VOL. 43. 1-7 Huntingdon Journal (Vice in new JutaNAL Building, Fifth Stree THE lIUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. NASH, at 02,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or $240 if not paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 13 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 CENTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CENTS for the second and FIVE CENTS per line roe all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertisements ill be inserted at the following rates: I I3mlGmi l 9m 1 1 yr 1 . , . . _ .to $7l F; , 5ll. 5 561 800 1 /coil 9 0011.8 001527 $36 50, ' s 0 .110 00112 00 %colllB 00136 001 50 65 3 " 7 (10.10 00,11 00118 00 4 coil 34 00150 00 66 80 4 " 8 00;14 00120 00 1 ,18 00 1 c 01136 00160 00 80 100 All Resolntions of Associations, Communications: of limited or individual interest, all party announcements, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. An advertising aecount, are due and collectable when the advertisement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Handbills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, kc., 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. TAB. G. B. ITOTCIEKIN, 204 Mifflin Street. Office cor nor Fifth and Washington Sts., opposite the Post Of fice. Huntingdon. [ junel4-1878 DCALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, Erd street 1/. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods St Wil liamson. [apl2,'7l TAR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his profestional services to the community. Office, N 0.623 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. ljan4,'7l HYSKILL has permanently located in Alexandri, t.; practice hie profession. [janA '7B-Iy. 17 C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's L. building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. J Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76. (TEO. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Lew, 405 Penn Street, ki Huntingdon, Pa. [n0r17,16 G. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building, . No. 520, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2.'7l lIC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn . Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l T SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, . Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd reet. W. MATTERS, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim Agent, liuntingdou, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the •ernment for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid stone attended to with great care and promptness. Of on Penn Street. Ljam4,'7l S. GEISSINOEB, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo- Court House. [febs,'7l E. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., office in Monitor Minding, Penn Street. Prompt careful attention given to all legal business. [augs,74-limos TOCK OF CLOTHING - S. WOLF has just received a large stock oi from the east, which he offers very • 'heap to suit these panicky times. Below are a few prices: Men's good black suits $l2 50 cassimere suits 8 50 diagonal (best) 14 00 Warranted all wool suits 10 00 - up Youth's black suits 10 00 up Cassimere suits (l Diagonal (best) 11 50 Boys' suits 4 50 up Brown and black overalls 50 Colored shirts 33 up Fine white shirts 1 00 up Good suspenders 18 up Best paper cellars per box 15 A large assortment of hats 75 up Men's shoes 1 50 up 'Large Assortment of TRUNKS, VALI USES and SATCHELS at PANIC PRICES. Trunks from $2 00 up Umbrellas from GO up Ties and Bows very low. Cigars and Tobacco very cheap. Be sure to call at S WOLF'S store No. 420 Penn Street, southeast corner of the Diamond. sepl'76J SAMUEL MARCH Agt. WASHINGTON, D. C. l HAS THE BEST HOTEL IN THE COUNIRY, At $2.30 Per Day. TREMONT HOUSE. _4O LIQUORS SOLD: [febls—y CHILDREN TO INDENTURE. A number of children are in the Alms House who will be Indentured to suitable parties upon application to the Directors. There are boys and girls from two to eleven years of age. Call upon or address, The Directors of the Po,r of Hunting ion county, at Shirleysburg. toet4, '73-tf 10R SALE —Stock of first-class old established Clothing Store. Store room fer vn - t. Owner retiring from business. Sept 27-3m] H. RCMAN. Ijcan make money faster at work for us than at &Sy' i thing else. Capital not required ;ws will start you. $l2 per day at home made by the industrious. Men women, boys and girls wanted everywhere to work r us. Now is the time. Costly outfit and terms free. dress TRUE & Co., Augusta, Maine. laprs '7Bly AT M. P. & R. A. ORBISON, A TTORNEYS-A7'-LAW, J. 321 Penn Street, HUNTINGDON, PA. Tar - All kinds of legal business promptly at .ided to. Sept.l3,'7B. WILLIAM W. DORRIS, Attorney-at-Law, HUNTINGDON, PA Penn Street, Muth 16, 1877-y tertgbPsipees yoR can engage" in. lb to CO per day adatiy any worker of either sag, right in eir own localities. Particulars ind simples worth $5 free. Improve your spare time at is business. Address STINSON & Co., Portland, Maine. hprs '7B-1y NIORFINEAND FANCY PRINTING a-: . Go to the JOURNAL OfHee. tha Professional Cards• NEW - -- -- - -- - -- - - - --- - - _ _____ :•:. _,...i ", . , .. .... v„,. ... . ~,... . ~.., ...,:.:, .. ;,•,4 .., ..!,..7 .., 0 ,i..• t i t . , . a; . ~,,.., ~.. . . ~ .1.._ ~..;„. ~ . . ~,,. .. .. .., . . _tr. ~ :...„ ~.... ~... ~ . ® .4 , : .i.::. ._ . _ , - - O 4 - . - ~.. ••f s: g 4 4 ~ 1. -4. 5 t.-- .., t g ; I i k; 4-.!- .4.. r., t A; 1 1 •:, , . 5 - „...,.. 1 1, i rna , . , _. ...,,. , , .„, .~ ", _,..,, ap Printing The Huntingdon Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING -IN THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, No. 212, FIFTH STREET. HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, TERMS : $2.00 per annum, in advance; 52.50 Within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0000n000 A PROGRESSIVE O REPUBLICAN PAPER. 0 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. 00000000 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 ;mgm TO ADVERTISERS : Circulation 1800. FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING MEDIUM 5000 READERS WEEKLY. The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read - by the best citizens iu the it finds its way into 1800 county homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus making it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order ggggggU' JOB DEPARTMENT I = P , -o cr cA 1 IS . .1 iir co A ' Fi2 ghm c cs '.' R ' I to i P ...el G, R ~~ ti p R Cr CD Cr' CD 0, I . : C C eD g .m Cii. Q. /o.• Cr ii A SPECIALT ILOR Pitt. SW All letters should be addressed to J. A. NASH. Huntingdon, Pa. Ely Dusts' cober. Lite's milestones marking year on year, Pass ever swiftner as we near The final goal, the silent end To which our fated footsteps tend. A year once seemed a century, Now like a day it hurries by, And doubts and fears our hearts oppress, And all the way is weariness. Ali me I how glad and gay we were, Youth's sap in all our veins astir, IVhen long ago with spirits high, A happy careless company, We started forth, when everything Wore the green glory of the Spring, And all the fair wide world was ours. Tu gather as we would its flowers! Then, life almost eternal seemed, And Death a dream so vaguely dreamed, That in the distance scarce it threw A cloud-shade on the mountains blue, That rose before us soft and fair, Clothed in ideal hues of air, To which we meant in after-time, Strong in our manhood's strength to climb. How all has changed ! Years have gone by, And of that joyous company Who—who are left? Alas, not one Love earliest loitered on the way, Then turned his face and slipped away ; And after him with footsteps light The fickle Graces took their flight, And all the careless joys that lent Their revelry and merriment Grew silenter, and ere we knew ; llad smiled their last and said "adieu." 00000000 0 Hope faltering then with doubtful mind, Began to turn and look behind, And we, half questioning were fain, To follow with her back again ; But Fate still urged us on our way And would not let us pause or stay. Then to our side with plaintive eye, In place of Hope came Memory, And murmured of the Past, and told Dear stories of the days of old, Until its very dross seemed gold, And Friendship took the place of Love, And strove in vain to us to prove That Love was light and insincere— Not worth a man's regretful tear. Ah ! all in vain—grant 'twas a cheat, Yet no voice ever was so sweet— No presence like to Love's who threw Enchantment over all we knew ; And still we listen with a .igh, And back, with fond tears in the eye, We gaze to catch a glimpse again Of that dear place—but all in vain. Preach not, 0 stern Philosophy ! Nought we can have, and nought we see. Will ever be so pure, so glad, So beautiful as what we had. Our steps are sad—our steps'are slow— Nothing is like the long ago, Gone is the keen, intense delight— The perfume faint and exquisite— The glory and the affluence That halved the enraptured sense, When Faith and Love were at our side, And--es ,, amanii a was fi ed. Our shadows that we us - CTIO - throii Behind us, now before us grow; For once we walked toward the sun, Rut now, Life's full meridian done, They change, and in their chill we move, Further away from Faith and Love. A chill is in the air—no more Our thoughts with joyous impulse soar, But creep along the level way, Waiting the closing of the day. The Future holds no wondrous prize This side Death's awful mysteries ; Beyond what waits for us, who knows? New life, or infinite repose ? —Blackwood's Magazine, *torg-Etlicr. THE FAITHFUL GUEST. A NIGHT OF DANGER AT MAPLETON There was something, I forget what, to take gptitifather and grandmother away from home one day in October of the year I lived with them in Burn's Hollow. It may have been a funeral or some religious meeting, for they both drove off dressed in their best in the gig, with old Ajax har ne:.sed to it ; and after I had tucked in grandma's iron gray silk skirt and ran back to the house for grandpa's spectacles, and had seen the gig vanish in the distance, I felt lonely. Burn's Hollow was a lone some, rambling mansion, which might have sheltered a regiment, and had a ghostly air about it when one wandered through the tipper rooms alone. _ There were but two servants in the kitchen, Hannah Oakes and an Irish lad Anthony. I heard them laughing merrily together, for, though Hannah was an old woman, she was fall of fun, and in five minutes the do.)r opened and Hannah came with the tray. "Please, miss, - said :,:se, a. 4 she set it down, "may I run over to Mapleton to night ? My sister's daughter had a boy last night, they say, and I want to see it, nat'rally—it's the first I've ever had of grand niece or nephew." "Who brought the news ?" I asked. "Anthony. miss," said Hannah. "He met George—that's my niece's husband— when he was out after the cow, straying as she always is, and told him to tell Han nah, 'she's a grand aunt.' " "You way go," I said, "but don't stay late. Grandpa and grandma may be away all night, and I feel nervous. To be sure, there is Anthony, but I never rely on him. Be certain not to stay late." I repeated this injunction with a sort of fright steal ing over me—a presentiment of evil, might say —and something prompted me to add: "Be back by 9." Why, I can not say; but I felt as if by 9 I should be in some peculiar danger. Hannah promised, and, after doing all I required, went away, and I heard her heavy shoes on the garden walk outside. Early as it was, I had dropped the cur taio and lighted the wax candles on the mantel, and I sat long over my. tea, finding a certain companionship in it, as women of all ages will. ••••• ... gg I sat thus a long time, and was startled from my reverie by a rap at the door—a timid sort of rap, so that I knew at once that it was not a member of the house nor an intimate friend. I waited, expecting Anthony to open the door, but, finding he did not, went to it . myeelf. It had grown quite dark, and the moon rose late that night. At first I could only make out a crouching figure at the bottom of the porch ; but when I spoke it ad vanced, and by the light of the hall lamp I saw a black man. I bad always had a sort of fear of a negro, and instinctively shrunk away, but as I did so he spoke in a husky whisper : "This is Massa Mor ton's isn't it r tt 0 ... IM. on "Yes," I replied ; out." I retreated as he advanced "Please, Miss," he said, "Judge B. sent me here Ile said Massa 'ud help me on. Let me stay here a night, Miss. I's trab bled five days since I left him. like. I'se awful huogry, 'pears like I'd drop, and ole massa's arter me. For the lab ob heaben, Miss, let me hide some where's, and gib me - jes' a crust. Massa Morton 'ud help me, and it's kept me up. Misses will, I know." Companions on the Road. "but grandfather is HUNTINGDON, PAD, FRIDAY JANUARY 3, 1879. I knew that grandfather bad given suc cor to some of these poor wretches before; but I felt that I might be doing wrong by admitting a stranger in his absence. Caution and pity struggled within me. At last I said : "You havo a note from the judge, I suppose, sir ?" "I had some writin' on a paper," said the man, "but I's lost it de night it rained so. Ah I Miss I's tellin' de truff—Judge sent me, sure as I's a sinner. I's been helped along so far, and 'pears like I get to Canadv. Can't go back nnways. Wife's dare, and the young uns. Gut clear a year ago. Miss, I'll pray for you ebry day of my life of you'll be so good to me. Tank you, Miss." For somehow when lie spoke of wife and children I had stepped back and let him in. It was the back hall door to which the rap had come, and the kitchen was close at hand. I led him thither. When I saw how worn he was, how wretched, how his eyes glistened, and how under hi 3 rough blue shirt his heart beat so that you could count the pulses, I ihrgut my caution. I brought out cold meat and bread, drew a mug of cider, and spread them on the table. The negro ate, and I left him to find Anthony, to whom I intended to give directions for his lodging throughout the: night. To my surprise, Anthony was nowhere about the house or garden. Ilanaah must have taken him with her across the lonely road to Mapleton. It was natural, but I was angry. Yet I longed for Hannah's return, and listened very anxiously until the clock struck 9. Then, instead of her footsteps, I heard the patter of raindrops and the rumbling thunder, and looking out saw that a heavy etorm was coming on. Now, certainly, grandpa and grandma would not come, and Hannah ' waiting for the storm to pass, would not be here for hours. However, my fear of the negro was quite gone, and I felt a certain pride in conducting myself bravely under these trying circumstances. Accordingly I went up-stairs, found in the attic sundry pillows and bolsters, and carried them kitchenward. "Here," I said, "wake yourself a bed' on the settee yonder, and be easy for the night. No one will follow you in such a terrible storm as; this, and no doubt grand in will assist you when he returns home. Good night." "Good night, and God bless you, Miss," still speaking in a very husky whisper.— And so I left him. But I did not go up stairs to my bed- room. I intended for that night to re main dressed, and sit up in grandpa's arm chair, with candles and a book for company. Therefore I locked the door, took the most comfortable pu , ition, and opening a vol ume, cotnpu,edtnyself to read. Heading I f,AI asleep. How long I slept I cannot tell. I was awakened by a low sound like the prying of a chisel. At first it mixed with my dream so completely that I took no hoed of it, I?pt• at loot I understood that some one was at• work upon the lock of the door. I sat perfectly motionless, the blond curdling in my veins, and still chip. chip, chip, went the terrible little instrument, until at last, I knew whence the sound came. Back of the sitting-room was grandpa's study. There, in a great old-fashioned chest, were stored the family plate, grand ma's jewelry, and sundry sums of money and valuable papers. The safe itself stood in a closet recess, and at the closet the thief W:l4 now at work. The thief—ah, without doubt, the negro I bad fed and sheltered. l'erhaps the next act would be to murder me if I listened. The storm was still raging, but though the rotd was lonely, better that than this house with such hor rible company. I couldn't save my grand father's property, but I could save my own life. I crept moss the room and into the ball and to the door. Then, sillily as I could, I unfastened the bars and bolts, but, alas ! one was above my reach I waited and. listened. Then I moved a hall chair to the spot and climbed upon it. In doing so I struck my shoulder against the door frame. It was a slight noim, but at that mo ment the chip of the chisel stopped. I heard a gliding foot, and, horror of hor rors, a man came in from the study, sprung toward me, and clutched me with both hands, holding my arms as in a vise, while he hissed in my ear : —You'd tell, would you ? You'd call help ? You aught bet ter have slept, you had ; for, you see, you've got to pay for waking I'd rather hey left a chick like you off; but you know me now, and I can't let you live." I stared in his face with horror, mingled with an awful surprise ; for now that it was close to me I saw, not the negro, but our own hired man. Anthony—Anthony, horn had supposed to be miles away .with Hannah. He was little more than a youth, and I had given him niauv a present, and had always treated him well. I pleaded with him kindly "Anthony, I never did yoii any harm ; lam young ;lam a girl. Don't kill me. Anthony Take the money; don't kill me, for poor grandma's sake. "You'll tell on me." said A.utlimty dog• Redly; "likely I'd be caught. No, I have got to kill you " • As he spoke he took his hands fr An my shoulders, and clutched my throat fiercely. I had time to utter one suffocating shriek, then I was struggling, dying, with sparks in my eyes, and a sound of roaring water in any ears, and then—what had sprung upon my assassin, with the swift silence of a leopard ? What had clutched me from behind, and stood over him with some thing glittering above his heart ? The mist cleared away—the blurred mist that had gathered over my eyes; as sight re turned I saw the negro with his foot upon Anthony's breast. The fugitive whom I had housed and fed had saved my life._ Then ten minutes after—ten minutes in which but for that poor slave's presence 1 would have been hurried out of life—the rattle of wheels and the tardy feet of old Ajax were heard without, and my grand parents were with me. It is needless to say that we were not ungrateful to our preserver; needless, al so, to tell Anthony's punishment. It came out during his trial that he had long contemplated the robbery; that, the absence of my grandparents appearing to afford an opportunity, he had decoyed Hannah away with a lie, and hid in the study. He knew nothing of the negro's presence in the house, and, being naturally superstitious, had actually fancied my pro tector a creature from the other world, and submitted without a struggle. Long ago—so we heard—the slave, a slave no longer, met his wife and children beyond danger ; and, now.that the bonds are broken fur all itothis free land, doubt less his fears are over, and he sits beside his humble Canadian hearth when eventide comes. * , ltlcet Col. Ingersoll on Love. Some people tell me, your doctrine about loving, and wives, and all that, is splendid for the rich, but it won't do for theOt. I tell you to-night, there is more love in the homes of the poor, than in the pal aces of the rich. The meanest hut, with love in it, is a palace fit for the gods and a palace without love, is a den only fit fir wild beasts. That is my doctrine ? You cannot be so pior that you cannot help somebody. Good nature is the cheapest commodity in the world; and love is the only thing that will pay. 10 per cent. to borrower and lender both. Do not tell me that. you have got to be rich! We have a false standard of greatness in the -United States. We think here, that a man must be great, that he must be noto rious, that be must be wealthy, or that his name must be on the putrid lips of Rumor. It is all a mistake. It is not necessary to be rich, or to be great, or to be powerful, to be happy. The happy man is the successful man. Happiness is the legal tender of the soul. Joy is wealth. It is not necessary to be great to be happy, it is not necessary to be rich to be just and generous, and to have a heart filled with divine affection. No matter .whether you are rich or poor, treat your wife as though she were a splendid flower —and she will fill your life with perfume and joy. And do you know, it is a splen did thing to think that the w - iman you really love will never grow old to you ? Through the wrinkles of time, through the mask of years, if you really love her, you will always see the face you loved and won. And a woman who really loves a man, does not see that he grows old ; he is not decrepit, to her ; he does not trem ble ; he is not old ; she always sees the same gallant gentleman who . won her hand and heart. I like to think of it •in that way; I like to think love i 3 eternal. And to love in that way, and then go flown the hill of life together, and as you go down hear, perhaps, the laughter of grandchildren, and the birds of joy and love sing once more in the leafless branches of the tree of age. I believe in the fire side. I believe in the democracy of home. I believe in the republicanism of the fain ily. I believe in liberty, equality and lave. Never Forget. t (1 1 1 (Fs. which u eeeFi he l sful b u:ninrensea when h sm antoi d m? two was eighteen, which were ever afterward of great use to him, namely: "Never forget anything, "never lose " Au old lawyer sent him with an im portant paper, with certain instructions what to do with it. "But," inquired the young wan, "suppose I lose it; what shall I do then ?" "You must not lose it !" "I don't wean to," said the young man, "but suppose I should happen to ?" "But I say you must not happen to; I shall make no provision for any such oc currence; you must not lo,ie it :" Tuis put a new train or thought inty • the younr , man's mind, and he found that if he was determined to do a thing, he could do it. He made such provision against every contingency that he never lost anything. He found this equally true about fogetting. If a certain matter • of importance was to be remembered, he pinned it down in his mind, fastening it • there and made it stay. He used to say : "When a man tells mo he forgot to do something, I tell him he might as well have said, I do not care enough about your business to take the trouble to think of it again." I once had an intelligent young man in may employment who deemed it sufficient for neglecting any important task to say, "1 forgot it." I told him that would not answer in the case. If he was sufficiently interested, he would be careful to remem ber. It was because be did not care enough that he forgot it. I drilled him with this truth. He worked IZR me three years, and during the last of the three he was utterly changed in this respect. He did not. forget a thing His forgetting, he found, was a lazy and careless habit, which be cured. The Wife's Victory. For half an hour before the circus opened yesterday an anxious looking mid dle-aged wan was observed walked around nervously, as if he had a free ticket and was afraid the show was on the pint of busting up. When the ticket wagon was opened he made a rush fur it and bought a pasteboard, but while on his way to the tent. ticket in hand, a woman dodged into the procession, viva his col lar, and for half a minute the air seemed full of heels. "Going to the circus. eh I' exclaimed the woman as she slammed him around "Sneaked out of the back way and made a bee-line fur here did you ?" "Let up on me—ztop—for hz.,aven's sake! stop this disgraceful conduct 1" -Gentlemen," she said to the crowd, as he held up one foot and then the other, •'see them shoes ? Iv'e worn 'em better nor a year, and there hain't nothing left but the heels and shoe strings. All the children are just as bad off, and we don't have half enough to eat That explains why I'm bouncing him—Why I'll make his good for-nothing heels break his good i;n• nothing neck !" They fell over a rope as she grasped him, and in the confusion he broke away, leaving the ticket on the ground, A buy handed it to her, and wiping the mud off her nose with an apron, she said : "I hain't seen nu giraffes, nor clowns, nor snakes, nor hyenas for twenty-five years, and being this 'ere ticket is bought walk in and view the gorgeousness. and the children shall come to night if I have to pawn the washtub to raise the money !" AN infidel is generally one who wants to get God out of the way, so that he can have a good time all to himself and no questions asked. THERE is something nice about the bal ance cf trade. A worthy farmer who comes to town loaded with new wheat almost always goes home loaded with old rye. WHENEVER you have ten minutes to spare go bother some one who hasn't. Tile Dying Tramp Ll' MR. SMITH The eve of day was being shut beneath its western lid When a guest arrived at a cottage door in a wealth of ivy hid ; No band was stretched to welcome him, no voice was raised to greet This veteran of the tireless host that live upon the street. For many a man of his turn of mind had been that way before, And the little woman had often vowed she never would heed them more. He leaned against the arbor, heaved a subter ranean sigh, And asked, with the air of a broken man, "if he might lie down and die Beneath that rustling :vv, mid the tun's de clining rays, And close his eyes in a spot so like the home of his early days. 'Twas on a distant river's bank, my mother's home and mine, • In a village whose name you may have heard —'Old Bingen on the Rhine.' But my mother married a nobleman, and I was set adrift To earn my bread by the sweat of my brow in many a grievous shift; And when I arrived at man's estate I turned to the golden West When the Star of Hopes seemed beckoning me across the Ocean's crest. I've struggled mid encouragements, I've strug gled with despair, Wheo the only hour I spent in paace was the one I spent in prayer. I've prospered and I've failed in turn, with Fortune's fickle breath, Till now in seeking the land of my birth I fear I've found death. Right over yonder, gentle friend, that house in the locust trees, Where the Universalist parsoti lives, they gave me poisoned cheese, I suppose it's a part of their creed to think 'twas better for all concerned To give me a boost to the only bourne whence a tramp has never returned. I know my life-work's ended ; there's a rattling in my throat, And my vitals feel as though I'd swallowed an animatad goat. Tell nay sister—"here she stopped the man, and soothed him as he lay, "I'll go and get the doctor, just half a mile away." The sufferer rolled his bloodshot eye— more than he could ask ;" And the gratitude of that hollow voice would sweeten a vinegar cask Though her feet were tired, she hastened on, fur her strength was from above, And a labor of pity is nearly or quite as light as a labor of love. The professional man began to frown at the mention of the case, And taking her in, they started off at a more than professional pace. It was all too true, his spirit had fled,. but his carcass had done the same, And the missing silver testified he had won his little game; But that wasn't all, on the kitchen door they found an inscription in chalk, Which showed that the vagabond knew how to write as well as he knew how to talk, fwas true my life-work's ended, but death I still decline ; It ain't so easy to kill a man from Bingen on the Ethir.e.' The average Bingen s r, with a half-inch lithe . Can reel off a dirge of fourteenrhymes with out once taking a rest. Then how could you think that a• seasoned tramp, who can live for a week on grass, Would yield to a spoonful of arsenic or au ounce of pounded glass ? We're not that sort, I'll go you, now, my spoons against your stamps, Twould ruin a wholesale druggist to poison a dozen tramps." The evening "blacked the eye" of day and hung out her silvery lamp, And the Man in the Moon with a kindly leer looked down on a prostrate tramp In a sheltered nook by an old stone wall, where the snakes and wild flowers grew, With his mouth wide open and eyes well shut, he hauled in the evening dew. Though the spoons were his pillow, the earth his couch and his garments covered with dust, Yet his sleep, if not sweeter, was certainly deeper than most of the "sleep of the just." Treatment for Consumptives. The illedo'cal Rec'ird contains the de tails of a treatment for consumptives that, eo far, has been very promising in its re sults: The theory of cure is to clear the lungs by a mechanical efFirt, chiefly man ipulating the muscles of the throat so as to cause more forcible breathing; second, to establish perfect digestion; third, to promote a process of healing the tubercles, so they shall become chalky or calcified masses; fourth, to compel the patients to take plenty of fresh air, sunlight and out door exercise. To secure Ferfect diges tion, a special diet is ordered in every case, and the food is changed as the power of assimilating it improves. To promote the calcifying of the tuber cles, the salts of lime, which are found in most vegetable and animal food, must be supplied in a soluble condition ; the theory is that too much heat in ordinary cooking . destroys the natural combination of these salts with albumen and renders them in soluble to a weak digestion. Out-door ex ercise is regarded as so important that the patients arc instructed to go out in rain, snow, dampness, or even night air or dew, the habit thus acquired neutralizing the danger of catching cold from such ex- posure. Only strong head winds and ex creme hot weather need be guarded against. The patients sleep with the windows open, summer and winter. A Minneapolis physician, whose cin chona, recipe for the cure of drunkards re cently attracted attention, recommends this highly carbonaceous mixture in the treat meat of consumption . One-half pound finely . cut up beefsteak (fresh); one dram pulverized charcoal; four ounces pulverized sugar ; four ounces rye whisky ; one pint boiling water. Mix all together, let it stand in a cool place over night, and give from one to two teaspoonfuls, liquid and meat, before each meal. The value of this method of supplying a sufficiency of car bon in a form that may be readily appro, priated is obvious. "WHERE is my angel ?" asks a poet.— Ten to one she is lying on a lounge read• ing a sensational novel, while her mother is frying slap jacks for supper in the kitchen. Poets' "angels," are that char acter of girls. lIE was a countryman and he walked along our busy thoroughfare and read a sign over the door of a manufacturing es tablishment, "Cast Iron Sinks." It made him mad. He said that any fool ought to know that. THE spirit of emulation in funerals is in strict obedience to public sentiment. Coming from the funeral of a friend,a Dan bury young woman said to her mother : "Did you ever see such a cheap-looking corpse ?" AN exchange asks : "If there's a s place for everything, where is the plaeo for the boil ?" It has been said that the place for such an ornament is on some other fellow. And we don't think a better location can be discovered! The Effects of Stimulants , The action of stimulants in so far as they effect the system and tissues, says the London 7elegraph, is but imperfectly un derstood, and the question of its elimina tion from the body or its retention and oxidation there, has been angrily debated. It was long supposed, even by experienced chemists and physicians, that alcohol passed from the system wholly unchanged, acting while there only as a stimulant. Some valuable scientific evidence was given a short time ago upon this point before a committee of the House of Lords. Ac cording to the opinions expressed by the eminent authorities examined, the view that alcohol is eliminated from. the organs unchanged is now no longer held, but is wholly refuted by the result of experi ment. Prof. Binz, of Bonn, Germany, has conclusively demonstrated that, to the ex tent of two ounces, pure alcohol is ab sorbed into the system, and oxidizes there, this oxidization producing the agreeable feeling of warmth and comfort which in duces many persons to drink spirits. To this extent, too, it may be regarded as food, producing, as it does, a definite amount of certain fluans of force. Accord ing to Dr. Brunton, alcohol in stnall doses, increases the gastric secretion, and thus promotes and aids digestion. As a theraputie, agent, medicinally used, it has a powerful and beneficial effect. In faint ing of the heart, constitutional or tem porary, owing to shock or otherwise, al cohol stimulates and rouses the process of circulation. Contrary to expectation, it lowers the temperature of the body when administered to persons suffering from fever. In the form of pert wine it has a valuable, sofothing effect upon the pa tient, reducing the burning heat of the blood, end calming the delirium of' the brain It has also the power of arresting fermentation and preserving animal mat ter, while it seems to binder the develop ment of organic disease germs in certain zymotic maladies. This fact is of the ut most possible importance, though, as yet, but insufficiently understood and investi gated. There can be little doubt that the use of stimulants—of' course, in modera tion—does, as Dr. Farr implies, act as a preventive of infection and contagion with those who temperately indulge in good wine or even pure spirits. On the other band, an excessive indulgence in these powerful and stimulating beverages pro. duces the most disastrous effects. Caus ing a rush of blood to the surface of the body, it leaves the internal organs cooler, the cooler the external air, the greater the liability of the system to be chilled down. It further contributes, when taken regularly in large quantities, to the de generation of the tissues which compose the principal organs of the system, such as the liver, the heart, the spleen and the kidneys. When the degeneration has al ready commenced, owing to incipient di sease, it hastens the destructive process, and, of course, shortens considerably the lire of the drunkard or dipsomaniac. The tendency of dram drinking to produce di sense among the poorer classes is addition ally enhanced by the fact that the spirits they drink are adulterated, and, the vile concoctions they occasiGnally swallow are a frequent cause of illness, apart from the indulgence itself. Even middle-class peo ple should be careful of the wine they are in the habit of' drinking ; for M. Pasteur, in his work Maladies des Fins, shows that poor wines undergo a peculiar change, of the nature of a disease, and this, Dr. Farr points out, accounts for many of' the sad consequences of excessive drinking. Irrespective, however, of all medical and scientific testimony as to the beneficial • , "Twere effects of stimulants when taken in modor ation, there is one decisive test which has long ago settled the question. The uni versal experience of mankind throughout centuries in various c , editions and under all circumstances is conclusive as to the necessity of a beverage partaking of the nature of a food and stimulant. It is only reasserting a commonplace truth to say that the 5,000 individuals who annually kill themselves by indulgence in excessive drinking are merely so many cautions against intemperance, and furnish not a single argument in favor of total absti nence. As reasonable would it be to pro. hibit the employment of chloroform as an aesthetic because, if carelessly administered it is sometimes fatal ; or, forbid the use of strychnine as a medicine because, uneau tiously taken, it is a virtual poison. To abstain wholly from the use of wine and fermented liquors through fear of becom big a drunkard is about as logical as never going near or on a river f.,r fear of drown instead of learning to swim. Besides this, the implication that a man must be either a hltal abstainer or au habitual drunkard is tiischievouia:ol this!, editible to rational being, , . Tac w sest or myn and the most renowned of nations h:►v,; e ve r enjoyed in mo feral ion the "goods the gods provide." Ffoin the sy of Pl a t e tr.► the meetings at the Mermaid, where the assembly included Shakespeaae au:l li?ti Jenson, the wisest, wittiest ; and worthiest of mankind have ever foand inspiration, while they derived pleasure, from a genial cup of wine. 'Mn,".i says Dr. Farr; has many wants. • Ile requires water, but only a certain quantity Ho requires meat and bread, but in definite quantities. Ile requires wine; but also only a certain quantity precisely as a steam engine re quires water and fuel in certain propor tions Man supplies these needs automat ically. Ile has appetites:and desires, and ho measures his wants. But all these have to be regulated by a higher faculty. He must guage his wants by his reasons, and judge of what is necessary fir him by re pealed experience. Herein too, lies the remedy for intemperance and excessive in dulgence in all fleshy appetites and s2n sual excesses. Improved education, tend inn to a higher degree of intelligence, will continue to reduce the proportion of deaths from drink, and, for the rest, most persons will agree with Dr. Farr's asser tion that "the present mixed dietary .of wines and ales, in due proportion with vegetable and animal food, while yielding the maximum energy of life, is conducive to its duration." AN old Irish soldier who prided him self upon his bravery, said that he had fought at the battle of "Bull Run." When asked if he had retreated and made good his escape as the others did on that famous occasion, he replied, "Be jabers, those that didn't run are there yit." "SPELL love," said a young man to his girl one night. "Y -o-u," she timidly es sayed. The courtship had been a pro tracted one, but they are married now. IF falsehood paralyzed the tonne, what a deathlike silence would pervade so ciety. Singular Superstitions. HOW SOME MINERS THINK THEY ARE FOREWARNED OF DEATH. T here• are wonderful things to be studied in the vast labratory where nature has stored her treasures. The men who kg in the caverns of the ground and tread the endless windings of the drifts have their presentiments of coming calamity, nod si times feel the touch of death in the very air. A Chronicle reporter was talking with an old minor a few days ago who im plicity believed that no death ever took place in the mines without ata, warning of some kind. "You see," he--said,- "death never comes of a sudden. upon thtt ipm in the mines. You reporters writcxp acci dents and tell how something gave way or fell quick and killed somebody. Now, this ain't so. There's always some warning. When I see my lantern begin to burn low down and blue, I know there is danger ahead. If it keeps on for a few days and then begins to waver and flicker, I'll watch it close to see where it points. Now, you may set me up for a fool, but what I'm tellin' is gospel truth. When the flame leans over (as if it was being worked by a blow-pipe) and points to a man, death has marked him. Some years ago when Bill Hendricks was killed in the Savage, the flame of my lantern pointed right to him for over an hour, and when he moved the flame would turn, just as if Bill was a load stoac and the flame was a mariner's needle. I knew he was gone, and told him to be careful about the blast. Well, he got through that all right, and got on the cage. As we went up, the candle kept acting strangely, and at times would stretch out long and thin towards Bill. At length it gave a sudden flicker, and Bill reeled to one side and was caught in the timbers. I heard his dreadful cry as he disappeared down the shaft, and while he was bound ing from side to side, dashing out his brains and scattering his flesh down to the bottom, my light went out. I never lit that lantern again. It bangs up is my cabin now and it always will. There's more in a candle flame than people think. I'd rather see a cocked revolver pointed at me than a candle-flame) a revolver sometimes inissts, but a candle flame is sure to kill when it starts towards a man. I must start for my shaft now. Don't give my name to anybody. There are some who would laugh at me." The man here picked up his bucket and walked away. There are plenty of miners on the Com stock who have just such superstitions. Some believe that bad and good luck come in streaks, just as quartz and propbyry. For three years past there had been no ac cident in the North Consolidated Virginia until a few days ago, when Champion bad his thigh crushed. The miners said at once that a "bad streak" had been struck, and more accidents might be expected. Yesterday two men were injured by fall ing thirty feet into the dump. This was caused by the breaking of a two inch plank that seemed able to bear a dozen men.— Virginia (Nev.) Chronicle. Give me the Lower Berth. .• ' The evening of the third day of the . case an intoxicated man, smelling like a ' horse blanket, and carrying a dyspeptic ' carpet bag, stopped a street-car at the cor ' ner of Water and Wisconsin streets, and stumbled in. It was one of' those summer cars with canvas-back curtains, one of those ref' igerator cars that make cold chills run up your tronser's legs to look at them. A colored barber was standing on the back platform, and the intoxicated man handed his carpet bag to him and went in, reeled up into the corner as though look jog for something. "Gimme a lower berth in the middle," said he to the colored man as he felt around in the corner for the door-knob to the drinking fountain. The colored win laughed and told the man to take a seat in the middle of the car. There were only a few people in the car—an old man going to the depot, a young couple going home from a picnic. and an old maid going to—the Lard only knows where. The drunken man, who was evidently from the country in attend ance upon the pool box ,at in the races, pulled off his boots and said to the colored man. "Ain't yer going to make up my berth ?" The old maid took up her smell ing bottle and acted as though she was. going to faint, llis stockings were old enough to vote, and his feet would have been condemned by the Board of Health. He pulled off his coat and vest, tried to hang his hat on the bell cord, When the driver saw him, and leaving the mules he came in and took the man by the shoulder and said, "None of that - Boss!" The map, who evidently imaginetl he wts behind the curtsies cf a sleeper, said "zihay, eon (hie) ter, i want to be woke up at Camp Dug's sur!," and he began to make the preliu►inary movements toward taking off his trousers. Sliding his suspenders over his •hc,ulhlers, his hand had just reached his waistband when a scream struck him dumb, and the old maid pulled the bell strap, and as the car slacked up she jump ed of yelling flu- a policeman. The driver reasoned with the man, told him he was in a street-car and get his clothes oo and pointed out the depot to him. As he took his carpet bag and went on, with one boot in his hand, trying to bowie up his vest with the other hand, ho muttered : "If that old won r ►n had kept her curtain pull ed down, wouldn't have been any tr (hic) ouble at all. And he wandered off into the night.—Milwaukee Susi Manufacture of Hair Cloth. Hair cloth is wade from the hair of horses' tails, which is brought, some of it from South America, but wore from Ras sia. In the latter country it is collected at the great fairs of Nisni Novgorod and Isbilt. It is of all shades of color, and fur use is dyed black. The poorest quality sells for about 50 cell's a pound ; the best for $4, the price rapidly increasing as the length exceeds twenty-four inches. In the fabrication of hair cloth the hair is wet with water, and when well soaked is put in the loom to be woven with a cotton wrap. The weaving mechanism is so per fect in its operation that- Wane of the hairs forming the weft is missed, the devise set ing upon it continues to work until it has grasped it, all the other parts of the ma chine standing still. IN blissful ignorance of the recent visit of the stencil marker, he sat down on a cotton bale to watch the passing, atlizzerz. Now he is more puzzled about mailing the color of his pearl eassimerea than lie is to aceount for theirdbeins bearing a five inch D in a nine intik anal . . PKitaA ps there is Dan* she wide world so insocept umbras that has causectsq mash'iiiiiiiikerated sick NO. 1.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers