VOL. 44.
The Huntingdon Journal.
Office in new JOURNAL Building, Fifth Street.
THE LIUSTINGDON JOURNAL is published every
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11 CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law, No. 111, 3rd street
V. Office formerly occupied by Messrs. Woods R WO.
liamson. [apl2,l" I
DR. A.B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his professional services
to the.ntm unity. 01fice, No 523 Washington street,
one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. ljan4;7l
DR. IIYSKELL has permanently located in Alexandria
to practice his profession. [janA '7S-Iy.
1? C. STOCKTON, Surgeon Dentist. Office in Lekter's
J-1 building, in the room formerly occupied by Pr. E.
J Greene, iluntiugdon, Pa. [apl2.B, '76.
/IRO. B. ORLADY, Attorney-at. Law, 405 Penn Street,
kJ Huntingdon. Pa. [n0v17,'75
G. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T. Brown's new building,
. No. 120, Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. [apl2:7l
tir C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law.. Orice, No.—, Penn
11. Street, Huntingdon, Pa. (ap19,'71
TSYLVANIIS BLAIR, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon,
tl • Pa. Office, Penn Street, three doors west of 3rd
Street. Ust*4,7l
T W. MATTERN, 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-
lice on Penn Street.
LORAINE ASIIMAN, Attorney-at Law.
Office: No. 405 Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa.
T - S. GEISSING ER, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public,
1.1. Huntingdon, Pa. Office, No. 230 Penn Street, oppo
site Court House. rfebs,'7l
1. E. FLEMING, Attornoy-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa.,
. office in Monitor building, Penn Street. Prompt
and eareful attention given to all legal business.
[aug3,74-limos
WM. P. & R. A. ORBISON, Attorneys-at-Law, No. 221
Penn Street, Huntingdon, Pa. All kinds of legal
business promptly attended to. 5814.12;78.
New Advertisement
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March 14th, 1579-tf.
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DR. J. J. DAHLEN,
GERMAN PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON
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April 4, 1579 ,
HUNTINGDON, PA.
DR. C. H. BOY ER.
SURGEON DENTIST,
00.1 e in the Franklin
HUNTINGDON, PA
Apr.4-y.
R. AVE.IVITT,
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CHURCH ST., bet. Third and Fourth,
0ct.17;79
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May9,lS79-Iy,
Huntingdon courP,y Pa
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; ; ; ;.; ;
TO ADVERTISERS
Circulation 1800. I
Ten years befure—how well he remem
bered the day—he had parted from the
playmate of his earlier years. She was
the daughter of the Squire, and she lived
at the "big house° yonder," where young
Sidney, although far baneath her in the
social scale, had free entry, because his
ready wit and youthful enthusiasm had
touched the fancy of little Katie's parents.
Added to this, he had some claim upon
her good will—he had saved Katie's life
at the risk of his own one day when she
fell from the light wooden bridge (now re
placed by a massive iron structure) into
the river which ran through the estate.
So the two grew together, the one a
strong impetuous boy, and the other an
open hearted, generous girl, and the Squire
watched heir progress contentedly, and
never said "Nay" to their familiar inter
are sure of getting a rich return for course.
printed papers in the Juniata Valley,
and is read by the best citizens in the
county. It finds its way into 1800
homes weekly, and is read by at least
5000 persons, thus making it the BEST
advertising medium in Central Pennsyl-
vania. Those who patronize its columns
their investment. Advertisements, both
local and tbreign, solicited, and inserted
at reasouab!e rates. Give us an order.
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itol'• All letters should be addressed to
J. A. NASH.
Huntingdon, Pa
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Printin7
The Huntingdon Journal,
PUBLISHED
EVERY FRIDAY MORNING,
-IN
THE N EW JUUIZ -NIL BUILDING,
No. 212, FIFTII STREET,
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA,
TERMS
not paid within the year
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FIRST-CLASS
ADVERTISING MEDIUM
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READERS
WEEKLY.
The JOURNAL is one of the best
JOB DEPARTMENT
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`'My Mother's Path Is Mine."
Come Fit awhile with me, my boy, not detain
you long—.
To listen to an old man's words can surely do no
wrong,
Fur I've trod the way that you now tread and see
the many snares
That lie concealed along your path to seize you
unawares.
I once was young like you, my son—my curling
locks of brown
And bright blue eves, and f - eA young face were
talked of in the town.
And men and women flattered tee and loaded me
with praise,
And not a cloud of sorrow crossed the sunshine of
my da.l., P.
But there was one among them all, the kindest
and the best
Who waked me morning= with a kiss and sang me
nights to rest ;
flow often would 1 wake to find her kneeling by
my bed,
Her clasped hands mingled with the locks that
graced my youthful head.
When death came in and we were left with no one
to provide,
She daily toiled for both, and oh, how lovingly
she tried
To make our home so pleasant that the vices of
the town
Would ne'er allure her daring son and drag his
manhood down.
Alas ! how could I disregard that mother's prayers
and tears ?
How could I spurn her gentle words so early
in my years!
1 broke her heart—but when I stood beside her
dying bed
I, choked with grief, and kneeling, felt her hand
upon my head.
00000000
"Turn back, my son," she faintly said, 'regain
the narrow way—
You know we journeyed side byside for many a
happy day,
And then you left me, darling—Oh. retrace your
steps and tread
The better way"—she spoke no more—my best of
friends was dead.
My boy, cling clove to mother, as Ton value fu
ture peace;
The day is not far distant when her care for you
will cease.
And when, if you have caused her grief, each relic
you retain
Of her who would have died for you, will only
give you pain.
Yes, tread the path that mother treads, and when
she drops to rest
Keep straight ahead, a pure, stout heart low beat
ing in thy breast;
Though wealth should grace thee with her smile,
and even fame be thine,
Be ever strong enough to say, "My mother's path
is mine!"
Abe t.org-Etiler.
After Many Years.
Poor Sidney Warde ! His great strug
gle in life, his 3 ears of hardship and weary
toil, inspired by one solitary hope, brought
him nothing but bitter disappointment
after all.
Ten years before, with youth, strength
and energy upon his side. he had entered
upon life's battle. He was successful, the
world called him "lucky." That success
bred of undeviating will is always attri
buted to good fortune. He amassed great
wealth and he was envied upon every side.
Yet all of his successes in life, all his
wealth of gold, were nothing to him. The
desire of his early life, which bad girded
his loins and led him onward to victory—
the one thought and darling wish of his
soul through all of these battles, lay dead
at the bottom of his heart.
But when the time came that Sidney
was no longer a boy, and he entered upon
the duties of a clerkship at the city bank,
a post which the Squire, his patron, had
procured for him, came also the beginning
of his trouble.
He was taking an affectionate farewell
of Katie, making numberless rash promises
for her sake; while she listening to them
wonderingly, and nothing loth to hear.
bent her face down upon his shoulder, and
his arm stole round her waist.
In this position they were discovered by .
her father, and for the first time the truth
dawned upon his mind.
He gently led her away, and returned
speedily to the room where Sidney re
mained, wondering what was next to come,
the proud man's fury burst forth in a tor
rent of fierce invectives.
"Ingrate upstart !" were the words he
used; words that went deep into the soul
of Sidney Warde and rusted there ; "mean
dishonorable villian ! paver ! See that
you never dare to set foot within these
doors again."
Sidney Warde pursed his lips proudly to
stifle the ready answer. Was it not her
father? and what could he not bear for
Katie's sake ?
He endeavored to tesson with the en
raged parent, but iu vain.
"Truly we love each other," he said,
"and our position is unequal—what of
that ? Time, which works so many
changes, may yet span the social chasm
that separates us. I can wait "
Vein was his appeal to the reason of the
enraged and passionate Squire. He was
in an unreasonable mood just then, and
Sidney was thrust from the threshold he
had so often crossed with a light and care
less step out into the dusty road—out
upon a new life of sad reality.
He met Katie once again. It was hard
by the little bridge where he had once
rescued her from death and here he told
her of his love for her without interrup
tion, and her heart responded word fur
word as his whispers fell upon her ear.—
Ile was going into the world, he said—he
would bind her to him by no promises, he
was not moan enough for that, but he
would return in a year or two, maybe—
never, however, until he could count pound
for pound with the Squire, who was once
his friend.
In those ten years he had succeeded
greatly. His footsteps had wandered into
many places, and fortune seemed ever to
attend his efforts. He had worked man-
fully, and he acknowledge) that he was
rich beyond his most idle anticipation. lie
could breathe again now.
o
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Cl 7
BY F. S. M
HUNTINGDON, PA., FR
Returning to the well-remembered scene,
his youthful affeciou—the one object of
his ambition still strong within him—full
of rich belief in woman's constancy and
faith in the object of his love ; proud of
the equality which resulted from his own
labor he forgot that time, which had dealt
so favorably with him, might also have set
its mark upon the old mansion while those
ten long years rolled by.
The mirk was there. The Squire lung
since dead and buried, the old house closed
up and deserted, for its mistress was away.
the pretty village "improved" into a thriv
ing little place—these were the s , rrowful
preludes to a bitter disappointment than
all of them.
Katie was married
Only a year before—just one solitary
year of all those prosperous ten ! If he
could but have known !
This was the burden of his cry, as lie
wandered through the grounds,and through
the lonely rooms, and on the threshold of
the deserted mansion until the disturbed
echoes took up the theme, and the soft
wind carried it upon the air—"lf I had
only known ! If I could but have known !"
* * * * *
Another year sped by.
Sidney Warde, merchant and banker,
had the reputation of being the hardest
man of business and the most daring spec
ulator known to the commercial world.—
Everything he touched seemed to turn to
gold. His power was enormous. A nod
from him would raise to a premium shares
that were unreasonable at par.
Ile had written a brief letter to Katie,
congnitulating her upon her wedding, wish
ing her every happiness, and signing him
self "yours truly," thus clo,ing accounts, as
he bitterly imagined, with his own heart
and with hers. But sitting in his office one
afternoon, engaged in the perusal of an
enormous pile of documents, a missive,
marked "private" was placed before him.
It was addressed in a feminine hand, and
he thrust it aside unopened.
"No, no, he muttered restlessly; I have
done with all that !"
He intuitively felt that it was from
Katie.
An hour afterwaris it again lay before
bin).
Still he could not settle to his work.—
For a third time the letter was in his
grasp. This time he broke the seal hur•
riedly, and laid the letter open upon his
desk.
"My dear old friend,'' it cammenced,
He read no more, but leaving it still open
upon his desk, he paced the room fret
fully; then be thought of the old times
when be was yet a boy, and he returntd
to his place and hurriedly read as follows:
"My dear old friend—l am sure that in
the memory of the past you will assist and
aid me nor. I can hardly hope perhaps.
that you should interest 3ouraelf for my
welfare, but tor my child's sake I must
implore your generous help. My husband
is dead, and I am sorely afraid that his ex
travagant habits have absorbed nearly the
whole of our possessions. I wish to see
every creditor fully satisfied—) et I know
so little of business, I do not care to place
oar affairs in the hands of a stranger
Will you undertake the.buainess for me?
I feel that I am asking a great favor, un
der the circumstances, if you only knew
Come to me, Sidney, for the old time's
sake KATIE "
"Humble at last !" muttered the banker,
with a strange smile of satisfaction, as he
folded the letter methodically, and placed
it in his pocket-book. It was probably the
only letter in a snman's handwriting that
had ever rested there.
A better feeling came anon. Long after
business hours the concluding paragraph,
written by a hand that trembled as it
wrote, showing how completely Katie had
broken down in her sad attempt to hide
even from herself the feeling that con
trolled her. "Come to me, Sidney, for the
old time's sake !" burned as letters of fire
into the cold and ashen heart of the man
of business
"I thought the account was closed, but
I was wrong," he murmured. "I must go
to her, for she needs my help "
Except that the mansion was occupied
the place wore the same appearance as
wheu he saw it last lie walked aer.ss
the iron bridge, and shrugged his shouldeis
disdainfully as he noted the ugly trellis
work that surmounted it. How difft-rent
from the rustic wooden pole that served as
a hand rail and protection in the simple
picture that he so well remembered !lie
walked up the narrow pathway, and once
again he stood upon that threshold where
his sorrows and his fortunes bad commenced.
She met him there, and motioned him
into the little room where their last inter
view had taken place so many years ago.
lie went through the accounts, and he
found that after the payment of her hus
band's debts she would have but a bare
sufficiency. The estate had been mortgaged
and was no longer hers.. He concluded
the investigation with the sharp eye of a
thorough business man, and in two d•iys he
had a statement of' her affairs prepared for
her perusal. But in those• days he had
learned more than she had intended him
to know.
lie found, by connectin, two certain
scraps of information, that her wedding
Wild been enforced by her father's desire
and will.
She had waited nine weary years for the
return or the wanderer, from whom she
had received neither word nor token.
Were his actions free from blame ?
Her husband was a roue and a spend
thrift, who had neither love nor liking tier
her. She had called her baby b. , y Sidney
in remembrance of him.
Then he thought of their childhood
days. when she was a great heiress and he
was a poor boy, her companion by a Irelk
of fortune.
Was he worthy her abiding love ?
He could not disguise the fact that he
had cirried his bitterness towards her to
ther into the love he pro:essed toward h• r,
and then caused his own misery by hii
own continued pride.
He pondered long awl seriously ; he
found that the account was not closed;
there was a great balance against himself.
"Kate," he said tremulously, "du you
remember that it was in this very room
that we agreed to share each other's sor
rows ?"
Not that—not, that," she replied. "Po
reopen the old—"
Is the subject so repulsi'm to you 7 I
think not, I hope not, Kate."
"Repulsive ? No, but I'm afraid--"
"Not of me, surely ?"
He placed his arm around her waist.,
just as tenderly as he had placed it there
eleven years ago, and her bead fell upon
his breast, for she had fainted.
not
Then the long confined, passionate love
burst from its imprisonme at, and with a
torrent of fond words he kissed her back
to life. Then, as in a dream, she listened
DAY, FEBRUARY 27, 1880.
to ,fim, until at length she realized her
nqvly.born happiness.
AO Sidney ! He simply returned
thasks to a beneficent Providence that had
restored his dead love, and renewed the
puisations of his ashen heart, after many
weary and unpr.firable years.
For that life is unprofitable that lives
solely for itFell, and great riches are as
nothing in the scale, it' all else must be
sacrificed tor gain.,
j elett Dis cellang.
O'What animal is this?"
is the bisby. He is now three
yetrs old, and at the wickedest pint of
hit earthly career."
hit
countries does the baby moat in
habit ?"
!'lle can be found in every inhabited
wintry on the globe, the same as mos
Owes and boils."
"Can they be tamed ?"
i'lres, quite easily. Alter a little judi
cions discipline they cease to struggle and
beeome subservient to the will of man "
4 . Does the baby eat grass ?"
ilYes, or anything else. They swallow
pocket-knives, thimbles, buttons, spools or
ant other object a little smaller than a tea
cup If offered they seldom refuse it."
"Do they graze during the day, or only
at night ?"
''They are always grazing, paying not
the least heed to the hour. When not ac-
Tually eating they generally give utterance
to a pecular cry. Strong men often jump
out of bed at midnight in the coldest
weather when.hearing this cry."
"What meaning - is attached to this
cry ?"
'Men of deepest thought have agreed
that it sig nifies to wake tin the neighbor
hood and havesome fun!'
"Of what benefit to mankind is a do
mesticated baby ?"
"Th , y are of no earthly account for the
first few years, but by and by they can
slide down hill on a cellar door and carry
articles out of the house and trade them
for a wooden sword or lose them in the
grass "
'•D:, you know of any instance where
the baby has attacked the household and
killed or injured anyone ?"
"Such inwances have been related by
such eminent naturalists as George Francis
train and Texas Jack, but we don't put
wuch faith in them. However, if the
baby was maliciously and persistently pro
voked there's no knowing what it might
do.".
"Are they a healthy animal.?"
0a the contrary, no druggist could
wake enough profit in a year to buy him
a pair of Arctic overshoes but for the
preaenee of every baby in the household.
The is hardly an hour in the day that
thebaby does not demand peppermint..
parOgortc, miik, cordial, cod liver
emulsion, ipecac, or bOniethiniT else costing
tawiey
_ .
"What machinery is made use of to
compel the baby to take a dose or castor
oil ?"
"There are several patent machines for
the purpose, but most people follow the
old rule.of knocking him senseless, and
getting the close into his mouth before he
recovers "
"Is the bald headed baby more domestic
than the other ?"
"Not a bit He kicks around after the
same fashion, and has even a worse time
fighting flies and mosquitoes."
"What music do they Feeni to prefer ?"
"A base drum is their first choice, but
they have a heavy leaning toward the
sound of the stove•bandle knocking the
nose off the pitcher with the emptyings in
it."
That is all about the baby.
The Mysteries of Chewing Gum.
We have it upon common report, says
the Cincinnati Commercial, that chewing
gum is a substance well known to the
youthful part of the community. The
qualities which it possesses at the time it
comes from the confectioner are all fa
miliar to the youngest of us. It certainly
seems a very attractive edible. The rea
son for this is not hard to find. Think
how much eating there is in it in propor
tion to actual weight and cash value. But
there is more in chewing gum than is
' dreamt of even iu juvenile philo3ophy.—
One can easily comprehend the main in
gredients of candy, but who, without being
told, would suspect that chewing gum is
often only a refined product of petroleum ?
The time was when the fragrant spruce
furnished the moat common material for
the purpose. But this is no longer the
cafe. The reader familiar with the pro
cesses of refining coal oil is aware that the
thick, brown liquid which cones from the
earth, at one stage of its manufacture, is
strained through heavy linen cloths The
residum left after this operation is a dirty,
brownish yellow wax, that smells abomin
ably. This unpromising substance, melted,
bleached, deodorized and prepared for com
coerce, appears in masses that weigh about
one hundred pounds, resembling oblong
blocks of clouded ice. It has no odor, and
no taste except what belongs to any wax
in its purest state It may be used for
many purposes, but it is not necessary to
describe thin' now. The manufacturer of
chewing gum purchases these blocks ready
made to his band, and at once melts them
down. To two hundred pounds of wax
he adds about thirty pounds of sugar. and
gives the mixture a flavor by the use of
some essential oil, as lemon or vanilla, and
perhaps some coloring matter. The melted
ma-s is poured upon a clean marble slab
ana cut. in the various shapes known to
masticators.
* *
A VERDANT at a Troy hotel left his
young wife iu his room Sunday evening
and went down to tisk the clerk what time
he lighted up 'Well," Paid the accom
modating clerk, with a smile, •'we usually
light up at nine o'clock, but to accommo
date you rit light up immediately•" He
then sent a bell boy to the room of the
verdant to light the gas The young man
from the country wal4 profuse in his thanks,
and wouldn't go back to his wife until the
e!erk accepted a cigar.
AN Illinois woman, when they first be
gan to have 0113gresemen-at-large out there,
hearing the fact alluded to, straightway
rushed into the kitchen, exclaiming, "Sarah
Jane, don't leave the clothes out to night,
for there's a Congressman at large."
A YOUNG woman who was "driven to
distraction" now fears that she will have
to walk back.
SUBBORIBE for the JOURNAL.
Natural History ,
The Solar System
ASTRONOMY RAPE EASY
The Sun in the middle.
A , ql planets around him so grand
Are swinging in space,
)fell forever in !lace
In the Zidiao girdle or hand.
11 i-diddie-diddie;
The Sun's in the middle,
And M.reory next to the sun ;
While Venus so bright,
Seen at morning or night
Comes second to join in the run.
The Sun's in the middle,
And bird in the group is our
While Mat; with hie fire,
Su warlike and dire,
ewino: around to b counted fourth
lli-did 11e-diddle,
The Sun's in the naidle,
While Jupiter's next after Mar
A , :d his four moons at nigl)
the speed of the litOt
xt gAden-ringed Saturn ai.ppea
The sun's in the middle,
After Saturn comes Uranus afar ;
And his antics so queer,
Led astronomers near
To tild Neptune, who drives the last car.
How tfm , Earth WHI T.'er;4lh
The Planet of Venus, says Prof. Proe
tor, has an atmosphere, and it is said to be
at the very least as dense as that of our
own earth. Then we learn also that oceans
are on her surface, because it has been
shown by the spectrum. It appears also
that it closely resemhles our earth in con
dition, and that it. is the one planet fit to
be the abode of living ereaturs like those
which exist on this earth. In Mars we
begin to recognize the effects of planetary
old age. These greenish patches we must
regard as seas, and we find that they are
much smaller in comparison to the rest of
the area than in our earth. On our own
planet 72 00 is covered with water, and on
this only about 50.00. The older planet
has the smaller water surface, and the idea
is suggested that in the old age of a plan
et the waters gradually diminished in ex
tent. We pass to the moon to answer that
question, and here we certainly find no
traces of water. Also, we trace no atmos
phere of appreciable density, and every
thing tends to show that she had water on
her surface, but that it has disappeared.
Does this seemingly cold and dead world
appear to have passed through the same
stages as our own earth ? I think we can
not doubt this when we look at her volcanic
craters. I think, too, there trust have been
there such life as exists on our own planet
There were oceans on her surface, which
formerly occupied these spots, which, the
waters being withdrawn,
present this fine
granulated appearance from its action.
This seems to be a natural explanation. As
the planet becomes old the oceans become
soaked into the planet's interior, the crust
of the surface, as the planet cools being
formed into large cavities such as exist in
porous substances, and into these the water
is withdrawn. Dr Fraeklin of England
has shown that four times as much water
as now finds place _on the earth's surface
could be found room for in the earth, when
the process of cooling has gone sufficiently
far. Then, in regard to the atmosphere,
there is certainly no trace in the moon, but
we have a picture now showing that the
volcanic action of the moon was at one
time no less than in our own earth. The
moon probably represents the future of our
own earth at a distance of time of twenty
five million of years. When the old age
of the earth will come it will cease as the
abode of life. Let us pause to consider
some of the stars in this regard. Many of
them are too old and many too young to
sustain life on their surfaces, but that they
were formed for some purpose beyond that
of being useful to this particular planet
there is no doubt. A study of the heav
ens seems to tell us that all life should oc
cupy all space and time, and not be crowd
ed into one portion of space. So I think
we may look at the heavens with the thou
sands of stars to be seen with the naked
eye, and hold this thought. There you
have 6,000 suns, each a brother to our own
sun, though many belong to bight-0. orders.
and we may believe they have thousands
of orbs circulating round them which are.
the abode of life. And if each one has but
a single world in its system as the abode
of life, we have then thousands of inhab
ited worlds siinilar, perhaps, to our own
In the one single polar map now shown
there are 324,000 stars, all to be seen with
a small telescope. and by one of Herschel's
telescopes 20,000,000 stars would have
been brought into view in the same see
tion of the firmament. But after all there
still remains the thought that each planet
is tending toward death, and though the
periods of time are so vast that they seem
like eternity, the dying out of the larger
of these suns appears to us like the death
of the universe itself. But take such an
orb as Sirius, which is a thousand times
larger than the sun, and after his death
all the smaller orbs will have died; but
can we escape the thought that there will
still remain others to take their places ?
It seems to me we cannot, if we remember
how thoroughly we have been deceived in
the past. We thought the earth the can
tre of the universe; then the solar system
was everything; then the system became
but one in a galaxy of stars, and in turn
the galaxy of stars is lost in the infinitude
of stars.
The Law of Finding.
The law of finding i 9 this : The finder
has a clear title against all the world bir,
the owner. The proprietor of a railroad
car or shop has no right to demand the
property which way be found on his
premises. Such proprietor may make
regulations in regard to lost property
which will bind their employees, but they
cannot bind the public. The law of find
ing was deelared by the King's Bench one
hundred years ago in a case in which the
facts were these : A person found a wallet
containing a sum of money on a shop floor.
He handed the wallet and contents to the
shopkeeper to be returned to the owner.
After three years, during which time the
owner did not call for the property and the
finder demanded the wallet and money
from the shopkeeper. The latter refused
to deliver them upon the ground that they
were found on his premises. The finder
then sued the shopkeeper, and it was held
as above stated, that against all the world
but the owner the title of the finder is
perfect. And the finder has been held to
stand in the place of the owner, so that he
was permitted to prevail in action ae..iiest
a person who found an article which r the
plaintiff had originally found but subse
quently lost. The police have no special
rights in regard to articles lost unless
those rights are conferred by statute.
Receivers of articles found are trustees for
the finder-
Origin of Mother Goose.
Rev. J. M. Manning, D. D , the pastor
of the Old South Church in Boston, at the
recent Christmas Festival, gave the fol
biwing interesting biography of an author
5v! , ... has become famous throughout the
world He said :
There are many things in the history of
the Old South Church, Boston, which
help to make its name famous. But there
is one thing in the history of the Old South
Church which has not had the recognition
it demerves. In the list of admissions for
the year 1698 occurs the immortal name
of Elizabeth Goose. I almost beg pardon
of her toemory for saying "Elizabeth,"
since by the unanirno - us verdict of the
world, in whose heart her name is enshrin
ed, she is known as "Mother" Goose. So,
then, Mother Goose is no myth, as some
have thought, but once lived in Boston,
in veritable flesh and blood, as the records
of the Old South Church clearly show. It
is also a pleasure tc find that, in making
a Goose of herself, she married into a well
to do family, where in due time she, too,
by putting her melodies to the press, not
merely laid one golden egg; but has been
laying a steady succession of them from
that day to this. For, unlike the goose in
the fable, she could not lan killed, but still
lives, arid yields stores of wealth to the
booksellers as often as Christmas tide re.
turns. Her nest will not be empty so long
as there are children and nurseries in the
world. It is almost a pity, if one may say
so without straining the metaphor, that
her eulogy cannot he written with a quill
taken from her own dear wing. What child
in all Christendom has not often nestled
under that wing, been brooded by it, and
forgotten every trouble in listening to her
immortal lays ?
The maiden name of this venerable
lady, mother of us all, was Elizabeth Fos
ter. She lived in Charlestown, where she
was born, until her marriage. Then she
came to Boston, where her thrifty hus
band, Isaac Goose, had a green pasture
ready for her, on what is now Washington
street, and including the land in and about
Temple Place. She was his second mate,
and beg.an her maternal life as step mother
to ten children. These all seem to have
been lively little goslings, and to their
number she rapidly added six more. Think
of it ! Sixteen goslings to a a single goose
—assuming that none of them had been
-
even up b y the hawks and that none had
died of crook in the neck. Poor, happy
Mother Goose ! No wonder that her feel
ings were too many for her, and that she
poured them out in the celebrated lines :
"There was an old woman lived in i shoe,
She had so many children she didn't know what
to do."
Vet her family cares seem, on the
whole, to have set lightly upon her; for
she was no wild goose, flying South or
North with every turn of the sun, and she
staid by her nest through cold and heat,
happy as the day is long, and living to be
ninety two years old She even survived
the father Goose many ye.trs, and she led
and fed her numerous fl,ck and tenderly
brooded them in the little enclosure on
Temple Place till they were able to swim
and forage fir themselves.
One of these, her daughter Elizabeth.
became the wife of Thomas Fleet And
here is the fact to which we owe it that
her name and fame spread through the
world. Thomas Fleet was a printer, living
iu Pudding lane, a place whose very name
had so savory a taste in dear old lady's
mouth that when Thomas Fleet became a
happy father she insisted upon going to
Hie with him as nurse of honor to his son
and heir To coddle her own grandchild
in Pudding lane, was the beau ideal of
blessedness for Mother Goose Her ac
tivity and concern in the house were such
as to throw what we read about busy
mothers-in law wholly into the shade. No
doubt she would have been glad to save
Home, as certain other geese once did with
t heir cackling, but lacking the opportunity
to do this she sang her ditties from morn
ing till night, "up stairs and down stairs
and 'n my lady's chamber," till ber son
in-law became sensibly alarmed at the fer
tility of her genius. Sing she must, how
ever, for was she not a poet, full of the
divine fire which refuses to be quenched ?
It is well fur the w )rld that she wasa law
unto herself. No upstart son in law could
control her, or keep her from humming
and cooing at her own sweet will .
And now it was not a Roman Senate,
but a Boston printer,
that her persistent
music awakened. A. happy thought oc
curred to Thomas Fleet. He printed and
sold songs and ballads at his printing house
in Pudding lane. Was it not a sign of
something good about to come to him, that
this precious mother in-law, with her end
less rock inns and lullabys, had put herself
in his way ? He stopped asking the irre
pressible songster to rock less, and urged
her to sing more. And while she sat in
her arm chair, or shuffled about the room
lost in sweet dreams, he carefully wrote
down what be could of the rhymes which
fell from her lips. His notes rapidly ae
cumulated, and in a little while he had
enough of them to make a volume These
he now printed, and bound them into a
hook, which be offered for sale under the
following title : "Songs for the Nursery ;
or . Mother Goose's Melodies for Children,
Printed by T. Fleet, at his Printing House,
Pudding Lane, 171.9. Price two coppers."
This title page also bore a large cut of a
veritable goose,
with wide open mouth,
showing that the proverbial irreverence of
soos•irrlaw is not a thing of recent origin.
They were just as saucy in the days of Moth
er Goose as now, and just as ready to turn
a penny at the expense of their mothers
in law. ;low the immortal author bore
this profane use of her name, or what she
thought of the ungracious but shrewd
Thowas Fieet, history does not say. We
have every reason to believe, that she took
it just as sweetly as she had taken all the
other trials and annoyances of her life.
She possessed her soul in patience, and
continued her gentle ministry to the little
ones; still gathering them into her arms,
and soothing and gladdening their hearts,
after the shadows of old age had fallen
about her; not weary of her delightful task,
but as busy as ever with it, when the time
came for her motherly s'ul to spread its
wings and fly away to the great company
of children in heaven.
Such is the true story of Mother Goose.
rr little book started forth on its errand
t grew and multiplied with eaohnewedi.
tion. It made her dear name a honshold
word wherever it went. What shore has
it wit visited Where is the home in
which its loving rhymes are not sang ? It
is one of the few books which cannot grow
stale or be destroyed. Not Homer or
Shakespeare is so sure of immortal fame as
Mother Goose. Considering the love in
which her , melodies are everywhere held,
their freedom from anything which might
corrupt or mislead the infantile mind, their
practical wisdom, their shrewd mastery of
the motives of human conduct, one is in
all soberness forced to admit that her name
is among the brightest of the jewels which
adorn the brow of Old South. What other
son or daughter of the church, renowned
as many of them are in history, has prov
ed a greater blessing to mankind, or se
cured the benedictions of so many hearts ?
She is to the new world what Santa Claus
is to the old. Let us hope that the day is
not far distant when a memorial statute
will be erected to this venerable lady in
one of the parks or squares of Boston. Let
it be in appropriate symbol of her and her
blessed ministry. Let it stand where the
children of the city may gather in their
daily sports, trundling their hoops and
carts about it, and singing their dollies to
sleep in its motherly shadow. And on it
should be the following inscription :
Elizabeth Foster,
Known in the Literature of the Nursery as
GOOSE."
Was born in Charlestown. Mass., 1665,
Married Isaac Goose of Boston. 1692,
Ilecame a member of the Old South Church, 1698,
Was left a widow in 1716.
The first edition of her "Melodies" was
Published in 1719,
She died 1757, aged 92 years.
The Origin of the Potato.
The famine prevalent in Ireland is large
ly owing now, as in the past, to the failure
of the potato crop, on which that unhappy
land has so uniformly depended for food.
It is singu ar that our common potato
should be called Irish because the bulk of
the lower order of the Irish are accustom
ed at home to use it as the chief article of
diet. While it is hard to decide where the
potato is really indigenous, and where it
has spread since its cultivation by man, it
is a native of mountainous districts of trop
ical and subtropical America, probably
from Chili to Mexico. It bas been as•
serted that the first vegetable of the kind
known to civilization was discovered in
Patagonia; but the assertion has never
been corroborated. Humboldt doubted if
it had ever been found truly wild; but
later travelers of high scientific reputation
are satisfied on this point. The wild plant,
except that the tubers are smaller, differs
very little from the cultivated plant. The
potato has been raised on this continent,
and its tubers eaten from times long pre
ceding the discovery of the western world.
It seems to have been first taken to Europe
in the beginning of - the sixteenth century,
by the Spaniards, from the vicinity of
Quito. It extended from Spain to the
Netherlands, France and Italy, but only
as a curiosity, being confined to a few gar
dens. It long bore the same Dame as the
batata, or sweet potato, which is the tuber
meant by most Old World writers down
to the middle of the seventeenth century.
It appears to have been tarried to Ireland
from Virginia (1566) by Hawkins, a slave•
trader, and to England 20 years later by
Sir Francis Drake, without attracting much
attention, until it was a third time export.
ed from this country by the expedition
sent oat by Sir Walter Raleigh. Still a
long time passed before the potato began
to be widely cultivated. It might be used
to advantage, it was thought, for feedicg
cattle and swine and very poor people, and
was finally raised with a view to prevent
famines. especially in Ireland, where it
was cultivated more extensively than in
any other part of Europe. Not before the
end of the eighteenth century was it gen
erally introduced into France and Ger
many. Darwin noted the potato in the
humid forests of the Chonos Archipelago
and among the Central Chilian Mountains,
where rain does not fall sometimes for six
consecutive months. It is closely related
to the mandrake and deadly night shade,
and from its stems and leaves a potent nar
cotic may be extracted. The eating of po
tatoes was for a while forbidden in Bur
gundy, as they were thought to be poison
ous, and the common people of England
long cherished a prejudice against them.
They are now used almost universally, and
they and corn are considered two of the
greatest gifts which this continent has
furnished to the Old World. The potato
really is and should be designated as the
American potato.
A Buried Race In Kansas.
It is well known that the wrought stone
implements found in the ancient river
gravels of California prove exclusively that
during or before the glacial period the
Pacific coast was inhabited by man. In a
report on recent archaeological explora
tions in Kansas, Judge E. P. West, of that
State, presents a large amount of evidence
to show that at an equally- remote period
that region was peopled by a race com
pared with which the mound-builders
must be accented modern. The geology of
the region is simple. Prior to the drift
epoch the river channels were deeper than
pow, and the river valleys were lower.
Subsequently the valleys were tilled by a
lacustrian deposits of considerable depth.
In or beneath this last deposit the remains
of an extinct race occur. such remains
have been fcund at various depths in seven
different counties along or near the Kansas
Pacific Railroad, namely : Douglass, Pot
tawatonie, Riley, Dickinson, Marion, Ells
worth and Lincoln counties. With one
exception the remains have all been found
on the second bottom or terrace of streams,
and consist of stone implements, pottery,
human bones and bone implements. In
most cases they were struck in digging
wells at a depth of from twenty to thirty
feet below the surface. In view of the
fact that there is not more than one well
to the square mile in the counties named,
and the area of a well forms but a small
fraction to a square mile, Judge West
pinks the evidence already obtained not
only sufficient to prove the former exis
tence of the buried race, but to prove that
they were very numerous: We can hard
ly assume that chance has directed the dig
ging of wells only where human remains
are buried. Whether the race existed
before the glacial period or immediately
after it is too early to determine. Judge
. .
West is inclined Co fix their time of occu•
pansy as after the eacid epoch and prior
to the deposition of the Loess. In calling
upon the local newspapers of Kansas to
lay the facts before the people and urging
the propriety of saving such remains when
found, and noting carefully the conditions
under which they occur, the Judge says :
"Here we have a buried race enwrapped
in a profound and startling mystery—a
race whose appearance and exit in the
world's drama precede stupendous geolog
ical Changes marking our continent, and
which perhaps required hundreds of thou
sands of years in their accomplishment.
The prise is no less than determining when
this mysterious people lived, how they
lived, when they passed out of existence,
and why they became =duck".
A BOSTON woman wanted to elope, but
when her husband gave her money to go
she changed her mind—it took all the ro
•
mance away.
NO. 9.