- _ VOL. 43. The Huntingdon Journal. Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street. TILL HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. Basil, at $2,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or $2.50 if not paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 13 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearages are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-HALF CENTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-RALP CENTS for the second and ME CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. 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Hand-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and everything in the Printing line will be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards Dli.. G. B. 110TCHKIN, 825 Washington Street, Hun tingdon. junel4-1878 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 services to the community. Office, N 0.523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. ijan4,'7l DR. HYSKILL has permanently located in Alexandria to practice hie profession. [jan.4 '7B-Iy. E.C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentiat. Office in Leieter's . building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. P. J. Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76. GB. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Law, 405 Penn Street, ki Huntingdon, Pa. [n0r17,'76 GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building, kJ • No. 520, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2:7l HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. O ffi ce, No. —, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl9,'7l JSYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, *3 • Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd street. [jan4,7l T W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim a./ . 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. Z3O Penn Street, oppo site Court House. Lfebs,'7l SE. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., . office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal business. [augs,74-6mos 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 suits 8 50 " diagonal (best) 14 00 Warranted all wool suits 10 00 up Youth's black suits 10 00 up Cassimere suits 6 50 Diagonal (best) 11 50 Boys' suits 4 50 up Brown and black overalls 50 Colored shirts • 35 up Fine white shirts 1 00 up. Good suspenders 18 up Best paper collars per box 15 A large assortment of hats 75 up Men's shoes 1 50 up Large Assortment of TRUNKS, VALI LISES and SATCHELS at PANIC PRICES. Trunks from $2 00 up Umbrellas from GO up Ties and Bows very low. Cigars and Tobacco very cheap. Be sure to call at S WOLF'S store No. 420 Penn Street, southeast corner of the Diamond. sepl'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 w ho 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 Patenteare 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 ents, and other valuable matter. We refer to the German-American National Bank, Washington, D. C. ; the Royal Sweedish, Norwegian, and Danish Legations, at Washington; Hon. Joseph Casey, late Chief Justice U. S. Court of Claims; to the Officials of the U. S. Patent Office, and to Senators and Members of Congress from every State. Address: LOUIS BAGGER .1; CO., Solicitors of Patents and Attorneys at Law, Le Droit Building, Washington, D. C. [apr26 '7B-tf fg.ll MANHOOD: HOW LOST, HOW RESTORED! Just published, a new edition of DR. CULTERWELL'S CELEBRATED ESSAY on the radicalcure (without med icine) of SPEnmsToitsum.t 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 or sexual extravagance, Ac. Aril- 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 himself cheavly, privately and radically. ItAt... This Lecture should be in the bands 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., X. Y; Post Office Box, 4586. July 19-9rnos. CHILDREN TO INDENTURE. A number of children are in the Alms House who will be Indentured to suitable parties upon application to the Directors. There are boys and girls from two to eleven years of age. Call upon or address, The Directors of the Poor of Hunting don county, at Shirleysburg. ' [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 He than at say thing else. Capital Hot required ; we will start you $l2 per day at home made by the industrious. Men women, buys and girls wanted everywhere to work for us. Now is the time. Costly outfit and terms free. Address TRU' & CO., Augusta, Maine. [aprs '7B-ly W3I. P. & R. A. ORBISON, ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW, No. 221 Penn Street, HUNTINGDON, PA. kina.of legal business promptly at tended to. Sept.l3,'7B. BOS , business you can engage in. $5 to $2O per day TA a e , i l r e o bz n an l L a w li o t r i k es e . r p e a t rt e i i c t u h l e a r ri se: n , d r s itt pl i eis i worth $5 free. Improve your spare time at this business. Address STINSAJN & Co., Portland, Maine. aprs '7B-ly COLORED PRINTING DONE AT the Journal Office at Philadelphia prioee. -...11. , .-. . -- • ri", "1 : : . -.6-.. , ,r- ....... • . ..:_i„,.., . ...., •-• "' 0 .. . ii... :.:. . ~...,- , ~. 4 ..:, it: . tit. - I . $. .: -- a Gli 1 . -t. ..-.., s, . ' t ,314, 'lg i 4 -t : ' r: - I " -7 ; i r i5- ` v al. ._, , ~... ". i.`.: C. 7 ' z , ir V 4_ 3 !:. ' , 4 • 4:4 - i A. ~ . / 1 : 1 ..,. ~ -, - It 4. 1 . , leq ••-,.. - : -. ...t. ai, Printing The Huntingdon Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, -I N THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, No. 212, FIFTH STREET, HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, TERMS : $2.00 per annum, in advance; $2.50 within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .0 00000000 PROGRESSIVE O v REPUBLICAN PAPER. 0 ,_, 0 0 00000000 SUBSCRIBZ. 00000000 0 0 0 o 0 0 0 0 ;gum; TO ADVERTISERS : i Circulation 1800. FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING MEDIUM 5000 READERS WEEKLY. The JOURNAL is one of the best a printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the county. It finds its way into 1800 homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus making it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return }or their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order, ggggggg JOB DEPARTMENT C o co co • CS cr CD n. 1:$ CD r:r o Co cD t=l"' _co Se 0 .-t PT 4 PRI Stir All letters should be addressed to J. A. NASII, Huntingdon, Pa. Rinscs' *turr. For the JOURNAL.] The Midnight Cry Aroused from sleep and pleasant dreaming, Such unearthly, horrid screaming, Full of anguish, full of meaning, Never heard before. For a match I then was feeling ; Up my hack a chill was stealing, And I think my head was reeling, When it met the floor. tip I jumped and raised the window, There was nothing nigh to hinder, In my hand a chunk of cinder, Peering out of doors. There I spied the dark int-nder, Who had cried both blood and murder, Growling like domestic thunder, Now, old chap, I guess I've found you, I will neither kill or drown you, But I will come down and pound you, Till your back is sore. Down I went into the kitchen, With the full intent to switch him, Then he fell with nervous twitching, Oh, poor Tom, your fight ie ov,r, You will never roll in clover, And I fear will not recover— Only this and nothing more. ALEXANDRIA., PA. SCAT Zc orp-Etlier. 'OOOOOOOO Miriam Leslie was listening to a word of advice from her stepfather, Mr. Palmer. She was a very beautiful woman of two and twenty, with a face that was a rare combination of sweetness and strength. Just now the resolute mouth and expres sion of the brown eyes showed that firm ness in her character predominated, though no look of temper marred her amiability. "•I have no power over your movements, Miriam." said the old gentleman, kindly. "You are of age, and the wealth you in herited from your father is entirely under your own control, but I am afraid you are committing a great error if you accept Wilton Seymour's offer. lam afraid he is a man to marry for money." "Why ? I pass over the implied slight to my attractions, but tell me why you think Mr. Seymour marries me for money alone." "I don't know that I mean that exactly. I know that you arc young, beautiful and talented, but I think if you had been poor, you would not have had this offer." "Again I ask what makes you think so?" `•Wilton Seymour is one of that unfortu nate class—a young man who has lived upon expectations. Ile has been educated and supported by an eccentric uncle, who was supposed to be enormously wealthy Wilton has lived in complete idleness, pass ing through college with average credit, and since that, moving in society, received everywhere as the heir of his uncle's money, who, when he died, left it—much less than was supposed—to a hospital. Wilton ac cepted the situation gracefully enough, ap plied for a situation as clerk in the whole sale house of Myers & Co., and—courted an heiress." "You are bitter. I believe Wilton Sey• mour to be an honorable, upright man, who loves me, who is trying to earn a sup port for himself, and who does not look uron my money either as a stimulus to his affection or an impedient in the way of it." "I see you are determined to marry him. Well, I will see that your money is settled upon yourself!' "I love my future husband too well to offer him insult. My money will purchase him a junior partnership with Myers & Co." "He has told you so." _ _ _ "No. Mr. Myers informed me that he could be admitted into the firm if he bad a capital of ten thousand pounds only a small portion of my mcney. The remainder may remain where it is, subject to Wilton's check and control." "This is sheer insanity. I never heard of such folly." Miriam's face grew very sweet as a look came into her soft brown eyes of devotion and trust. "If I am willing to trust myself, my whole future happiness in Wilton's hands, my money is of little consequence. If be cannot win my confidence sufficiently to control my fortune, do you think be can win my love—myself ?" Mr. Palmer moved uneasily in his chair. "I wish you would listen to reason-1 am truly speaking for your own good," he replied. '•I know that. After nine years of such love as my own father would have given me had he lived, after seeing your severe grief for my mother's death, your affection for my little stepsisters—your own children —never surpassing that showed to me, do you think that I do not appreciate your motives ? I thank you from my heart for your advice; but my whole future happi ness is involved in this decision, and I be lieve I am deciding to secure it." "I sincerely hope so. If in the future you find I was right, remember I claim a father's right to comfort you, a father's right to receive you." Too much moved by the old man's sol emu tone to reply in words, Miriam pressed her lips upon the kind eyes that looked in to her own. U, "There, my dear," lie said gently. "I have spoken as I felt it my duty to speak. Now we will write to Mr. Seymour, who will become my son when he becomes your husband. Get your finery all ready, and we will have a happy wedding. May God bless you, Miriam." Two hours later Wilton Seymour came to put the engagement ring on Miriam's finger, to thank her for his promised hap piness. Looking at this man, as he held the hand soon to be his own, no one could doubt his love for the fair one who stood before him. They had spoken of many subjects when he said, suddenly : "Mr Palmer has told me of your gener ous wishes, Miriam, with regard to money I cannot consent to this. In time, I may prove how entirely I disregarded wealth when my offer was made to you. It is true we must have waited longer before I could offer you a home, but I will win my way to fortune yet." He lifted his young, noble head as be spoke, tossing the dark curls from such a frank, manly face, so full of brave, bright resolutions, that Miriam wondered in her heart how any one could look into his eyes and suspect him of mercenary designs. She said nothing in answer to his im petuous speech, only smiled and nestled her hand in his. She was not a caressing wo man—rather coy in her sweet maiden dignity; but when she gave love and con fidence, she gave them fully and freely. The days of betrothal sped rapidly. Du ring the day Wilton stood at his desk,finger ing over massive ledgers and dreaming of t: C: , .-i Cl. CD .1 DO .-1 - 0 OQ , -I P 8 M_ Q e" Q PECIAL' On the cellar door. On the kitchen floor. MONEY. HUNTINGDON, PAD, FRIDAY MARCH 14, 1879. futue happiness, and Miriam selected her house, furnished it, and kept dressmakers, seanistresscs and milliners busy. She bad no objection to her stepfather's wish to have lic , uso and furniture Fettl hor self; but was resolute about the remainder of her large fbrtuue beiocr. Fuhjoet to the control of her future husband. Busy days were followed by hippy eve nines. The young people were favorites in society, and friends would insist upon social festivities to celebrate the betrothal. The quiet home evenings were pleasant beyond these, when two loving hearts learned to read each other ; while Wilton loved more deeply every day, as worth and manliness his made her future look brighter every day. But the days of betrothal were short. A gay wedding, a happy tour and the young people come home to settle in the handsome new house as quiet married folks. Two years of happiness followed—Wil ton was rapidly rising in the esteem of business men—having purchased his posi tion as junior partner in the firm of Myers & Co., at Miriam's earnest request But, although attentive to his business, he was no mere drudge seeking money as the only end and aim of his life. Miriam found him ever a willing escort to party, bail or opera ; and the home eve niLgs were given to music, or reading, or such bright intellectual intercourse as had its power of mutual attraction before their marriage. There were sage people who shook their heads over the young wife's extravagance; but Wilton seemed most happy when she was gratifying some new whim or desire, and she had never known the need of economy. Money had always been at her command, and there was no restraint upon her expenditures. For fine dress she cared but little, though she was tasteful, and her costumes were always rich and appropriate; but she was generous and benevolent, loved to collect trifles of exquisite art around her, patronizing rising artists, and found no difficulty in exhausting her liberal income year after year. It was during the third year of her mar tied life Miriam began to find a cloud upon the firmer bright happiness of her life. Wilton was changed. In these three words the loving heart of the young wife summed up all her forebodings. Ile had been the sunlight of her life, loving, tender and thoughtful; but it became evident to her that some absorbing interest was gradually winning him more and more from her side. Evening after evening he left her, on one pretext or another, oftentimes staying away from her until long after midnight. His sleep became restless and broken, and some absorbing care kept his face pale, his eyes clouded, his manner grave. There was no unkindness to complain of. Miriam met even a tender caress, a loving word ; but she went alone if she sought society; she missed the pleasant home intercourse ; and a strange, dull fear crept into her heart. Wilton was becoming mis-rly He denied her nothing, but sometimes would sigh heavily if she challenged his admiration for some new dress or ornament, and it was evident he curtailed his personal expenses to merest necessities. Too proud to complain, Miriam, suffering silently, prayed that she might never Yearn to de spise her husband as a mere money making machine. At first she endeavored to win his confidence, but he kindly evaded her inquiries, and she made no further efforts. But her home grew distasteful, missing the companionship that had made the hours there pass so swiftly. She bad never felt household cares, trusting everything to an experienced housekeeper. She had no children to awaken mother love and care, so she plunged into fashionable follies and tried to forget her loneliness. Never had her toilet been chosen with more faultless taste ; never had her beauty been more marked than it now became; and she sought for excitement as she never had done in the first happy years of her soar tied life. And while Mrs. Seymour was thus seek ing, for happiness abroad that could not be found at home, her husband's face grew paler and thinner, and he became more ab sorbed in business cares. One year more passed, and the hearts that had been so firmly bound together seemed to be drift ing entirely apart. Miriam was sitting sadly in her drawing room one evening waiting for her carriage, which was to convey her to a large social gathering at a friend's. She was dressed in costly lace, over rich silks, and every detail or her costume was faultless in finish and of choicest quality. Her face was pale and her heart was very sad. She looked up as the door opened, ho . ping to see Wilton, though it was long since he had spent an evening in her society. Instead of his tall, graceful figure, the portly form of her stepfather entered the room. Miriam sprang forward with a glad smile. "I am glad to see you," she exclaimed warmly. "But you are going out." "Only to be rid of my loneliness and myself. I shall be happier here with you." `•Truly Miriam ? Will you treat me as your father to night ? I have c.inie here on a painful and delicate errand, and I want your confidence." She was silent for a moment, and then said, "You shall have it." "You love your husband, Miriam ?" Telrs answered him. "Do you love society, and dress, and ex citement better than you do Wilton ?" "No. No! A thousand times, no !" "Could you give up all thee fur his sake ?" "You have some motive fur asking this ?" "I have, indeed. I love your husband also, Miriam I have learned to respect him, to trust him, and I was wrong when you decided to trust your happiness in his hands " "But, father, sonic great change has come over Wilton. He seems absorbed in money-making." "One year ago your husband asked me to keep a secret from you, believing he was increasing your happiness by so doing. I consented, but I am convinced now that the deceit is wrong. He has assumed a burden that is too heavy for him to bear, and you are not happier than you were a year ago." "Happier !" cried Miriam impulsively, "I am wretched, wretched in losing my husband's society and confidence." "You shall not complain of that again. I am breaking my promise, but you will soon understand my meaning. A year ago the bank in which every guinea of your private fortune was invested failed, and everything was lost. This house, and the money Wilton paid to secure his business position, were all that was left of your father's wealth. Convinced that luxury, society and extravagance were necessary for your happiness, Wilton enjoined me to keep the fact a secret from you, and braced himself for a tussle with fortune, resolvA to regain by hip own exertion what was swept away by the fiiture, before you c;.otld discover the los , ' But, 31iriarn, 1t .is overtasking• his E t:„. ad you are ut coining a ;WIC censure en your ex travitr4nee. My s, erct has burdened me too lou r , and you must n,:w be the judge of the ri;zbt eoursc. to pursue.” Miriam was weeping, but the tears were not all hitter. She gave its full meed of gratitude to the love that would have shielded her from the knowledge of poverty and pain ; and yet she could scarcely for give the want of confidence in her own ability to bear the sacrifice that the Jeceit implies. It was long before she spoke, but when she did her eyes were bright and her voice clear and firm. "fhe house is mine ?" she asked. "Certainly. But it needs such a large ncome to sustain such an establishment." "Tell me, what style of house does Wi!- ton's income warrant ? I mean the in come he had two years ago." "A smaller house, dear—no carriage, no housekeeper, two servants, but certainly no footman in livery; no observatory—" "Stop, stop I I understand you. You will see, father, if I am made unhappy by your kind frankness. Wilton is in the library absorbed in business. Will you wait here while I speak to him ?" "I will come again," he said kindly. ' Good night, Miriam. Heaven grant that I m ly have judged your heart rightly." But Miriam did not seek her husband at once It seemed mockery to go to him with diamonds flashing from her rich dress; so she sought her own room, and putting aside her evening toilet, dressed herself plainly, but very carefully, and then kneeling down, she prayed with earnest fervor before she left the apartment. Wilton !" The harassed and weary man looked up. "Wilton, you should have trusted me. Give me your heart, your confidence, my dear husband." Ile bowed his head upon her outstretched hand 9. Cau you bear it, Miriam ?" "I can bear anything if you are beside me--if you love and trust tile. What I cannot bear is to believe my husband loves money better than his wife." 'Ni, no." "I understand that now. But there must be confidence between us. Wilton, I must be your true wife, bearing your sorrows and reverses." "My own brave darling " He was standing beside her now, and for tLe fir6t time in that long, weary year the old brig-ht look w.ts vu his lace, amid the old cleat ring in his voice. his arm was around her, and ahe leaned upon his breast. "Forgive me," he said, earnestly, "f'or :nor enurage—nevc r )our lo%e ; 31ifiam She idughed a merry. bright laugh. and then piayculiv el )..ed the desk She drew biL., a scat beside her, and sketched a burlesque picture of' their future home, with Mrs. Seymour, in a crimson dress, frying onions, while Mr. Seymour milked the cow in the garden. It is four years since Mr. Palmer broke his promise. A happier home, a more thrifty housekeeper, or prouder husband cannot be found, than in the pretty house of the Seymours, where love, confidence and happiness will not yield the first place to Money." eirct Piscrilang. The Plague. SOME EXPERIENCES FROM ONE WHO HAS BEEN AMON(IT IT-BEST METHOD OF CHECKING ITS PROGRESS-PROBABILI TIES OF ITS REACHING WESTERN EU ROPE. I was in Turkish Arabia, in May, 1874, when the rumor came to Baczdad that the plague bad broken out at Hillah, a vil lage on the Euphrates near the ruins of Bsbylon. I was then planning an excur sion in that dire: lion, but these indefinite reports did not deter me from starting on my expedition, though against the protest of some prudent friends among the Eng lish residents of whom I was the guest. A few days after, when I reached Ker bells, a sacred city of the Mahometans, containing the shrines of the two grand sons of the Prophet, and a great resort of Persian pilgrims, I found that the plague had reached that place and the inhabitants were in a state of panic. And then, to my horror, I was informed that the Pasha of Bagdad had suddenly DECLARED A QUARANTINE of the infected district, with strict orders to shoot any person who attempted to cross the line lest he might bring the dread disease to that city. I was inside the cordon sanitaire, and my native attend ants were in despair. There were no Eu ropeans nearer than Bagdad, and all com munication with that place had been cut off. How I escaped by a night ride across the desert I do not here propose to relate. Suffice it to say that I reached Bagdad in safety, and was received by my friends with open arms, almost as one rises from the dead. They had given me up. and were preparing to send by the next "drom edary mail" to Damascus. and thence to London, an "obituary" that might have brought grief to relatives in Cleveland. When I came afterward to realize my nar row escape I was not surprised at noticing a slight reserve of manner among the more timid, and that I was tabooed for a few days fer fear I had brought with me the seeds of the dreaded scourge. THE NAME SUGGESTIVE OF HORROR, The people of the West have no con ception of the horror which the very name of the plague suggests to Oriental nations. To us it is something indefinite, associated, perhaps with the "great fire" that devast. ated London 200 years ago. But to them it is an ever present reality. Nearly every year there are rumors of the breaking out of this terrible scourge in some parts of Arabia, Persia, or the southern ports of the Mediterranean. In the memory of many persons yet living in Turkish Arabia the horrors of 1831 are . yet vivid, when in a single month 50,000 people, nearly half the whole population, perished miser ably in Bagdad. I met while there a wealthy Italian, the only survivor of all his family during this visitation of the plague. His thrilling accounts of the in cidents that passed under his own eyes had a horrible fascination to me in view of the panic which I saw around me in coffee shops and bazars. EVERY HOUSE A CASTLE. In Oriental countries the houses of the better class are always built with solid out side wall round an interior courtyard, which supplies li.J,ht and ventilation to the ap4: t mnts. To this there is usually a single heavily barred gateway opening on the nar row street. In each of these dweings, at tile Cala of tile pestilence, were gathered the family and servants. No communica tion wns hail with the outside world, as complete isolation was their only hope while the Angel of Death was passing by. Each house was provisoned as for a siege, and those who escaped were indebted to the stringency of their nonintercourse. When by some accident the disease was introduced all medical treatment seemed ineffectual, and as one after another of the inmates perished their bodies were thrown at night over the walls into the street to be dragged away to the river. There were no solemn writes of burial. and all human affection seemed deadened in the struggle of each for his own life. THE BRITISH RESIDENCY was situated as now, surrounded by gardens, on the bank of the Tigris. The disease was introduced by a cat which had crawled over the walls and was fondled by one of the children. In six days, out of thirty one inmates, eighteen had perished, and the survivors saved themselves be embark ing on a boat and floating down the river to the Persian Gulf. In very many cases whole familes per ished, and their jewels and other valuables became the prey to robbers. My narrator did not tell me, but I heard from other persons. that the foundation of his wealth wa: laid at this time of general anarchy and lawlessness. In 1772 the plague was still more de structive of human life. At that time over 1,000,000 people perished in Arabia and Persia. Bassorah, then a flousishing city of 200,000 inhabitants, at the mouth of the Euphrates, was depopulated, and has never since that time attained one tenth of its former population. EXPERIENCE OF AN ENGLISH SURGEON Dr. Colville, an accomplished surgeon of the British army, who has been for twelve years stationed at Bagdad, and made this disease a special study, stated to me as the result of his experience that, with careful treatment about one-third the persons at tacked could be saved. The plague is not in Any sense an epidemic, like the cholera, but is strictly a contagious disease, even more so than the smallpox. Like the lat ter it is more virulent during the ccld weather than in the warm months. Squalor and filth, which are hot beds of cholera, stimulate the ravages of the plague only so far as they would increase the fatality of any othcr malignant disease. If once in troducei into a swept by tile pare air of the desert, it will be as fatal as in the slums of cities. It is a mistake to sup pose thrit till plague has its origin in the filthy habits of impure air which are sup posed to he characteristic of all Oriental toT,!s T; , e persona! habits of these peo ple art. 'IS a rule, ~ .leaely, aithanzh their cities are usually er - _ , wiled within walls, and sanitary regulations are rarely enfureed by their rulers. 110 W TO CHECK THE DISEASE. Complete isolation and the strictest non intercourse enforced by quarantine regu lations are the only preventives to its spread. If the Turkish Government is efficient in nothing else, it is stringent and uuyield ing in matters relating to quarantine. It would be more than his life is worth for a Pasha to yield to favor or bribery, and thereby permit cholera or plague to be in troduced into the province or city he gov erned. The populace would storm and raise his palace to the ground, as they once did in Bagdad. That portion of European Russia where the plague has appeared is situated in the lower valley of the Vulga, near the Caspian Sea. The infected dis trict covers but a small area, and the Gov ernment of Russia, now thoroughly aroui ed, is determined to stamp it out by en forcing a relentless system of isolation and non-intercourse. HOW A DESPOTIC GOVERNMENT CAN DO IT. It has given the most absolute authority to its officials to utterly destroy, if neces• eary, any town or village where it appears and remove the inhabitants to some spot where they can be quarantined until the danger is passed. I do not believe the dread scourge will spread to Western Europe, as the coming warm weather will check its progress, and a thoroughly despotic Gov ernment like that of Russia is best fitted to act in such an emergency. In Europe, too, the plague will receive such a scien tific medical treatment as will disarm it of half' the terror it has inspired in the East. It is not improbable that if once introdu ced into Russia its seeds may lie dormant during the summer, and be the source of frequent alarms hereafter. - THE WAY THEY DID TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO The evil demon of pestilence cannot in this age of scientific investigation be ex ercised by 'book and candle" or interposi tion of the Saints. More than two hun dred years ago the inhabitants of the little village of Oberammergan, in the heart of the Bavarian Tyrol, vowed by the 'Passion Play" should be performed by them yearly for all time to come if the Saints would avert this scourge, which was then sweep ing through Germany. To the credit of their piety it is recorded that as they es taped the plague, they and their descend ants have religiously kept their vows. It is fair to presume, however, that to their isolated position among the mountains they were more indebted than to their prayers for exemption from the pestilence. AN IRISH SPECULATION.—A conple of Irishmen, thinking to combine pleasure with profit by doing a little unlicensed trafficking in liquor on the Derby Day, bought a small jar of whiskey and started for Epsom. Knowing they would want a drop themselves on the way, it was agreed that neither should drink without paying. They had not traveled far on the roaa when one drank a glass and paid his part ner threepence ; he followed suit, and handed the money back again. It was a dusty, toilsome journey, and upon reach• ing the Downs they were dumfounded by discovering the whiskey was all gone, and that, although they had honestly paid for every dram, they had only threepence be tween them as the final result of their speculation.— Chambers' Journal. REVENGE.—The best and about the only way to get even with a treacherous mule—and who ever saw any other—is to take his shoes off, lead him on to smooth ice and then blackguard him. fie dare not indulge his natural propensity, and the vexation of spirit exhibited in his intel ligent countenance is really interesting.— Binghamton Republican. The strength of a nation, especially Oa republican nation is in the intelligent and well ordered homes of the people. Methodism—No. 2. SKI.:TiIiES OF ITS EARLY HISTORY J. R. I'LANIGE.N From s' , e Philadelphia, Record.] Although it is historically stated that "Methodism was introduced into New York and Maryland in 1766. and gradually spread along the coast," it may, neverthe less, be fairly claimed that Philadelphia is the birthplace of American Methodism, ; and, considering the predominance of the Quaker element in our city in the olden time, the fact is one of just pride to cur very many etizens who are connected with that den,mination of Christians. It was here that the first "Annual Conference" was held, and here stands to-day the oldest. Methodist church edifice in America. Hare, also, the first "General Conference" was held, and, for many years, the "Quaker City" was the fountain from which flowed the streamlets which in after times grew to be swollen rivers of Gospel truth and vital Christianity. Thshop Simpson, in his "Encyclopedia of Methodism," says, "As early as 1767 Captain Webb held the first Methodist service in Philadelphia. Dr. Wrangle, a Swedish missionary, who had preached in Philadelphia. and who %%as acquainted with Mr. Wesley's writings, on leaving that city, had recommended his members to hear any of Mr. Wesley's preachers who might visit that city. Hence the way was prepared for Captain Webb's reception." The author adds : "In 1768 lie organi zed a class of seven members, * * * and during 1769 additions were made to the society." This "society," which constitu ted, as we think, the first organization of Methodism in America, met for some time in a sail loft on the edge of what was then Dock creek, near where is now the line of Front street. During this year, as is learned from the authority quoted, Messrs. Board man and Pilmoor arrived here as mission aries, sent out by Mr. Wesley, the former, after having preached here for awhile, go ing to New York. Mr. Pilmoor, who re mained here, wrote to Mr. Wesley that he had found here about "an hundred mem bers." Bishop Simpson, in his article on New York city, says, "The first Methodist so ciety in New York was founded in 1776" eight years later, as will be seen, than the date given for the sail-loft organization or society in Philadelphia, and seven years after Mr. Pilmoor had written to England that he had found here "an hundred mem bers " It is true that there had been s:une preaching in New York previous to the time fixed as the period for the foundation Lhe first society in that city, and there was certainly exhortation by Embury, and some preaching by Captain Webb as early as 1768 ; but the question of priority in this connection is not of sufficient import anee to warrant a discus-sic:li I.f it at great The mention of Captain Webb as a Methodist preacher will doubtless sound strangely to modern ears, but his appear ance in the pulpit, improvised in those days with a few hoards to protect the speaker's feet from moisture and the clouds fur a drapery, was but a repetition of his tory. Methodism originally was revolu tion, the condition from which orators, statesmen, preachers and generals grew out spontaneously. It was coeval with the political revolution out of which grew the nation which to day challenges the admir ation of the world, and it may not be doubted that its wonderful success, not only here, but in other lands, has been largely influenced by the baptism of Lib erty which it received during the years of its early life on this side of the Atlantic. Captin Webb was an English army offi cer, and had charge of the barracks at Al bany. lle was a man of good social posi tion, and of unstinted means, so that he was useful in more ways than through preaching. He is spoken of as a zealous, and, fur those times, a most effective preacher ; albeit, even then, some of the people objected to his style. He was, how ever, the sort of a man that was required for the work. Going forward, like a pion eer through the wilderness, he roused the people from their stupor, and prepared the way for those who were to follow him. The very early history of Methodism in our country seems involved in a good deal of obscurity, at least, until the period when there was an unquestioned "General Con ference" meeting. For some years after the earliest date mentioned, and, indeed, until after the war of' the revolution, the fortunes or progress of the new movement were of a varied and shifting nature. It is ever thus, however, with such an enter prise. In this case the advocates and ad herents of the new movement were too noisy for the staid Quakers, who fbrmed a considerable element in the city and State, and they were not sufficiently "respecta ble," or high-toned, for the other very con siderable and most wealthy class, connected with the Established Church. Bat revo lutions, be they moral or political, stop not to consider such questions Preaching was conducted at several places in the city during the earliest stages of the work, frequently in the open air, a policy which was adopted, doubtless, fur two reasons : first, the want of a build ing, and, second, the better opportunity there was to gather an outside audience of greater numbers The field which is now known as Franklin Square was used in those days for a race-course, and Pilmoor and others frequently held forth there to large numbers of the people, using the judges' stand for a rostrum. The old "Pot ter's Field," now Washington Square, wherein is deposited the bones of many thousand victims of the plague by which our brethren in the South have been so sorely stricken during the past summer, was also used as a preaching station, (iota bly by John King, to whom Mr. Pilmoor objected at first, because he had not suffi cient confidence in his fitness for the work. King persevered, however, in what he considered his mission, and it was not long before Mr. Pilmoor was glad to embrace him as a colaborer in the vineyard of the Lord. Mr. Pilmoor, like Mr. 'Wesley, came out of the Established Church, and it would seem as though a good deal of effort was needed to enable these gentlemen to overcome what we may. without offence, term their prejudice against "lay preach ers." The same thing occurred with Wes ley in England. On a certain occasion, while he was away from London visiting different localities, Thomas Maxfield be gun preaching. He was not among those authorised by Mr. W. fie was, in fact, a volunteer; and on hearing of his being thus engaged, Mr Wesley hastened his re turn to London, and was about to prohibit further preaching by Maxfield ; but his mother, in whose judgment he had great confidence, had heard him preach, and she remonstrated with her son, saying : "Be careful wuat you do with respect is that young man, for he is as surely called of God to preach as you are," and, she added. "examine what have been the fruits of his preacliine and hear him for yourself" Mr. Wesley followed the advice of his mother, and, being convinced, gave his approval. This was the first time, we think, that he had agreed to the employ ment of lay preachers in the work ; and thus was another link in the ecclesiastical chain that still held hini to the Establish ed Church broken, but we believe it is un derstood that, notwithstanding the promi nence of his position in the estalAshment of Methodism. he never severed his con nection with th^ CI -well of England. At times, and especially during the war of the revolution, and afterward when the city was visited by yellow fever, the prog ress of Methodism in our city was greatly retarded—so much so, indeed, as that at one time the name of Philadelphia failed to appear on the records of' the Conference, the work that was done being credited in the name of Pennsylvania; hut there was such a vitality about what we may prop erly term the "reformation," set on foot by Wesley and his co-workers in England, that it soon sprang forward again with a spirit and enthusiasm that is most wonder fully illustrated by the Centennial Status of 3lethndistn, 1,032,184 members were reported as in the communion, with 7,576 itinerant and 8,602 local preachers. The war itself must have proved, under any circumstances that was likely to exist, a great embarrassment to the progress of the work. The demoralization which is a natured result of war would necessarily be a cause of obstruction, but a more serious cause of trouble was that moat of the preachers were from England, and they failed to become impregnated with the spirit of Liberty by which the mass of the people were controlled. They seem to have been bound by a double tie ; fidelity to the "home Government" and a yet lingering affection for the Established English Church, and as soon as it was made mani fest that the'Colonies were determined to break away from the mother country, they, with inconsiderable exceptions, made pre paration for returning to England, which they did; and thus was the infant Church left for a time to drift in the maelstrom of confusion, with but few experienced hands or heads to guide it; Mr. Asbury, how ever, who was afterward invested with the rcbes of the Bishopric, stood firmly at. his post, guiding and directing with con sumate skill, and keeping the flock to vethcr as well rs possible under the cir cuu:`.t•in~e4. Tile office of Bishop was not established ire the MPthotlist denomination for several y:.ars after the organization of Conference. Iu 1773 Mr. Rankin reached Philadelphia, having been appointed by Mr. Wesley "General Superintendent" of the work in America, and this was the title of an exec utive rflicer until the growth and better establishment of the Church gave to it such importance and needs as suggested an office and power of great dignity. For a time Mr. Wesley was recognized as the bead of the Church in America, as well as in England. The General Conference of 1754 passed a resolution declaring that, "during the life of Rev. Mr. Wesley, we do recognize ourselves as his sons in the Gospel, ready in matters belonging to Church government to obey his com mands," but it was not long before the spirit of republicanism or democracy which was growing up among the people revolted at a control which, however kindly in de sign, was found to be impracticable, and three years later, at a Conference held in obedience to his direction, the resolution conferring upon him the supreme execu tive power was rescinded. It can scarcely be necessary to say that this latter action involved no disrespect to the originator of the Church. The same sort of incongruity that grew up between the Government and the Colonies, separated by an ocean, could not fail to follow an attempt to govern an American Church in England. Some thing approximating to success in such an enterprise might result in this age of steamships and cablegrams, when the ocean has been reduced to a ferry, with limits so circumscribed as that men speak with each other on either side; but in the early days of Methodism, when months were required to make a journey between the twp countries, such a governing power on the other side of the Atlantic must have proved simply destructive to the work in hand. The term of Superinten dent continued to be in use until the Con ference of ITB7. when that of Bishop was substituted. The three first Bishops of the American Church were Thomas Coke, Francis Asbury and Richard Whatcoat, and they were all from the British WeE leyan Conference. Bishops Coke and As bury were consecrated in 1784, and Bishop Whatcoat in 1800. [Original.] The Reason They Have No Work. An old patron of the JOURAL sends us the following brief dialogue, overheard between three or four men a few days ago. The reader can readily see the point aim ed at : "What are you doing now-a.days, Tom?' "Not much of anything." "Suppose you come and help me thrash?" "What do you give ?" "I'll give you 6 cents per day and board you." "Oh, there's too tnuoh work and too little pay ; I can't see the point." Another : "I have a job for you, John." "What ie it, chopping ?. how much du they cive?" -Thirty cents per cord." "eh, that's too s:ini ; it won't pay." "Well, do as you please. I am going, and I think it better than eating idle bread." One of the other sort 'Why, Jacob, I see you go regularly every morning to work. flow is it there are so many idle men and you alone have work ?" "Why, because they won't do it, and they are not worth a cuss. Nobody wants them. Now lam an old man, and have reared a large family of children, and I never was in need of bread or work. My boys and girls all have good places, and if I had more they would be wanted ; they were trained to work, and now that's what's the matter." As a colored resident of Detroit was breasting the storm, with a new umbrella over his head, be was halted by a friend and brother, who asked, "is dat your um brella ?" "Yes, eah—cost me 12," was the prompt reply. "Mr. Savage," said the other, very solemnly, "when a maw will buy a $2 umbrella to keep the wet of a fifty cent suit of clothes, what's de nee to talk about economy ?"— Detroit Free Press, NO. 11.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers