VOL. 44. The Huntingdon -Journal Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street. TUN LIUNTiNGDON JOURNAL is published every Friday by J. A. NASD, at $2,00 per SWAIM IN ADVANCE, or $2.40 it sot paid for in six months from date of sub scription, and 53 if not paid within the year. No paper discontinued, unless at the option of the pub lisher, until all arrearages are paid. Nu 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 Unit insertion, SEVEN AND A-HALF CENTS fur the second and FIVE CENTS per line for all subsequent insertions. Regular quarterly and yearly business advertisements will be inserted at the following rates I3m ll " ,6m 9m ;1 yr ,3m \ 1111;33 50! 459! 550' 800 ~ 4.c0l 900 `• 2 15 09, 8 0:i.10 oo 12 00 %col 18 00 3., I 7 0, 10 011 It 09 18 00%00l 34 00 S 90 14 09 : 20 00,18 0011 col 36 00 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 Laving 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. &C., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, awl everything in the Printing line will be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Professional Cards DCA LDIA'ELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street. . Office formerly oc mpied by Messrs. Woods Jr A% ib Hammon. LaPl2,"ll B. BRUMBAUGH, offers is professional services 1/ to thecommanity. Office, No. bpi Washington street, roue door east of the Catholic Parsonage. Ljait4,'7l R. IJYSKILL has permanently located in Alexandria 1./ to practice his profession. [janA '7B-Iy. IC. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Leister's . building, in the room formerly occupied by Br. E. J Greene, Huntingdon, Pa. Lapl2S, '76. G E' B. ORLADY, Attorn,y-at-Law, 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [n0v17,'76 GL. ROBB, Dentist, offl. in S. T. Brown's new building, . No. 520, Penn Street, liuntingdou, Pa. [apl2.'7l lIC. MADDEN , Attorncy-at-Law. Office, No. —, Penn . Street, Iluntingdon, Pa. (ap19,'71 JSYLVAN CTS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, tl. Pa. Unice, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd Street. [jan4,'7l T W. MAITERN, Attorney-at-Law and General Claim . Agent, Huntingdon, Pa. Soldiers' claims against the Government for back-pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attended to with great care and promptness. Of fice on Penn Street. Lian4,'7l LORAINE ASHMAN, Attorney-at Law. °Mee Nu. 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. , -- July 18 - , 1879. T S. GEISSIN GER. Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, IJ. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo site Court Rouse. [febs;7l (I E. ELF:3IING, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., 1.3. office in -*mar, building. Penn Street. Prompt and careful attention given to all legal business. [augs,'74-6mos WAI. P. & It. A. ORBISON, Attorneys-at-Lair, No. 321 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. All kinds of legal business promptly attended to. 5e0t.12,'78. New Advertisement BEAUTIFY YOUR The undersigned is prepared to do all kinds of 110 USE IND SIGN PIINTING 9 Calcimining, Glazing, Paper Hanging, and any aril. all work belonging to the business. Having had several years' experience, he guaran tees satisfaction to those who may employ him. PRICES 310 I) ETZ.A.r= Orders may be lett at the JOURNAL Book Store. JOHN L. ROHLAND. March 14th, 1579-tf. CHEAP ! CHEAP ! ! CHEAP !! PAPERS. N-/ FLUIDS. N./ALBUMS. Buy your Paper, Buy your Stationery Buy your Blank Books, T TIIEJOURNAL BOOK & STATIONERY STORE. Fine Stationery, School Stationery, Books for Children, Games for Children, Elegant Fluids, Pocket Book, Pass Books, And an Endless Variety of Nice Th;n9s, AT THEJOBRICAL BOOK & STATIONERY STORE $,1509 TO $6OOO A YEAR, or $5 to $2O a day in your own locality. No risk. Women do as well as men. Many make more than the amount stated above. No one 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 costa nothing to try the business. Nothing like it for money making eviq 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 for yourself. Address GEORGE STINSON 44 CO., Portland, Maine. J nue 6, 187g-ly. C. F. YORK 451 C 0 .7 WHOLES ALE AND RETAIL C+MO RiS Next door the Post Office, Huntingdon, Pa. Our Motto: The Best Goods at the Lowest Prices. March 14th, 1579-lyr. DR. J. J. DA - H.I,EN, GERMAN PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Office at the Washington House, corner of Seventh and Penn streets, A pril 4,187 P. HUNTINGDON, PA. DR. C. H. BOY ER. SURGEON DENTIST, Offioe in the Franklin noun, Apr.4-y. HUNTINGDON, PA. R. M'DIVITT. SURVEYOR AND CON VEYA YCER, CHURCH ST., bet. Third and Fourth, 0ct.17,'79 JOHN S. LYTLE. SURVEYOR AND CONVEYANCER SPRUCE CREEK, Huntingdon county Pa. Ma,y9,1879-Iy. COME TO THE JOURNAL OFFICE FOR YOUR JOB PRINTING I f you W. rale 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- Ike manner, and at very reasonable rates, leave yonrorders at the above named office. $ A WEEK in your own town, and no capital r w is fl.t ild u . without expense . e Y x o p u r c s a e n . Vhvee best the . busi so willing to ness i ty a i trial ever o ered ur oull try nothing else until you see for yourself what you can do at the business we offer. No room to explain here. You can devote all your time or only your spare time to the business, and make great pay for every hour that you work. Women make as much as men. Send for special privet, terns,' acid particulars which we mail free. $ Outfit free. Don't complain of hard times while you have such a chance. Address IL HALLETT & CO., Portland, Maine. June 6, 1879-Iy. e j - 0 10 F u l5L • - 4 VENTION just patented for them, for Home use Fret and Scroll Sawing, Turning, • 11, Boring, Drilling,Grinding, Polishing, Screw Cutting. Price 15 to 1.50. • Ai Send 6 cents for 100 pages. 4 ' - • BROWN, Lowell, Mass. Sept. 5, 1879-eow-iyr. The Huntingdon Journal, EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, THE NEW JOURNAL BUILDING, 6m I9m j lyr 18 001271 36 36 001 50 6.5 50 00j 65 80 60 001 80 100 HUNTING DO N, PENNSYLVANIA, $2.00 per annum, iu advance; i,32.7,0 ugg;gr TO ADVERTISERS : -- Circulation 11767---1-- The JOURNAL is one of the best printed papers in the Juniata Valley, and is read by the best citizens in the county, homes weekly, and is read by at least 5000 persons, thus making it the BEST advertising medium in Central Pennsyl- vania. Those who patronize its columns are sure of getting a rich return for their investment. Advertisements, both local and foreign, solicited, and inserted at reasonable rates. Give us an order. JOB DEPARTMENT UUNTINGDON, PA. -CU tar - All letters should be addressed to J. A. NASH. Huntingdon, Pa. .. ~._ . e _ , . #.. .. . . . . . ~. .... ~,.... „,.. ~. , 0 . ~ , Printing. PUBLISHED -I N - No. 212, FIFTII STREET, TERNIS : within six months, and $3.00 if not paid within the year 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 00000000 A 00000000 0 0 0 0 o PROGRESSIVE 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 REPUBLICAN PAPER. 0 00000000 SUBSCRIBE. _OOOOOOOO 0 o 0 o o 0 0 0 FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING MEDIUM. 5000 RENDERS WEEKLY. It finds its way into 1800 gmg; R L 7 d 0 - , co ►c 4). 0 pi- CD CD CD ..... .C:1 02 02 , I .1 0 . CD 'l4 A SPECIALTY PRINTI: Ely (glitsot Volum "When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And the school for the day is dismissed, And the little ones gather around me, To bid nie good-night and be kissed ; Oh. the little white arms that encircle My neck in a tender embrace I Oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven, Shedding sunshine of love on my face !" And when they are gone I sit dreaming, Of my childhood too lovely to last ; Of love that my heart will remember When it wakes to the pulse of the past, Ere the world and its wickeuess made me A partner of sorrow and sin : When the glory of God was about me, And the glory of gladness Oh, my heart grows weak as a woman's, Alid the fountains of feeling will flow, When I think of the paths steep and stony Where the feet of the dear ones must go ; Of the mountains of sin hanging over them, Of the tempest-of fate blowing wild ; Oh, there's nothing on earth half so holy As the innocent heart of a child. They are idols of hearts and of households, They are angels of God in disguise; His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, Ills glory still gleams in their eyes. Oh, those truants from home and from heaven, T ►cy have made me more manly and mild, And I know how Jesus conid liken The Kingdom of God to a child. I ask rot a life for the dear ones, All radiant, as others have done, But that life roust have just enough shadow To temper the glare of the sun. I would pray God to guard them from evil. But my prayer would hound back to myself; Ah, a seraph may pray for a sinner, But a sinner must pray for himself. The twig is so easily beaded, I have banished the rule and the rod ; I have taught them the goodness of knowledge ; They have taught me the goodness of God. My heart is a dungeon of darkness, Where I shut theta from breaking a rule ; My frown is sufficient correction ; My love is the law of the school. I shall leave tl►e old house in the autumn. To traverse its threshold no more ; Ab, how shall I sigh for the dear ones That meet me each morn at the door. I shall miss the "good-nights" and the kisses, And the gush of their innocent glee, The group on the green, and the flowers That are brought every morning to me. I shall miss them at noon and eve, Their song iu the school and the street; I shall miss the low hum of their voices, And the tramp of their delicate feet. When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And Death says : "The school is dismissed I" Ilfty tho little ones gather around me To bid me good night and be kissed ! Elic *torn-Edict. THE BITTER END. Standing on the balcony, in the soft sunset radiance which flooded the world with a hint of that light '•lChieli never was ou laud or sea," Mr St. Clair saw three persons on the beach ; and she sat down to watch them, and think what it was best to do. Howard Gray was walking with Miss Marsh, while her daughter followed them. She saw that, and her face darkened. If there was anbcl.ly in the world she hated, it was Alice Marsh. She had taken a dis like to her from the first. She remembered how wonderfully fair she looked that morning when Mrs. Carew's carriage brought them up from the station to spend a month at Sea View. Alice Marsh was standing on this very balcony where she was sitting now; with the wind blowing her brown hair all about her face, which was full of soft color, and her eyes were full of subtle fascination. 'Such beautiful eyes I' she heard How ard Gray say, only yesterday. At that first glimpse Mrs. St.. Clair had hated her. Possibly because she saw a dangerous rival to her yellow haired daughter, whose face and eyes never had held, and never would hold, the bright ness and soul in them that lit up Miss Marsh's features. Possibly because some subtle instinct told her that this girl was to come between her and her mast cherished pians. Mrs. Sr. Clair had accepted Mrs. Ca rew's invitation to Sea 'View for two rea sons. She had met. young Gray, and had resolved to catch him for a son in-law if possible. He was rich and of good family. Her daughter could not do better, matri monially. She discovered before she had been at Sea View two hours that Howard Gray was in love with Alice Marsh's beautiful face. When she found that out she felt that she could kill the woman who stood between her and the consummation of her plans. lie had paid some quite marked attention to Lucia. She felt sure that, if this new face could be kept out of sight, she could succeed in capturing Gray in the matiituonial net she had set for him. Mrs St. Clair's face was dark with pas sion as she matched them walking, on the shore. Once in a while Miss Marsh or Gray, turned to speak to Lucia, who kept close to then). But it was evident to the woman watching , them that the walk would have been much mere enjoyable to them if Lucia had been somewhere else. The group on the beach turned in the dusky twilight and came up the path to the house. When they came in sight around the clump of cedars at the cliffs, Gray had given an arm to Lucia and was walking between them. know Lucia could marry him if Miss Marsh was out of the way," Mrs. St. Clair said slowly, to herself'. -I am quite posi tive of that, but while she is in the way we can do nothing. Must I sit idly and see my plans fail, all cn account of that girl's pretty face and winning ways ? Never ! It's war between us! Lucia and I will win if we can—if' we fight it out to the death !" c-i She heard Lucia in her room, and she got up and went in. Lucia had thrown herself upon the sofa despondently. t•What is the matter, Lucia ?" asked her mother, seating herself beside her. "Matter enough ?" cried Lucia, fret fully. "That Dli=s Marsh—l hate her ! She talks to Mr. Gray about poets and history, and all that, as if she were a man, and knew as much about such things as be does ; but wh , ;tl she says anything to me she talks as it I were a child or a fool, and couldn't understand what she meant if she talked to me as she does to him ! And —oh, dear ! dear ! I love him better than any man I ever knew before !" And here the girl, who showed how shallow and superficial she was by the weak lines about her mouth, began to cry. "Don't !" said her mother, soothingly; but there was a hard ring in her voice that told she was thinking of the woman they both bated. "We must do something to get rid of her. Let us think it over, my dear." G.. c C c. "The Children." BY CHARLES DICKENS HUNTINGDON, PA., FRIDAY, JANUARY 23, 1880. The days went by slowly, and the chance Mrs. St. Clair was waiting for had not come. She had managed, by a woman's Pkillful manceuvring, to keep Alice and Gray apart as much as possible, and throw Lucia into his society ; she had thrown out hints before Miss Marsh, of the inti macy that had existed between Lucia and Gray, the previous season, and had man aged to wake Alice believe that such in timacy- had really existed ; and, by a tact which is by no means uncommon among women, and is to be found especially among those whose wits are sharpened by such a scheming. planninc , life as that which she had led, she succeeded in twisting one or two more very trifling and unimportant facts into the semblance of a considerable truth, and made Gray believe that Mi=s Marsh had a lever to whom she was en gaged. h is not a difficult thing to do—to create a misunderstanding between lovers. It was not in this case, and Mrs. St. Clair managed her cards cleverly. She was playing to win. She felt that if she lost new she would be obliged to give up her series of manceuv rings, which had become sl notorious, and she was resolved to make one last desperate effort before she withdrew from the field. She watched Gray and Miss Marsh closely and was el ited to see t hat, while they were mere friends, they were nothing more at present in their conduct toward each other. She was not rash enough to conclude that she had succeeded in creating an estrange ment between them ; but she had .put a temporary check on t heir love making, and that was a good deal in her favor—it gave her time and a chance to think. "I do believe he cares something for me," Lucia said one day. "He pays me a great deal more attention than he used to, and he doesn't neglect me for her, when she is with III." Lucia was not sharp-sighted enough to see that he was trying to make Miss Marsh jealous. "And he has a:ked me to go rowing with him to-morrow. Mi-s Marsh is going with young Dice." The next day was a beautiful one, and Luicia was in high glee as she walked down to the beach with Gray, just in advance of Miss Marsh and her companion. And Gray, knowing that the woman he loved was watching him, said tender little nothings to Lucia, and was her "most de voted," all the time feeling bored, but de termined to show Miss Marsh that he could enjoy himself in spite of her cold ness. And Miss Marsh was apparently unconcerned about anybody else in the world except Mr. Dice and herself, there by making Gray almost turious,.and really foolish in his demonstrations to Lucia, who began to think there was a prospect of his proposing before they got back. It was late in the afternoon bet;)re the two boats rowed shoreward. They came up the little bay together. Gray watched Miss Marsh closely, but she never once looked that way, evidently absorbed by her interest in young Dice's conver,.ation. Just as they neared the shore, but where the water was dangerously deep—how, no one knew clearly—Dice's boat gave a sud den lurch, and the next instant Alice was struggling in the water. Her companion was too badly frightened to know what to do, and sat their helplessly. The moment Gray comprehended what had taken place he plunged ito the water and struck off for the other boat. Ile reached it just as Alice came to the sur face. Seizing her in his arms, be suc ceeded in rousing Dice from his fright, and made that gallant young man help lift her into the boat, and the next minute they had reached the shore. The fright and excitement were too much fbr Alice's nerves, and she was completely exhausted when she reached the house. Mrs St. Clair, who bad seen the acci dent from the house, and had sincerely hoped that the girl would drown, met them on the steps in well feigned solicitude, and bustled about giving orders here, there and everywhere, and assuming full control of matters. She got Alice off to her room and put her to bed, and then congratulated herself, as she might have done under the circumstances. Gray seemed to have for gotten the existence of Lucia in his anxiety regarding Miss Marsh, Mrs. St. Clair dis covered, with her keenly jealous eye. She stayed with Alice, who, by the'by, fell into a drowse, which lasted until late in the evening. You could have told by seeing Mrs. St. Clair's face that dark and evil thoughts were at work in her soul.— She was deathly pale. Whatever she was thinking of frightened her. By-and by she rose and went noiselessly to her own room. She came back presently, clutching something in her hand. She bent over Alice, and satisfied herself that she was asleep. Then she shook a gray powder from a little paper, which her hand had concealed, into an empty silver pitcher, which was standing on the table. Her hand shook like a leaf as she did it, and her face was like the face of one dead Presently Mrs Carew came in. "You will tire yourself out," she said to Mrs. St. Clair. "Let me stay here while you r,,0 and rest." . _ _ "I don't know but I will." 3lrs St. Clair replied. "You had better go and get some water first, though. She may want some when she wakes, and there is none here." Mrs. Carew took the pitcher and went out, coming back presently with the water. But Mrs. St. Clair lingered. She seemed very loath to go. "I think she ought not to sleep any longer," she said, at last. 'I will wake her." Sh touched Alice's hand, and Ihe girl awoke. 'You were sleeping too soundly, I feared," said Mrs. St Clair. "Would you like some water ?" She poured out a cupful and held it to Alice's lips. In putting back the cup she managed to overturn the pitcher, and its contents went gurgling to the floor. "How careless !" said Mrs. St. Clair, evidently much annoyed. "I think I had better go to bed, if I am as awkward as this !" And a minute afterward shc: said good-night, and went to her own room. In the hall she stopped and looked back. "I think I shall Win," she said mean ingly, and then went to find Lucia, who was waiting for her to reprt the condi tion of her rival. "She is comfortable," answered Mrs. St. Clair, net disposed to say much about her, evidently. "•I am very thirsty, Lucia, I wish you would go diwn and bring some fresh water ; you can find a pitcher in some of the rooms below. I left ours down stairs this morning." _ _ Lucia went, obediently, and presently came back with a pitcher of water, from which her mother drank thirstily. Then she went to bed. It was in the middle of the night when Lucia was awakened by a terrible shriek. She sprang up frightened nearly to death. Her mother was groaning, as if in mortal agony She ran to her, and found her writhing in convulsions and unable to speak. In two minutes she bad aroused everybody in the house. "Water ! water 1 ." Mrs. St. Ciair man aged to say. "Run down and get sonic that is fresh !" cried Mrs. Carew to her husband. "Yeu will tiod a pitcher on the hall table. I took it down from Miss Marsh's room to night, and left it there in exchange for a smaller one. Hurry'.'' "There isn't any there," said Lucia.— "This is the one you left there, for I went down after mamma came from Miss Marsh, and found it, and brought it up full of water. You can throw this out." Mrs. St. Clair, in her agony, heard it all, and one wild, terrible shriek went up from her ghastly lips. Then she grew still, and never spoke again. What she suffered in her mind, no one can tell. The death that she had planned f,r another had come to her in awful retri bution. But she made no sign, and her secret died with her. it was but a little while before all was over. She was dead before the physician arrived. "An extraordinary ease," he said. "I don't understand it." And neither did anyone else—and they never wil!. But, standing at the bar of God, the guilty woman will know what retribution in life to come, as the knew what it was in the terrible hour of death. Aud the two hhe had hoped to keep apart are one in heart while life shall last. •,sctett How Celluloid is Made. AN INTERESTING DESCRIPTION OF A NEW ARTICLE OF COMMERCE-WHAT IT IS USED FOR-A DANGEROUS PROCESS. The frightful explosion of the celluloid works at Newark, New Jersey, and loss of life on Monday last, has caused many peo ple to inquire how celluloid is made and for what purpcse it is used. Dr. W. H. Wahl tells in the Journal of lnclusby what celluloid is and how it is made. Briefly defined, celluloid, he says, is a species of solidified collodion, produced by dissolving gun cotton (pyroxylin) in camphor with the aid of haat and pressure. The eun cotton is ground in water to a fine pulp in a machine similar to that used in grinding paper pulp. The pulp is then subjected to powerful pressure in a perforated ves sel to extract the bulk of the moisture, but still leaving it slightly moist for the next operation. This consists in thoroughly in corporating finely comminuted gum cam phor with the moist gnu-cotton pulp. The proportions employed are said to be one part by weight of camphor to two parts by weight of the pulp. With this mix ture tiny coloring matters required can ilow be incmporated. The next step is to subject the mass to powerful pressure in order to expel from it the remaining traces of moisture and incidentally to of feet also the more intimate contact of the camphor with the pulp. The dried and compressed mass is next placed in a mould, open at the top, into which fits a solid plunger. A heavy hydraulic pressure is brought to bear upon the plunger, and at the same time the mixture is heated by means of a steam jacket surrounding the vessel to a temperature of about 300° fahrenheit When the mass is taken out of the press it hardens, and acquires the extraordinary toughness and. elasticity which are the distinguishing characteristics of this remarkable product. Celluloid is very largely used as a substitute for ivory, which is imitated with great success. Tor toise shell, malachite, mother of pearl, co ral, and other costly and elegant materials, are also so successfully imitated that an expert can hardly detect the original from the copy. Celluloid is also used as a sub stitute for porcelain in the manufacture of dolls, which will stand a good deal of rough usage without breaking. Quite recently, too, it has been combined with linen, and used for shirt bosoms, cuffs and collars. Necessity of of Sunlight. Instead of excluding the sunlight from our houses, says the -Manufacturer and Builder, lest it fade carpets, draw flies and bring freckles, we should open every door and window and bid it enter. It brings life and health and joy ; there is healing in its beams, it drives away disease and dampness, mould, megrims. Instead of doing this, however, many careful house wives close the blinds, draw down the shades, lock the door, abut out the glory fying rays and rejoice in the dim and musty coolness and twilight of the un healthy apartments. It is pleasant and not unwholesome during the glare of the noontide to subdue the light and exclude the air quivering with heat, but in the morning and in the evening we may freely indulge in the sun bath, and let it flood all our rooms, and if, at its very fiercest and brightest, it has full entrance to our sleeping rooms, so much the better for us. Wire netting in doors and windows exclude not flies and mosquitos only, but all other insects, and those wbo have once used it will continue to do so. With this as a protection from intrusive winged creatures, one may alm)st dispense with shades and shutters and enjoy all the benefits of an open house without any annoyances so fre quent in warm weather. But better the annoyances with sunshine than freedom from them without it. Statistics of epi demics have shown that if they rage in any part of a city they will prevail in houses which are exposed to the least sunshine, while those most exposed to it will not be at all or slightly affected. Even in the same house persons occupying rooms ex pose I to sunlight will be healthier and re pulse epidemical influences better than those occupying rooms where no sunlight enters. SUNDAY was a delicious day. It was nature's grand overtire. The sunshine was balmy and brilliant., the air w:.s as gentle as an angel's touch, and the birds melody thrilled earth and heaven. Man walked forth into the country, breathing in the delicious fragrance, bathing his soul in the blessed sunshine, and rejoicing in the glad music of the birds. The next morning he was yelling at the top of his voice, "Where in the thunder is that ar thick undershirt, Maria ?" A KANSAS boy earned a nice Bible by committing three hundred verses to memo ry, and then he traded his Bible for a shot gun and accidentally shot his aunt in the leg. Life of a Miser. Thomas Pert died in Cliff..rd's Passage, London, in 193. Ile was a native of Warwickshire lie went to London at the age of ten years, with one shilling in his pocket. As he had no friends or relations the city, he was indebted to the kind ness of an old woman who sold pies, for a morn! of bread, till he could procure him self employment. Sometime after, he was engaged am errand buy by a tellow.chan dler's wife—being a "lady of London mould," could not endure his rustic man tiers and awkward gait, so she sent him off one bitter winter night with the remark : "Your master hired you in my absence, and I'll turn you off in The good husband did not desert Tom, how ever, he Lund him out, and sent him as an apprentice to a butcher in Southwark. For the first five years lie had twenty five p. funds a year, and meat and drink. The accumulation of money and the abridg ment of expense were the two sole objects of his thoughts. His expenses were reduc ed to three heads—lodging, clothing and washing. For the first he fixed on a back room on the second floor, with one window that occasionally admitted a stray sun beam. Of his dress every article was sec ond hand. Nor was he chtice in the color or quality; sagely observing, when he was teased about his garb, that, according to Solomon, there was nothing new under the sun ; and that es to color, it was a mere matter of fan, y. Concerning washing, he said that no man deserved a clean shirt who could not wash it himself; and that the only fault that he had to find with Lord North was the duty he imposed upon soap. There was expense, however, that always weighed heavily on his mind, aed often robbed him of a night's rest, and that was shaving. He often lamented that he had never learned to shave himself. He used to console himself under this afflic tion by hoping that one day beards would 'become fashionable. Ile made a promise to himself that as soon as he had amassed a thousand pounds be would treat himself to a pint of porter every Saturday. Fortune soon put it in his power to per form this promise, and he continued to treat himself till the additional duty was laid on porter; he then reduced his portion to half a-pint once a week. If he heard of an auction anywhere near, he ran quickly ' and begged a catalogue, as if anxious to buy, and after he had collected a number of these he sold them fur waste paper. When he heard an accidental rumor that the bank in which he had his money had failed, he shook from head to foot and took to his bed, refusing to eat until he was as sured that all was right. He was never known, even in the depth of the coldest winter, to light a fire in his room, or to go to bed by candlelight. He loved good cheer—at the cost of another. "F.very man," said he, "should eat when he can ; an empty sack capnot stand." Once on a time he was prompted by the demon of extravagance to purchase a whole pint of small beer ; but after buying it, was so overcome by remorse that he locked it in his closet; then threw they key out of the window, that he might not be tempted Ca make too free with it. Thus lived Thomas Pea, whose pulse fbr the last twenty years of his lifa rose and fell with the funds who for forty two years years lived in Clare Market as a journey man butcher; who lodged for thirty years in one gloomy apartment, which was never brightened up with coal or candle light or the face of a visitor; who never treated man, woman or child to a glass 01 any kind of liquor; who almost never ate a morsel at his own expense; who never said a civil thing to a woman ; who would not trust a laundress with a pocket handkerchief ; who considered all must be mad or foolish that did not pile up gold ; and who tried to bargain for his coffin half an hour before he died. He left two thousand four hun dred and seventy five pounds to distant,re lations, not one of whom he had ever seen or written to. The following list of his wearing apparel, taken by a wag in the neighborhood, runs thus : "An old bald whig, a hat as soft as a pancake, two shirts that might pass fur fishing-nets, a pair of stockings darned with every color, a pair of old sandals, a bedstead, a toothless comb, a very old almanac, one old chair and wretched table, a small looking glass and a leather bag with one guinea in it." Peruvian Temples Temples of the Sun. Of the early history of the Peruvians we have but little knowledge, owing to that barbarian policy exercised by the fol lowers of Cortez and Pizarro, in distroying everything belonging to tribes which they conquered. Like the Mexicans, the Peru vians had advanced in art, science and learning, under the administration of sue cessive wise rulers, and their State archives contained written histories of their coun try, from the dawn of civilization among them, to the period of the conquest. But the superstitious Spaniards committed these works to the flames, because of their heathen origin, and we are obliged to de pend almost exclusively on the truth of tradition for the knowledge we possess of the history of this people during the Inca dynasty. The most magnificent of all the Peruvian temples was that of the sun at Cuzzo. The mode of worship in this tern pie was similar to that of Heliopolis in Egypt, where this great luminary was adored. His golden image occupied a large portion of one side of the interior of the temple, and before this the worship pers prostrated then elves with rich of teriugs in their hands, which were receiv ed by the attendant priests. Two or three virgins, selected from the first families in their kingdom, were in constant atten dance, whose duty it was to make oblations of wine to the deity, and chant hymns of praise to the great Father of Light. Like other aborigines of this continent, the Pe ruvians were nomadic tribes, and gained a subsistance by hunting and fishing. Su perstitious in the extreme, their objects of worship wera as numerous as these of the Egyptians. "I TELL you," said a Wisconsin man to a neighbor next d iy after burying his with, "when I came to get into bed, and lay thar, and nor heariug I,ncluda jawing around fur on liflur and a ball', it just wade we lee! as if I'd woved into a strange country." A BOSTON preacher in speaking of the danger of permitting the Bible to be crowd ed out by the newspaper, perpetrated the following pun : "Men, nowadays," said he, "are like Zaccheus—desirous of seeing Jesus, but they cannot because of the press." A Missoußl teacher opened school witt an abridged dictionary, a hymn book, and a volume of Robinson Crnsoe. Fascination of Life in Washington. There is a nameless fascination in the Washington air. The average citizen, liv ing far removed from the elpital, often wonders why the office holder who once comes to Washington is so loth to leave it that he will often stoop to almost any de vice to secure a further lease of power— whether it be four years in the White House, another term in either end of the capitol or only a longer commission in a petty department clerkship. But when the citizen cowes to Washington himself, the mystery is solved. lie may be able to de fine them very clearly, but he cannot stay long in the city without himself experi. encing in some measure those subtle influ ences which render the capitol so attract ive to the permanent resident. Even to the casual visitor there is something very interesting about merely watching the great governmental machine or inspecting its component parts. The very atmos phere of the capitol. instinct with the offi cial and s-.•cial life that centres about the seat of government in a great nation, seems to possess a singular charm, which dispo ses one to linger and enjoy it. The strati ger no longer wonders that the office holder likes Washington, that he constant -1 schemes for an extension of his term, that, if finally disposed from power, he so often prefers the most humble position here to a residence elsewhere. Not the least among Washington's charms are its physical and climatic ad vantages. No one can longer doubt that the city is fit to be the capital of a great country. The comprehensive plan on which it was laid out in the early years of the struggling republic, gives one a fresh respect for those far-sighted fathers who could even then devise a scheme which should to day fit the necessities of the seat of government for fifty millions of people, and be capable of equal development with the progress of the nation hereafter. The broad avenues are a constant source of de light, the parks and squares are ample for the needs of a large city, and the great system of improvements, carried through with whatever corruption under the Shep herd regime, laid the basis fur the trans formation of 'Washington from a straggling and neglected town to a handsome metrop olis Nothing goes farther to justify the choice of this locality es the capital than its climate Though it suffers from the summer heats, its temperature luring by far the larger part of the year is most cem fortable, and the change from the inclem ent weather which prevails over the great er portion of the country through the win ter months to the usually balmy air of the capital is especially grateful. Indeed, as a winter residence Washington possesses greater charms than any other city on the continent, what with its mild weather, its exceptional social advantages and the at tractions which the meeting of Congress presents to any one interested in studying our system of government at its fountain head. Every year the capital is becoming more and more the winter headquarterM for people of leisure, fur persons of literary tastes fur students of politics, for devotees of fashion, and a composite society is grad ually growing up in which everybody is sure to find congenial elements. The End of Slavery in Cuba. On January 1, 1880, emancipation be gan by order of the Spanish government in their wealthy colony of Cuba, and on the same day, 1890, it will be completed, and the last slave in the Spanish posses pions be freed from his shackles. So closes the most melancholy and disgraceful chap ter in the annals of human crime. It is more that four centuries since a certain Portuguese captain landed (in 1444) at Lagos a cargo of 235 black slaves. The slavery of white captives and Mohamme dan prisoners was fast dying oat in En rope, but the united discovery of a corti vent needing labor and of a barbarous coast having slaves, awoke greed and stim ulated•cruelty and created slavery anew. One of the most benevolent men of any age had the bad fame of introducing sla very into the continent. But Las Cassas, though he did this to protect his beloved and oppressed Indians, lived to bitterly re pent of this great mistake. Three centuries and a half have pa , sed since the first slaves were introduced (1521) into the island of Cuba. And it may safe ly be said that of all the human pain and hopeless misery which the sun looks upon year by year, none never equalled that history of agony and injusttce which be. gan with the Spanish importation of sla very into the New World, and was con tinued by the English slave trade during three hundred years. With a mockery of their faith which sceptics will never foi , get, the Spanish authorities during two centuries concluded more than ten treaties "in the name of the most Holy Trinity," which authorized the sale of more than 500,000 human beings, and received from it a tax of over fifty millions of livres Nor was the Roman Church alone guilty. Protestant England was equally criminfil with Catholic Spain. The first ship which sailed from England, in 1562, under Sir John Hawkins, on the diabolical errand of burying slaves in Africa and selling them in the West Indian, bore, as if in blasphe my, sacred name of Jesus. The present generation in England and the United States have fortunately never heard much of the horrors of that trade, which Great Britain plied industriously for two centuries and a half. The young ,tudrilt, turns (ier the writings of Clark son and Sharp and Wilberforce, and i 3 amazed to see tk, tortures tibia so sterd ily, for s many years, were inflicted on so many innocent human being for the 6ake of tnoPey. Even so c•alm au historian as Bancroft. reckons that during one hundred years before the Declaration of Independence, Gre:►t Britain transported to the New World one ninon of slaves from Africa, and that, besides these, two hundred and fitly thousand had been thrown into the sea in the horrible middle passage. Even after the abolition of the slave trade (1807) the importation of slaves continued into the Spanish colonies or South American Sates, and it is estimated that eve❑ as late as 1849 fifty thousand negroes were secretly introduced in one year into Cuba and Brazil.—New York Times. A NEWSBOY, seated on the postoffice steps, counted his pennies over and re marked : "Seventeen cents in all. That's five for the circus, three for peanuts, four for a sinking fund, four I owe to Jack, and there's one left to support a widowed mother on until Saturday night." THERE was once a legislator who laid by $30,000 in one session. When he was asked how be managed this with a salary of $l,OOO, be said that he saved it bi do ing without a hired girl, Hermit's Peak. Looking west up the river from Las Vegas, New Mexico, the most notable ob ject in the distant landscape is Hermit's Peak, towering high above its fellows. It is about twenty miles distant from town. It is a bold granite mountain towering at a perpendicular altitude of 2,000 feet above the bed of the river. It is difficult or ascent and there is but ono path by which the ter) can be gained. The sum mit is bare of vegetation and the altitude renders it, as it looks, cold and inhospita ble. It has been an inhabited place, how ever, the abode of a veritable hermit. In 1866 there appeared in town an old gray headed man, who seemed to have been the victim of seine great iil fortune. He gave no account of himself, but simply gave name, however, as Juan Augustine. Ile was a man of much learning and ex tensive reading, but did not hold much communication with his fellows. He se lected the high peak above town as the place of his abode, and for three years he lived there solitary and alone upon the highest pinnacle of the mountain. He abhorred fire, and never lighted even a candle save on one day of the week, when he kept three small tapers burning. He was a religions devotee who appeared to te doing penance for an early life of sin ; or perhaps for some crime. His history was shrouded in mystery. He spoke French and Spanish fluently, and some English. His religions zeal and mysteri ous habits and life ereated mach interest among the simple natives of the surround ing settlements, and they looked upon him with superstitious awe and reverence. They thought it their duty to aid him, and &tr. ing the whole time of his abode in the mountains they carried him food and pro visions. In this way he existed like the patriarch of old fed by the ravens. Dur ing his three years of self-imposed exile he occasionally made a visit to town, but could not be prevailed upon to enter a house or go near a fire. At the end of three years he left Hermit's Peak and went to the Bernal Hill, southwest of To eolote, there he lived some time. An ancient cross is still there to mark the place of his dwelling. He fancied high places far re• moved above the ordinary walks of men. From Bernal Ilill be journeyed into the wilderness of Grant county, where the blood thirsty Apaches, with as little re spect for prayers and penances then as now, murdered and scalped him. His history and real name were never learned, but he gave an enduring title to the high moun tain west of town, the "Hermit's Peak." Wards of the State. State Superintendent Wickersham's re port of the Soldiers' Orphan Schools of the State shows that the system last year cost $367,934.15, while the appropriation was only $300,000. The number of chil dren in charg e of the State on September 1, 1879, was 5,463 less than at the car tetApontliug period of 1878, owing to the fact that the legislative appropriation was inadequate for the accommodation of all the soldiers' orphans. Over 600 applies tions fl)r admission bad accumulated in the department. Out of this number the Superintendent of Public Instruction has just selected 141 as entitled to favorable consideration. Nearly nine tenths of the remainder of the applications do not come up to the requirements of the law. The Superintendent Pays : "If the children of soldiers applying for admission under present laws were admitted with as little scrutiny as they were under former laws, in the early history of the system. the cost would be $500,000 instead of $360,000." The cost of the Orphan School system since its e.tablishmeut in Pennsylvania has been $6,682,095.21. The Superintendent says frequent inquiries are made as to the cause of the long duration of the system. Ile answers that under the original law there would be no schoals, but supplemental legis.ation has perpetuated them. The con ditions now are : The children must in all eiscs be under 16 years of age and in destitute circumstances. Their fathers, if dead, must have been killed in the war of the rebellion, or died of wounds or disease contracted under it. Their father, if liv ing, must be suffering from woundsor dis ease contracted in the war, and unable to earn a livelihood for their families or them selves. Fully two-thirds of the children now in the schools are orphans. As to the condition of the schools the Superintendent says it has improved from year to year, and never was better than at the present time. The school buildings are well adapted to the purpose, and the children are reasmably well provided for in all respects. Childish Terrors. I want to plead with mothers in behalf of their sensitive and timorous children. There are strong, healthy boys and girls who have no fear of the dark, who are continually free from physical cowardice, and who receive much praise for their bravery. There are others in whom the nervous sensibility so predominates that they endure, night after night, tortures quite beyond their powers to express. Oh, the horror to these poor little creatures of the dark ! Its mystery compasses them about. They lie shivering in bed when mamma has given her kiss and gone away, and as the last door between her and them selves is closed, they plung into a depth of distre,s which nobody guesses and no body comforts. After awhile sleep steals tenderly into the room, like one of God's angels, and the little brain is soothed, the tired eyelids droop, and the haunting fears flee away. When morning comes, and the ble , sed daylight lies broadly upon the fat- . wiliar rola', on bureau, bed, chairs, cur tains and the pictures on the wall, the child f'rtets its fear. The fear does not and will not return until night comes hack with its vagueness, its awe, its great wall of gloom. Many a child has been on the brink of a conversation with a mother or friend, in which he night have been helped and up lifted, so that his life long he would have been the better fur that hour, when a ban tering word, or an uncomprehending one has shut him in upon himself. Many pa rents thinking that fear was a thing to be repressed, and terror a synonym for cow ardice, has sternly insisted upon measures which have been fraught with evil conse quences, extending over years. Physicians will assure you that girls at eighteen and boys nearing maturity often break down in their studies and are unable to reap the rewards they covet, because of an twine strain or a nerve shock, which left its germ of trouble in the system when they were three or four years old. We cannot too wisely and too gently look after the little children under our care. - - - SUBSCRIBE for the .JOIIRNAL. NO. 4.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers