VOL. 43. The Huntingdon Journal. Ogice in new JOI:IiNAL Building, Fifth Street. THE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. ' , Wit, at $2,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or 12.0 if sot paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 83 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearages are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. 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JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style,hited at the shortest notice, and everything in the Panting line will be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards• TAR. G. B. HOTCHKIN, 204 Mifflin Street. Office cot 1/ ner Fifth and Washington Ste., opposite the Post Of fice. • Huntingdon. [jnnel4-1878 DCALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, Brd street. . Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Wil liamson. • [apl2,ll DR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional service. to the community. Office, N 0.623 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. 01'11.4'71 DR. lIYSKILL has permanently located in Alexandria to practice his profession. Dan.4lB-ly. C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leieter's U. building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. J Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76. GEO. R. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Law, 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [novl7,lb GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building, . No. 620, Penn Street, Iluntingdorf, Pa. [spl2.'7l HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn . Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l JSYLVANITS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, . Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. [jan4,'7l TW. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim d • Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Street. [jan4,7l T S. GEISSINGER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. ZlO Penn Street, oppo site Court House. [febs,'7l SE. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., . office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal business. [angs,'74-6moe NEW STOCK OF CLOTHING S. WOLF'S. S. WOLF has just received a large stock of CLOT - BING, from the east, which he offers very cheap to suit these panicky times. Below are a few prices: Men's good black suite - $l2 50 cassimere suits 850 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 toys' suits 4 50 up Broirn 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 PANTO 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. ~epl'76) SAMUEL MARCH Agt. Patents obtained for Inventor*, in the United States, Cana da, and Europe at rednced rtes. With our prin cipa,/ office located in Washington, directly opposite the United States Patent Office, we are able to at tend to all Patent Business with greater promptness and despatch and less cost, titan other patent attor neys, who are at a distance from. Washington, and w ho 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 Patents are invited to send for a copy of our "Guide for obtain ing Patents," which is sent free to any address, and captains complete instructions how to obtain Pat• el and other valuable matter. We refer to the GAnan-American National Bank, Washington, D. C ; the Royal Siosedish, Norwegian, and Danish Legations, at Washington; Hon. Joseph Casey, late Chief Justice U. S. Court of Claims; to the Officials of the U. S. Patent Office, and to Senators and Members of Congress from every State. Address: LOUIS - BAtiGER A CO., Solicitors of Patents and Attorneys at Law, Le Droit Building, Washington, D. C. [apr26 '7B-tf MANHOOD : suirt HOW LOST, HOW RESTORED! Just published, a new edition of DR. CULVERWELL'S CELEBRATED ESSAY on the radicalcure (without med icine) of SPERMATORREICE4 or Seminal Weakness, Invol untary Seminal Losses, IMPOTENCY, Mental and Physical Incapacity, Impediments to marriage, etc.; also Consump tion, Epilepsy and Fits, induced by self-indulgence ur sexual extravagance, Ac. ..t•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 consequences of self-abuse may he rad ically cured 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 matteryihat his condition may be, may cure himself heitoly, privately and radically. iks. 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 stamps!. Address the Publishers, THE CULVERWELL MEDICAL CO., 41 Ann St ., AT. Y; Post Office Box., 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 a g e. Call upon or address, The Directors of the Poor of Hunting don county, at Shirleysburg. Loct4, '7B-tf FOR SALE.—Stock of first-class old established Clothing Store. Store room fer rent. Owner retiring from business Sept 27-3m] Ucan make money faster at work for us than at any thing else. Capital notsrequired ; we will start you $l2 per day at home made by the industrious. Men women, boys and girlu wanted everywhere to work for us. Now is the time. Costly outfit and terms free. Address Mos it Co., Augusta, Maine. [aprs '7B-ly WAI. P. & R. A. ORBISON, A TTORNE YS-A T-LA TV, No. 321 Penn Street, HUNTINGDON, PA. Air All kinds of legal business promptly at tended to. Sept.l3,'7B. Bestlm loess you can engage in. $6 to $2O per day made by any worker of either sex, right in their own localities. Particulars and samples worth $6 free. Improve your spare time at this-twine. , Address STINSON & Co., Portland, Maine. apr3 '7B-1 y TOYS AND GA.IfFaS OF ALLKINDS Just received at the JOURNAL Store. The Huntingdon Journal, EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, No. 212, FIFTH STREET, HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, $2.60 per annum, in advance; $2.50 na••••••.••••., within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year 00000000 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. 00000000 mum TO ADVERTISERS - -1 _ . = ADVERTISING MEDIUM The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the 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 fureign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order gggmu JOB DEPARTMENT a, C m cy, I H. RC MAN. • COLO tor. All letters should be addressed to J. A. NASH, Huntingdon, Pa. i., . ;.,:- fii v I ... ir .. -...!, ~ 3 4- .. . , . . , ,i. .., ..,,. ~ ~. 4.., -i. •.- ~, o. ~ 11 . . 1 -5,... ~t t 1 R ,..,, 0 tr. .. . .. - • -.. 4W • Printing PUBLISHED -IN TERMS : 0 0 0 0 000 0 0 0 00000000 PROGRESSIVE 0 REPUBLICAN PAPER. 0 o o 0 o 0 0 o o FIRST-CLASS 5000 REA.DtRS :: WEEKLY. It finds its way into 1800 I r. ' • 9 CD R 4: Cr C. W ...rj 1 0 .-% Pr 4 It 8 3cl .-1 1:0 5 :CIAL' A SP. PRI (TIC VitsCs' *tut. What Shall I Do ? BY ELLA WHEELER. Whet shall I do when Fairy Spring uncovers The storehouse of her treasures to our view? When happy maids go walking with their lovers, And all the world is green and g'ad anew, What shall I do ? 0, my lost love, my love, what shall I do ? When Summer time comeslaughing o'er the border, Iler fair head circled by a cloud of blue, And seacters blossoms in most sweet disorder, Without your smile, so tender and so true, What shall I do ? 0, my dead love, my love, what shall I do ? When Autumn's purple robe trails o'er the meadow, Or whin snows lie where late the roses grew, And I can only find a phantom shadow In all my eager seeking after you, What shall I do ? 0, my one love, my love, what shall I do ? When grief walks near, or when some joy bath found me (If joy could come to my tear-blinded view,) With all the world about me and around me, Bow can I live the years and not have you? What shall I do ? 0, my dead love, my lore, what shall I do ? *torp-Eriter. Behind the Scenes I feel as though it would eas3 my mind to make a confession of all the circum stances which have led to my lying here. "Here is the Westminister hospital, and I am lying on one of the narrow beds in the ancient ward, crushed, maimed. trip pled for life, even if I recover, which is doubtful. I can hear the distant muffled roar of traffic in the busy world outside—that world which now seems so shadowy and far off, though it was once so near. Every now and then comes the solemn sound of the great bell, booming out another hour, full of pain and suffering. Around me I see only beds, tenanted by white, wan faces, and nurses in plain print dresses and white aprons, walking up and down the ward. There is nothing to take my thoughts off myself, when I am sufficiently out of pain to think at all. So I will tell you how I came to be here. Alas! through my own fault. In the early part of the winter I. was engaged as principal dancer at the Drury Lane theatre. They were giving a series of English operas, with ballets afterward; and when these performances were over a grand Christmas pantoniine was forthcom ing. Dancing had been my profession for some years. I was very happy in it. I bad good looks. I was successful and popu lar; but I delighted chiefly in the ease and cotufbrt which my employment enabled me to bestow on my father, who lived with me, and was my constant care. He idolized me, and I loved no one as I loved him, though I had many admirers at that time. No one took a greater pride in me than he did, and bis praiae was sweeter to me than the combined applause of manager, company and audience. The Christmas pantomime came on, and a leading role was assigned to me in the first part as well as in the ballet. I could sing well and act also. I was clever on the stage, though I say so myself. For some time after Christmas we drew crowded audiences at the Drury Lane, but in February I began to notice that the house was a little thinner than usual, and I asked the manager the reason. "Oh," he said, "the people have gone to Convent Garden to see the new dancer, Marie G-oubaud, I suppose. They say she is very beautiful." The instant those words were pronounced the demon of jealousy entered my soul. I had often before heard of the talent and beauty of this woman, but had paid little attention to the reports about her, feeling secure in my own stronghold. But now, I listened with painful eagerness to every thing that was said about her. With bit ter reflections I beheld my audiences di minish night after night, and read in the papers glowing accounts of her perform ances and personal appearance. When the pantowine season was over, I was engaged at one of the smaller theatres for an Easter extravaganza whictf was in preparation. What was my misery on dis covering that the manager, shortly after I had joined the company, had affected terms with Marie Goubaud, and that sh,e w,ts cowing to our theatre in tints for the re hearsals of the Easter piece. _ _ _ . _ I was furious. I looked over the articles of my agreement; but there was nothing in them against another actress being en gaged, as no part had yet been given to I could not complain, and yet I felt in clined to throw over the manager and every one else, and quit the whole concern, regardless of the damages I should have to me pay. However, just then my poor father fell ill, and this rendered my leaving the theatre out of the question. I was obliged to smother my rage. Marie Goubaud came, and I was intro duced to her. She was certainly lovely. Dark, with brilliant eyes, white teeth, and clear, olive complexion. Her faceistas full of vivacity, and her manner attractive in the extreme. I felt that she surpassed me, and that my power henceforth was gone. I felt all this, and was half mad dened by it, though-I smiled, and fairly kissed my beautiful rival. • It took only one evening to proclaim her superiority to me. Every person in the audience was ready to worship her, and I was forgotten, or at best my appearance on the stage was the signal but for a few faint claps, not worth the name of applause. The Easter extravaganza was a marvelous success, and it was all ascribed to Marie Goubaud. co •a' "0 1.4 0 One nieht I was sitting up beside my father, who was still very ill. I was in a frightful state of despondency at my sub ordinate position as second favorite. It was after eleven o'clock, and the theatre was closed, but even at that late hour I had a visitor. It was a young man who wrote fur the stage, and sometimes consulted me with regard to theatrical affairs. Ile came to tell me that he had just completed a new burlesque which he had written expressly for me. lle read me sonic of the dialogue. It was very good indeed. The part he destined me for was witty, sprightly, and exceedingly taking. I secretly determined to act it at any cost, and win back the favor of the public. Between this young author and myself there had sprung up a sort of liking, and I do not doubt that if matters had been left to grow we should have married ; but such happiness was not to be my fate. I ex pressed great delight at the part my friend had written fur me, and he went away well pleased. The next night I saw him at our theatre. His eyes were riveted on Marie Goubaud. Y. HUNTINGDON, PA,, FIB: I trembled. ant my jealousy fl►med oui anew. I went home after the perfermance! He followed me, came into my little sitting room, and sat down, and hesitated. I savd . at a glance it was as 1 feared Ile wanted my rival to take the part he had written for me. However. I laughed and talked as if I suspected nothing. I rehearsed a few lines which I had already learned, and sang the principal song. and thus hoped to persuade him to let me keep the part; bulgy I could not move him The memory of Marie's bright eyes and vivacious presence was too strong. Presently he said : "Jennie, I must succeed in life. I want ? reputation as a writer, and I want money; and if heaven has bestowed on me any drat, matic skill, it would be wrong for me not to employ all the means in any power to' make success certain." "Yes," I said, knowing what was to follow. "Marie Goubaud is very beautiful." "Yes," I said again. "And she is very popular." I nodded. I could not speak. I felt my hopes slipping away from me, and a train of bitter thoughts rushed into my very soul. "Then," said he. frankly, "Jennie, do 300 think it possible that she might be a trifle more lucky with that part in my burlesque than you would be ?" lie spoke so kindly that I could not give vent to all the feelings which surged within me. I could not forget that the sacrifice on my part was for his benefit, not altogether for Marie's. So I attempted to be generous. I told him, with all the calmness I could muster, that Marie could have my part with pleas tire, and I hoped she would do .it every justice. He seized my hand with grate ful warmth, and I ran into my bed room, trembling, pale as ashes, and filled with the most vio lent rage and envy. I could not sleep. A demon held um in possession. I made an awful resolve, and spurred on by jealousy, I never Inched from it, but set about perfecting my plan till it approached to an almost certain re alizttion. A week passed My friend's burlesque was accepted by our manager, and the company were set to work upon it. Of eourse Marie Gouband had the leading role, and I bad the second female part The brilliant scenery was being painted, and the whole available force was urged and driven to complete the task. . _ Meanwhile I was pleasant to everybody. and smiled as much as I ever did. But inwardly I was a tigress. I only' waited my opportunity. Bitterly did I hate Marie's lovely face, and I meant that an apparent accident should destroy it. As the scenery approached completion, as one rehearsal after another took place, I watched my chance. I beheld what I hoped fur. Directly over the centre of the stage there was suspended a lime light, so placed that it threw a glow over whatever was placed beneail it. In the third scene of tlie . first act, Marie would have to take this position. The material which burns in these lamps pro duces a tierce flame, and it sticks to what ever it touches, and is not easily extin guished until it burns out. It was plain what I intended to do. The larirp must be made to fall on Marie I don't know whether I was in my right mind or not. My thoughts were clear, although they were so frightfully directed. I was always calm and cool ; I never raged or excited myself The night of the first performance of the burlesque approached. Even then I was easy in manner, and genial to all around me. I myself ascended the com plicated machinery of the scenes, and, with a pocket knife, unscrewed the lamp from its fastenings. A strong shake of the woodwork from below would bring it down in an instant. An immense audience assembled. Pit, dress circle, boxes and galleries were filled to overflowing, and Marie was at her best. Shall I ever forget the tremendous shout which rose from those throats as she bounded on the stage? I thought they would never cease their cheers and rounds of applause. When I entered, which I did with all the grace and ease of which I was capable, there was a marked difference. Here and there a patter of kid gloves, now and then a murmur of welcome; but, alas ! no tri umph was !here fir me, and my heart swelled until I thought it would burst, and it was torture to smile, as I must through it all. Oh, how bitter I was! How I hated the audience, and more than hated Marie! I looked quickly up at tile lamp, and hid myself away in the shadow of the, wings. The gay music mocked me, the lively dancing and the merry laughter from the front drove me wild. Twice Marie ran beneath the lamp, and twice I raised my clenched hands to strike the wocdw...rk, but she bent too swiftly, and I waited. The burlesque went on to the third scene. The audience were wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, and seemed ready to rush upon the stage and bear off their fa vorite in triumph. The fatal moment. approached. I grew cold from head to foot My lips were parched and dry. Suddenly I seemed to see a vision of Marie all in flautts, with three or four awful bluish, burning patches on her face—one on each cheek, the tuliJr on.her forehead. I was horror struck. In the midst of this vision the real Marie came running on to the stage, brilliant and laughing. She saw me standing at the wing and smiled, showing her white row of teeth. She looked away : she drew nearer; she stood directly under the lamp I savagely struck my hand upon the side of the scene The terrible lamp flared up and tottered, and I turned faint, and almost fell to the ground. Like a flash of lightning my vision came back again. I sprang forward with a des perate effort. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the flaming shower, and I rushed upon Marie and dragged her away. . _ _ I was too late. A shriek of agony burst from her lips, and a purplish flame ap peared on her right temple near her eye. Then I was attacked myself The most exquisite pain seemed to be raging in my shoulders and cheeks, but I scarcely heeded it. I saw the burning stuff fall upon the floor. I beard the screams of the actors, and cries of the audience. I instantly felt that the theatre was in danger. I knew every part of it and the whereabouts of everything. I tore away and got a large basket of sand. I was half blind. I dragged it out and flung it upon the rising flames, and with some handsful I brushed the flaming lime from my own face and arms. The scenery caught fire. I ran back for the hose, which hung upon the wall, turned on the tap, and flew out again upon the stage, drenched with water, and struggling DAY FEBRUARY 7, 1879. with the writhing pipe. In five minutes all was over, arid all was safe. The actors stood around, stunned and frightened. The spectators had rushed upon the stage, and were pouring praises and blessings upin we. I began to feel my frightful burns, and swooned away. It seemed a low , time—they told me it was two weeks—before I came to my senses again. I heard the great bell booming out, and I found myself in this bed, in Westminister hospital, where I had been taken through the kindness of some friend of the management who had witnessed the accident. Marie was sitting beside we. She had been to see me every day since that ter, rible night when I was carried here. She looked more beautiful than ever. She had a scar near one eye, but it only lowered the lid a little, and rendered her expression more piucquat and charming. Inwardly I thanked heaven it was so. I was frightfully disfigured myself:_ _ She evidently had not the least idea of the wicked intention that had been in my mind. She was all pity for my dread-in juries, and gratitude for my having saved her, as she said. The first thin(' she told me was that she was engaged to be in:irried to my friend, the author Ah ! I saw how it would he from the first But I cannot complain; I deserve all and more. One day, before that great solemn bell tolls out my last hour on earth—and it will not be kng—l mean to tell Marie everything, and I pray that she may not turn from we in kathing and horror, but that she way forgive me, as she hopes to be forgiven when she dies. acct jscdUann. The Cure for Gossip. Everybody must talk about something 'The poer fellow who was told not to talk ,for fear the people would find out that he wlis a fool made nothing by the experi nient. He was considered a foul because he did not talk on some subject or other. Everybody must have something to say, or give up society. Of course, the topics of conversation will relate to the subjects of knowledge. Ira man is interested iu science he will talk about science. If he is an enthusiast in art, be will talk about art. If he is familiar with literature, and is an intelligent and persistent reader, he will naturally bring forth literary topics in his conversation. So with social and religious questions. '.Out of the abundance of the heart' the mouth speaketh." That of which the mind is full, that with which it is fur nished, will come out in expression. The very simple reason why the world is full of g ossip is, that those who indulge in it have nothine ' else iu them. They must interest themselves in something. They know nothing but what they learn frcitu day to day in intercourse with and observation of their neighbors What these neighbors do, what they say, what happens to them in their social and busi ness affairs, what they wear—these become the questions of supreme interest. The personal and social lite around them—this is the book under constant perusal, and out of this conies that pestiferous conversation which we call gossip. The world is full of it, and in a million houses, all over the country, nothing is talked of but the per sonal affairs of their neighbors. What is the cure for gossip? Simply culture. There is a good deal of gossip that has no malignity in it. Good natured people talk about their neighbors because, and only because, they have nothing else to talk about. Gossip is always a personal confession either of walitJe or imbecility, and the young should not only shun it, but by the most thorough culture relieve themselves from all temptation to indulge in it. It is low, frivolous, and too often a dirty Iceisiness. There are country neighbor hoods id which it rages like a pest.— Churches are split in pieces by it. Neigh hors make enemies by it for life. In many persons it degenerates into a chronic dis ease which is prictically incurable. Let the young cur • i , while they way. Is it Kind ? There is n .thing to be said in justifica t► 'el of the .tdious habit of teasing. Some le pie earr) it to an exce,s which renders them nuisauc,i to be avoided. if a girl is shy and awkward, the teaser seizes on every :pporiunity.to pu,t her in difficult artd prominent positions ; and enjoys noth lug so much as the poor victim's uncoil trollable confusion and distress. lie laughs at her blushes, sneers at her tears, thinks Lucinda a little fool to be so perturbed about nothing, and he may add to this a half kind of otition that it will du her good to accustom her to things which are now S 3 painful; but he would scarcely contend that this teasing was only for the philan thropic end of doing the fluttered, fright ened girl a service by "breaking her in," as shying fillies are broken in by taking them up to the shining pool of water by the wayside—by making them feel and smell the long, dark log lying in the shadow. and thus proving by their skittish senses that these things were harmless and would not hurt. them. He teases because he thioks it fine fun to see her poignant distress for so small a matter; much as Lueiuda herself would probably tease her own dog Tiny by pretending to throw the stone while all the time holding it in her hand; or Trust and the lump of sugar on the quivering little black nose; or as she might tease baby brother by making be lieve to hide from him outside the door, till brought back by a piercing yell, for which she would call him a little goose, and kissed him till he laughed again. For the habit is almost universal, beginning in early childhood, when older children tease all the little fellows who cannot defend themselves. How to Discourage a Minister. Go to church only occasionally, and when you go, go late; take no part in the singing, but keep up whispering. Find out all the fault you can ; point out his deficiencies before your children and others. Don't aid his work, but despise his lack of good sense. Tell tales to him about the people and their criticisms of him. Tell him how ouch his predecessors were thought of. Keep away from week day meetings. Get up gayeties, particularly some entertainment near the communion season. Require him to be present every where. Keep back his salary. Keep talking about general dissatisfaction. Patient continuance in these practices will surely drive away both the spirit and minister of God. SI.:W - 'CRIBE for the JOURNAL, Potter's Primer. A ,tancls for Ark, In which Moses did hide; B is for Blackstone, whom Russia did ride, C Copenhagen, that makes the mare go, D is for Denmark, whose pie is all dough, E is for Elector that couldn't be bought, F is fur Florida, where he was sought. G stands for Gramercy—magic address; H is for Hewitt, who wouldn't confess. I stands for Ithaca, now very mum; J is for Jane, a poor girl, who was dumb. K is a Key, a Warsaw to screen, L is for Lima, (but not the big bean.) M stands for Manton, who did some hard work, N is for Nevy, copareeners' clerk. O stands for Oregon's modest demand ; P was the Peterslat , rg always on hand. Q some queer correspondence denotes; R is for Rochester—otherwise votes. S stands for Syracuse ; hard to obtain, T is the Tribune, with ways dark and vain. U stands for Utica.; too long deferred; ✓ is Vienna, another good word. W for Weed, and for Wooley, his churn ; X is the X-amination to come. Y is for young Colonel P. and his plot, Z stands for Zero, the final upshot. —N. Y. Tribune. Diphtheria. WHAT REGULATES ITS COMING AND GO• ING AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY. In spite of the careful study that has been given to the disease, diphtheria must still be classed as an unexplainable phys ical disorder. For a long time it was supposed to be of modern origin, but medical historical research has shown that there is good reason for thinking that it prevailed with deadly effect in India as long age, as 600 B. C., and that the fatal epidemic called in the Talmud °askara," was essentially diphthertio in its char aster. But from this time forward to the seventeenth century there is no disease described with which it can be compared. At that time there were many deaths from this cause ; but it appears to have made a complete leap over the eighteenth century, and not to have been taken into professional account until about twenty years ago.— Since that time, 1858, it has been inter mittent in its severity, when any given lo cality is considered, though it has never disappeared, when this and other large countries are taken into account What regul.ites its coming acid its going is, how ever, an unsolved mystery. Of the nature of the disease itself the same uncertainty exists, some ph!.sieians classing it with the very common disorder known as croup, while others, of secniiogly equal authority, maintain that there is no connection be tween the two. Indeed, almost as much is learned by what it dues not do as by what it does. In this way it has been repeatedly shown that it is governed by family or constitutional attraction., since, when one member of a family has it, other members of the household are much more liable to be attacked by it than friends or nurses who are not related by blood ties, even though the exposure in the latter case should be greater than in the former. It is, at least, satisfactory to know that the number who recover is now much larger than it once was, for in an cient times it was styled an incurable com plaint, while the present rate of mortality float this canse is less than 40 per cent. of those who suffer from it. The fact of its complete absence through long terms of years certainly indicates its possible preventability, and in these days of en lightened medical research it will be strange if some way is not discoVered of stamping it out as effectually as smell pox has been eradicated.—N .1 Times Time is Money. One fine morning when Franklin was busy preparing his newspaper for the press, a lounger stepr d into the store and spent an hour or more looking over the books, etc., and finally taking one into his hand, asked the shop boy the price. "One dollar," was the answer. "One dollar," said the lounger, "can't you take less than that ?" No, indeed, one dollar is the price." Another hour had nearly passed when the lounger said : "Is Mr. Franklin at home ?" "Yes, he is in the printing office." "I want to see him," the lounger said. The shop boy immediately informed Mr. Franklin that a gentleman was in the store, waiting to see him. Franklin was soon behind the counter, when the loung er, with book in hand. addressed him thus: "Mr. Franklin, what is the least you can take for that took ?" One dollar an a quarter," Why, your young man asked me only a dollar." "True " said Franklin, "and I could hav,, better taken a dollar then, than to hsvn been taken out of the office " The lounger seemed surprised, and wishing to end the. parley of his own ma king said : -Come, Mr. Franklin, tell me the low est you can take for it ?" "A dollar arid a half." "A dollar and a half ?" Why, you of fered it yourstlf for a dollar and a quar ter. "Yes," said Franklin, "and I had better have taken that price then, than a dollar and a half uow." The lounger paid down the price, and went about his business —if he had any— and Franklin returned to the printing. office. Country Negro Versus Tow ,Nlegro. An eternal warfare, sass the Atlanta Con stitution, seems to rage between the coun try negro and the town darkey This was illustrated at the passenger depot yester day. A colored youth from Pike county approached a town negro, and the follow ing conversation ensued : •'Whar bouts is de ticket offis ?" "Right dar 'fo' yo' eyes." "Fo' whose eyes ?" "Yone." "Is you de ticket offis ?" "Look yer, nigger, don't you gimme none yo' slack." "I'm a mighty slack man, ole man, when I gits stirred up." 'An' you'll git stirred up of you stan' roun' yer longer me." "Pat's de kinder ex'cise w'at I'm a pin in' fer " And with that they clinched and had a right lively tussle. They were separated, however, before a policeman came along, and the Pike county darkey found the ticket office. The town negro, it may be well to mention, was badly used up. WE read of a newly married couple out West who. having so many friends that they couldn't make their wedding cake go round,ehad their cake photographed be fore they started f u. Europe and sent copies of it to their friends. IF "every man is the architect of his own fortune," the most of them had better abandon arAitecture and go to sawing wood. The Rothschilds. A SKETCH OF THE CELEBRATED HOUSE, A short time after the battle of Jena, in which Napoleon broke down the armed op• position of Prussia, William I, elector of Hesse Cassell, flying through Frankfort, summoned to an audience a prominent banker of the city "I am one of those," he said, "who trusted to the faith of that faithless per jurer and enemy of his race, Napoleon Bonaparte. He promised to preserve my territory from violation and to treat me as a . natural prince He has forced me to fly from my own domain, has already seiz ed it, is to obliterate it and make it a part of the kingdom of 'Westphalia. I have with me about five million dollars. Take them ! Keep them in security until my rights are restored and recognized. How much interest will you allow me ?" "In the disturbances of the time," re plied Mayor von Rothschild," I can prom ise nothing.. It must be very low rate, if any. You will have to trust me to pay what I can, when I am able to afford it." "Very well," replied the elector, "my chieftpurpose is to secure them. From what I learn of you I cannot do better than to trust you. I must bill you adieu." Rothschild departed, received the elec tor's treasure on deposit, was able to loan it and reloan it to some advantage, but paid no interest on it for eight years, after which he paid two per cent. for nine years, and returned it to the elector's son in 1823. such, at least according to the legend, is the origin of that wonderful house of Rothschild, whose existence and operation are surrounded with something of the mys teries and dazzling spectacular display found chiefly in fairy romances and "Ara bian Nights" tales. During all the troubles of Europe in the early part• of the century Rothschild remained undisturbed. He negotiated two loans of $4,000,000 each for Denmark, which, contemptible now, were enormous then. A large wholesale "Yankee notions" or dry goods house might surpass them to day. Mayor hothschild had the faculty of turning all chances to good account. Just before his death, in 1812, he call ed togetbcr his six sons—Nathan, Solo mon, Auselute, Karl, Mayer and J.,n)e4, and said to them— I want you to pron.ise tne on yours 1- tmn oaths always to ruthliu united ill car rying on the operations of our house." They swori! is he asked.; but after his deAth separatel nr rather they dividtd Europe between ibrut. They establ:shed their houses at Paris, London. Frank f , rt. Vienna and Napb.s. Each one shared itt the general operations of the house, but had individual supervision over his partie ular field. It was not a central bank with different branches ; there were five differ. ent houses, which if occasion requited act ed as one The Emperor of Austria enabled all of them, as if they were all the eldest, which is an Austrian custom. Their arms are five golden arrow. By a remarkable coincidence, an ancient writer predicted that Charon, who, according tt, the old myth, ferried people over the Sryx, or riv er of death, and who gets his pay from the passengers, would have a large income in the year 1855, and in that year Nathan, the eldest, and Solomon and Karl, all died. Everybody expected as each one dropped off to learn at least the secrets of that enor in,,us banking house. But there was not the smallest chance to look into their big books. Another Rothschild stood ready to take them from the dead man's hands The firm is a dynasty. You can learn from it only that it has a secret of making money. One of the great strokes of the Roths child house was made when Nathan, the London banker and an English citizen, followed close in the rear of Napoleon in 1815, as if he foresaw the fall of that giant. The sun had not set on the battle of Waterloo before the banker was well on his way to London. He bought En glish consols, at that time very low in price. When London heard the great news, consuls rose and Rothschild sold. This transaction was entirely Rothschild-like. In their transactions chance is eliminated as much perhaps as it is possible in human affairs. The conception of these grand schemes is clear and simple, however vast. But there is in them indications of genius In most of these first great operations there is the peculiarity of Christopher Columbus' famous egg trick. Dollars, like soldiers, need to be hurled en masse and at once against a designated point. The Roths childs in this respect, have been the greatest captains of the century. Capital has displaced men in the world of industry. Formerly a man was a pro ducer or a negotiator, a borrower or a lender. Now, by the substitution of capi tal, lie inay he all of these at the same titne. In Belgium and Spain the Roths childs arc pr-Aucers of c./al and quick silver. IV virtue 4.4: the railroads they own, they are also carriers; to day th,y sill be the largest buyers, to morrow the largest sellers, in Europa. Speculation is the . tairy of the 19th century, and th. , Rotbschilds are its godsons. Life at the preSent day has been almost tripled in in tensity. A man who dies at 40 years of age has certainly lived more than cente narians of the 17th century. Money no longer has a country. The Rothschilds would lend it to Belgium and to Holland when they were mutual ene Lilies; to Austria and to Italy; to France and to Germany; to Antonelli or Victor Emanuel Though empires go. down with a crash, the house of Rothschild re mains unmoved. They furnish the money to make war; they furnish it to make peace. The conquer or owes them for his guns; the conquered owes them for his ransom. Only once was there any disagreement known to have arisen between them,— When Naples ceased to be a capital the Baron Adolphe de Rothschild removed his banking house from the city and demanded in cash—his share of the common funds— sls,ooo,ooo But perhaps recollecting the oath required by the founder of the house, the affair was arranged and the different Rothschild; in all times of confusion and trouble have continued to utter the same distinct watchword of business, even as at night the clocks of large cities regulated by one hand strike the hours at the same moment. When steam and electricity came into use the former great stri'les of speculation were no longer possible. But the Roths childs anticipated these inventions. The Baron James, at Paris, it is said, hastened to seize and use these new levers, which otherwise would have destroyed him. He was the principal projector of the French railways, and is said to have wept tears of joy on sending the first telegram to San Francisco. He had calculated the differ ence of time between Paris and San Fran cisco, and knew that the answer would come during the day. He awaited it in feverish silence. It came at the hour he had calculated. Tne. Rothschilds are for the niost part J.ews. The tomb of the Paris family is opposite that of Rachel in the cemetery of Pere le Chaise. An "R" is sculptured in relief of the white stone of the modest chapel The enclosure in front is sown with pebbles. Every Jew who visits a grave leaves a stone The project of buying Palestine and re• instating the Jews has been attributed to the Rothschilds, but as they have never taken any steps towards it, it is probable that they either never thought of it or speedily abandoned it. Four Years With Savages. A T'XAS YOUTH'S ADVENTURIM Yesterday morning a man about 21 years of age called at the express office and sta ted that he bad but recently escaped from a four years' captivity among the Apache and Cothouche Indians, and was on his way to his home in Fannin county, Texas, where he had parents living He was about six feet in height, well proportioned, had an intelligent countenance and easy, self possersed manner, although for years un der not the most refining influences. His garb was unmistakably frontier in its char acter. He gave his name as S. M. Wills, and said that four years ago, when but 17 years of age, hearing glowing accounts of fron tier life, he became one of a party of buf falo hunters on the Staked Plains. Game was plenty, and they were making money fast, slaughtering the bison for his hide. This was in 1874, the season so many buf falo were killed. Becoming more venture some, the party penetrated to the heart of the plains and in close proximity to the Indians engaged in the same business. One day, four of the party, a:nong whom was young Wills, gave chase to a very fine herd of buffalo, and followed them a long distance, and many a fine bull fella victim to their unerring rifles. On a sudden they came upon a party of Apache Indians in the same business, who, upon seeing their natural foe, left the chase and attacked the white /hen. Wi!ls was away from the oth er Teen, and e.eeing them shot and scalped, %err .alered it discretion, wiihnur resia -11:•• youth saved him from imme diate dearth and he was taken to camp, ato- a yaw web was geld a' to hie tuture eve. He being a doe looking bey, it was eitivi to give him a chence far life by alleiviug him the doubt,fal privilege of running the gauntlet . 'The savages arrtyed themselves in two long ices, tomahawks and clubs. Wills was stripped of his clothing and, being pla ced at the head of his almost certain ave nue of death, started on his terrible race for life. Each savag e , yelling at the top of his voice, made aeadly pass with his weapon as the poor boy fairly flew along the blood thirsty pathway. The one whu succeeded iu hitting the prisoner was to have the disposition of his fate, which is usually that of death by the most harible slow torture that could be conceived in the breast of the brutal American savage. On, on sped the fated youth, and a hundred deaths had already been passed, while the end of the terrible line was fast ap proaching, his strength failing and pace slackening, a tomahawk buried itself in his lee, and he fell a victim to savage barbarity. ' "Demoniacal yells filled the air as the "noble red men . ' surrounded their fallen prey, eager to finish their hellish work. Fortunately the lucky captor conceived an admiration for the brave white boy, and resolved to spare his life, at the same time claiming him as his special property. He was attired in Indian garb, underwent the ceremony of initiation as a "brave," war paint was applied, and he was now "heap big warrior." Although ostensibly one of the tribe, nevertheless he was a prisoner, and the strictest guard over his movements was never withdrawn. He was privileged to hunt and fight, but always acknowledg ed ownership to the warrior who toma• hawked him in his race fcr life. They were always on the move, and they trav eled hundreds of -miles dp and down the plains and in the Rocky-mountains. The Apaches and Comonches at this time were at war, and his band meeting a party of Comonches a battle ensued. He entered fully into the fight with his Apache "friends," and having his pony shoe was captured by the Comonches. Being already considered virtually an Indian, he was spared the terrible exper iences of his first capture, and was without further ceremony admitted into the band as a Comanche warrior, and soon he be came a great favorite. ftii,it. He had now been among the Indians over a year, and had been inured in the hardships of Indian life. He was a band of what is usually termed among frontiers men "Dog Soldiers," being composed prin• cipally of young wen who refuse to come under restrietinn, and consequently are outlaws before the law. and are on treated by t. 11.3 military authoriti.s. t;onsequently they must be constantly on the move, and th- band with whom was the hero of thi3 sketch, in the three years that he was with them, traveled from Texas to the British Possessions. His varied experience—pri vations and hardships—would fill a vol ume, and are altogether too long to em body here! Last summer the band got back to the Indian Territory and on the Texas border, and the hope of seeing his home again tock strong hold of his mind, and be de termined -to make an effort to escape. Were it not for again meeting father, moth er, brothers and sisters, he would never have entered civilization again, as be had become perfectly contented with life among the Indians, in fact rather preferred it. Some time in August the band was on a buffalo hunt in north western Texas, and, becoming separated from them in pursuit of a fine herd, he continued his way south, riding until his horse fell under him dead. He knew that if he rested the Indians, discovering his absence, would probably overtake him, and therefore he put as great a distance as possible between him self and pursuers in the early stage of the pursuit which he knew would be sure to follow and that his re capture would be horribly fatal. His plans were laid, and after the death of his horse he continued his journey, living on prairie dogs and such other small game as was procurable, many times almost dying of thirst and starvation. Finally, in the latter part of August he reached Fort Griffin, the first settlement he had been in fortour years. Being entirely destitute he engaged as teamster, and as such has since been em ployed. A couple of days ago he arrived at San Antonio, having earned sufficient money to take him comfortable home —. San Antonio Express. NO, 6.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers