VOL. 43. The Huntingdon Journal. Ogee in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street TIIE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. NASH, at $2,00 per annum IN ADVANCE, or $2.50 if not paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and $3 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, sinless 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-lIA.LF CENTS per line for the first im,ertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CENTS fur the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly bm.insse advertisemeLts will be inserted at the following rats s : I 1 13m! 6m 19m Ilyr I I3m 1 6m I 9mllyr 1111153561 4 50i 5 501 8 00 V i coli 9 00118 00 527 $ 36 2‘• I 5 09 ; 8001000 12 00 Y. 2 c01118 00 36 00 50 65 3 " 17 00 , 10 00,14 00,18 00 % coli 34 00 50 DO 651 80 4 " , 8 00,14 00 ,20 00,18 00 1 col 36 00 60 00 80 1 100 All Resolutions of Associations, Communications: of limited or individual interest, all party announcements, and notices of Marriages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will be charged to the party having them inserted. Advertising Agents meet find their commission outside of these figures. All advertising accounts are due and 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, &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 W3l. P. & R. A. ORBISON, Attorneys-at-Law, No. 321 Ponn Street. Huntingdon, Pa. All kinds of legal business promptly attended to. 5ept..12,'78. TAR. G. B. 110TCHKIN, 825 Washington Street, Hun 1) tingdon. junel4-1878 CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street. 1/. 01Lee formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & Wil liamson. [apl2,'7l DR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office, No 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Dan4,7l DR. has permanently located in Alexandria to practice his profession. DanA E.C. C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's _LI. building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. .1 Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. LaP l2B . "i*p. GEO. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at-Law, 405 Penn Street, Iluntiugtiou, Pa. [u0v17,15 GL. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building, s No. b2O, Penn Street, Iluutingdon, Pa. [apl2:7l 11. C. Street,M AD MADDEN, t A i n t g to d rn o n ey p -a , t . - La w. Office, N a . 1 -- ) P i er n TSYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, e. Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. [jan4,7l T W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government fur back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Street. Danl,7l T S. GRIMING ER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, L . B. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Court House. Lfebb,'7l Q E. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., O. office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal bueine3s. [augs,74-6moe New Advertisements. ITITI\Trf G-I) S SaME DEALING CLOTHING HOUSE Is now prepared to SUIT its Patrons in GARMENTS 0 - tih - e - VERY LATEST STYLE And the BEST MAKE UP, at prices to suit the times. My stock of IIEADY - MOE =MVO FOR MEN, YOUTHS, BOYS AND CHILDREN IS FULL. Men's Suits for $4.00 up; Boys' Suits for $4.00 up ; And. Children's Suits for $2.00 up. 330E12' ffio CA 1--K. 3E-3E.AL'rri For MEN, YOUTHS, BOYS, and CHILDREN is large, and prices low. The best line of SHIRTS, ranging in price from 35 cents up. A large assortment of HALF-HOSE-5 pair for 23 cents, and up to 50 cents per pair. LINEN COLLARS, 2 for 25 cents. Suspenders, Shoulder Braces, and Handkerchiefs. Also, Trunks and Satchels, All bought at BOTTOM PRICES FOR CASH, A NI) AvrTAT, "3_o SCOLD CIIJEAP GENUINE PEARL SHIRT. A SPLENDID LINE OF SAMPLES FOR SUITINGS To be made to order, Measures taken and good Fits guaranteed, Don't Fail to Call and Examine my Goods and Prices before Purchasing, DON'T FORGET THE PLACE NEARLY OPPOSITE THE POSTOFFICE. T. W. MONTGOMERY. April 11, 1579 BROWN'S C RP ET STORE, 525 PENN STREET, JUST THE PLACE FOR HOUSEKEEPERS! FRESH STOCK ! NEW STYLES ! ! CA.,3R/PMTI I , ALL GRADES AND AT PRICES THAT CAN NOT BE UNDERSOLD FUR - NIT - UR IA:, The Largest Stock and variety of Chairs, Beds, Tables, Chamber Suits, Lounges, ROCKERS, MOULDINGS, BRACKETS, &e., ever exhibited in Huntingdon county. WALL PAPER ! WALL PAPER ! In this department I have made important changes : procured the latest improved trimmer, and my new styles and prices for 1879, can not fail to salt purchasers. Call and see. WINDOW SHADES and FIXTURES in great variety. Plain, satin and figured paper, plain or gilt band shading, spring and common fixtures. FLOOR OIL CLOTHS From 15 inches to 21 yards wide. Halle covered with one solid piece without joints. [Bring diagram and measurement.] For PICTURE FRAMES AND LOOKING CLASSES, This is headquarters. Mattresses, Window Cornice, and anything in the Cabinet or Upholstering line - or repaired promptly. UNDERTAKING _ _ Also added ;o the Filraitilre & Carpet BUMS, Plain Coffins, Elegant Caskets and Burial Cases, WOOD OR LIGHT METALIC TO SUIT ALL. BURIAL ROBES IN VARIETY. A FINE "'DA= GLASS AR SM Ready to attend funerals in town or country. My new clerk and traveling agent, FERDINAND Root', will call briefly in the principal towns, villages and valleys of this and adjoining counties, with samples of Wall Paper, Carpets, Carpet Chain, and illustrations of Chairs and many kinds of Furniture, to measure rooms, dtc , and receive orders for any goods in my line. If he should not reach you in time, do not wait, but come direct to the store. JAMES A. 525 1....EN1NT r-vT., March 21,1879. S. WOLF'S. At Gwin's Old Stand, 505 PENN STREET. Not much on the blow, but always ready for work The largest and finest line of Clothing, Hats and Caps, In town and at great sacrifice. Winter Goods 20 PER CENT, UNDER COST, Call and be convinced at S. WOLF'S, 505 Penn 6t. RENT AND EXPENSES REDUCED, At S. WOLF'S. lam better able to sell Clothing, Hats and Caps, Gents.' Furnishing Goods, Trunks and Valises, CHEAPER than any other store in town. Call at Gwin's old stand. S. MARCH, Agt. MONEY SAVED IS MONEY EARNED The Cheapest Place in Huntingdon to buy Cloth ing, Hats, Caps, and Gents.' Furnishing Goods is at S. `WOLF'S, 503 Penn street, one door west from Express Office. S. 111AhCH, Agent. TO THE PUBLIC.—I have removed my Cloth ing and Gents.' Furnishing Goods store to D. P. Gwin's old stand. ---- 9,...Expenses reduced and better bargains than ever can be got at S. Wolf's 505 Penn Street. March 28, 1879. BEAUTIFY YOUR HOME! The undersigned is prepared to do all kinds of HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTING, Calcimining, Glazing, Paper Hanging, and any and all work belonging to the husinus. Having had several years' experien , e, he guaran tees satisfaction to thoeo who way employ him. PRICES MOLO]EIEtA_TIE. Orders may be left at the JOURNAL Book Store JOHN L. ROTI LAND. March 14th. 1879-tf. The only place in town where you can get the •,.., 171 s; _,.!.> ...`,.. ~. . • -:-... '• -;Zt. ,-- Q A -- , i , ~,,,;:,34 • -1 '..1 S7a 1 ~, :•...7 i - - ; A A_ . !,,,,, 1 L 4 . `s: , • ".• -,f , -.4 4. • ~ ) New Advertisements HERE WE ARE ! -A ND GENTS.' FURNISHING GOODS, New Advertisements, BROWN, (4c Alusts' )10batr. This common field, this little brook— What is there hidden in these two, That I so often on them look, Oftener than on the heavens blue ! No beauty lies upon the field; Small music duth the river yield, And yet I look, and look *wain, With something of a pleasant pain. 'Tis thirty—can't be thirty years. Since last I stood upon this plank, Which o'er the brook its figure rears, And watched the pebbles as they sank ! How white the stream ! I still remetnhef It' margin glassed oy hoar December, And how the sun fell on the snow; Ah ! can it be so long ago ? It cometh back—so blithe, so bright, It hurries to my eager ken, As though but one short. Winter's night Had darkened o'er the world since then. It is the same clear dazzling scene— , Perhaps the grass is scarce as green; Perhaps the river's troubled voice Doth nut so plainly say—" Rejoice!" Yet Nature surely never ranges, Ne'er quits her gay and flowery crown ; Bat, ever joyful, merely changes The primrose for the thistle-down. 'Tis we, alone, who are waxing old, Look on her with an aspect cold, Dissolve her in our burning tears. Or clothe her in the mist of years ! Then, why should not grass be green ? Au - ,1 why should nottheriver's sung Be merry—as they both have been, When I was there an urchin strung ? Ah, true—too true ! I see the sun Through thirty Winter years hath rua, For grave eyes mirrored in the brook, Usurp the urchin's laughing look ! So be it! I have lost—and won ! For, once, the past was poor to me— The future dim; and though the sun died life and strength, and I was free. I felt not—knew no grateful pleasure ; All seemed but as the common measure ; But now—the experienced Spirit old, Turns all the leaden past to gold ! *toni-Etiltr. TODDLES. I felt like a young lady that morning. I was a lady, I thought after all; quite as much so as Mrs. Jones, who lived in the great cupola on the hill. Quite as much of a lady, I said to myself briskly, as I dusted up the little shop, and arranged the sheeny ribbons and gay striped goods in the window. The window was hung with pretty lace curtains, and there was a globe of gold fish in it that sailed abut tour teously and busily as though they were getting their living as head clerks. It was a sweet, soft autumn morning; the village street was grassy and quiet, and I hummed a tune as I glanced cheerily out at Toddles. flirting about in her scarlet ribbons under the old willow outside. Bless her little rosy face ! why shouldn't I be happy when I've her to look after. I was happy, and I hummed again that old snatch of a tune, and nodded gaily to Toddles. wondering vaguely to myself what was going to happen that I felt so uncom monly bright. Nothing—simply nothing; things were done happening me long since My way was straight and narrow, my days quiet and eventful. . As I sipped my coffee that morning I remember that I held the cup up to the light, and felt a certain sense of satisfac will in the translucence of the rare bit of China. It was pleasant to know that one's own election may keep one aloof from the ugliness and squalor of poverty. It doesn't take much to keep one per son, of course, and I don't count Toddles for anything. It needs but the odds and ends of things— a bowl of bread and milk, a cup of coffee, with now and then a live ly bit of ribbon—to keep the little one going famously. Yes, I always wanted to be a lady. And as I sat in my bright little room I half felt inclined to forgive Richard Gray the heartbreak he gave me long ago. And, 0 God ! It was a heart break But it' he had married we perhaps he would have shut me up in some gloomy city house, to be a lady after his fashion, to stifle for want of a bit of fresh air, to walk softly under a thousand petty conventionalities, and to cease being my own mistress. Ah ! that I never could endure. So it is, per haps, as well that Richard left me and went off somewhere—Gad knows where You see, I like it—my little shop. There's something so delightful in seeing the pretty girls of the village, with now and then a fine lady, hanging over any dainty wares, and trying the tints of scar let and blue and orange with many a laugh and many a glance in the mirror. I call it my reception when they pour in of a holiday afternoon. I love colors; love grace and beauty ; and perhaps I might have been an artist, in my way, if I'd ever had the opportunity. Richard used to say so. But ah ! he said many a flat tering thing and many a false, in those old days. And if I ever dreamed of any higher lire than contents me now—well, I've given up dreaming. For there's Toddles, so round and sweet and soft and real. She leaves me little time for building air castles You see, I love the child as if she were my very own. For she came to me one day about four years ago, a wee little baby thing, curled up in a heap on my door step when I went to open the shutters. Wherever she came from I never knew. Toddles never explained ; she j ust stretched up her little fat arms to me and gurgled “Todod doddle." and that was her sole in troduction 15791 It was surmised that the child had been dropped by some travelling circus passing through the- town, and I had excellent neighborly advice about putting the treas ure in the foundling hospital. But one seldom takes good advice, and I didn't. To tell the truth, I grew so attached to the child that I should even have beeii wicked enough, I fear, to regret any one's turning up to claim it. But that's not at all likely raw, after so many years—no, not at all likely; no more likely than that Richard and I should ever meet again in this world. And that —that is among the things that never can happen. It was on this wise our parting Richard's mother was old and feeble and miserly She'd spent a good deal of money on him—sent him to college, and expected, f,lks said, to "wake something of him." She always expected to get her money's worth out of her transactions. Richard held her in a sort of awe, somehow, though lie was a little wizened old woman that he could have lifted with his left Land. But I liked him for respecting his mother. One day we two were sitting at twilight talking of the future dreamily, as was our wont. "My little one," said Richard, putting his arm about me, ''it half seems too bright to ever be." "Ever be !" I echoed. "Oh Richard, if you talk that way it will never be." The Past BY BARRY CORNWALL HUNTINGDON, PA., FRIDAY APRIL 25, 1879. Richard smiled, bat his face grew over cast I felt that a storm was coming. "Well," I queried, seeing that he sat brooding and silent. "Darling," he said soothingly. "I knew it would come hardly to you ; but how can Igo against my mother. Her poor old heart is bound up in me, Jeanette, and she will never hear to—to anything that—" "That seems to lower you," I added in a steely voice, that seemed to cut its way out of my heart like a ke2n, c...)1d knife "Oh, I am a coward—a poitroln," cried Richard, wringing his hands "I was born to bring trouble on those I love. Who, who shall I leave to suffer for me now Jeanette ?" "The one who will ‘3y least about it r" I answered hardly. My heart was throb bing heavily, like a clock that ticks the hour of execution ; but I made no outcry, and we parted in that final parting., silently. And I have lived silently ever since. One year after that I heard that Rich ard's mother was dead, and then that be had married ; who I knew not—who I cared not. He had married another woman while my last words were yet ringing in his ears—right there befit-0 the face of the living Heaven, married another woman, and swore to love and cherish her, as he had often vowed to love ,and cherish me But I did not seem to feel this blow as I had felt our parting. I just flung him out of my heart there and then, and my love and my silence vanished. I looked into the face of my misery with a smile, and I took this little shop in the village, and worked early, and late, and made it thrive Then, two years later, came my little Toddles to me, sitting like a lily on my door step, as if some angel of peace had dropped her there. I have named her Theresa, but Toddles has always been her own pet name for het self, and I like it be cause it is hers. The child has brought we peace. And I feel no vengeance against any one now. Nor do I rejoice that Richard's wife is said to have turned out ill, and spent the wealth she brought him. But I had forgotten the shop in all this reverie and reminiscence. There was a sharp twang of the little bell, and I heard a heavy step in the door way. I sat down my coffee cup hastily, and hurried in to confront a great muscular fellow with a.big beard and slouched hat, whose presence seemed fairly to wipe out the little shop. This was a rather different type from my usual customers, and I was a little shy of him. lle hesitated, and seemed be wildered when I spoke to him—men never do get used to shopping—and it was some time before 1 quite made out what he wanted It was some sort of woolen goods —a scarf or a kerchief, I think. These were not very saleable stock just now, and I had put the box c intaining them out of sight somewhere . While I rummaged about, the stranger stood in the doorway, watching me in a way l did nut like; per haps he wanted to steal something. lie looked needy enough and shabby enough. .'Oh, here they are at last," said 1, eagerly, handing down the package from a high and dusty shell. The man did not seem to hear me. lie was looking at Toddles, darting about like a butterfly outside. "Whose child is that ?" said he abruptly. It was an impudent question, and I felt my blood flush up hotly for a moment. But I reflected that this man looked way worn and weary ; perhaps he had come a long journey, and left a child like that at home. "It is my child," I said, pleasantly. "Yours !" he repeated. "Or at least," said 1 . , "it' not mine, it was left with me to be cared for " "Left with you," echoed the stranger. "Ay, s , ) I have heard Left with you by the wretched man, the outcast, the de graded, who knew none else on whom to thrust his burden when his tinselled wife fell from the tight-rope, and died there, groveling in the sawdust—knew none other of whom to seek charity than the woman who had loved him " I listened as one stupefied with opium. What did this man know or guess concern ing me and mine ? What object had he in view in lingering about the shop ? But I said, coolly, "That is a story that needs to be proved." The stranger stooped and looked keenly at me. "Verily," said he, with a low, sar donic laugh, "be has reaped his reward, it seems ; he is both dead and forgotten." I began to feel afraid of this m in, who seemed bent upon insulting or alarming me. I pointed sternly to the door. "Sir," said I, "if you are satisfied with the goods, I beg you will take them away. I have other things to attend to." For a moment after the great hulking figure disappeared through the doorway of my little shop I covered my face with my hands, and all the past of my life rushed entirely over me. I had not outlived it after all. Suddenly I remembered Toddles, and hastened to the door to look after her My customer had disappeared ; the huge willow trunk hid the road from view, but I felt relieved, for there was my little one swinging back and forth with the long pendants of the willow. Only one instant I saw her in the sunlight—one instant There came a rushing, tearing, a terrible sound in the air, and a great bull, tossing his horns furiously, and with eyes glaring madly before him, came snorting and bel lowing up the street. The great willow was in his course, aud, 0, God ! my little Toddles ! Then I know not whether I fainted er whether I screamed for help. I saw a tall figure leap out from somewhere in the very pathway of the mad animal, and the next moment Toddles, half laughing, half cry ing, was nestling in my arms. The man whom I had sent from my door a few minutes since stood lo ►king on us yearnit.gly—the man who had snatched my darling from its terrible peril. "Both dead and forgotten," he said "Oh, Jeanette ! Jeanette ! do you not know we The rainbow ribbons in the little shop window spun dizzily round, and all things grew dim before my eyes For I knew that Richard Gray was come back to we Poor and degraded and deserted, perhaps, he had come back to me. lie lifted his hat, and, stooping, kissed the little one, who did not resist him "I brought you my motherless little one years agone. A beggar and a sinner though I was, I dared to pray your charity to my child, whom its mother, flying from her home, would have left to perish among the gew-gaws and clowns in whose cow pony she died. Yea, verily, my punish. ment has been bitter. And shall I leave yon now, Jeanette, you and my child and depart forever, bateful in your eyes for all years to come—hateful when not forgot ten 7" But something filled my heart just then, like the rush of a mighty river. I look ed back at my quiet life, my bright little shop, the years of silence and of sorrow. I felt Toddle's warm heart beating against mine He had saved her And I looked at Richard Gray, and put my hand in his . _ Sinc,! then I have tried what, it is to be a lady in the far West—a lady in a log cabin, without china, or carpet, or neck ribbons. and Richard says I have succeeded. select gtistellang. Methodism--No. 7. SKETCHES OF ITS EARLY HISTORY J. R. FLANIGEN Fro:n the Philadelphia Record.] The fourth church edifice, if such it might be termed, provided by the Meth odists of the olden time, was fur the color ed people, and was named ZOAR. The organization of this society and the construction of the little church building Billowed the difficulties which, as seen in previous paper, culminated in construction of Bethel as an independent establishment. and the organization, at a later period, of the African Methodist Episcopal church. The race question was thus early a disturb ing; element, but it was happily disposed of by the organization of the Zoar society or congregation, "the color line," however, being thereby more distinctly drawn. Up to this period the colored people and whites worshipped at St. George's and at Ebenezer, but the prejudice of race, sup plemeuted, as was very natural, by an oc casional assertion of rights claimed by the weaker and less intelligent membership, which were perhaps too frequently denied by the superior race, together with what was at the time considered the unfortunate breaking away of the Allen people, was notice to the Church that, if the despised race was to be saved through the influence and power of Methodism, a new line of policy must be adopted ; and it was during the year 1794, the year of the Allen exo dus, that a lot was purchased on the north side of Brown street, above Fourth, upon which was erected the first Zoar. It was a very modest and, indeed, rather uninvi ting affair, built of wood, and its single room, without adornment of any kind, was very much like a barn, but it served the purpose for which it was designated very well, and many an old slave, doubtless, in those rude times, there called upon God to "come right down now and bress dese chillens," and, in the exuberance of his faith, he would shout : "See de glory gate unbarred— Walk io, cle:rkies, past lie guard." It was supplied with preacher , from Saint George's. being connected with that "ellarge," as was Ebent'zer awl others that foliowea. until the policy of "stationed preachers" for the different city churches in the Conference was adopted During the year 1838 the old building yielded to the march of improvement and, being to ken down, a new structure was erected, which still occupies the same ground. At this period the congregation did not ex ceed about a hundred ; now the house is always full. The Zoar of to-day is a plain but neat edifice of brick, with peaked front, and high pitched roof, after the style of St. George's and the old Ebenezer. In a basement are class and Sunday school rooms, and to the auditorium are supple 'Dented galleries on three 13ittls, the whole giving' a seating capacity of about one thousand. Au organ commensurate to the capacity of the building stands at the south end and the whole establishment is extremely creditable to the colored people. When Zoar was first constructed it was what may be termed A FRONTIER STATION. At that period the northern limit of the built-up portion of the city was at about what is now Callowhill street, and then there was a tract of -commons," but north of this was a settled district, which was called "Camptown," from the fact that a part of the army had been encamped there during the war. This outside settlement extended east to the Delaware, where the ship and boat-building business was a spec cialty. The market houses that still stand on Second street, from Coates to Poplar street, were, for many years after the city had filled up to the north and west, known as the "Camptown markets," and the first church fur the colored people was also in Camptown. Zoar has served as the nu cleus for several other societies composed of the sons and daughters of Ham, all of which have remained in the connection until tile present tinia. These additions are John Wesley, Berian or North Penn, Frankford and Germantown. During 1863 and 1863, while the war fur the suppression of the rebellion was in progress, Rev. Adam Wallace was Presi ding Elder of the Snow Hill district of the Philadelphia Conference. There was be fore the war quite a large membership of slaves and free men and women of color existing in Maryland and Delaware and in the District of Columbia. There was also a very considerable rebel element in those States, especially in Maryland, albeit they were kept within the Union, and the negroes were subjected to great hardship and outrage by reason of their consistent loyalty to the Government and the Union, much of which was due to the teachings and testimony of Methodism. They were at times dispersed and driven away from their meeting and school houses, and on one occasion a number of their places of worship were burned. Mr. Wallace en dured many hardships with colored people during that trying period, and he was deeply impressed with the necessity for putting them in a more independent and self reliant position. There was a good many good talkers among the colored peo ple who worked as local preachers, but they could not be admitted into the Gm ference, and it may be that the white preachers were not always anxious to labor among the negroes. If' the rules of the Conference were changed so that colored men could be ad mitted and assigned to circuits it would be found that not one in a hundred, perhaps, was qualified for admission according to the requirements of the discipline, and yet they knew quite enough to instruct their own race and work as effective preachers. The war, with all its successes and re verses, its hardships and calamities, was breaking in upon the prejudice of race that had kept the black man down, and among loyal people there was a more gen eral disposition to give him a chance. The developments of the war brought new wants, better appreciations and higher as pirations, and they asked for a colored pastorate as tending to encourage their young men to study and preparation to enter the ministerial field. In the GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1564, which was held in this city, Mr. Wallace was a member of the "Committee on the state of the work among the people of color," of which Rev. J. McKendroe Reily was chairman, and influenced doubt less by the urgency of Mr. W., whose re cent experience was of such a nature as to enable him to press his views with great force, the committee made report to the Conference recommending the encourage went of "colored pastorates for colored people." They said : "If it be a principle patent to Christian enterprise that the mission field itEelf must produce the most effective missionaries, our colored local preachers are peculiarly important to us at t his time. With them properly marshall ed," they said, "what hindereth that we go down and possess the land ?" And they presented a preamble and series of resolutions, one of which provided for the organization of one or more "Mission Con ferences," where, in the judgment of the Bishops, the exigencies of the work may demand it. Methodism had been very sue cessful among the slave population of the South, and results of the war were forcing new duties on the Conference, which, if not promptly performed, would probably have caused an exodus to other relations. The report of the committee, after care ful consideration by the Conference, wds adopted and the resolutions attached to it were passed, and in pursuance of them two Mission Conferences of colored preachers were during that year organized----one en titled the Delaware Conference, with des ignated boundries, and the other, the Washington Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and Zoar and all the other preaching places for colored people in this city are now known to constituting in part the Philadelphia district of the Delaware Conference These two organ izations are composed exclusively of color ed men. The Conferences held annual sessions, one of the Bishops of the M E. Church presiding. They are thus wards of the General Conference of the M. E. Church, being, however, subject to the discipline, entirely independent, and thus a condition of things, which must eventu ally have grown into at least an awkward if not a troublesome situation, was happily, and, certainly, most beneficially disposed of, and the people for so long trodden down under the heel of a moral despotism or ostracized by the prejudice of race, send up anthems of praise to the God of their deliverance, exclaiming : "low Thou did'st raise this people, lift their horn, . . . And let them be no more the heathen's scorn." The colored people are extremely sus ceptible to religious instruction, and it may not be doubted that this measure will be productive of great good. There is just now an immense field for cultivation in the South, and if it were vigorously work ed by Methodist enterprise the result would be such as to startle the world As an illustration of the immediate effect of preaching and prayer among the slaves in the olden time, Bishop Asbury was wont to narrate an incident. He was travelling on horseback in the State of South Caro lina, and as he rode along he found a ne gro sitting on the bank of a stream fishing He was called "Punch," and the Bishop, then only a preacher, was well enough ac quainted in the neighborhood to know that the reputation of the fisher was not of the best. Saluting him, he said : ''Punch, do you ever pray ?'' "No, sir." Mr. Asbury got down from his horse, and tying him to a sapling, sat down beside the slave and commenced to speak kindly and earnestly to him on the subject of his soul's salva tion. lie told him of his sinful condition. the danger to him on account thereof', of the day of judgment and the condition of the wicked after death. He then pointed him to the goodness and mercy of God, and the all-sufficient merit of the atone ment. The ne;ro was greatly impressed, and Mr. Asbury sang a hymn and got Punch down on his knees and prayed with and for him, just as Asbury could pray, ana finding the man greatly affected, he encouraged him to pray and not stop until he felt his sins forgiven, and then left him. The preacher having resumed his horse and journey, Punch put up his fishing tackle and set out for his cabin. The spirit of grace had already entered his soul, and he was intensely awakened. Relating the circumstances afterward he said, "•I bin tink fo' I got home Punch he gone to hell." He followed the directions of his instruc tor, however, and ere long he found peace, and not many months later Punch was a preacher on the plantation with a follow ing of some two hundred slaves, who, through his influence and labors, bad been brought to a knowledge of salvation by the remission of sins through faith in Christ. Twenty five years after this oc currence here related Punch travelled seventy five miles on foot to Charleston, by permission of his master, to see Bishop Asbury who was filling an official appoint ment in that city. Having devoted this article thus far to a notice of the colored Methodists, it may be as well so to continue it to the end. A correspondent has called our attention to the fact, that Dr. Lednum, in his "Rise of Methodism,' states that Bishop Allen, the founder of Bethel Church and the Af rican Methodist Episcopal Connection, was ordained by Bishop White. of the Protestant Episcopal Church. We were aware of this statement by Dr. Lednum, but it is an error, that gentleman having probably been led into it by the fact, as stated in a previous number of these pa pers, that Rev. Absalom Junes, a priest of the same church. assisted at the ordina tion, Jones and Allen were together after the secession of the "Allenites" from St. George's and they voted together in favor of continuing as Methodists, but a very large number, nearly all, in fact, of those who had formerly worshipped at St. George's having voted in favor of the Episcopalians, Jones went with them and organized St. Thomas congregation, for which a church was built on Fifth street, below Walnut. It was by far the pleas enter connection at the time, promising much easier work and better facilities for organization and building. The Metbo dists at that period, whether white or black, were a poor people, and they doubt less realized frequently the stern truth of the quotation : "There'd an Alchemy Which changes tender impulse into nom The common people call it poverty." ABOUT THE SIZE OP IT.—The crown ing ambition of many a man's life is to be long to a secret society, and after lisening for many years to the constant iteration of one collocation of words, to die and be fol lowed to the grave by an awkward squad in black coats and white gloves two sizes too big. Notat gistm. THE OLD FOOT-PRINTS OF THE RECEDING RED lAN, AND THE WILY lANDIARKS OF THE COMING WIIITE MAN WITII SPECIAL REFERENCE TO The Juniata Region. BY PROF A. L. GUSS, OF IIL7NTINGDON, PA Ti'B good to muse on NationapasBed away Forever frona the land we call our own. ARTICLE 111. HOW THE INDIANS GOT HERE We shall not stop to waste time in in quiring how and when the ancestors of the Indians came to America. It is not con• elusively determined that they came at all. Until this is settled, it is useless to in quire the how or when. If the ancestors of the several Indian races were created here by the same Power, and at the same time, that the ancestors of the several races of people were in the old world, then it is folly to ask when and how they came. If all the different races of the world originally descended from one pair, located at first in Asia then the time of the coming of the ancestors of the Indians to America, is so extremely remote, and the data so com pletely lost, that it is folly to waste time in endless speculations as to how they got here. TILE OVER-RULING HAND The Power that could create man in Asia, could create him in America, if He saw proper to people America in that way. The Power that could create man any where, could with less might transfer him from Asia to America, if He saw proper to people America in that way. Whether we say, man came here naturally of his own accord, or by a special Providence, or by a miraculous intervention, it amounts to the same thing. The same Almighty Power is in all these ; and we can not tell how nor when he did things, the secrets of which he has seen fit thus far not to re veal to us. The developments of science may some day tell us more than we know, but in any case there must have been an over ruling band--the same Hand that guided and preserved Columbus. THINGS CERTAIN AND TIIINGS FOOLISH One thing is beyond dispute, the Indians are here. That they were here as far hack as our knowledge extends, is also cer tain. That races existed prior to our races of Indians, and numerously peopled the country and were superior to our races, is proven by their remains as especially found in the Ohio valley, in Mexico and in Peru. The facts that are known, or may be known, should interest us before we distress our selves over the inscrutably unknown. In history. as well as in religion, there are persons who are eternally inquiring after, and perplexing themselves over, a solution of questions, which are not given to mortals to solve ; while they make no effort to un derstand and improve that which can and ought to be known ; and without under standing which they could not appreciate a solution of the higher and more abstruse questions even if given. FIRST KNOW WHAT IS KNOWN There are people now, who are wisely wondering how and when the Indians came to America. who yet have studied history so little, know so little of mankind, com prehend so feebly what God has revealed of his Creation and plans, that were they to be told the whole story of the human family, in all its races, colors and locations, they would be none the wiser. "For soon as one explained a nation, He'd have to explain his explanation." Let us, therefore, be more practical. Let us first, at least, know what may be known. When we have mastered the history and ethnology of the Indian, gathered all the material extant. know all that is known; then, and not till then, if we have any time left, we may inquire into questions that have thus far defied the ablest antiqua rians. TIIE TRASH ON INDIAN ORIGIN, The great mass of the miserable trash that has been written on the origin of the Indians has about as much learning and sense in it as the grandiloquent discussion of a 'Squire, who, as related by Oliver Goldsmith, having premised that whatever is is, proceeded analogically or dialogically to observe, that the concatenation of self ex istence proceeding in a reciprocal duplicate ratio naturally produces a problematical dialogism, which in some measure proves that the essence of spirituality may be re ferred to a second predicable; that Aris totle was right when he said relatives are related ; and this is always the case whether we judge the analytical investigation of the first part of the enthrymen deficient secundam quoad or quoad minus. SCIENCE WILL UNFOLD. Many of the problems concerning the Indian races are being solved; others re main for the savans of the future when more facts are collected. Investigation has already done much, awl may do much more, for as long as time shall roll us on, mankind will never cease to feel an interest in the history of the red man of the forest and the plain ! He will ever be a large, curious and entertaining chapter in the ethnological studies of the past. OF THE NUMBERS OF THE NATIVES. Many persons suppose the whole country was inhabited by Indians after the fashion of the white race. They locate them by name, or as the Indians of such and such a valley or section of country. Thus they people the whole land, in every nook and corner, with aboriginal settlers. Nothing can be farther from the truth There was not a single tribe resident in all Kentucky. So, too, with the south and east of Ohio, southern Pennsylvania and western Vir ginia, large parts of Tennessee, Michigan and other western States. The all con quering, aggressive arm of the Iroquois, had been all over these regions. They would glide down rivers like the Ohio and the Susquehanna in the night time, leav ing no trail to betray their presence, and swoop down like a tempest upon such vil lages as might be located within striking distance of these streams. The dangers of living near such waters caused their banks to be unoccupied, except as hunting and skirmishing grounds. COUNTRY THINLY INHABITED. As a consequence, therefore, a great part of the country east of the Mississippi was an uninhabited waste, having a total In dian population of about 180,000, which is 20,000 less than the present white pop ulation now living on the little spot above described as the Juniata region. All the Algonquin tribes put together, (which will hereafter be particularized,) would not re place Lhe present inhabitants of Hunting don, Blair and Bedford counties; while the Iroquois or Five Nations, including their kindred, the Tuscaroraes, were they here to day, as they were two centuries ago, could all be comfortably housed in either Juniata or Mifflin county. Even where they were thinly scattered over the coon• try, there was much of the land uninhabited and scarcely used even for hunting pur poses. At the advent of the white man, their numbers were moreover, frequently being decimated by their constant wars; and their residences and vague claims to lands were constantly undergoing changes by conquests and voluntary migrations. These facts may serve to reconcile us to the fate of those bloody tribes, which some times awaken our sympathy and lead us to compassionate their wrongs. YASIOYDEN. HISTORICAL LINKS . A sketch of the several Indian trtbes inhabiting the region of North America, east of the Mississippi, seems to be neces sary in order to enable U 8 to understand the early history and aboriginal geography of our own section. In coming to the first traces of the white man's footsteps let its make haste slowly. Let us fully view the surroundings, and contemplate the previous condition of affairs, in order that we may understand the bearings that one event has upon another. History is not merely one consecutive chain or succession of events. Every link has side links, running in various directions, modifying or explain ing the main story. Here, as elsewhere in lite, we find there are frequently two sides to a story ; and that one side is well told until the other side is heard. Each home event is connected with, and perhaps caused by, events abroad. Home and abroad are linked together in history. The hints in the former chapter from pre historic times are very interesting, and serve to give us some idea of the condition of affairs in the Juniata region, prior' to the advent of the white man. But we cannot fully understand these local mat ters without knowing something of the general condition of the country and the several tribes of the natives who were in some way connected with the events that shaped the local transactions of our own neighborhood. FIRST REFERENCES TO THIS REGION. The oldest accounts which make refer ence to Indian affairs in the Juniata re gion are contained in the writings of French Jesuits and explorers or traders, who operated at an early day, not only in Canada, but extended their labors among the Iroquois, and even south of them in New York. Unfortunately the writer does not possess these books, and, unable to read French, would be none the wiser in their possession. They relate, however, that several battles were fought in this re gion between the northern (Iroquois) and the southern (Pennsylvania and Virginia) Indians, in the pre historic times. Mounds at the mouths of the Augbwick, the Kish acoquillas, and the Cocalamus creeks, and the Juniata river, as well as at other lo calities, have been pointed out as anoient battle fields. But for reasons !Weiner to be given, none of these Indian battles left remains of this character. We cannot stop here to examine the claims of these mounds, nor discuss the original Juniata tribe of the pre-historic days. These mat ters will be besi. understood and appreciated, after we have learned all we can of the other tribes and their conditions and habits, as they were found when they became well known to writers who have left us full de scriptions of them. Then, knowing what did occur and exist elsewhere, we may be better able to infer by analogy much that was left unrecorded. TUE TRIBES FIRST FOUND. When the white people began to settle on the Atlantic coast, (1607), there was on the James river the Powhatan confed eracy, a powerful nation, composed of a union of seven tribes, South of these in Virginia and Carolina were the Manna hoacs and Monacans. The latter was at terwards known as the Tuscaroras, and no doubt the former belonged to the same family of nations commonly called the Huron Iroquois. Hereafter tee shall show, contrary to the teachings of most historical writers, thut the 2'uscaroras instead of be ing an isolated and detached member of that family, were only the most souther 3 member of a continuous chain of nations of the Huron-Iroquois family stretching through the whole interior from Carolina to Canada. The Mannahoacs were a confederacy of four tribes ; and at the time spoken of above, were.in alliance with the Monet:ens who were a confederacy of three tribes, in a war they were waging against the Pow hatana. Between the Delaware and the Chesapeake Bays were the Tuteloes, Nan ticokes, and the Conoys or Piscataways, once branches of more formidable tribes. On the shares of the Chesapeake Bay, and along the lower Su-quehanna river, there was a powerful nation called the Sasquesahannocks, or as termed by the Dutch, the Minquas, who were nearly ob ]iterated in a war with the Iroquois five years before Pena came to the Province. They had originally been a branch of the Mohawks, and spoke the same language. THE LENNI LENAPE TRIBES. From the head of the Chesapeake Bay northward along the Delaware river, be. yond the Kitttinny mountains, and east ward as far as Connecticut, there was a powerful nation who called themselves Lenni Lenape, or„the '.Original People," but since known among Europeans as the Delawares. They were composed of three tribes who used dialects of the same lan guage. (1.) The Unamis or Turtle tribe, called also Chihohoacki which was also their name for the Delaware river. (2.) The Wanami or Unalachtgo or Taney tribe. (3.) The Minsi or Wolf tribe, called also the Minnisiaks and the Monseys, and by the French, Loups, becaused they lived in the forks of the river. They were the most savage and warlike of all the tribes . To these we may add two other divisions : (4.) The Wabinga or Hudson River In dians, also termed Mahiekens or Mohegans, east of the Hudson (5.) The Manhattans, who occupied Long Island, New York city and parts of Connecticut. The Pe quods, Narragansetta and Abenequis of New England were of the same sink, and spoke still more varying dialects of Lenni Lenape language. THE IROQUOIS CONFEDERACY. North of the Delawares and south of the St. Lawrence and Lake Ontario, in the interior of western New York, dwelt the Iroquois, the most remarkable, the most powerful, the most agressive, the most, civilized of all the natives of America out side of Mexico and Peru. The French called them Iroquois; the Dutch, Maquas, a term derived from the Mohickens; the Delawares, Mengwe, which the Dutch mod ified into Minquas and applied to the Sas quehannocks, and in after days modified again to Mingoes,and applied also to the Iro quois, especially those removed to the Ohio. NO. 17. (To be Continued.)
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