetic began to act, ho became dull and heavy. In answer to repeated inquiries as to pain, ho constantly replied in the negative. At length he answered less readily. For an hoar or so before death he answered only by the signal of his fingers which bad been agreed upon, and by that signal he replied quickly and intelligently. Fifteen minutes before dis solution I asked him, "Do you suffer pain ?' He instantly made the negative signal by raising the forefinger. After this he made no sikn, but slept peacefully to the end. The Funny Things We Do, Have 3ou ever reflected upon the funny things we Jo, for which we can give no particular reason ? How is it that we do not give five cheers, four cheers, two cheers, one cheer ? Why is it that we give three cheers and no wore ? Who C3Q tell ? Why is it that the majority of people use the right hand iu preference to the left, aryl cannot help smiling at those who use the latter ? Why is it that a man cannot Fee a bun dle of toothpicks without helping himself when he does not need them at all ? Why is that the small boy cannot let the thin wai-ted wisp fly in pe tee without furious ly going for it with his new straw hat; or why is that the small girl always insists upon lugging home a kitten that has not even learned how to open its eyes ? Why is it that when we ask how many dap; there are in a month we always say (Wet to ourselves, "Thirty days hath September, April, June and November r' Why is that w t urn to the right ihstead of the left, when the left is far mere pre . - erab!e, and it' adopted would save many an accident on highway and railroad ? The driver always sits on the right of his hide ; in turtling to the right he is firth est from the wagon he passes, and unless he is an expert, cannot tell how close he comes to the n heels of the man who pas-es him; whereas, if' he turned to the left side he could look straight down, Fee to the fraction of an inch how clo-e ho was ap proaching an obstacle, and thus avoid it. The engineer runs up in the right hand track and sits upon the right hand aide of his cab, the long narrow loc-)motive, with its sand tower, belfry aid smok(-4tack in front of him, cutting off It's nut look and impeding his observation. lie can vier. only his own track, while the opposite track, save at a distance, is almost wholly unseen by him (On smuts railroads the reverse is the custom.) Customs, owing to causes we know not, of, has eetablished the curious precedents, and from observa tion and education we unwittingly do thousands of things, that are, to say the least, funny, and that we cannot possibly explain. AN iuvention which merits notice has just been introduced in parts of Germany. The invention consists of a milk can, so arranged that the milk Ban be poured out to the last drop, but not a drcp of water can be added to it. In the ordinary tin lid, which is securely looked with a pad lock after the can has been filled, is placed a brass valve, which opens o* ands.-- When the can is tipped to let the milk out the valve opens and the milk flows out; but, to add water, the can mast naturally be in an upright position, when the valve closes with its own weight, and prevents any water flowing in. A WOMAN appeared before an Ithaca police justice the other day and wanted her father punished for alleged unkindness shown her. The justice inquired into the matter, found the man was over ninety years of age and that he had been married four times. "Go home, young woman, go home," be said, "the old man has already been punished enough." NO. 44.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers