VOL. 43. The Huntingdon Journal. Office in new JOURNAL Bu- ilding, Fifth Street. TUE lIUNTINODON JOURN- AL is published every Frid.iy by J. A. NASH, at $2,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or $2.50 if sot paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 13 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearages are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-HALF CENTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CENTS fur the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates: 3m 16m 19m Iyr I 13m 6m l9m I lyr 11 u is 3 501 4 50' 550 800 IV i coll 900 18 00 1 /27 136 2 " 5 001 8 00110 00 12 00118 00 36 00 60 65 3" , 700 ; 100014001800%0013400000066 80 4 " 8 00;14 00120 00116 00 1 col 36 00 60 00 80 100 All Resoliftions of Associations, Communications: of limited or individual interest, all party announcements, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, wilt be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will be charged to the party Laving them inserted. Advertising Agents must find their commission outside of these figures. All advertising accounts are due aced collectable when the advertisement is once inserted. JOB PRINTING of every kind, Plain and Fancy Colors, 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. emmmo Professional Cards• "nit. G. B. HOTCHKIN, 204 Mifflin Street. Office cor 11 ner Fifth and Washington Sts., opposite the Poet Of fice. Huntingdon. [ junel4-1878 11 CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street. 11 Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Wil liamson. [aP12,71 DR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office, No 523 Washington street, one door sad of the Catholic Parsonage. tjaa4,"ll DR. 111/SKILL has permanently located in Alexandria to practice his profession. [jan.4 '7B-Iy. V C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister'a E building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. B. J Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apr2,B, '76. GB. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Law, 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [n0v17,'75 GL. ROBS, Dentist , office in S. T. Brown ' s new building, . No. b2O, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [ap12.71 jj C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn .11. Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l JSYLVANIJS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, . Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. Dan4,7l jW. MATTEBN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Street. Ljan4,'7l T S. GELSSINGER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, J.J. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo- site Court House. Ifebs,'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-limos NEW STOCK OF CLOTHING s. WOLF'S. S. WOLF has just received a large stock of CLOTHING, from the east, which he offers very eheap to suit these panicky times. Below are a few prices : Men's good black suits $l2 50 " cassimere snits 8 50 diagonal (best) 14 00 Warranted all wool snits 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 USES 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. oepl'76] SAMUEL MARCH Agt. Patents obtained for Inventors, in the United States, Cana da, and Europe at rednced rates. With our prin cipal office located in Washington, directly opposite the United States Patent Office, we are able to at tend to all Patent Business with greater promptness and despatch and less cost, than other patent attor neys, who are at a distance from Washington, and who huve, 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 Patemtsare invited to send for a copy of our "Guide for obtain ing Patents," which is sent free to any address, and contains complete instructions how to obtain Pat• tents, 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 Claim.; to the Officials of the U. S. Patent Office, and to Senators and Member, of Congress from every State. Address: LOUIS BAGGER & CO., Solicitors of Patents and Attorneys at Law, Le Droit Building, Washington, D. C. [apr26 '7B-tf a; MANHOOD: HOW LOST, HOW RESTORED! Just published, a new edition of DR. CULTERWELL'S CELEBRATED ESSAY on the radicalcure (without med icine) of SPERMATORRHtxA or Seminal Weakness, Invol untary Seminal Looses, IMPOTENCY, Mental and Physical Incapacity, Impediments to marriage, etc.; also Consurnp tion, Epilepsy and Fits, induced by self-indulgence or sexual extravagance, Ac. 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 consequences of self-abuse may be 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 matter what his condition may be, may cure hi.sself chea,,ly, privately and radically. *A. 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., H. 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 age. Call upon or address, The Directors of the Poor of Hunting don county, at Shirieysburg. [oct4, '7B-tf FOR SALE.—Stock of first-class old established Clothing Store. Store room for rent. Owner retiring from business. Sept 27-3m] H. RCMAN. Ucan make money faster at work for us than at any thing else. Capital not required ; we will start you $l2 per day at home made by the industrious. Men women, buys and girls wanted everywhere to work for tis. Now is the time. Costly outfit and terms free. Address Tana & Co., Augusta, Maine. [aprs '7B-ly WM. P. & R. A. ORBISON, A T7'ORNEYS-AT:LAW, No. 321 Penn Street, HUNTINGDON, PA. All kinds of legal business promptly at tended to. SepLl3,'7B. Bestl usiness yon can engage in. $5 to $2O per day made by any worker of either sex,right in their own localities. Particulars and samples worth $5 free. Improve your spare time at thin business. Address STINSON & Co., Portland, Maine. aprs 78-ly TOYS AND GAMES OF ALLKINDS Just received at the JOURNAL Store. he Tuntingdon Journal. 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 0 00000000 A 00000000 n 0 PROGRESSIVE 0 REPUBLICAN PAPER. 0 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. 00000000 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 mum TO ADVERTISERS Circulation 1800. FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING MEDIUM 5000 READERS WEEKLY. The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the county. It finds its way into 1800 homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus making it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order. gggUggg JOB DEPARTMENT 1-1 .e . . — I:r ti , 1:J '-.4 ...cc, ... 17 P. o =" CS 0 R 0 pr - COLO PRINTI VW' All letters should be addressed to J. A. NASH. Huntingdon, Pa. Cy Puts' (oturr. I walk down the valley of silence, Down the dim, voiceless valley alone, And I bear not a sound of a footstep Around me but God's and my own ; And the hush of my heart is as holy As hovers where angels have flown. Long ago was I weary of voices Whose music my soul could win ; Long ago was I weary of noises That fretted my soal with their din ; Long ago was I weary of places Where I met but the human and sin I walked in the world with the worldy, Yet I craved what the world never gave ; And I said, in the world each ideal That shines like a star on life's wave, Is toned on the shores of the real, And sleeps like a dream in the grave. And still did I pine for the perfect, And still found the false with the true ; I sought mid the human of Heaven, And caught a mere glimpse of its blue; And I sighed when the clouds of the mortal Veiled even that glimpse from my view. And I toiled on, heart tired of the human, And groaned 'mid the masses of men ; Till I knelt long ago at an altar, And heard a voice call me. Since then I walked down the Valley of Silence That lies far beyond human ken. Do you ask what I found in the Valley ? 'tis my trysting place with the Divine ; And I fell at the feet of the Holy, And around me a voice said "Be Mine !" Then rose from the depth of my soul An echo, "My heart shall be Thine." Do you ask how I live in the Valley ? I weep and I dream and 1 pray ; But my tears are as sweet as the dew drops That fall on the roses in May ; And my prayer, like a perfume from censer, Asceudeth to God night and day. In the bush of the Valley of Silence I hear all the songs that I sing ; And the music floats down the dim Valley Till each finds a word for a wing ; That to me like the dove of the deluge The message of peace they may bring. But far on the deep there are billows That never shall break on the beach, And I have heard songs in the silence That never shall float into speech, And I have had dteams in the Valley Too lofty for language to reach. And I have seen thoughts in the Valley— Ah, me I how my spirit was stirred ! They wear holy veils on their faces ; Their footsteps can scarcely be heard ; They pass down the Valley like virgins, Too pure for the touch of a word. Do you ask me the place of this Valley, To hearts that are harrowed by care ? It lieth afar between mountains, And God and His angels are there ; And one is the dark mount of sorrow, And one the bright mountain of prayer Et *torg-Etiler. WINNING THE WIDOW. "Oh, what a handsome man !" cried Mrs. Hunter; "and such a charming foreign accent, too !" Mrs. Hunter was a widow—rich, child less, fair and thirty five—and she made the remark above recorded to Mr. Bunting, bachelor, who had come to pay an after noon call, apropos of the departure of Prof. La Fontaine, who had, according to the etiquette, taken his departure on the ar• rival of Mr. Bunting. "Don't like to contradict a lady," said Mr. Bunting "but I can't say I agree with you; and these foreigners are generally impostors, too." Mrs. Hunter shook her head coquet tishly. She was rather coquettish and rather gushing for her age. "Oh, you gentlemen ! you gentlemen !" she said ; "I can't see that you ever do justice to each other." And then she rang the bell and ordered the servants to bring tea, and pressed bach elor Bunting to stay and partake tilt. There was a maiden aunt of eighty in the house, to play propriety, and allow her the privilege of having as many bachelors to tea as she choose, and Mr. Bunting for got his jealousy, and was once more happy. He was, truth to tell, very much in love with the widow, who was his junior by fifteen years. He liked the idea of her living on the interest of her money, too She was a splendid housekeeper and a fine pianist. She was popular and good looking. Ile intended to offer himself for her ac ceptanee as soon as he felt sure that she would not refuse him. But this dreadful Professor La Fontaine, with black eyes as big as saucers, and long bide-whiskers—black also as any raven's wing, had the advantage of being the widow's junior.. The opportunity to make a fool of her self is so irresistible to every widow. It troubled his dreams a good deal—not that be thought him handsome. Oh, no ! But still at fifty a man does not desire a rival, however he may despise him. "She did not ask him to stay, and she did ask me," said Mr. Bunting, and de parted, after a most delightful evening, during which the maiden aunt (who was, at best, as deaf as a post) snored sweetly in her chair. But, alas ! on the very next evening his sky was overcast. _ _ Professor La Fontaine took the widow to the opera. He saw them enter the doors of the opera house, and, having followed and se cured a seat in a retired portion of the house, also noticed that the Professor kept his eyes fixed upon the lady's face in the most impressive manner during the whole of the performance, and that she now and then even returned his glances. "It can't go on," said Mr. Bunting to himself. "I can't allow it. She'd regret it all her life. I must remonstrate with her. No woman likes a coward. Faint heart never won fair lady. She'll admire me for speaking out." And that very evening Mr. Bunting trotted up to the widow's house, full of a deadly purpose, and with a set speech learned off by heart. The speech he forgot as he crossed the threshold. FD CD CL. R C 1 :5 0 no ti 1 B to 0 a. OD The purpose abided with him. There were the usual remarks about the weather. The usual chitchat followed, but the widow saw that Mr. Bunting was not at his ease. CIAL' At last, with a sort of' plunge that a timid bather makes into chilly water, be dashed into the subject nearest his heart "ITe's a rascal, ma'am, I give you my word." "Oh, dear! Who is ?" cried the widow. "That frog eater," replied the bachelor. "Upon my soul, I speak for your own good. lam interested in your welfare. Don't allow his visits. You don't know a thing about him." The Song of the Mystic. HUNTINGDON, PA„ FR "Do you allude to Monsieur La Fon taine?" asked Mrs. Hunter, solemnly. "I allude to that fellow," said bachelor Bunting "Why, his countenance proves him to be a rascal. I—l'd enjoy kicking him out so much, I—" "Sir," said the widow, "if you haven't been drinking, I really think you must be mad." "Ma'am cried Mr Bunting "Perhaps, however, I should take no notice of such conduct," said Mrs Hunter "Perhaps I should treat it with silent con tempt " "Oh. good gracious !" cried bachelor Butting ; "don't treat me with silent con tempt. It's my affection for you that urges me on I adore you ! Have me. Accept me. Marry me and be mine to cherish and protect from all audacious Frenchmen." The widow's heart was melted. She burst into tears. "Oh, what shall I say ?" she s.hbed. "I thought you merely a friend. I—am —I —I—I am engFigtd to the Professor; he proposed yesterday evening." Bacl.elor Bunting had dropped down upon his knees while making the offer Now he got up with a sort of groan— not entirely caused by disappointed love, for he had the rheumatism "Farewell, false one," he said, feeling for his hat without looking for it, "I leave you f)rever." He strode away, banging the door after him. The wit; ow cried and then lau g hed, and then cried again. In fact, she bad a genuine fit of what the maiden aunt called "stericks," and the chambermaid highstrikes," before she was brought to, and prevailed to take a glass of wine and something hot and comforting in the edible line. After which the thought of her fiance consoled her. Days passed on. Bachelor Bunting did not drown him self or sup cold poison. The wedding day was fixed. The bousetuaid informed her friend that Mrs. Hunter "kept steady company." . _ The maiden aunt, who had no income of her own, curried favor by being almost always in a state of apparent coma. The widow was in the seventh heaven of bliss, and all went merry as a marriage bell until one evening, as the betrothed pair sat before the fire in the polished grate, there came a ring at the bell, and' the girl who answered it soon looked into the parlor to announce the fact that a lit tle girl in the hall would come in. "Oh, let her in," said Mrs Hunter "I'm so fond of the dear children in the neighborhood. It's one of them, I pre sume?' But while she was speaking, a small, but very old looking girl in a short frock, with a tambourine in her hand, bounced into the room, and throwing herself into the Professor's arms, with a strong French' accent screamed : "Darling papa, have I then found you ? How glad mamma will be ! We thought you dead." "I am not your papa." said the French man, turning pale. "Are you crazy, my, dear little girl ?" "No, no, no. you are my papa !" cried the child. "Do not deny your Estelle. Does she not know you ? Ah, my heart, it tells me true. Dear mamma and I have almost starved, but she has never pledged her wedding ring—never. She pl Lys the organ, I the tambourine We have suf fered, but now papa will return to us. Ah, heaven !" "My gracious! the morals of furriners. He'd have married missus. :" cried the girl at the door. "She tells one black lie. Never before have I seen her; believe me, madame !" screamed the poor Frenchman. "Ah, mon, Dieu, am I dreaming?" "Oh, Alphonse," cried the widow. "But there, I will be firm. My best friends warned me of you. Take your hat—go. Never enter my presence again. Go with your unfortunate ehild—your poor. half starved little girl. Go home to your de serted wife. Go !" "Ah, madame, zese is falsehood," cried the unfirtunate Frenchman, losing his temper in his excitement. Belief—" "Out of my house !" cried the widow. "Peggy open the door. Go! What an escape I have had !" The Professor departed. Mrs. Hunter threw herself' into her chair and burst into tears. After awhile she grew more calm, and taking a letter from a drawer she perused "Ah me! what deceivers those men are'." she said, as she pensively laid back on the cushions. "Only to think he could write a letter so full of love, and prove such a villain) but I am warned in time " And she tore the letter into fragmentz. The maiden aunt, who had not heard a word, demanded an explanation. Biddy howled it through her ear trumpet in these words : "The scoundrel has ever so many wives and families already, playin' tambourines for their bread—the rascal !" And in the midst the door bell rang, and Mr. Bunting walked in, with a polite bow. Biddy and the aunt slipped out of the room. Mr Bunting approached the widow. "I called to apologize," he said. "I was hasty the other day. Had I known the gentleman wis dear to you, I should have restrained my speech I wish you happiness; I—" "Don't, please," cried the widow. "He's worse than you painted him. I'vo found him out. I hate him. As for me, I can never be happy again " "Nr with your own Bunting ?'' cried the }bachelor, sitting down be-ide her. "I'm afraid not," said the widow. 'Are you sure ?" asked Mr. Bunting "No. ❑ot quite," said Mrs. Hunter. "Then marry we, my dear, and try it Do, oh, do !" Mrs. Hunter sobbed and consented. After having had a white colored silk made up and trimmed with real lace, it was too bad not to figure as a bride after all. She married bachelor Bunting and was very happy. It was well, perhaps, that she had not the fairy gift of the invisible cap. and did not put it on and follow Mr. Bunting to a mysterious recess in the rear of a theatre, whither he took his way after parting from the widow on the night of his en gagement. There he met a little girl, small but old looking, the same indeed who had claimed the Professor as her lost papa, and this is what he said to her : "Here is the money I prumise'i you, my child, and you acted the thing excellently well. I know that by the effect produced. She believes that he's a n.arried man, and he can't prove to the contrary. I knew DAY FEBRUARY 14, 1879. you'd be able to act it out, when I saw you play the deserted child in the tragedy." Then one hundred dollars were counted out, into the little brown hand, and bache lor bunting walked off triuwphant. To this day his wife does not know the truth, but alludes to ror, innocent Pro lessor La Fontaine as that wicked French man elect )flisctitanp. Fashionable Cruelty. The propwition put forth by the cyni6, that of all the brutes en earth the most brutal is wan, is fast bedoming unanssree able The evidence in its favor is accumu luting with startling rapidity. 'We do not now refer to wars, murders and atrocii ies— "Man's inhumanity to man"—but to those mint brutalities which find =heir victims among the birds, beasts and fishes We have now arrived at that stage of civiliza lion which presents many strange anoma lies. We drive a herd of trembling deer into a coiner, shoot them down and call it port We imprison hundred of pigeons in a box in France, send them across the sea to England, keep them without food Until they are in a thoroughly exhausted condition, and then let them loose only to be shot down—dead in the case of a few, but maimed and bleeding in the case of a majority. This, too, ;Ls called sport For our amusement, also, animals are trained to go through a performance, the '•train ing" being accomplished by a course of systematic cruelty, such as the general public would hardly believe possible. Many must have observed the dejected appear ance of those trained horses, birds, mon keys and other creatures so frequently ex hibited in public. People have no con ception of the cruelty practiced upon these helpless beings. _ _ _ Yet even the barbarities committed for our amusement becomes deeds a kindness in comparison with those committed for adornment. Few ladies are aware, perhaps, that the seals which provide them with their seal-skin jackets were flayed alive for the purpose. Such, however, is the fact. The fur is supposed to lose somethincr '' of its gloss if the animal is killed, before be ingskinned; and the healthier the seal at the time of the operation, the finer the gloss. Of course, in health the sense of .pain is far more acute than in debility; and we may assume, therefore. that when a sealskin jacket has a particularly glossy appearance, the fur was taken from the animal under the most fhvorable circum statics for inflicting pain, namely, robust health Seals, however, are not the only animals that are flayed alive for the adorn ment of lovely woman. Alinoet every crea ture on the face of the earth whose fur is considered valuable is subjected to the same atrocity. The sable, the beaver, the hare, the mole, the fox. the opossum, are all flayed alive for adornment, except in cases where the animal is killed befi.re it. is captured, when its fur is esteemed, right ly or wrongly, of inferior quality. Birds also suffer largely in the cause of fashion. In a single we , k one single millinery es tablishment in Leipsic received no less than 32.000 dead humming-birds, 81)0,000 dead aquatic birds, and 30.000 pairs of the wings -f the snipe and weodeeck, all of which werte intended for use in the com position of ladies' hats. The went in question probably receives its con signmeuts of ostrich and grebe feathers at other parts of the year, for it is well known that these are more used by milliners than any other kind Let us new try to realize the suffering involved in the collection of this vast num her of birds, and we shall fail completely. It is true, the birds are better off than the seals, for they have not to be flayed alive; but there must be thousands of them which are not killed outright, and which are thrust, maimed, bleeding and alive, into the same bag with the dead to end their sufferings as soon as suffocation will per mit With regard to the humming-birds, we believe the general practice is to entrap and not to shoot them. They are intended to be worn whole, nestling among a bou suet stuck on the side of a hat or bonnet, and they must therefore be secured with care and delicacy. Being caught they are despatched by the ingenious process of be ing spitted on a bodkin, and foithwitb are sent to be stuffed. The same treatment was once accorded to the goldfinches, but since they have ceased to be worn whole it. is believed to be practised no longer. Quite lately, Fashion has laid its hands on another order of creation, namely the insect world A scientific journal mentions that an attempt is being wade to introduce living exotic beetles as ornaments. One of these beetles, brought from Central America, is said to have been worn on a lady's shoulder for six weeks. how we at e not told ; and during the whole of that pe riod it subsi,ted without food. Perhaps this form of fashionable cruelty is the most wretched and senseless of all. It is true that many of the exotic beetles are of ex trewe beauty, but they have to fitness for the adornment of the person However, there the fact stands—that, in addition to flaying seals and beavers alive, spitting humming birds alive and slaughtering thousands upon thousands of innocent and useful creatures for the gratification of the losest form of vanity, we have now de ecended to the depth of wearing living in sects en our should rs, where they ulti merely perish of starvation No man would be sanguine enough to suppose that any enlightenment of the fe male mind upon the' question of fashiona ble cruelty would biing about the abolition of the evil When we think of the amount of sell-torture a woman will endure in the cause of personal adornment ; when we recollect that by tight lacing, high hteled bouts and other inventions of the Evil One constitutions are shattered arid lives short cued with the utmost cheerfulness, we must not expect that women will grieve over the sufferings of seals or humming birds But it is not unreasonable to hope that the remark about men being the greatest brute on earth will not have to be extended to women. Yet, it cannot be denied that modern Fashion, like modern Sport, has a distinctly barbarous tendency. So long as a stupid taste is gratified we care not what cost or suffering its gratifi cation involves. The fashionable cruelty of the time is the outcome of a taste warp ed and perverted by a meretricious stand and—of selfishness engendered by the very luxury it demands—and of a barbarism which asserts itself above all the refine went with which we gloss it over, as the inevitable heritage of an evil nature.— Glasgow IVizcs. SOLILOQUY by a tippler—The public al ways notices you when, you have been drinking, and never when you are thirsty• The Black Death. THE PLAGUE IN EUROPE-ALARMING AC COUNTS OF ITS RAVAGES-THE EFFORTS TO PREVENT ITS FURTHER PROGRESS. The "Black Death" or Plague, which lately started in the miasmatic marshes near the Caspian Sea, moved up the Volga ravaged the provinces of Astrachan and Saratoff, is now within a few miles of Moscow, and the Czar, about to act upon the advice of eminent scientists, is serious ly contemplating the removal of the inhab itants of the infected villages to healthier localities, and the total destruction by fire of Vetlianka and other infected places. A writer in the recent issue of the London Pall Mall Gazette says : "The plague panic seems to prevail in the infected provinces of Astrachan and lenotaeyvkk ; and though the reports of the Government authorities, whose interest it is to minimize its effects, endeavor to make light of the epidemic, the ace 'nuts of its ravages which has got abroad are alarming enough. The Russian peasant, by reason of his foul and intemperate habits would naturally fall an easy prey to the disease. Temperance and cleanliness have been shown at all times to be among the most useful prophylactics against the plague. Procopius. an eye witness of the treat plague which burst forth in Con stantinople in the year A. D. 542, tells us thtt those who were abstemious in their mode of life for the most part escaped. The recovery of the Emperor Justinian, whose august person was not respected, was attributed to his regular life and whole some habits; and it was thus according to Aulus Genius, that Socrates was saved in the plague of Athens. In the former plague the inmates of the monasteries and convents of Constantinople, in which so briety was at least the rule, are said to es taped contagion, although in their case se elusion from society was itself a protection. This probably had also much to do with the immunity the college-. of Cambridge enjoyed when the town suffered so severely in 1665, and in the same way the prisoners in the dungeons of Rome were passed over by the plague of 1656. But the consump tion of raw spirits—such as vodka, or rye spirits, which is drunk in such quantities by the Russian peasant and soldier—has been proved to predispose the system to the reception of any malignant fever in a very peculiar degree. The plague which appeared in the Russo Turkish campaign of 1828 limited its ravages almost entirely to the Russian lines, where, besides want of cleanliness, intemperance was the rule ; the Turk, eschewing spirituous liquors and practising a certain amount of ablution as part of his religion, escaping the disease. In Bucharest alone, where the disease broke out, 7,000 Russian soldiers perished of its effects. It carried off a very large proportion of the 40,000. the Czar Nicho last lost in the first year of the war, while the Turkish losses were due almost en tirely to the sword. The origin or this plague was supposed t have been in the murrain which made terrible havoc with the cattle of the Rus sian army, whose carcasses bred the seeds of fever. And the putrefaction of animal matter seems very usually to have invited the appeal vice of this terrible guest. The old plagues which had their cradle gen erally in Upper Ethiopia were commonly preceded by a scourge of locusts, and just before the epidemic in B-;;dad in 1876 enormous quantities of these insects ap peared all over Mesopotamia. The wor ship of the ibis is referred by ancient writers to his predilection for eating snakes. Cicero ("De Nat. Deoruni") says these birds saved Egypt from the plague, the stench of the snaaes when dead being pro verbially as destructive as their bite when alive; and Dr. Gottwald, in his description of the plague which broke out at Dantzic in 1709, lays stress on the fact that before its eruption the place had been infected with an incredible number of spiders. The plague of Astrachan has not been without a characteristic which has ap parently distinguished all outbreaks of the disease at all times. It lay asleep during the colder weather, waking up again under the influence of a warmer and damper temperature. The seeds of the plague are not destroyed by a frost, but only rendered inactive for a time Thus, in the plague which struck Genoa in 1656, during the first summer 10,000 died of it; the follow ing winter hardly any at all; but in the summer which ensued GO,OOO deaths oc curred. In the same way, whiit we call the Great plague appeared in London at the latter end of 1664, and was stopped during the winter by a hard frost of nearly three months' continuance, but broke out with full power the following spring. The ancients never doubted that the plague was an African fever, bred in Up perEthiopa. From thence Thucydides and Procopius traced the plague of Athens and Constantinople, and though some modern writers have named Poland and Turkey as the two separate and distinct cradles of its birth, the best authorities were of the opinion that this was not going far enough to look fur it; and the great plague of Marseilles of 1722 was confi dently set down by Mr. Mead as having traveled by the generally received route. In those days there was little chance of the plague coming into Europe by way of the Caspian Sea. After Egypt, Turkey was the most likely conduit for its introduction to the West; and the plague of London, which came to us from Holland, is said to have been imported in bales of cotton into that country from the Levant. This ar tide of merchandise, possessineas it does a peculiar aptitude for retaining as well as catching the seeds of any infection, has been always considered a most active breeder of the plague. In former days there used to be such an apprehension of the disease being conveyed to Italy from Alexandria or Syria that in Genoa, Leg horn, Naples and other Italian ports, searchers were appointed whose business it was to rip open the bales of cotton as they arrived, and by thrusting their arms through them, admit the healthy ihfluence of the air at every part of the goods. This brings us to the much disputed question of contagion. Formerly there was no such unanimity about it as happily now exists. Hippocrates, it is true, is said to have combated the theory that the plague came by a special visitation of Providence, and could only be met by sacrifices and lustrations ; but so well informed a writer as Procopius inclined to the opinion that it was not a contagious disorder, basing his reasons principally on the observation he made of the immunity the Byzaniine physicians enjoyed during the plague in his time. Its appearance has been attrib uted by many writers, ancient and modern, to a peculiar disposition of the air ; it was customary in very recent time to fire guns to disperse the poisonous atmosphere; and so obstinate have been the adherents of this incredible theory that no evidence whatever has been able to satisfy them. Thus in the last plague of Marseilles a man w s seized with it and died, after burying a young woman to whom he was attached, when no one else dared approach the bcdy. Dr. Chicoynes, cne of the city physicians. attributed his death not to the plague at all, but to his grief at the loss of his sweet heart About the same time a medical man addressed a treatise to Sir Hans Sloan. the President of the College of Physicians. maintaining that neither goods or persons are capable of communicating the plague; that therefore lines and quarantiaes are not only useless but pernicious ; that the works of Mr. Lily, the astrologer, are the safest guides in a difficulty of this kind Yet the evidence that could be produced even then of the contagious nature of the disorder was almost overwhelming. Boc caccio relates that in the Florence plague of 1848 he saw two hogs, which had found in the streets the rags which had been thrown out from off a poor man dead of the plague, after snuffing at them and tearing at them with their teeth, fall into convulsions and die in less than an hour. That the plague of Marseilles was import ed in merchandise secais pretty evident, for the first person to take this disorder was one of the crew who brought the goods from the Levant, and the next those who examined them at quarantine. Dr. Mead relates that the plague of 1665 was conveyed from London to Eham, in Dell y shire, by means of a box sent to a tailor in that village containing materials be longing to his trade. A servant who open ed the box complaining that the goods were damp, was ordered to dry them at the fire; but in so doing was seized with the plague and died. The same miafor tune happened to the rest of the family, and to two hundred or three hundred per sons in the village. In the plague at Genoa one fur garment was deadly in its effects to no fewer than twenty five different per sons who in turn pr,ssessed it; and infected goods, after having been packed away for many years. have been known when dis tributed to spread contagion The direc tions issued by the College of Physicians and the Lord Mayor and Aldermen in 1665 to prevent contagion was very strin -gent. As soon as any house was found to be infected, it was ordered to be kept shut, with a large red cross painted on it, with the words : "Lord have mercy upon us !" Watchmen attend day and night to prevent any one going out or coming in. save physicians, searchers, nurses, etc.; and this continued at least a month after the family were either dead or recovered. They commonly died, of course Accord ing to these inhuman rules, the illness of one person involved his whole household in destruction; and this shutting up of houses and immuring whole families alive was compared to the old Roman way of putting peccant vestals into a vault with a candle and some slet.der provisions, and so leaving them to perish at their leisure, in the plague of Rome in 1656 7 Cardinal Gastald adopted precautions more effect ive against the spread of the disease and at the same time of a more merciful char aJter. The sick he caused to be removed I to a lazaretto on an island in the Tiber, while those who had not sickened in the same house were conveyed to asylums out side the city. To ward off infections, the Arabians, who bad much experience of the plague, advised keeping houses as cool as possible by strewing them with couling herbs, vi dets, water lill'es. &c., and fre quentiy sprinkling vinegar and water. They also enjoined the eating of acid fruits, such as pomegranates and oranges. The Starry Heavens. SOMETHING ABOUT THE PLANETS IN FEB- RUARY, The astronomer of the Providence Jour nal writes : "Venus, the queen of the stars, will be the most interesting planet for observation during the month. She was in superior conjunction with the sun on the sth of last December, when she passed to his 'eastern side, and commenced her role" as evening star. She has been too near him ever since. to be easily visible, but is now far enough distant to be detected in the twilight, half an hour after sunset. The planet must be looked for a little to the north of the point where the sun went down, and as her distance from the great luminary is increasing, and the time of her setting is later every evening, she will soon become the distinguishing feature of the early evening sky, darting from - the midst of the twiligh glow, and increasing in beauty till she sinks beneath the horizon. She sets new about half past six, a little more than an hour after sunset; at the end of the moral she will not set until about half past seven. There is better opportunity is her whole course to follow the erratic movement, mysterious to ancient astrono tilers, but simple and comprehensible, even to the unscientific mind, under the .teach ings of modern science. To an observer on the earth, the nearer the planet* seem to oscilate in straight lines on eacleside of the suo Venus is now passing through this phase on his eastern side, constantly receding from him, until the 16th OfJuly, when she reaches her greatest eastern elongation. She will then approach the sun, increasing in brightness, until the 23d of September, when at her inferior conjunction, she passes between the earth and sun, closes her role of evening star, and reappears on his western side in 'lnc time to become visible as morning star, ,ind repeat the process in reversed order. Any observer of this planet can keep the run of her movements, and, with a little help from an astronomical text book, learn to comprehend the laws that guide her course, as well as admire her transcendent beauty. —Japiter . comes into superior conjunc tion with the sun on the 8 h ofthe month. He then rises and sets with the sun, and, passing to his western side, becomes morn iag star. He 16 too near to the sun to be visible during the month. Admirers of star lit beauty will miss the planet that has lent a brilliant lustre to the evening sky since last July. He is now at his least size and greatest distance. "Saturn is evening star, and is easily recognized though diminishing in size as he goes farther from us, and approaches his superior conjunction lie sets now at nine, and at the end of the month will set at half past seven. '.Mercury is morning star, speeding his way from his western elongation to his su perior conjunction. Even the brightest eye will fail to catch a glimpse of him du ring the month. On the morning of the 19th, mercury, Jupiter and the slender cresent of the waning moon will be near together, but the vicinity of the sun will conceal the celestial phenomenon from the view of terrestial observers. "Crams is evening star and better situ ated for observation than any other planet during the month, for he comes into op• position with the sun on the 20th and rises nearly as the sun sets. It is a tiny star on account of its immense distance, but may be found on a clear, moonless night near the star Rho Leonis A small tele scope will reveal a disc of a light, greenish color, and prove that the object is a planet and not a star Uranus is the smallest of the four great planets that revolve in what is considered at present the outmcst por tion of the solar system, his volume being only seventy-two times that of the earth. Though he is at his nearest point, he is more than seventeen hundred millions of miles distant, and yet the human eye is so delicately constituted that the waves of light bridge over this vastspace and plain ly- reveal the planet to the unaided vision. "The February moon fulls on the 6th, and the new moon on the 20th exhibits on the evening sky of the 22d one of the most charming pictures in her repertcire. It is the conjunction of the two days old crescent with Venus. the brilliant evening star. Every one can behold the phenom enon, if the weather is propitious. No one who commands a view of the portion of western sky where the sun went below the horizon, will then need directions for find ing the planet, and no one can look upon the surpassing loveliness of the pale cres cent and beaming star without being deeply and reverently impressed with the exceed ing beauty of the celestial picture." The Dead Sea. A question of great interest is, why the Dead Sea, in receiving the constant flow of water from the Jordan. does not rise and cover its whole valley, even up to the foot of the Hermon ? The usual answer is, that the evaporation is equal to the in flux. To me it is hardly creditable that a surface of less than sixteen miles square, if kept at the boiling degree, could con• vert all the water flowing in from the Jor dan and other rivers into vapor. The Dead Sea is very deep—at some points nearly 1,300 feet—and it is strongly sus pected that there are fissures, that have not been fathomed, that may even connect with the sea south or west. But if this were so, it is said that the water must stand at the level of connecting seas. The answer is that the water of the Dead Sea, surrounded as it is by vast beds of salt and other soluble matter, is nearly one-fifth heavier than the salt water of other seas ; and, as it flows always toward these seas, and never receives from them nor mixes with their water in its own bed, the ele vation of each must be conversely, as are their specific gravities. One difficulty in the way of accounting for the preservation of the Dead Sea, at the mouth of the Jor dan, is that the influx of water is greatest when evaporation, in winter is least. Though a rise of the Dead Sea occurs in winter, it does- not seem sufficient to ac count for the increase of water. If there is an outlet, and it rises at any point up to the level of the surface of' the sea, the rise of the sea would be limited, as are the wa• tis of any river above its falls This lim itation is as reasonable as if the waters of the Dead Sea came to the surface. again after passing adjacent mountains, provided there was, though there ie not, land as low as the sea The dean sea came into ex istence, as is believed, by volcanic aotion, by an eruption of fire from the bowels of the earth. Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, it is said in the Scripture, "by a rain of fire and brimstone from the Lord out of heaven." The fiery vapor of' brim stone, salt and other substances, so abund ant still even at the surface, were first shot up in the heavens, and then fell upon the devoted cities. As I visited Pompeii Hereculaneum and their excavations, I had no hesitation in receiving the prevail ing theory of their destruction. Herecula neon] was submerged by a flow of hot lava rolling down the side of Vesuvius, while Pompeii was covered by a rain of red hot pumice stone. God rained it on the wicked city from heaven ; but it first shot up high from the seething cauldron of Vesuvius, and as soon as the wind carried it outside of the fiery force that sent it upward, it began to cool, condense and fall, and Pompeii was soon buried out of sight, in a grave of fire. It is not necessary, in order to believe that fire and brimstone rained from heaven, to believe that God made these elements of destruction out of nothing, away up in heaven above, for this would not even be true if the destruc tion had been by electricity or a showier of fiery meteors. It was not a miracle, in the sense that Jesus turned water into wine at Cana, but an extraordinary provi dential control of the workings of Nature, and a special coincidence, by which phys• ical laws were used for the punishment of the wicked at the time when the cup of their iniquities was full. Such special prov ider-A:es are equally wonderful, whether in suspension or contrel and direction of the laws of Nature. Wages and Cost of Living. A table of wages and the cost of living, with the price of staple articles of com merce, going back as far as the year 1200, has been published lately. It shows that wages during the thirteenth century were about fifty cents a week. In the next cen• tury they advanced some fifteen cents, and cuntinued to advance slowly until, in the last century, they had reached $1.87. The average for farm labor at present is 13 80 per week. Wheat in the thirteenth cen• tury averaged 74 cents, or eight and a half da3s' labor, a bushel. Now wheat is worth, wholesale, about $1.46 a bushel, or two and a half days' labor. In six centuries meat has nearly trebled in price; but wages have increased more than seven fold. Thus it will be perceived that•the improvement in pay for labor, while it may better the laborer's condition, does not tend to increase his contentment. Sub sistence is surely easier than of old, though the laborer is nut satisfied to live as his an cesters lived. It is with him as it is with all of us—his desires have augmented more rapidly than the means. to gratify them. Our wants are innumerable, and, to a large extent, artificial. Luxuries, as they were once considered, have grown to be necessi ties We think sometimes that we cannot dispense with necessities, but luxuries are essential not only to our contentment, but to any tolerable degree of well being. "SUPPOSE I should work myself up to the interrogation point ?" said a beau to his sweetheart. "I should respond with an exclamation !" was the reply. THE Western people say that lightning has never been known to strike a slated roof. MONEY is like the air you breathe ; if you have it not you die. SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL. NO. 7.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers