VOL. 43. ino Huntingdon Journal. Ogler in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street TII I; HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. NASH, at 12,00 per annum IN ADVANcE, or $2.00 it nut paid for in six months from date of sub ecription, and E 3 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearages are paid. No paper, however, will be sent out of the State unless absolutely paid for in advance. Transient advertisements will be inserted at TWELVE AND A-HALF CENTS per line for the first insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CENTS for the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates : 3m 16m 19m Ilyr I 18m 6m 9mallyr \ 11141501 4 50! 5 501 8 00 1 /col 900 18 00 $27'5 36 2'• I 5 001 80,),10 00112 00 %col 18 00 38 00 50 65 t O l 700 10 00114 00118 00 )icol 34 00 50 00 65 80 4 " 1 8 0 0 14 00120 00118 00 1 col 36 00 60 00 80 100 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 must 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, kc., 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• T 1 CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street. If. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods & [apl2,`7l DE. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services to the community. Office, No 523 Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. [j 3.114,11 Till. ITYSKILL has perms iently located in Alexandria If to practice hie profession. Dan. 4 '7B-ly. EC. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's . building, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. E. J Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2B, '76. GEO. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at.. Law, 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [n0v17,'75 GL. 8088 , Dentist, office in S. T. Brown'. new building, . No. b2O, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [ap12271 HC. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn . Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [ap19,"71 • ] BYLTANIIS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, . Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. [jan4,'7l T W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim eJ . Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of on Penn Street. [jan4,7l LORAINE ASHMAN, Attorney-at Law. Office: N 0.405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. July 18, 1879. LS. GEISSINGZR, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, . Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Court House. [febs,'7l SE. FLEMING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., . office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt and eareful attention given to all legal business. tatigs,'74-6mos WM. P. & R. A. ORBISON, Attorneys-at-Law, No. 321 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. All kinds of legal business promptly attended to. Sept.l2,'7B. New Advertisements. There is no " Powder in the Cellar," TONS OF IT IN OUR MAGAENE. DuPont's Powder. WE ARE THE AGENTS FOR THE , 111, 4 Nrithi 1 r .1 J '7 , * c SEND IN YOUR ORDERS 1-IMI\TIR,""Y" (3D CC) — EITTNTEis_sTGD ON, P.A. Apriil 25, 1879. CHEAP ! CHEAP 11 CHEAP 1! PAPERS. N../ FLUIDS. N-IALBUMS. Buy your Paper, Buy your Stationery Buy your Blank Books, AT VIEJO URNAL BOOK tE STATIONERY STOKE. Fine Stationery, School Stationery, Books fo , Children, Games for Children, Elegant Fluids, Pocket Book, Pass Books, And an EH&ess Variety of Xice Things, T THE JOURNAL BOOK STATIONERY STORE DR. J. J. DAHLEN, GERMAN PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Office at the Washington House, corner of Seventh and Penn streets, April 4, 1879. HUNTINGDON, PA. DR. C. H. BOYER. SURGEON DENTIST, Office in the Franklin Home, Apr.4-y. HUNTINGDON, PA. New Advertisements S. IF/OINP'S. HERE WE ARE 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, GENTS,' FURNISHING GOODS, In town and at great sacrifice. Winter Goods 20 PER CENT. UNDER COST , Cali and be convinced at S. WOLF'S, 505 Penn et. RENT AND EXPENSES REDUCED, At S. WOLF'S. I am 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, 505 Penn street. one door west from Express Office. S. MAhCH, Agent. TO THE PUBLIC.—I have removed my Cloth ing and Gents.' Furnishing Goods store to D. P. Gwin's old stand. - tT„..Expenses reduced and better bargains than ever can be got at S. Wolf's 505 Penn Street. March 28, 1879. BEAUTIFY YOUR HOMES The undersigned is prepared to do all kinds of 110 ESE AND SIGN PAINTING , Calcimining, Glazing, Paper Hanging, and any and all work belonging to the business. Having had several years' experience, he guaran tees satisfaction to those who may employ him. PRICESMOE) A_ 'l' . Orders may be left at the Jouaiset. Book Store. JOHN L. ROULAND. March 14th, 1579-tf. New Advertisements. 13 1:71` THEREA. n S TO $6OOO A YEAR, or S 5 to $2O a day l nyou own locality. dor i ell..nianznai,n:ro thatea.etitatedbo,eion. can fail to make money fast. Any one can do the work. You can make frem 50 cts. to $2 an hour by devoting your evenings and spare time to the business. It costs nothing to try the business. Nothing like it for money making ever offered before. Business pleasant and strictly hon orable. Reader if you want to know all about the best paying business before the public, send us your address and we will send you full particulars and private terms free; samples worth $5 also free; you can then makeup your mind fop yourself. Address GEORGE STINSON .ii 00 4 Portland, Maine. June 6, 1879-Iy. COME TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE FOR YOUR JOB PRINTING If you waa sale bills, If you want bill heads, If you want letter heads, If you want visiting cards, If you want business cards, If you want blanks of any kind, If you want envelopesneatly printed, If you want anything printed in a workman lice manner, and at very reasonable rates, leave yo irorders at the above named office. T.T ROBLEY, Merchant Tailor, No. • 813 Mifflin street, West Huntingdon Pa., respectfully solicits a share of public pat on age from town and country. [NAN, 1 iiii _...........c. :;•4i. 0 , 10i. :•.._ 4- - .: z:-. 1 iihi ;,:..;.i 4 .4 i • 4 • S!; c - 1 , e .„1 ..., ~,,... ~ -,44...._ -AND :New Ath-erti:suiltclits New Stock of Clothing II 1111.1. 1.1: ••r.l ROCK-BOTTOM PRICES, --IT THE-- OLD ESTABLISHED CLOTHING HOUSE IN TILE DIAMOND, IiUSTINGDON, I'A Having abandoned, for the present, my inten tion of removing my store to Philadelpeia, I would respectfully inform my old friends and cus tomers, and the pubiiegeuerall.y, that I have just E.urchased an entire New Stock ofWinter Clothing for Men and Boys, of tho sty:e and best quality, which I propose to sell at prices lower than they can be purchased elsewhere. I feel confident that I can offer greater bargains in Clothing and Furnishing floods than any oth er dealer in the counts'. N0v.14. 11. ROMAN. PJ . •••-• • ~..4 711 1 , , V . r :.701:. SAN1 , 01:1;:l L: -. .. - r.3 IN - viGouaTol:`,;.; 4; Statal,:r 1 P.c.:lily It.-yrn:Qy for ....,.. t5..,-.4 r ., .4. , Is2ases of Vac Liver, Stomach ~...r'' `iti,. 4. c ,) ~.• oand Bowels.—lt is Purely c ,, , z.'- . 0 r:- , • eVegetable.— It never ,ft - '. 1 to Debilitates—lt is 1 ' ••••;- 5 .:• ~ ',c,Cathartic an:l ,r1" 4 :4;70 ~, ..•4,,,, :;Tonic. ci ,:' ; r j ti n - v,,,,,,,, , ,; 01- :..I %TRY ,u'b E* . - fal i:. j) ..,,, , P' -- ` 3 1) 11- 1 eIT .., 44.) • . 7,4 Z 0 vipz'' . .," '.. \ . , 5 1 t c::0 ...! • e.. , -.3 ;4 _ 4 ,ON 1 , 1 ~ 3C . c r. ; ~ i es 1" MI 4 * k\ e' f u • vI S pe ' i ) :s , i i ?, itlt':4 ei,‘ ~4 6 0 6 • 1 1 ° ;3\‘ ° ol s \ 1 1 ' . ;: ',4 ik4: 0 ° ,-,, ' c .zs • ,11 , n\ 3 A C c!: , ;. :, r. . , -,,...... ....... _ 1 ‘., , o r ~,‘ ., 1.., _ \.,\.., si .„ . , ~,f ....,„„ 0 ~,, r, ;4 \ A ra ‘' o'; \ cD o 0 ` 0 1 u .,..4,- r . o c.'';"( ° c k.. (•,\:° S e ef,4 * ' i. r' - ' \ ' -`1 3 C ° W) 44 ,\\ em.-: - ,j - ~..,: 1 1 ~ \o'. , 0 , 6 ° i ; i . "\" \\e 6 (1 1 ' \A° ' 3‘ 1 ,,,..' - - V.- ~•,:';) 6 r\ ~ c, s , ~,,,,, ~ 1.: , ,ft. \ 0 a p e s er. Sr 34 , 01 ....„, fi '''' \ e 6 . N (1 0.# 4: 7 0 1 .- ,4 -' \ .... n• yII e• \' e\ C fUt i4 ti.. 4 ‘,. ',J ... ., 3, , f l / 4 , ii . t. d ' ,..14. 1 1 t of V'o ' 4 0 S e, :i" 1 7" .. ,i' 0 ) k 0 k,‘ 0 e ,'.-,.--- ;:- 1 ~i, 4 ; 4 ' , k., ~c2k 4 „ l c, , 0 O :1 /- 0 ,4. b ze - ' ) ',. c " , • 3S‘ ' , 00 ° ' .... t \\ 6 cN -\,•,. 1 \ ~.. ,:..! ~, ,• 0 ,( . e ~...7 001., A " •0 f , l , cl rf, ,'' c „ V Y '-' , ( c,G ' IS ,1 P‘' ' 4 ::: " ,':. O O A\ \ u \ l-A . 1 A O r' C. •' ' • s Z 0 0 i r- .... al „a ; 3 ..,:„. \\ _ ,s. B i , I t, V \s, k)' ,'"l a.: :-. \ s , % , 5_,... ; ; 1. . 0 ::', .:;\ S''' \.. 11 e S • c ) ) 3\ , \)?-_,-...„, -."4 1,1 il , 4, 1 \ „ eS e., k , f rya „,,., - 0 -- ~.; :::1 1• I ' o \ 3 6 •-,,, , 7, -.1):.; . ' l / 4 :7„.'Tir , .'' t-.4 1 :41 :L - - .° L f.. \le', 2 , e p. t i t, 0 ~:4, 11,C 10 0 , ~ 0 11 ' .. "5 . ” g ki e,-_, , - Invigorator:: .', ',,,,,*-- e.,"'l: as been use 4 e:,.., - i :- ; 1 • • i ti g 1- „;,;' in my practice: .. . and by the public,: _.t.b.,,,,...• for more than 35 years,: .r it 0" ..- witli unprecedented results.: "-... SEND FOR CIRCULAR. „':3, T. n, SANFORD, M,D„ I ; ; l:lrT,, A ,', ) , ° c ",",Tif, ▪ ANT DRUGGIST WILL TELL I . OL, ITS RAPUTATIO N. , . 11 IV irVlVlONlViliVirtilrioVi "411.146 , 1411 , 61riAVV1AP Julyll-ly. ~ 'f'p i ~ i ~ Y ~] f ciJI Now for BARGAINS ! Having determined to quit business, I am now Felling my goods at Cost and Carriage, FULL LINE OF DRESS GOODS, BOOTS and SHOES, HATS and CAPS, CLOTHING, NOTIONS, GROCERIES, and everything usually fiund in a first-class store, IF YOU WANT Immense Bargains don't forget to give me a call, corner of Fifth and Penn streets, Huntingdon, Pa. 0ct.17-tf. B. JACOB. MILL FOR SALE. Being desirous of retiring from active pursuits, I will sell my GRIST MILL, situated one-half mile from MoAlevy's Fort, in Jackson township, Huntingdon county. The mill is comparatively a new one, only having been run four years. It is 28x15 feet with two run of burs, and an addi tional run ready to start at trifling cost. It is located in one of the best wheat—growing districts in the county. There are also two good houses on the property, one of which is finished in good style, every room being papered. For particulars inquire on the premises. Aux.22-310.] ROBERT BARR. JirivU / 64/ PITTSBURGH, PA Exclusively devoted to practical education of young and middle aged men, for active business life. School always in session. Students can enter at any time. Send for circular. J. C. SMITH, A. M., Principal. Sept.26-3m. J OYFUL News for Boys and Girls !1 3 Young and Old!! A NEW IN VENTION just patented for them, for Home use ! • Fret and Scroll Sawing, Turning, 4 Boring, Drilling,Grinding, Polishing, Screw Cutting. Price 55 to 550. Send 6 cents for 100 pages. - EPHRAIM BROWN, Lowell, Mass. Sept. 5, 1879-eow-lyr. FOR ALL KINDS OF PRINTING, GO TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE. HUNTINGDON, PA,, FR Ely 'tittisot (Dtutt. Florencc McDonald. lic;.id in the morgue there, nobody claiming :ler, Nobody watching beside the yeung head, Nobody missing her, nobody naming her, Nobody mourning because she is dead. Out in the night-wind the street lamps flare wearily, Autumn leaves off of their branches are whirled, Yonder, with deed eyelids folded down drearily, Poor human leaf drifted out of the world ! Nobody mourning her, no one so daring. Poor fragile wreck on life's desolate shore, Only a Christ dares to share such despairing, Murmur forgiveness, and "Go, sin no more." Youthful and fair once, and white-souled and winning, Pure as the purezt that ever drew breath, Fre,h as a flower in its bud and beginning, Love, with a kiss, stung its beauty to death! Poor wretched heart—with no arms to enfold it, Ci•eated and wronged of its tenderest needs, Like some frail vine with no good thing to hold it, Turning at last to entwine about weeds. Out on life's stage to find all the crowd hissing her— Shuddering and striving to hide her poor face; 12,aching for alms that forever were missing her, Fainting and falling to same and disgrace. But in the morgue there is no more to worry her; Charity, love nor uprightness draw near, Ton cleanly Purity e'en to help bury her, Virtue too holy to give her a tear. Hark! c• tnes a sound from the ranks unrespected, Murmur of voices—a woman's kind tone— Saying, `• 'Tis shameful to leave her neglected, Friendless, forsaken and dead here alone. 'Come ye here, woman ! Our fingers shall spin her Shroud white as any for saint in the land ; We arc all sinners—and she was a sinner— Let her receive Christian rites at our hand. "Poor murdered creature! our hearts know the aching Love turned a liar, can give with a. sneer; All of us know just what cruel forsaking bh.ittered this girl's life and hurried her here." Cain her tenderly—shroud her all whitely— Twine ye the roses in cross and in crown. Place her tired feet and hands decently. rightly— So did these women there—they "of the town." They to that shrine in the morgue brought the preacher— Wept they for her whom nobody would own, As fell the words of Christ Jesus. the Teacher, '•ll•ho without sin ? let him cast the first atone." So did they bury her—they are unholy ; So did they give her their pity and care; So they wept for her—the lost and the lowly Won the deed—no recognition up There. Aye! on the page which the angel was smiting With sits of the Lost, a great glory swept down, Setting against them in luminous waiting This deed of the women there—they "of the town." MArY ASHLEY TOWNSEND, ri Nese Or/CCI/18 Picayune. citorg-Eclicr. PERLA PATRIA ! "My son, you talk foolishly. Ido not doubt that you love Rita, that she loves you; I am sure she does; but what can come of it ? You can never marry ! You are in two different stations of life, and Rita is above you. Do you imagine for a moment that she can be yours ? No—no, my s•ot ! It cm never be !" and as the old priest spoke, he glanced compssionatelv at the handsome young man kneeling before him. It was a confe s sion that was thus taking place. Antonio blerlo, a poor peasant, had come to the old priest to confess his sins. During the recital he avowed his love for Rita Montebello, the daughter of one of the richest and proudest gentlemen in the village. The old priest endeavored to reprove the young man's audacity by saying the words which began this narrative. "Above me ?" cried Antonio, when the priest had finished. "Padre, I thought that lore levels ranks—that all people are equa I ." "In the sight of God, yes. That of the world, no," answered the priest, calmly. "My son—my son, talk wisely,not foolishly. All people equal ? People never were equal—they never will be.. There must be the high. there must be the low. Even in the republics that we hear about there is no equality, and there never will be The republic has no ranks, no titles • but it has gold. Gold is powerful — go ld is omnipotent. It will not acknowledge a God, because it is a God itself, whether it be a God of Good, or a God of Evil. Then, whoever has gold in the republics is not equal with his fellow beings—he ishigher. In fact, he is an aristocrat without a title. Equality !" a scornful laugh followed the word. A moment of silence passed, then the old priest continued in a low voice: "My son, we are only equal in one thing, and that is when we bow to the will of the Most High." "You talk thus—and you a priest ?" cried the young man, wildly. "Is that how you see the world ? Is that how you console those in trouble ?" The old priest drew himself erect with a calm dignity. For a moment he was si lent, his eyes flashing an angry glance at the young man before him. Then he was his gentle self again . "My son." he said, "it is not you that should teach me what to do. You ask me if it is thus I see the world. I will an swer you, yes. I see how it is, not how it should be. Ido not dream, I look, I ex amine ! I see the world in the light of the pure sun, not in that of the foul gas, and judge it accordingly. You reproach my consolation. You think it hard. You are right. It is hard, it is bitter, but it is the truth. For that reason you will not accept it, you do not like it. Oh, fool that has eyes and will not see the reality, who will not see unhappiness ! Fool that has ears and will not hear truth, who will only believe in dreams ! My son, listen to me. Give up that hope which only haunts you, which only mocks you! Do not seek unhappiness, do not seek trouble and sor row. Seek only what will make you hap py—what will make you good." "Will not Rita make me happy—make me good?" passionately asked Antonio. "Ay, she could if she were yours, my son," replied the priest. "But that can not be; and if you cannot have what you wish, you can never be happy or good.— No, my son, no it can never be. Banish her from your thoughts, tear her image out of your heart, and be a man again." Then the old priest placed his hands on the young man's bead, and absolved and blessed him after the manner of the church. The young man was silent. Waiting until the priest had finished, Antonio arose to his feet, and with bowed head, walked slowly out of the church.— The old priest looked after him until he bad disappeared beyond the portals of the church. When the young man's footsteps were no longer heard, the priest drew a long, painful sigh. "What mockery, the divine passion," he said. The priest had loved once. The young man left the church, and walked along the road. seeing nothing, hearing nothing. His mind was engrossed with what he had heard. The priest's DAY, DECEMBER 12, 1879 words seemed to ring in his ears, and they rang bitterly. They pierced his heart. "AntoniO! GU v-ia-?" Antonio looked up. A handsome, dark peasant, with a bag of flour on his shoulder, stood before him, smiling annoyingly. An tonio made a gesture of impatience, and sought to pass the peasant by. lle might have sought to pass a rocky wall, for it would have been as well. "Are you in love ?" asked the reasant, moving closer to Antonio. "If you are not, why do you act so ? You sigh, you look dark as if a great melancholy had settled upon you. .Allegro ! Speak ! What is it ?" Antonio raised his hand as if lie would strike his tormentor. In an angry voice, he asked : "Will you let me pass ?" "Per Luce° ! Arid why not ?" exclaimed the peasant, moving aside. "Pass, amico mio !" Antonio moved on, but he had not gone far when the peasant called to him : "Have you heard the news ?" "No," replied Antonio. "I do not care to bear it." — Yes, you do," smiled the peasant, "es pecially the news I bring. Signorina Rita marries our gracious Conte Alberto, to morrow. It is a sudden and hasty mar riage, yet they will have grand times at the 'castle yonder !" "How f wish I could be there! Don't you wish like me, Antonio ? You do not answer. Oh, you must be in love, so I won't trouble you. .//dio amico. Guarda bene per Lace° !" and giving this advice the peasant moved on. Luigi Saramani had an old score to set tle with Antonio, and as he saw the effect of his worth on the young man, he smiled gaily as he walked away. "Ecco, Antonio ! There are others who can deal pain—who can avenge. You stole away my love, bene ! See how it is to have some one steal yours. You gave me only pain, but I give you and yours pain—a pain you cannot avenge. See ! How foolish it is to use steel when a few words avenge and kill more quickly than steel." And they do; is it not so ? Antonio seemed to have been dealt his death blow. He staggered, pale and trembling, to one side of the road, and sank to the ground with this exclamation hoarsely escaping his lips : "Oh, God ! It cannot be true—it is a lie'.,, Rita to be married ? his eyesight be. came dim, his brain grew dizzy, his heart seemed to be crushed by iron bands. His love revolted against what he had beard, yet—cruel doubt—how did he know but that the peasant's words were true ? He lay on the ground fully an hour. At last, springing to his feet, he exclaimed : "I will prove for myself whether it be true. It cannot be, yet—" He did not finish the sentence, for he could not bring himself to do it. lie rushed wildly from the spot, rushed to know his doom. How he ever reached Signor Mont ebello's gardens he never knew. In the garden found her—his only love. She was sitting in a secluded arbor and appeared to be thinking. . She was beautiful, very beautiful, indeed, and as she slt there in the arbor, which was sur rounded by flowers, she formed a pretty picture. Seeing her thus, it was no wonder that she was dangerous to a passionate man's peace of n.ind. She saw him come, and with a glad cry she sprang toward him to be embraced in his arms, to be crushed to his breast. For a moment they stood locked in each other's embrace. At last he unwound his arms .from about her ; then holding her at arm's length, he gave one searching glance at her beautiful face. "She's too beautiful, too angelic, to be false to me," he said, pressing her to his heart again. "Oh, no, it was false—cruelly false ! She only loves me; she will be mine only." "How strangely you talk," murmured Rita, winding her arms around his neck. "You doubt my love ?" "No—no—no !" cried Antonio. He was silent for a moment, and they were happy. Then suddenly remembering what he had forgotten in the bliss of the moment, he said: "Tell me, Rita, that I have heard an absurd report to day. I hear that—that you are on the eve of a hasty marriage with Conte Alberto. 'Tis not true ! Oh, tell me that they lie !" Rita looked up into her lover's passionate eyes, and when she saw the agony they contained, tears began to course down her cheeks. Antonio saw those tears with a great terror, with a breaking heart. "Oh,God !" he cried. "It is true,then ?" She bowed her head in assent, for she could not speak. Antonio shuddered and staggered back from her as if she had been a loathsome thing. He turned as pale as death. He shivered and pressed his hand to his side as if his heart was bursting.— He gave one glance at the beautiful, tear ful face before him, and then walked swiftly away without speaking one word. He could not do it. Rita called to him to coma back, he heard not. She saw him leave the gar dens, saw him disappear from sight. Chok ing down a great sob, she, too, left the garden. They were parted forever. A mass was being said in the church that evening when Antonio passed by it. The old sexton, who was standing near the doors of the church, was surprised to hear Antonio ask : "Why do they say mass ?" "For the repose of the dead," some one answered. Antonio uncovered his head. Then turning on his heels lie walked away, say ing "They do well." * * * * * It was a beautiful day. The sun shone with all its splendor. The stillness of the hot, stifling air was broken by the roar of the cannon, the sound of the trumpet, the shouts of the combatants, the cries, curses and prayers of the wounded and dying. It w.2s no battle, but a carnage that was being fought between the Italian and Aug trian armies. Early in the morning the Itaiiana—fighting for freedom—had ad vanced against the Austrians, and tried to drive them out of their fortifications. They succeeded; they were few in number—so when the reinforced Austrians in turn ad vanced upon them, they had to retreat, though they fought desperately for every inch of ground ; they struggled for their liberty. Thus it continued throughout the day. The Italians expected reinforcements, and they thought that they would have them when the sun was at the meridan. The sun approached the meridian but the reinforcements came not. Many and many times did anxious eyes turn in one direc tion, and despairing lips cry; "Will they ever come ?" The carnage went on. The sun sank slowly, and with it the Italians' hopes. Suddenly a v•(•lcmue cry reverberated from lip to lip : "They come--they come ! Courage ! o mort, 1" and they fought like tigers. The Austrians, now discourged, began to give way. Still they fought desperately, though it was with despair. It was near the end of the strife when an Italian flag-bearer became detached from his regiment. A company of Aus. trians surrounded the flan' ' bearer and en deavored to capture his flag. The flag bearer fought desperately, but what could he do ? He was alone, his enemies were many. Ile sought to defend his flag, and he was surely losing it, and with it his lire, fir he was wounded unto death. The Austrians pressed closer and closer around him. Ile kept them at hay as long as he could, and when the Austrians made a dash towards tke flag, he gave up all hopes of saving it. Suddenly the Austrians veered about and fled. They retreated because a large number of Italians seeing their flag in peril, had advanced to defend it. And with those Austrians retreated their whole army. The battle was an Italian victory. The brave flag bearer had clung to his flag until the last. Ms grasp on the flag was one of death. And lying there with the last sun-rays on his face, he died, died with the flag, that he had sacrificed his life for, in his grasp. As he died, a smile passed over his features, and he murmured with his last breath : "Rita—Rita—Perla Patric !" The flag-beater had been Antonio. * * News of the glorious Italian victory reached the village that Antonio had lived in. It carried joy and sorrow. Joy that one sure blow had been struck for Italy; sorrow for the dead ; for there were many who hopefully had left the village, to fight for their country, and would return no more. There were many who cursed the vic tory, for they had either lost hu , bands, sons, brothers or lovers. The old priest went from home to home, trying to console the untbrtunates who mourned their dead. In turn, he went to Rita's new home— she was a countess now—and found her there. Approuching, her, he gently said : "Do.you mourn for anyone, my daugh ter ?" Rita, who was seated with bowed head, looked up suddenly, replying : "No one, caro pclte.". "go one ?" the priest smiled incredu lously.' Rita turned pale. Pressing her hand to her heart, she glanced with agony at the priest, and falteringly asked : "Antonio ? ' "Died defending his country's flag— died a true Italian." A great sob broke from Rita; she could not keep it back. Tears coursed down her beautiful cheeks. At last she regained her composure. She arose from her chair, seized the priest's hand, and said : "•lle died for his country ? Poor An tonio ! Padre, say the mass fur the repose of his soul !" She left the room. The priest looked after her until she had disappeared from the room. Memories of his younger days rushed over his mind. fie remembered that he had loved before be had became a priest. He remembered that, like Antonio, he had loved too well —not wisely. 110 remembered his agony when he gave up his love, the world, and became a priest. And as he remembered, he drew a long, bitter sigh. Then, as he slowly left the room, he sadly said : "Oh, yes filtro! Did he die for his coun try ?—perla patria ?" *tictt Visa A Lucky Drink. A late California newspaper says, that four years ago two Italians left Naples for California, hoping to better their fortunes. They arrived within the Golden Gate with just money enough to convey them to the mines in the interior. They were advised to go to Downieville and seek work in the Sierre Butts Mine, where a large force was wanted. On their journey one fell sick by the wayside, and was taken in by a kind-hearted farmer. The other pushed ahead and finally reached the end of his journey in safety. He failed to obtain employment on the ground that he neither understood mining nor the English lan guage. After receiving numerous rebuffs he started to return to the lower country again. At a point between Loganville and Downieville, and ten miles from the latter place, he became so weary, footsore and disheartened that he began to wish himself back in sunny Italy once more, among the vines and olives. He grew feverish, thinking over his trials and tribu lations, and stopped at a spring to lave his bead and moisten his parched throat. Cat tle had been that way a short time before, and with their feet stirred up the limpid water until it became thick with mud.— The Italian scooped out the basin in one side of the shallow spring, and waited un til the debris should settle to the bottom that he might slake his thirst and bathe his brow. By and by the water became clear as crystal. and he stooped over to quaff of it. As he did so an astonishing sight burst upon his vision. The bottom of the spring was strewn with bright, yel low particles, that glittered in their watery bed. With all his ignorance of mining he knew he bad found gold. With them he rushed excitedly to a camp where lived some of his countrymen, and offered to give them an interest in his find. fie told the story of his discovery, but they were in credulous, saying that some miner had stopped at the spring to drink and lost what was found from his purse. One of them, however, who was more kind-hearted, sympathized with the stranger, and vol. unteered to help to prospect the claim, al though he bad no confidence in developing a profitable one. The first day panned out $7OO. Since then they have worked it constantly, and on an extensive scale. It has paid handsomely from the first. Last year they took out $40.000, and sold a one quarter interest for $20,000 more. It is not yet fully developed. They work by the hydraulic and drifting processes. The story reads like a romance; still there never was a truer one, as everybody around Downieville, who has taken the trouble to inquire into it, knows. A SCRANTON household is enjoying an era of peace. The lady of the house put her tongue to a flatiron to see if it was hot. The Presents and Trousseau at the The following description of the presents and trousseau at the wedding of King Al fonso and the Archduchess Christine, at Madrid, on Saturday, the 29th ult., will be interesting to our lady reader 3 of the JOURNAL: Among the jewelry presented to the Archduchess Christine by the members of the imperial family is noticeable, first, that of the emperor and empress. It is a dia dem made in the form of a wreath of roses and rose leaves, and composed of diamonds and sapphires. en viewing it it is hard to say which is more admirable, the size and splendor of the jewels or the artistic perfection of the workmanship. Then there is a crown, about five inches high, made of the most superb brilliants, which are set in such a fashion as to make the crown look as if cut out of one stone. The necklace belonging to this is composed of brilliants of the largest and rarest kind. These two articles are presented by the archduchess' mother, Elizabeth. A superb piece of art is the hairpin and brooch which Archduke Albrecht gave his niece. They are wade of' dia monds set so is to re•ciuble edelweiss. Conspicuous among the mass of jewelry is the present of Archduchess Marie Rainer. It is a diadem resembling a laurel wreath, and composed entirely of diamonds. Amorg the most interesting of the royal gifts are fans of which, in part, the trousseau will consist. There is one made of silk and provided with a delicate ivory handle, which on opening is almost transparent. In the centre is a superbly executed royal crown and the coats of arms of the Aus trian and Spanish houses. Another fan is made in the Spanish style. The upper part is of real black lace, and it has a pink mother of pearl handle. The first mention • ed fan is a present of Queen Isabella ; the latter was sent by a Spanish princess. Archduke William sent the bride a fan made of white lace, and adorned with three pictures, painted on silk, represent ing idyls of the rococo period. The handle is of tortoise shell. One of the most ad mirable things in the collection is the sil ver toilet set made under the archduchess' own direction. The brushes, combs and other necessaries are all superb specimens of art. * * TIIE WEDDING TROUSSEAU For weeks past society in Vienna has been in raptures over the trousseau of the royal bride. Before it was sent to Spain it was on exhibition for two days is the palace of Archduke Albrect, and the fash ionable world almost went on its knees for cards of admission to this wonderful dis play of the modiste's art. A prominent Vienna lady exclaimed, after viewing it : "I have seen the trousseaux of several queens and many princesses, but never have I seen one so completely and so ar tistically made up as this one." At the archduke's palace nineteen dresses were exhibited, each of them a masterpiece of the dressmaking art. First there were noticeable a robe which the bride will wear at the renunciation. It is made of heavy pale pink faille. The corsage is short, cut square, and provided with short soiree sleeves. A tablier of red satin is set in the limit of the skirt. This tablier is richly trimmed with Brussels lace, narrow satin volants and airy pink allusion. The train, which is three yards long, falls in broad rich folds from the waist, and is without any trimming. A garniture of broad Brussels lace, narrow satin volants and pink illusion separates it from the tablier. Bouquets of roses of all shades and tints cover the right side of the cor sage, running down the same side of the robe, and following the train, are lost in the lace garniture on the left side. An other robe is composed of light blue silk embroidered with flowers in velvet. The garniture consists of garlands of light blue ostrich feathers and real point d'antique lace. The waist is buttoned by charming. ly set diamond buttons. The right side of the corsage and the sleeves are adorned by boquets of yellow roses. Furthermore, there is a heavy white faille robe with real blond lace and a volant composed of white French pearls as peas ; a black velvet dress, with little embroidered boquets of roses, and very tastefully trimmed with pale pink satin and real lace, a pink faille dress, made up in the Spanish style, pro fusely adorned with Spanish gold lace; a soiree robe of dark blue velvet, trimmed with lace, and, finally, a toilet of white India cashmere, richly trimmed with point d'antique lace and tiny gold bells. Of manteaux the duchess has an equally large as well as artistic supply. There is one particularly noticeable. It is made of black velvet, with a broad sealskin border, and filled with sky blue satin. Then there is a mantelet of heavy black satin, with real black lace and heavy bead trimming, which is set off by marabout feathers. A theatre entree of cream colored presse.d vel vet is also noticeable. The border is of real ermine, and is richly trimmed with chenille fringes and little gold drops. Among the plainest varieties a casaque of real Persian shawl stuff is admirable. It is provided with a brown velvet collar and tortoise shell buttons. The extensive col lection of hats shows all modern fashions, and each one corresponds as far as color and trimming is concerned, to a toilet. Of shoes the bride has fbrty-eight pairs, and each pair corresponds to a toilet. Besides, three are several pairs of boots of white silk, superbly embroidered, and six pairs of ball slippers of white satin, richly em broidered and bordered with marabout feathers. Of the plainer sorts there are eight pairs of high kid boots, to be but toned on the sides, and two pairs of riding boots. This is but a brief summary of some of the more valuable articles. In addition to these there are hundreds and hundreds of other beautiful things, master pieces of art, and representing fortunes, which are to swell the bounty which is de• signed to make happy the second bride of Spain's young king. YOUNG SmITH was walking out with the idol of his heart, the other evening, and they chose the favorite resort of lov ers, the goat pasture, near the dam. While admiring the falls and getting their noses reddened by the north wind, she burst out raptuously, "Isn't that dani splend,d ?" She nearly fainted away when Smith an swued that he wasn't used to hearing young ladies swear, and another engage ment is broken off. NOT long since, at Sunday-school, the teacher, after trying hard to impress on the minds of a class of small boys the sin of Sabbath•breaking, asked. .(Is Sunday better than any other day ?" when the smallest boy in the class answered, "•You bet your boots it is." SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL. Spinish Royal Wedding. Col. Ingersoll on the Volunteers. Fr,,ni his Speevh at the Urant Banquet in Chig.,.j "The Volunteer Soldiers of the Union Army"—They were the defenders of hu manity, the destroyers of prejudice, the breakers of chains, and, in the name of the future, slew the monster of their time They finished what the soldier of the Rev olution commenced. They have relit the torch that fell from their august hands and filled the world again with light.— They blotted out from our statute books the laws passed by hypocrites at the insti gation of robbers [loud applause], and tore with brave and indignant hands from the Constitution of the United States that in famous clause that made men the catchers of their fellow men. [Applause.] They made it possible for Judges to be just, for statesmen to be humane, and for politicians to be honest. They broke the shackles from the limbs of slaves, from the souls of masters, and from the Northern brain.— They kept our country on the map of the world and our flag in Heaven. [Ap plause.] They rolled the stone from the sepulchre of pro g ress , and found therein two angels clad in shining garments— Nationality and Liberty. [Loud Applause.] The soldiers were the saviors of Re: public ; they were the liberators of men. In writing the Proclamation of Emancipa tion, Lincoln, greatest of our mighty dead, whose memory is as gentle as a summer air when the reapers sing amid gathered sheaves, copied with the pen what the grand hands of brave comrades had written with their swords. [Applause.] Grander than the Greek, nobler than the Roman, the soldiers of the Republic, with patriot ism as careless as the air, fought for the rights of others, for the nobility of labor. and battled that a mother might own her child, that arrogant idleness should not scar the back of patient toil, and that our country should not be a many-headed monster made of warring States, but a Na tion,soverzign,grand and free. [Applause.] Blood was water, money was leaves, and life was only common air, until one fl-tg floated over one Republic. without a master and without a slave. And then was asked the question, •Will a free people volun tarily tax themselves to pay a Nation's debt ?" The soldiers went home to their waiting waves, to their glad children, and to the girls they loved. They went back to the fields, the shop, the mines. They had not been demoralized. They had been ennobled. [Cheers ] Mocking at re verses, laughing at poverty, they made a friend of toil. They said, "We saved the Nation's life, and what is life without honor ?" They worked and wrought, with all of Labor's royal sons, that every pledge the Nation made might be redeemed And their great leader, having put a shining band of friendship, a girdle of clasped and loving hands around the globe, came home to find, and finds, that every promise made in war has now the ring and gleam of gold. [Enthusiastic cheers.] There is another question still. Will all the wounds of war be healed ? 1 an swer you. The southern people must sub• wit. Not to the dictation of the North, but to a Nation's will, and the verdict of mankind. (Great applause). They were wrong, and the time will come when they will say that the people are the victors, who have been vanquished by the right. Freedom conquered them and freedom will cultivate their fields, will educate their children, will weave robes of wealth, will execute the laws and fill their land with happy homes. (Applause). The soldiers of the Union saved the South as well as the North. They gave us the Nation. They gave us liberty here, and their grand victories have made tyranny the world over as insecure as snow upon the lips of volcanoes. (Applause). And now let us drink to the volunteers, and those who sleep in unknown and sunk en graves, whose names are known only to the hearts they loved and left, of those who oft in happy dreams can see the foot• steps of return. Let us drink to those who died where lifeless famine mocked at want. Let us drink to the maimed whose scars gave modesty a tongue. Let us drink to those who dared and gave to chance the care and keeping of their lives. Let us drink to all the living and to all the dead —to Sherman, and to Sheridan, and to Grant, the laureled soldiers of this world, and last to Lincoln, whose loving life, like a bow of peace, spans and arches all the clouds of war. A Spider's Suspension Bridge. A new feature in the way of a suspen sion bridge was recently seen across'. the Housatonic river, a short distance north of the Falls bridge. It was a single thread of a spider's web su=pended frcm a tree on one side to some objqpt upon the other between three and four hundred feet in length. Bow did the creature manage to get it across? It is conjectured that the engineering spider must have calculated the distance. spun a thread of the requir ed length, and then at the right moment have thrown it out, when it was carried on the wings of some favoring breeze to the opposite side, where it became attach ed. What was the spider's object, unless to seek some retired spot to prey, or else to seek adventures? It is not known whether tho spider perished in the at tempt at crossing, or whether it gained the further shore in safety. ON the evening train from Albany, re cently, was a woman bound for Westfield, who persisted in requesting the affable conductor to inform her when Chester was reached. Every time when the conductor passed through the car, he was greeted with : "Please tell me when we get to Chester." Courteous man though he is, even his patience was finally exhausted, and be politely requested the unfortunate fe male to maintain silence, as be had heard and would heed her injunction. Chester was finally reached, and "Chester" was yelled at the car door. The train again started, and the conductor mounted the car in which was his persecutor. "Will you tell me when we get. to Chester ?" she said. "This is Chester," he exclaimed. and, grasping the bell rope, he had the train back up to the station. "I'm real glad you obliged me," said the daughter of Eve to the exasperated conductor, "My husband used to live here." IT is suggested that persons who go about with their Cashmere shawls turned inside out to show that they are genuine, should adopt a) custom of walking on their beads, to show that their boots are soled. IN a recent article on a fair in his local ity, the editor of a Western paper says a brother editor took a valuable premium, but an unkind policeman made him put it right back where he took it from. NO. 49.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers