VOL. 43. The Huntingdon Journal, Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street TILE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. NASH, at 52,00 per annum is ADVANCE, or $2.50 if cot paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and $3 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearagee 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 for all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates : j I , 1 3m 16m 19m11 yr I ISm 8m I 9mllyr \ 1I n $3 COI 450 5 50 8 00 Veol , 900 18 00'$27'$ 36 2 " 500 800 1.0 00 12 00 %c.ol 18 00 36 00 50 65 3 " 7 00110 00 14 00118 00 %col 34 00 50 00 65 80 4 " 8 00;14 00 20 00118 00 1 00l 36 00 60 001 80 100 MI Resolutions of Associations, Communications: of limited or individual interest, all party announcements, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged vas CZNTS 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. _AU advertising accounts are due and co/lectaele when the advertisement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy C,olors, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand-bills, Blanks. Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., 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. Professional Cards• DE. 0. B. HOTCHKIN, 204 Mifflin Street. Office cor ner Fifth and Washington Ste., opposite the Post Of fice. Huntingdon. [junel4-1878 TA CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. ill, Brd street. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods lc Wil liamson. [apl2,'7l fIR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office, N 0.623 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. jjan4,7l ifR. EfYSRILL has permanently located in Alexandria to practice his profession. Dan. 4 '7B-Iy. ii C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's U. building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. J Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76. rIEO. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Law, 406 Penn Street, 1...! Huntingdon, Pa. [n0v17,'75 GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building, . No. 620, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2.'7l HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No.—, Penn . Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [ap19,71 T SYLVANIJS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, . Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. Dan4,'7l TW. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim el • Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Street. [jan4,ll TI S. GEISSING ER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, . Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Court House. ffebs,7l SE. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., . office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal business. [augs,'74-6m06 NEW STOCK OF CLOTHING AT S. WOLF'S. S. WOLF has just received a large stock of CLOTHING, from the east, which he offers very cheap 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 6 50 Diagonal (best) 11 50 Boys' suits 4 50 up Brown and black overalls 50 Colored shirts 35 up Fine white shirts 1 00 up Good suspenders 18 up Best paper collars per box 15 A large assortment of hats 75 up Men's shoes 1 50 up Large Assortment of TRUNKS, VALI LISES and SATCHELS at PANIC PRICES. Trunks from $2 00 up Umbrellas from 60 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'76] SAMUEL MARCH Agt. Patents obtained for Inventors, in the United States, Cana da, and Europe at redneed rates. With our prin cipal office located in Washington, directly opposite 41e United States Patent Office, we are able to at tend to all Patent Business with greater promptness and despatch and less cost, than other patent attor neys, who areGt a distance from Washington, and who hure, therefore, to employ" associate attorneys?. We make preliminary examinations and furnish opinions as to patentability, free of charge, and all who are interested in new inventions and Patentsare invited to send for a copy of our "Guide for obtain ing Patents," which ie sent free to any address, and contains complete instructions how to obtain Pat ents, and other valuable matter. We refer to the German-American National Bank, Washington, D. C ; the Royal Sweedish, Norwegian, and Danish Legations, at Washington ; Hon. Joseph Casey, late Chief Justice U. S. Court of Claims; to the Officials of the U. S. Patent Office, and to Senator* and Members of Congress front every State. Address: LOULS3 8A. 1 44 oak R 1 CO., Solicitors of Patents and Attorneys at law, Le Droit Building, Washington, D. C. [apr2B '7B-tf - 4 E / L 11 "- M ANHOOD: • HOW LOST, HOW RESTORED! Just published, a new edition of DR. CULVERWELL'S CELEBRATED IC3SAII on the radical cVs'(rrttborit med icine) of SPEISMATORRIICILA or Seminal Weakness, Invol votary Seminal LOMiee, IMPOTENCY, Mental said Physical incapacity, Impediments to marriage, etc.; also Consump tion, Epilepsy and Fits, induced by eelf-indulgence or sexual extravagance, &c. 44-Price, in a sealed envelope, only six cents. The celebrated author, in this admirable Essay, clearly demonstrates, from a thirty years' successful practice, that the alarming consequerges of self-abuse may be rad ically cared without the dangerous use of internal med icine or the application of the knife; pointing out a mode of cure at once simple, certain and effectual, by means of which every sufferer, no matter what his condition may he, may cure himself cheaply. privately and radically. in, This Lecture should be in the hands of every youth and every man in the land. Sent, under seal, in a plain envelope, to any address, post-paid, on receipt of six cents, or two postage stamptil Address the Publishers, THE CULVERWELL MEDICAL CO., 41 Ann St., N. Y; Post Office 80x,.4586. July 19-9 mos. 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 Poor of Hunting don county, at Shirleysburg! [oot4, '7B-tf VOR SALE.—Stock of first-class old established Clothing Store. Store room fir rent. Owner retiring from business. Sept 27-3(a] H. RCMAN. Ucan make money faster at work for Ili than at any thing else. Capital not required ; we will start yon $l2 per day at home made by the industrious. Men women, boys and girls wanted everywhere to work for ne. Now is the time. Costly outfit and terms free. Address Taus & Co., August., Maine. [aprs '7B-ly WM. P. Sr: R. A. ORBISON, A TTORNEPS-A7'-LAW, No. 321 Penn Street, HUNTINGDON, PA. kinds of legal bakiness promptly at tended to. 5ept..13;78. Bestbusineas you can engage in. $5 to $2O per day made by any worker et either sex, right in their own localities. Particulars Ind samples worth 115 free. Improve your spare time at this business. Address STINSON & Co., Portland, Maine. aprl BUY YOUR SCHOOL BOOKS at the Journal Store. , . ::. - Tie • • ' -...ier . _ . . . . . • 0 . . .--, .7 .-- • - . . t . . •- • - - ,'. .. . , • ri . '. : . --- . • , 4• . . 11 1 11 4-11 1111 g l e . . 011 . , , • -•``. ; 0 4,, _.. I . . ___...a.1....._ A.,z_ NLAL Jii_ Ji_. *Lit_ AL. A_ - . ournat .w, Printing. The Huntingdon Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, -IN THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, No. 212, FIFTH STREET, HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, TERMS : $2.00 per annum, in advance; $2.50 within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 00000000 A 00000000 0 0 • PROGRESSIVE REPITBLICAN PAPER. 0 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. 00000000 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 mum TO ADVERTISERS: t Circulation 1800. I FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING MEDIUM 5000 READERS WEEKLY. The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the It finds its way into 1800 county. homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persona, thus making it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are Sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order. ;gum; JOB DEPARTMENT cr tv• c$ Ct. 0 0 CD ... • 0 ".•-•• • r GL. CD ..-. r 7" or :~; x A p C. m PR] 1— coLo. tar A 1 1 letters should be addressed to J. A. NASH. Huntingdon, Pa. Eke Mists' fl•titer. 0, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud ? [The following poem was a particular favorite with Mr. Lincoln. Mr. F. B. Carpenter, the artist, writes that while engaged in painting a picture, at the White House, he was alone one evening with the President in his room, when he said : "There is a poem which has been a great favorite with me for years, which was first shown roe when a young man by a friend, and which I afterwards saw and cut from a newspaper and learned it by heart. I would," he continued, "give a great deal to know who wrote it, but have never been able to ascertain."] 0, why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? Like swift fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, Man passes from life to his rest in the grave. The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around and together be laid ; And the young and the old, and the low and the high, Shall moulder to dust and together shall die. The infant a mother attended and loved, The mother that infant's affection which proved ; The husband that mother and infant who blessed, Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest. The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, Shown beauty and pleasure—her triumphs are by; And the memory of those who loved her and praised Are alike from the minds of the living erased. The hand of the king that the scepter bath borne; The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn ; The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave, Are bidden and lost in the depth of the grave. The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep ; Th., beggar, who wandered in search of his bread, Have fadeu away like the grass we tread. • The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven, The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven, The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the duet. So the multitude goes, like the flower and weed, That wither away to let others succeed ; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that bath often been told. For we are the same things our fathers have been ; We see the same sights that our fathers have seen— We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun, And run the same course that our fathers have run. The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think; From the death we are shrinking from, they, too, would shrink ; To the life we are clinging to, they, too, would cling; But it speeds from the earth like a .bird on the wing. They loved, but their story we can not unfold ; They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold ; They grieved, but no w it from their slumbers will come ; They joyed, but the voice of their gladness is They died—ay ! they died; and we things that are now, Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, Who make in their dwellings a transient abode, Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road. Yes, hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain, Are mingled together in sunshine and rain ; And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge, Still follow each other, like surge upon surge. 'Tie the twink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, From the gilded saloon to the bier arid the shroud 0, why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? WILLIAM Kttox. ("Eke *tort-Eriltr. Riltli Tliorlitoil's Tomptation. 'Five years in the penitentiary F' The wretched wife of the prisoner heard these words like one in a dream, frnm which she vainly prayed that she might wake and find that it was a dream. She saw. with tearless eyes, the prisoner remanded to his dreary cell, the last closing act of the tragedy that had made a wreck of her whole life, and then leaving her seat with in the bar she mingled with the curious and excited throng that were surging to wards the door. "She don't seem to mind it much," she heard some one say back of her ; heard it with the bitter consciousness that she was set apart from all human companionship and sympathy. If she were like other women ! If tears would come to the relief of the strained nerves apd tortured brain ! If unconscious ness would give her a brief respite from the hand that seemed tugging at her heart- strings ! There were some pr4sent who had known Ruth in her bright and prosperous days, and who would fain have spoken some word of hope or comfort; but there was some thing in the compressed lips and stony gaze that chilled them ; and bo she passed on her way alone, asking no sympathy and receiving none. . . As she married in defiance of her father's wishes, there were riot wanting those who considered it as a judgment, though no one had the temerity to say this to her. As deeply incensed as Mr. Conway was at his daughter's marriage, as soon as he heard of her trouble he stepped forward with the offer of his -home and protection ; but as it was only on condition th.at she would leave the author of it to his fate, whatever it might be, it met with a prompt and in dignant rejection. This completed the estrangement between Ruth and her own family, and her husband being an orphan and only child, there were none of his to stand by her in this her time of deepest need and his. Ruth never felt how utterly desolate her life was until passing through the dirty. narrow lane she ascended the rickety stairs to the place she called home—one bare, dingy room, whose worn and scanty furni ture gave it a most cheerless aspect. As she opened the door a lovely little girl sprang eagerly forward "Oh, mamma, is papa free ? You said you would bring him back with you." These words were more than the wretched wife and mother could bear. to = no "o ...7 O "You have no father, child," she said, harshly, "and I no husband ; he is dead to you—to us both !" The wail that broke from the child's lips, so unchildlike in its grief and despair, smote upon the mother's heart. A strong revulsion came over her, and snatching the sobbing little creature to her bosom, she strove to calm the tempest she had raised, and which finally spent itself in broken sobs and half drawn sighs. A knock upon the half open door aroused Ruth from her gloomy reflectims. Putting the child down, she arose, a look of annoy ance mingling with the surprise so clearly visible in her eyes as she turned them upon the intruder, for such he evidently was. i re -s CD 1:1. R C t:C o .-, fa. ct Fel SPECIAL' Be was a stout, elegant!y.dressed man about forty, whose keen, restless eyes be lied the smooth, oily tone in which he said : "I know how distasteful my presence is, and must be to you, Ruth. I beg pardon, Mrs. Thornton," added the speaker, as Ruth raised her hand with the old, im• perious gesture that he so well remembered. •"I thought that your old name would sound more pleasantly to you than the one so blackened and dishonored." HUNTINGDON, PA,, FR The man's eyes drooped beneath the steady, unflinching gaze that was turned upon him. "It is still my name, nevertheless, Mr. Broughton. lam the wife of Richard Thornton ; you, of all men, must never forget that." Strangely conflicting feelings filled Mr. Broughton's heart as he gazed upon the speaker; with the passionate admiration that gleamed forth so stealthily from the half closed eyes, were mingled not a little surprise and disappointment. He had thought to find her crushed and humbled, glad to accept his aid and sympathy, but not a trace of this could be seen in that calm, steady front, and proudly lifted head. That faded dress, those mean sur roundings, could not rob her of her birth right; never had she looked so regally beautiful ; never had she seemed so un. approachable in her womanly purity, so far away from him, as now. There was only one thing that gave that wily, unscrupulous man hope, and that was the fact that Ruth made no allusion to her husband's innocence, which she had, until now, persistently asserted, a fact that he was not slow to note and profit by. He knew with what crushing weight the con elusive evidence of the last day of the trial must have fallen upon a heart like hers, and that she was not a woman to love where she could not respect. "I wish I could make you understand," he said, speaking in a low, sad, carefully modulated voice, ' how truly I have tried to serve you in this trying emergency— trying to me as well as you. When I as certained my loss not the faintest sus picion entered my mind that your husband had anything to do with it. Had I known all that I do now, for your sake, for all that I once hoped you would be to me, I would never have allowed it to get into the courts. If your husband bad confided in me, as I implored him to do, I could have saved him ; but he obstinately persisted in asserting his innocence until it was too late." "So did I!" cried Ruth. 'lf an angel from heaven"—here she raised her hand upward—"had told me that my husband was guilty of such a crime, I would not have believed it!" "But you must believe it, now ; the evi dence is too conclusive fur you to doubt." Ruth made no reply ; but as the speaker looked upon the bowed head that was now resting upon her hands, he felt that the opportunity he had sought for had come. "You have been a good, true wife," he continued, "to a man utterly unworthy of the wealth of love you have lavished upon him. You have alienated every friend, and beggared yourself for his sake, and what has it availed you or him? Think of your child, and do not make a wreck of her life as well as your own. The law gives the right of divorce to the wife whose husband has been convicted of an offense like this, and you can be free if you will avail yourself of it—free to become the honored wife of a man who will surround you and your child with every comfort and luxury. It cuts me to the heart to see you, who would grace any position, in such a wretched place as this. For the sake of your child, Ruth !" Light as was the touch of the hand that was laid upon her arm, Ruth shrank from it as from a blow. Perceiving this, Mr. Broughton drew back, resuming his place by the door. "Don't decide now ; weigh the matter carefully. Lwill come fur your answer to morrow night." -Pm so glad he's gone." Ruth looked down upon the little curly head that was resting against her shoulder. "Why are you glad, Maud ? Don't you like him ?" "No. I want papa." There was something in this allusion that stung Ruth, she hardly knew why. "You can't have your father, Maud, and I Wish you wouldn't talk about him." "Why ?", Maud strongly resembled her father, and as Ruth gazed into the violet eyes which were fixed upon hers with such a look of innocent wonder it almost seemed as if he was pleading through his child with her. Crushing down the tender and subduing memories that rushed over her, she said in a husky whisper : "Your father is gone, Maud, a long, long way from us both." Uncla-ping her arms from her mother's neck, Maud stood up, her clear, childish voice ringing out with almost a note of defiance : "He can't go so far away but what I shall find him some day'." It was late when Ruth slept that night; and then her slumbers were broken and her dreams strange and terrible. She re membered only one with any degree of clearness. She thought she was standing, with her husband, beside a little coffin, when her welding ring slipped from her finger and lay in the dust at her feet Picking it up, her husband put it back upon her hand, saying, as he pointed to the coffin, whose occupant she could not see for the flowers that covered it : "For the sake of our child, Ruth !" With a shiver of terror at her heart Ruth awoke Springing to her feet, &he bent over the pillow where Maud lay toss jug and moaning in her sleep. "Maud, darling !" "Oh ! mamma, my head! my head :" At the close of the following day, Ruth held a lump of clay in her arms, all that was left of the child she so idolized. The kind-hearted neighbors with their proffered aid and sympathy had gone, and the bereaved mother was left, alone with her bitter, remorseful thoughts. Throw ing herself upon her knees she put up an earnest prayer for aid and comfort. When she arose, the waves against which she had battled in her own strength so vainly were still, "and there was a great calm." "Yon have come fur your answer, Mr. Broughton?" "I have come for my answer, Ruth." Mr. Broughton gazed upon the still. sweet features of the dead, and then upon the face of the speaker, which looked al most as cold and white. "Mr Broughton, when knowing my weakness and destitution you appealed to the mother's love for her child, you placed a strong temptation in my way. But He who does not suffer his children to be tempted above what they can bear, has removed it, as you see ; and though my heart is too full of anguish to do so now, I know that I shall some day thank him for it. Go, and never let me lock upon your evil face again !" A year later, as Ruth sat bending wear ily over the coarse work in her lap, a let ter was handed her from which a small key - dropped as she opened it. It's con tents were as follows : "Ruth : When you read these lines, the hand that traced them will be cold in death, and my ear deaf to whatever re DAY JANUARY 31, 1879. proaches you may heap upon my memory. The enclosed key belongs to a box, which you can have on application to my execu tor, and whose contents will prove your husband's entire innocence of the charge brought against him. "I placed the money and bonds in his desk ; it was my hand that concocted the array of evidence which made his guilt conclusive even to you. Why I did this I need not say, or yet how vain it was. It seems as if the arch fiend helped me up to a certain point, and then, when I stretched out my hand f)r the prize I had blackened my soul to win, mocked me by letting me see how far removed it *was from me. It may con3t,rt you to know, that neither you, in your poverty and loneliness, or your husband, in his dreary cell, has. been half so wretched as I. "You will find, in my will, that I have tried to make some little atonement for all the misery I have caused you. You need have no scruples about accepting it, as there is not a court in the country but what would decree it to be rightfully yours." "JAMES BROUGHTON " A few weeks later the reunited hus band and wife stood with clasped hands beside a little grave. "If I could only have my lost darling," said the former, brokenly, .'my happiness would be complete I" 'She is not lost," said Ruth, smiling-, through her tears. "Many times since they were spoken have I thought of the words that passed her lips the evening be fore she left me : 'That you could not go so far away but what she could find you some day !' " tictt istellang. Reformation of Drunkards. Herpes's "Easy Chair," descanting on drunkenness, and the possibility that the temperance movement in this country has been too exclusively a moral appeal, inas much as the addresses are largely descrip tive of the effects of drinking, queries "What is drunkenness ?" and explains that it is in its origin the perversion of a nat ural state for social enjoyment, and it is most prevalent among those who have the least apportunity for such enjoyment. When it has fixed itself upon its victim, it is largly dependent upon physical conditions The usual temperance appeal to him is by the mere main strength of his moral will to break up the habit: His home is bare and desolate, and the preacher urges him to prefer it to the cozy and warm and so cial "soloon." His system, enfeebled by excess, craves the stimulent, and the ex hortation is simply not to take it. He needs especially every kind of support and assistance and diversion, and he is told to help himself. This is a relief which for gets the nature of the disease. That of its self suggests the remedy. The drunkard seeks social enjoyment illicitly. Supply it to him lawfully, show him that be can gratify his natural tastes withoushadre to himself or harm to his family or society. Give to the weak system which craves "a little something," a little something that will cheer and not inebriate. The drunk and knows the misery that drunkenness produces, for he is its victim. lie does not wish to hear of that. The incipient drunkard knows it also. What they want is something to take the place of drunken ness, something that will help them to help themselves. if ail the money that is yearly given to support talking upon the subject were devoted to doing something in the way suggested, the "liquor interest" would be confronted with something that it would fear —Holly Tree" inns upon a great and general scale, "public coff , ..e houses" like those in Liverpool, neighb)r hood clubs which would develop and illus trate the neighborly sympathy which is now not suspected, and the supposed ab sence of which is more mischievous—al these or similar enterprises would be a temperance movement which would aid the moral appeal and the sanitary argu ment with those social sampathies and sup ports which are indispensable to the pros perity of the work. _ Wonders of the Prairie Mirage. The mirages of the plains are of won drous beauty, writes a correspondent. In the autumn, when all the atmospheric con ditions are perfect, strange transformations take place upon the prairie ocean. It is the morning of such a day. Along the eastern horizon a narrow belt of silver light ap pears As it grows broader the silver gray of its lower line changes to gold. Fleecy clouds above the belt take on a yellow red. The grayish shadows of the dawn lift slowly from the earth and imperceptibly float sky ward. Just before tho red disc of the sun peers above the horizon line weird islands appear in the sky—islands cloth ed with trees and waving grasses, and held together by threads of yellow, green and azure. The earth stands inverted in the sky. The wooden bluffs and timber islands of the prairie turn bottom upward in the glaucous ether above, and their feet knee deep in water. The ground work of this illusion is a grayish semi opaque mist, but the smallest object on the plain is limned against it with marvelous fidelity. Objects far beyond the range of vision over the prairie are brought into plain view by this etherial mirror. I have seen a little vil lage thirty miles away over the plains standing in the sky, every feature traced with the minuteness of a line engraving. I could distinguish the dogs wandering through the streets, the cows standing idly about the yards, and the opening and clos ing of a door in the cabins. I have seen dog sledges, whose trains were out of sight below the horizon, trail through the heav ens in torturous course ; long lines of cart trains swaying to and fro over the . sand dunes of the sky. In all these cases the ground does not appear; only the objects growing upon or passing over it. Every thing has the appearance of growing or standing in water. The feet of animals, the roots of trees, the foundations of houses are all lost in an aqueous mist. The ordinary features of the mirage— the simple drawing of distant objects near the spectator—are of common, and in many places, of -every-day occurrence at some seasons of the year. A few rods away on every side a slight line of grayish mist, ex actly resembling that rising from lake or stream in early morning, appears, and upon its surface is limned the whole landscape, changing constantly, like the colors of a kaleidoscope, as the traveler advances. The illusion continues but a few minutes, however. The gold fades from the fleecy clouds overhead as the yellow light de sceuds upon the plain, chasing the rece ding shade before it. The sun rises, and the dissolving views of the mirage fade slowly away. Twilight Monologue. Can it be that the glory of manhood has passed, That its purpose, its passions, its might, Have all paled with the fervor that fed them at last, As the Twilight comes down with the Night? Can it be I have lived, dreamed, and labored in vain, That above me, unconquered and bright, _ _ The proud goal I had aimed at is taunting my pain, As the twilight comes down with the Night ? The glad days, the brave years that were lusty and long, How they fade in vague memory's eight ! And their joys like echoes of jubilant song, As the Twilight comes down with the Night? There is dew on my raiment; tho sea winds wail low, As lost birds wafted waveward in flight; And all nature grows cold, like my heart in its woe, • At the advent of Twilight and Night. From the realms of dead sunsets, scarce darkened as yet, O'er the hills mist enshrouded and white, A soft sigh of ineffable, mournful regret Seems exhaled 'twixt Twilight and Night. 0 thou Genuis of Art I have worshipped and blessed ! 0 thou soul of all beauty and light ! Lift me up in thine arms, give me warmth from thy breast, Ere the Twilight be merged in the Night! I may draw from thy bosom miraculous breath; And for once on song's uppermost height . I my chant to the nations such music in death As shall mock at the Twilight and Night. Pure Air. Two thousand years ago, Hippocrates wrote on the importance of pure air; and all the observations made since that time have confirmed the views of the early phi losopher. We cannot see the air we breathe, and are not, in consequence, suffi ciently alive to the conditions in which we breathe it. Dr. Parwood observes that the want of wholesome air does not fest itself on the system so unequivocally or imperatively ; no urgent sensation being produced like that of hunger ; and hence the greater danger of mistaking its indica tions. The effects of its absence are only slowly and insidiously produced, and are thus too frequently overlooked, until the constitution is generally impaired, and the body equally enfeebled Dr. James John son, speaking of the effects of impure air, says, "that ague and fever, two of the most prominent features of the malarious' influences are as a drop of water in the ocean, when compared with the other less obtrusive but more dangerous maladies that silently disorganize the vital structure of the human fabric, under the influence of this deleterious and invisible poison " There is one fact relating to ventilation which distinguishes it from the question of supply of water, damage, etc.: it may he without delay made "serviceable to all : let those who aretsuffering from stagnant air and confined rooms simply open the door and window occasionally to allow a current of air to pass through, and they will find the good effects in the improve ment of their health and spirits. The re newal of the air is not so light a matter as is supposed. To effect it a simple commu nication is not sufficient—a mere contact of the external and internal air. It is necessary that one or more currents exist to multiply that contact, and cause the pure air to pervade that which is vitiated. Chambers' Journal. _..._......_..,..—_ Important Facts. ' One thousand laths will cover seventy yards ofsurface, and eleven pounds of nails will put them 00. A cord of stone, three bushels of lime and a cubic yard of sand will lay one hun dred cubic feet of wall. Eight bushels of good lime, sixteen bushels of sand and one bushel of hair will wake enough good mortar to plaster one hundred square yards. One thousand shingles, laid four inches to the weather, will cover one hundred square feet of surface. and five pounds of shingle nails will fasten them on One fifth more siding and flooring is needed than the number of square feet of surface to be covered, because of the lap in the siding and matching of the floor. Five courses of brick will lay one foot in heighth on a chimney ; six bricks in a course will make a flue four inches wide and twelve inches long, and eight bricks in a course will make a flue eight inches wide and sixteen inches long. Tincture of benzoin is . highly lauded by Mr. Philip Cowen as a simple and most effective dressing for fresh wounds. In a recent paper on this subject he holds that this application is much more healing to a recent wound than either water dressings or any form of fat. After twenty four hours he considers a wound no longer re cent, and advises free ventilation of them rather than closing them up. Even tOwl-hoiises should possess tha means of admitting sufficient light, even through an ordinary window, or through a pane or two of thick glass in the sides, or a few glass tiles in the roof. In wet weather the birds will be more ready to take shelter within, while the inspection of their domicils is more readily performed. —American Builder. Defects in Our School Methods. The Berks county Intelligence says : Our recent remarks on the prevalent evil of over-working school children have been quoted with approval in other papers, and after a while, if persistently hammered at, those who have the care of the schools may at last be led to concede some improvement in this direction. For the sake of the children's welfare it is hoped they will But the traditions of the• business if we may use the expression, are all in the op posite course. How to force the most learning into the children's heads, in the shortest possible time, is held up as the great aim of the teacher, and the one who succeeds in getting up the highest pressure is thought worthy of the warmest praise. With all respect to the sincere and earnest people who hold the opposite view, and who hold the high places as instructors in the institutes and writers in educational journals, we still insist that there is far too much study involved in our present methods. We have in our schools a liberal supply of the best possible books—too many of them indeed. As the faculties for study increase more of it is required from the pupils, and their unmatured brains are converted into hotbeds in which the ideas planted have a simulated and unnatural growth. Books and study are the main points regarded in the schools, and the children are the victims of them. If the teaching could be wade more ob jective, consisting largely of counwunica tion from the teacher to the scholar, a great step forward would be taken. The child remembers what he hears, better than what he acquires through compulsory study ; he is a creature of imitatiol rather than of deduction. SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL, Breath Gymnastics. The importance of breathing plentiful of fresh air as au essential of health is generally admitted "Well-ventilated rooms, open-air exercise and excursions into the country are appreciated to scum extent by all classes. But the art of breathing is very much overlooked. Being a process not depending on the will fbr its exercise, it is too much left to the mere call of na ture. It is, however, an act which can be influenced very materially by the will Properly trained singers are taught to at tend very carefully to their breathing. When brisk muscular exercise is taken breathing is naturally active without any special efforts. But when the body is at rest or engaged in occupation requiring a confined posture, and especially when the mind is absorbed in thought, the breath ing naturally becomes diminished, and the action of the lungs slow and feeble. .The consequence is that the oxygenation of the blood is imperfectly carried on Even in taking a constitutional walk the benefit is not attained for want of thorough breathing. As a remedy for this it has been suggested that there is room for what might be fitly termed breath gymnastics— to draw in Jong and full breaths, filling the lungs full at every inspiration, and empty ing them as completely as possible at every expiration and to acquire the habit of full breathing at all times. This mode of breath ing has a direct effect in supplying the largest possible amount of oxygen to the blood and more thoroughly consuming the carbon and so producing animal heat. It has also the very important effect of ex panding the chest and so contributing to the vigor of the system. The breath should be inhaled by the nostrils as well as by the mouth, more especially while out of doors in cold weather. This has partly the effect of a respiration in so far as warming the air in its passage to the delicate air cells and in also rendering one less liable to catch cold This full respiration is of so much importance that no proper substitute is to be found for it in shorter though more rapid breathing. In short breathing a large portion of the air cells remain nearly sta tionery, the upper portion of 4e lungs only being engaged in receiving and dis charging a small portion of the air. Pro found thought, intense grief and other situ liar mental manifestations have a deprt as ing, effect on respiration. The blood un duly accumulates in the brain, and the cir culation in both heart and lungs becomes diminished, unless indeed there be fever ishness present. An occasional long breath or deep drawn sigh is the natural relief' in such a case, nature making an effort to pro vide a remedy. This hint should be acted on and followed up. Brisk muscular ex ercise in the open air even during inclem ent weather is an excellent antidote of a physical kind for a "rooted sorrow." And the earnest student instead of tying him self continuously to his desk might imitate a friend of the writer of this who studied and wrote while on his legs. Pacing his room, chip in hand with paper attached, he stopped as occasion required to pen a sentence or a paragraph. Breathing is the first and last act of man and is of the most vital necessity all through life. Persons with full, broad, deep chests naturally breathe freely and slowly, add largo nos trill generally accompany large chests. Such persons rarely take cold,_and when they du they throw it off easily. The op posite build of chest is more predisposed to lung disease. The pallid complexion and conspicuous blue veins show that ox ygen is wanted, and that every means should be used to obtain it. Ddep bre ith ing also promotes perspiration, by increas ing the circulation and the animal warmth. Waste is more rapidly required, and the skin is put in requisition to remove the used materials. Many forms of disease may be thus prevented, and more vigorous heath enjoyed A Camel's Suicide. A valuable camel, working in an oil mill in Africa, was severely beaten by its dri ver. Perceiving that the camel had treas ured up the injury, and was waiting for a favorable opportunity for revenge, he kept a strict watch on the animal. Time passed away. The camel, perceiving that he was watched, was quiet and obedient, and the driver began to think that the beating was forgotten, when one night, after the lapse of several months, the man was sleeping on a raised platform in the mill, while, as is customary, the camel was stabled in a corner. Happening to wake, the driver observed, by the bright moon-light, that, when all was quiet, the animal looked can tiously around, rose softly, and, stealing toward a spot where a bundle of clothes and a burnouse, thrown carelessly on the ground, resembled a sleeping figure, east itself' with violence upon them, rolling with all its weight and tearing them mo-t viciously with his teeth. Satisfied that its revenge was complete, the camel was re turning to its corner. when the driver sat up and spoke. At the sound of his voice, perceiving the mistake it had made, the animal was so mortified at the failure and discovery'of its scheme that it dashed its head against the wall and died on the spot. A Sorry Fellow. Girls, will you listen to a few words of advice ? Do not marry if you cannot find a suitable husband, for a bad husband is infinitely worse than none. Never marry a fellow who is ashamed to carry a small bundle; who lies in bed until breakfast, and, until his father has opened his shop or office, and swept it out; who frequents taverns, bowling saloons, prise fights, etc.; who owes his tailor, shoemaker, washer woman, jeweler, barber, printer and land. lord, and never pays his debts; who is al ways talking about his acquaintances, and condemning them ; whose tongue is always running about nonsense, who thinks he is the greatest man in the neighborhood, and .yet whom every one despises and shuns. We say never marry a fellow with all or any of these qualifications, no matter how handsome he is, or how agreeable he can make himself on occasions. He will make a bad husband. A RELIC OF THE PAST —Widow Marie Jannette Bell is still living in Kankakee, 111. She is 110 years of age, was born 1769, the year of Napoleon's birth. She saw Na poleon as the "Little Corporal," knew Robespierre, was surged in the crowd that witnessed the execution of Louis and re members when Marie Antoinette's b1.,0d was shed. Old mother Bell measures five inches less in height than she did twenty years ago. A NEW HAMPSHIRE man sends four teen of his children to one school, and when they combine against the teacher be knows be can safely bet en the result. Wonders of the Atmosphere. The atmosphere rises above us with its cathedral dome arching towards heaven, of which it is the most perfect synonym and symbol. So massive is it that when it be gins to stir it tosses *about the great ships like playthings, and sweeps cities and for ests like snow flakes to destruction before it. And yet is so mobile that we havelived for years in it before we can. be persuaded that it exists at all, and the great bulk of mankind never realize the truth that they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is so enormous that iron shiv• ers before it like glass, yet a soap ball swims through it with impunity, and the tiniest in sect waves it aside with its wings. It min isters lavishly to our senses. We touch it not yet it touches us. Its warm south wind brings back color to the pale face of the invalid ; its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow and make the blGod mantle to our cheeks; even its north blast braces into new vigor the hardened children of our rugged climate. The eye is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise, the brightness of mid day, the chastened radiance of the morning, and the clouds that cradle near the setting sun. But fur it the rainbow would want its "triumphant arc," and the winds would not send the fleecy messen gers on errands around the heavens; the cold ether would not shed spow feathers on the earth, nor would drops of rain gath er on the flowers. The kindly dew would never fall, nor hail, storm, nor fog diver sify the face of the skv. Our naked globe would turn its tanned and unshadowed forehead to the sun, and one dreary, monot onous blaze of light and beat dazzle and burn up all things. Were there no atmosphere, the evening sun Would in a moment set, and without warning—plunge the earth into darkness. But the air keeps in her band a sheaf of his rays. and lets them slip slowly through her fingers, so that the shadow of evening is gathered by degrees, and the flowers have time to bow their heads, and each creature in space to find a place of rest and to nestle to repose. In the morning the garish sun would at one bound beret from the bosom of the night and blaze above the hor . zon ; but the air watches for his clewing, and sends first one little ray to announce his approach, and then another, and then a haedfel, and s gently draws aside the curtin of night and slowly lets the light fall on the face of the sleeping earth, till her eyelids open, and like man, she goes forth again to labor till evening. Faots for Kerosene Burners. Every lamp filled with the fluid is lia ble to explode after burning several hours. But no explosion will ever bappen when the lamp is full. The danger comes from the constant generation of an invisible vapor in the confined space above the oil. The vapor, which is inflamabie, is caused by the heat of the burner communicated to the oil ; but it will not explode unless exposed to the flame. The metal .attach omit on lamps often become forty degrees warmer than the oil, which is itself soma times as high as 200 degrees Hance kerosene, to be entirely safe, should be oearly 150 degrees proof. In the United States slope, last year, over 100 .deaths per week were reported from accidents by kerosene. _ A simple testis to place a tablespoon ful of the oil in a saucer and apply a light. ed match ; if the oil ignites it is unsafe ; never use it. If it does not take fire it 14 not necessarily safe, because the tempera. ture of the oil in open air is not so ?.neat as that in a burning lamp. Keep the metalic parts of lamps clean and their air passages open. After a lamp has been burning three or four hours at one time, never relight again till filled. In extiagnishingibe light, turn the wick down quite low and allow a few bee onds to intervene before blowing out the flickering flame, or, better still, do not blow it out, but let it flicker out.—Prai rie Former. Metamorphoses of the Frog. The changes in the life of the frog are thus described in the Penn Monthly : "This animal is a worm when it comes from the egg, and remains such the first four days of its life, having neither eyes nor ears nor nostrils nor respiratory organs. It crawls. It breathes through its skin. After a while a neck is grooved into the flesh. Its soft lips are hardened into a horny beak. The different organs, one after another, bud out; then a pair of branching gills, and last a long and limber tail. The worm has become fish. Three or four days more elapse. and the gills sink back into the body, while in their place others come. reor complex, arraoged in vascular tufts, 112 in each. Bet they. too. have their day, and are absorbed, to pether with their framework of bone and cartilage, to be succeeded by an entirely different breathing apparatus. the initial of a second co/elated group of radical changes Lungs are developed, the month widened, the horny beak converted into rows or teeth; the stomach, the abdomen, the int,stines, prepared for the reception of animal food in place of vegetable ; four limbs, fully equipped with hip and shoulder bones, with nerves and blood vessels, push out through the skin, while the tail, being new supplanted by them as a means of le cotnotion, is carried away peacemeal by the absorbents, and the animal passes the balance of its days as an air-breathing :ad flesh feeding patrachian." AMONG the young ladies who mat at the receipt of customs in a Western church fair, and retailed kisses at the nominali value of ten ~ ents each, was a vinegar visaged old maid, who had crowded hers , lf in on the gauzy pretence that she thought it her duty to do her share toward help ing along the good cause. When it came time fur closing, the young ladies turned over to the church treasury from five to ten dollars apiece, while the ancient fe male banded in a solitary dime, the value of one kiss that she received from a blind man whose taste was so vitiated by tobacco chewing that he was unable to detect the imposition. A YOUNG man of twenty-two years went, into the private office of the Judge of the County Court, in Milwaukee, recently, and asked for an injunction to prevent the young woman be was in love with frnm marrying a cripple to whom she was de. voted. The Wolll3ll'd father accompanied the young man, and they were much cha grined when they learned that no legal in junction could be laid to prevent a wed ding. AN exchange speaks of a woman so cross eyed that when she weeps tears from bet left eye they drop on her right cheek. NO. 5.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers