VOL. 51. AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. fritWMO ,BOBI9A ' r VORSISO BT jjttttK B. BBATTOS. T Ell MS Subscription.— I Two Dollars if paid within the rear! and Two Dollars, and Fifty Centd, If not paid within the year. These Urine will bo rigidly ad hered to in every instance; No subscription dis continued until all arrearages lire paid unless at the option of the Editor. , AnTßßtiSßMßKTS—Acoonipaniddby too cask* and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted throe times for $2.00, and twpnly-fivo cents for each sldillennl insertion. Those of a greater,longth'in * ), JoB-PBinTiwa— Such ns Hand-bills, Postlng-bllls Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac. &0., executed With .seuraoy and at the shortest notice. Jfartwal. OCR BOYS ABE COMINOHOME. Thank Ood, the sky is clearing ! The clouds are hurrying past; Thank God,'tho day is nearing ! The dawn is coming fast., And when glad herald voices Shall tell us peace has come, This thought shall most rejoice us; " Our boys ate coming homo I" Soon shall the voice of singing Drown war’s tremendous din ; Boon shall the joy hells ringing Bring peace and freedom in. Tho jubilee bonfires burning ] Shall soon light up tho dome, And soon, to soothe our yearning. Our boys are coming homo. Tho vaoant.fireaido places Have waited for them long ; Tho love-light lacks thoir faces, Tho chorus waits their song; A. shadowy foar has haunted Tho long deserted room, But now our prayers aro granted—* ' t Our boys are coming home. 0 mother, calmly waiting Bor that beloved son I 0 sister, proudly dating Tho victories he has won! 0 maiden, softly humming Tho love song while you roam— Joy, joy, the boys are coming— Our boys are coming home I And yet—ob, keenest sorrow! They’re coming, but not all; Bull many a dark to-morrow Shall wear its sablo pall, Bor thousands Who are sleeping Beneath the empurpled loam; ‘ i Woe! woo! for those we’re weeping Who never ifill come home I 0 sad heart, hush thy grieving; Wait but a little while, With hoping and believing ThyJwoojindJsfirboguilo^ Wait for the joyous meeting Beyond tho starry dome, For there our boys are waiting To bid us welcome homo. Jfiiswllwm A LESSON FOR PARENTS. * aOKTIftM CHtls'e DKiIT. • I don't wpect anything of mj children 1 , The tbne'wss fretful, with a quantity of accusation. ; The face of the speaker wore an injured look. , A boy between fourteen and fifteen years of age sati reading.; Ho moved uneasily, as if-pain had disturbed him; but he did not lift, his eyes from the pages on which they were resting. ’ - ~ ■ ■ ■ ■ ... 4 The harder a mother slaves for her chil dren the less they core; for her/ The boy moved again, almost with a start, as though the pain felt an instant before had suddenly increased, ' „ „ . ‘All children are thankless 1 So. the speaker kept on, talking to a friend, yet re ally thrusting at the boy. , • Not all,’ answered the friend. I have a mother, but I know my , heart in regard to her. It is full of love and gratitude, and X cannot remember the time when it was not »• • . ‘There are exceptions to all rules; and, .be sides, there are few women like your moth er.‘ Ibafc would be a cold heart, indeed, in to which she did hot inspire love/ ■ _ * Love begets love; that is.the old trite story: end as true to-day as it was a thou sand years ago. If children grow up cold and thankless towards their parents—it they early separate from them, going off into.tn “'world,. and treating them with nogleottho .fault in most oases rests with the parents. ■ They did not make themselves lovely in their ° b Tbere followed this a dead silence for some moments. The boy had lot bis book fall from . before his eyes, imd was listening intently. His mother saw this, and hud a quick.per ception of what was passing in his mind. , •Edward,’ said she, ‘I don’t like boys in .my bed-room. Go down stairs. This was .not spoken harshly. . The mother s tone had, changed considerably. , , r . The boy arose without hesitation ana leit I°don',t think it’s always good to talk be fore children,’ remarked the lad ,s mother as .soon as ho had retired, n . ‘"A proper regard to our language and conduct before children,’ was onswered is a theory of the gravest consideration. lhey_ have keen instincts—their eyes ore skarp they read us and know us. sometimes hotter than wo know ourselves.’. . ’ ‘They aye sharp enough, I suppose, but not so sharp as all that,’ was answered.— ‘l’m not one of those that make children of the ease will'not ate the result, my friend. Of that wo may be ' certain. As wo are to our children eo.will they be to ns. Love begets love and kind ness good will. K we,do not hurt them wan tonlyf they will not m turn,.wound why ne- S !°‘liurt them wantonly 1 l am euro that I -win made -hUosoaDO from borne at the first j confeflß ,, tu t that don’t osonte him; He’s proved himself - to be an ungrateful boy,.after alb Ins mother has dona for him. , But, in 'I said ’a, little while ago, Oil children ar’e e thankless. I don’t calculate anything frpih minp. They’ll grow up, and scatter; themselves • edst and west; getting off as far froni home as possi ble, and I’ll probably be left to an asylum or the poot-house When 1 got ‘old and help less.’! ‘You talk in that Waybeforo your child ren V said the friend. ‘.They know my sentiments.’ ‘So I inferred. In that way yod hurt them. You put their future on trial, and write out a verdict of condemnation, when it is impossible for them to vindicate them selves against your 'cruel Charges. 1 saw your sharp throats at him. He wits no par ty to Tom Baldwin’s untilial act; and it was a hard thingin you, my friend, to make Tom’s delinquency tho occasion for smiting your own son, whom you may biud to you, if yo# will, by triple cords ot love, not to be bro ken; or push away to a distance, where he can feel no warmth or no attraction. Take care 1 You are on dangerous ground.’ ’ ‘ Ob, you make too much of children,’ was answered, but with a Jiittle ’.'obstruction in manner, • 1 1 They are simply human boings._. They have sensitive eouls, quick to receive impres sions. Tender to love, but hard or resentful toward all unkindness. They are creatures of feeling rather than thought, not generally holding malice, but rarely ,losing the memory of pain from unjust infliction. (In after'yoars this memory is often revived, j It is my opin ion that in a largo numberpt cases, where children neglect their parents in old age the cause lies just here.' .* All ol which is simply vindicative,’ said the lad’s mother, ‘ and a poor compliment to human nature.’ ‘ Human nature doesn't pften suffer unjust ly through hard judgement,’ was answered. ‘ But I am not offering an apology for her shortcomings, only look after the cause. To prevent is better than to cure. Forewarned, forearmed. Is it not much tho wiser course for.uo to make sure of our ohildren’s love in tho present ?’ ‘You speak as though I didn’t love my children.’ A dark stain marked tho wom an’s cheeks: There were sudden flashes in her eyes. She was a woman of quick tem per. • Every feeling has its sigh,’ was calmly replied. ‘ Lave, anger, dislike-—each ex presses itself in a different way. These signs everybody knows. Even the babe of one brief summer may read them. Edward feels that you do not love him?’. ‘ Who says that ho feels so The mother started. There was a mingling of nngor with surprise in her face: • ‘ Must it not bo that, you withhold too of ten, the signs o*f love V • I shall get angry at you, if you talk, to me any longer in this strain.’ 4 No, my dear friend, you must not get an gry at me. Too mrfhv. sweet memories of the past are shared between its. Bear with me, now, as one whoholds you in her heart. Shall I relate to you an incident that occur red in my bouse only yesterday ? It is un der the Warrant of this incident, that 1 have ventured on tho plainness of speech which has disturbed you.’ The red spots faded toff the mother’s cheeks. The keen light went- out of her ■■me. eyes, o on, 7 she said, her voice 'pom its sharp key. * Edward bad called to see the children,- We always like to have him come. He ie never rude, nor coarse in his manners, but gentlemanly in his bearing beyond what is usually seen in lads of his age. I have more (ban once compared him with my oldest son, and wished that John resembled him in ma ny things. The two boys wore in the parlor alone, John, I am sorry to say, is not al ways to be trusted. He is over curious, and apt to meddle with things that should be sn ored from his touch. - Kecently' he has be come interested in insects, and has began to collect and preserve them. There was a vase of 4 wax flowers on the mantel-pieoe, the ingenious maker of which had placed several imitations of moth and beetles among the leaves. The vase was covered with glass, John’s now formed in terest in etomology had given a special at traction jto these moths, and booties ;. and on this occasion he went,'so' far. as lift-the glass covering, that he might obtain a clo ser view. In venturing to do this, one of those accidents that so frequently happen with children and grown-up people when they are not doing just right, occurred.. The glass shield slipped from John’s hand, end cracked to pieces on the floor. The noise, startled and excited me. I went hastily to the parlor and saw at a glance the damage which had been done, and also dflmprehend; ed the cause of the disaster. Edward lookeo pale and frightened and self condemnation, had odmO with accident. Even through my indignation which could not be stayed, I saw thatf Hurd words were struggling to come through my lips but I repressed them, Lx oerienoe warned me to keep silencp until I could speak calmly, and under the influence of reason. ■ I stood, for a few moments, looking at the shivered glass, and then, 1 without trusting my Ups to say anything, went out Tor the dust pan and brush. 1 was glad-that I con strolled myself. It is my experience that scolding always does harm ; and even when it works correction of bad habits, I am cor tain that a different way" would Lave been better. 1 was quite self-possessed when I re turned. As I stopped to gather up the bro ken fragments of glass, Jo.hn came up close to mo; ”l did not speak to, nor look at him. Edward had drawn back to a distant part of the room. Silently the work of collecting the pieces of glass wont on, John standing near me all the while. It was done hud I was about rising, when I felt his arm across ny shoulder. ‘ I’m so sorry,’ he said, in a penitent voice, laying-hie face down against mine, sfhioh I had turned towards him. ‘lt was wrong to'touch it I know ; - hut I thought ft would we so careful. I can’t tell what made it slip out of my hand.’-., .‘ Accidents are almost sure tp happen with; qs, my son,’. I answered, gently, hut serionsiy, ‘ when we are doing what is not fight. Let this disas ter standas a lesson for the future. ‘You shall take my money and buy a hew case, mother,’,be answered, in a spirit of manly justice that was grateful to my eats. It this little will 1 make yog more careful about doing right.’ I returned, ‘none of as will very deeply rogret the acci dent.” He put his arms around my nook .and kissed me. I’kissed him in.return, and then went out, thanking God in my heart, that he had helped’ me to self-control in a moment of trial, when passion would have hurt my boy. , , , i Not Jong afterwards I heard the, boys talking together. Edward said, *lf it had been my mother,'she would have scolded at me, until l ivti* thud enough to break ovory rything in the houßO. Why didn’t your. mother scold yon V.. ‘ Because she loves me, and knows that scolding wouldn’t make me hnlfso sorry as what I am.’ ‘I wish that iny mother loved me/ Said Edward, in n tone of voice so sad end lohging that it brought tears into my eyes,’ The mother of Edward caught her breath at this. Her lips moved as if she were about to speak; hut she repressed what was in her thoughts, and kept siledt. ' ! Of. course your mother loves you,’ an swered John. So' the friend continued. — 'But Edward said, *\No I'm shre she doesn’t love mo.’ ‘ Why do you say thntiaueation ed John. ‘ If’she loved me she wouldn’t be always scolding me, rtnd hurting me .by bad words, no matter what I do. Oh, John, If I had.suoh a mother as you, I’d be the happi est boy alive 1 I’d do anything for her.’ There was a silence for some time. It was broken by the friend, who said : ‘Forgive me for having told you this. —> The wounds of. a friend tire .bettor than, the kisses of an enemy. Forgive what may seem an exultation of myself above jou. ■ He who knows my heart knows that in there is no pride of superiority. He who knows how weak I am, how often I fall short, how often passion gets .the better of reason; how near it was to bearing me down yesterday. It was in His strength that /I overcame and helped iny boy instead -of hurting him: In His strength you may oyeroome also, and win the love of a child whose heart is athirst for your Jove, as is the.drooping flower athirst for the dew and rain.’ . • The mother of Edward buried her face into her hands. For a little while her body shook with half-choked sobs. Then she looked up at her friend. Her eyes were wet, her face pale, her lips curved with pain and grief, . ‘ You are not hurt with me V ‘ No, no,’ she answered. ‘ Not with Jon, but with myself. What have I been doing ? What madness has possessed me? , I know that Jove begets love—that in Mrs. Howitt’s beautiful words, it has readier will than",fear., I know, also; that hprdndss begets'hardness, that driving is more difficult and far less per tain than leading. And yet, knowing r all this, I have sought fo rule rpy children by passion and.force; to drive instead of leading them into the right ways. No, no. I am not hurt with you. For all this plain speak ing, which I so much •thieeded, I. thank you from the depth of my heart. If it is not bet ter with both me and my obildren in future, it will not be my fault. But it shall be bet ter 1’ ' - • i ‘ And It was better. How quickly, all changed under a new order of home govern ment. love and kindness found swift ‘obe dience where anger and harshness had mot obstruction. Sunshine dropped in through a hundred places, which had been closely barred against its sweet influences ; and Ed wnrd wondering at the pleasant change, drew nearer and nearer to his mother, and felt that she loved him. 0, love f sweet to all hearts. Ye who should give of its treasures, see to that your hand fail not in its dispensation. It has signs peculiarly its own which are never mistaken. If you would win love hang but the sign. ' Moderation A Scotch parson once preached a long sermon against dram drink ing, a vice prevalent in his parish, and from which, report sain, ho w.as not free himself i Whatever ye do, hretfaern, do it with mod eration j and abovoall, ha moderate in dram drinking., When yo get up, indeed, ye may take a dram, another just before breakfast, and per haps another after, but dinna always be dram drinking. It ye are out in the morn, ye may just, brace yourself dp with, another dram, and perhaps take another before luncheon, and some I fear take one after, which is not so very blameable, but dinna bo always drink ing. '• . • Naebody can scruple for one just before dinner apd when the dessert, is brought in, and after it is taken away, perhaps, and one on it may be twa. in the course of the after noon, just to keep ye from drowsing or snooz ling, but dinna be always dram drinking. Afore tea, and after tea, and between 'tea and supper, is no more but right and good, but let mo caution you, brethren, not to be always dram drinking. , ,' Just, when you.start for bed, and when ye’re ready ,to P°P into’t, to take a dram ;nr twa is no more than a Christian may law fully do. ... But, brethren, let me caution yon, npt to drink more than I’ve mentioned, or may be ye may pass' the hounds of moderation., I topping down ' The Shortest Wat.— Some twelve years ago, Napoleon, Ind. was celebrated for two things, one for the carousing , propensities of its citizens, and the other for the great num ber of cross roads in its vicinity. It appears that an Eastern collector had stopped at Day ton to spend the night and get some informa tion respecting his future course. Daring the evening.he become acquainted .with an old drover, who appeared well posted, as; ,to the geography of the country, and the collec ior thought he might as well injro gard to the best route to - different points to which he was destined. _ . ' ‘I wish to go to Greenfield,’, said the.col lector i' now, which is the shortest way ?’ Well, sir,’ said the drover, ‘ you had better goto Napoleon, and take the road leading nearly north.’ The traveler noted it down. • Well, sir,.if I wish to go to Edinburg?’ • Then go to Napoleon and take the road west.’' • Well, if X wiph to go to Vernon ?’ • Go to Napoleon and take the road south west.’ ‘Or to Indianolis?’ added the collector, eyeing the drover Closely, and .thinking he was ueihg imposed on. Go to Napoleon and take.the road north west.’ . > The collector looked at his note-book; eve ry direction bnd Napoleon on it! hebeganto. feel hia mettle rise, and he turned oneo more to the drover with— • Suppose, sir, I .wanted to go to the devil ? The droyor never sinUod,- but Boi'&tohed his head, and' after a moment’s hesitation, said— ■ ‘ Well, my dear, sir, Idontt know of any shorter road you could take than to go to Na pjleon.’ , . 1 O” Doctor, I want you to -prescribe for me.’ The dootor feels her pulse. ‘ There is nothing the matter, madam j you only need Vest.’ Now, doctor, just look at my tongue —just look at it! look at it! ‘Now I say what does that need.’ ‘ I think, that needs rest too'.” Exit madam, in a great excite ment. . ’ O' A Danish writer speaks of _ a hut so miserable that it did not know to fall, and so kept standing. i This is like the man that had such a complication oPdlseases that he did not know what fe dle : of, ahd so liyedohi' “ OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY,” CARLISLE, PA.. THURSDAY, MAY 25,1865. Pennsylvania is a good sized State, and it takes sometimo'to get tboro. IVhhn you do get there you wish you hadn’t come. • There is plenty of oil—and that is nil ex cept lots of people. I am for " Suite Sun,” the most like ly place for oil. i They call these places runs, because every body who is after oil runs hero. Every man you meet is the President, di rector, or engineer of a petroleum oompiny. The natives, who arc white people; and re semble country folks, live by selling laud and greenhorns. They have a system in both transactions. They double the price of land every morn ing- If you know anybody who has got a few vacant lots that he wants to sell, tell him to bring them out here. • > -The folks are so busy looking for oil they haven’t’time to build houses, and everybody is afraid to put up a bouse for fear he might .cover an oil well. Consequently the hotels are a little crowd ed. - The Muggins Hotel, where I put up, is' much so., •. Muggins, the proprietor, is the most ac commodating man you eybr saw. A city railroad conductor isn’t a circumstance to him. • lie has only got six beds in the bouse, but he is always ready to take in everybody. He took me in. Aleo two hundred more petroleum pil grims. The sleeping accommodations pre various. We go to bed in platoons. When the first platoon get asleep they are carefully taken out of bed and hung over a close line. The second platoon go through the same process, until everybody is provided for. Preferring to sleep alone, I slept op the mantle piece with the coal scuttle for. a pil low. ' As I observed Ifind is precious out here, I bought a lot ten inches by four, for ten thou sand dollars, and commenced operations. The next thing is to commence boring. , You want a sharp bore. A pubiib lectur er won’t do neither will a skating gimlet. COBBY O’LANDS AT TDK OIL REGIONS. 1 have reached the land of oil, hitvlng ta ken a safer route than the Erie. • I took n brace and bit and went in. Got down about seven thousand feet in to the bowels of the land, when I came to an impediment, ■Found that I had struck the pro-Adamite rook of the ossified strata of the Silurian for mation. ■ This is geology, and you perhaps won’t understand it, bat I will explain if all in the paper to the Historical Society I am about writing. Got a candle and went down to see about 1 found a big Megatherium, about six hun dred feet long, and wide, iu a capital state of preservation. ’ I got him out and will send him along by express. Went on boring through forty feet of sand stone. v Hero encountered a strange smell of sul phur, which alarmed the native who sold me the - land, and to ease -his conaoienoo gavo back half the money, and wanted <me to stop boring. Told him I was bound to keep on 'until I struck ile, or come out on the other side of creation. Bpred on.. Went through about sixty thousand feet more, when suddenly the brace and bit went in, and there was a grand report like that made : by Butler’e powder boat that didn’t blow up Port Fisher. Things were slightly confused for .awhile. A section of Pennsylvania went up, and 1 went op with it. I guess I must have come down again, ns the next idea I. had was finding myself comfortable, hung over the clothes line at Muggins Hotel. An investigation into<the matter showed that I had struck through into a gas factory in China, which had exploded at both ends of the bore, killing half a million of Chinese. The casiialities on our side were confined to one native and a small dog.’ ■ I haven’t given up yet.'. ; The: folks here are. very onepuraging ;they will stick to a man as long as he bos a cent left, and I never knew Muggins to turn a man ont of his hotel to pay bis bill; A kind hearted chap offered me, another piece of land, the size of a stove plate, with in a mile and a half of a seven hundred bar rel well, for the reasonable figure of half a million, and two-thirds of the oil. I bad concluded that boring for oil ig not so profitable as Weeding the public. I shell start an oil company on more liberal terms than any yet offered. I Bhall he prepared to guniantee anything- The Capital will he a million dollars, divided into two million shares, at fifty cents each. . Dividends of two hundred per pent, will he paid weekly, in addition to which each sub scriber will he entitled to a season ticket for Lanigan’s Ball, a new hat,' a farm near La Crosse, and a ton of ooal at market prices. The “ Scaly Bun” Petroleum Company will he the biggest thing in oil in the mar ket, X am going on to business as soon as my friends send mofunds enough to pay my way hack. I am yours, oleaginopsly, ‘ „ COBBY O’EANDS. A Substitute's Offer.— Mr. Pilkinson', .a small farmer in Pennsylvania, was some time ago drafted for the service of his coun try. His wife, though she possesses but a tmn.ll stock of general information, is one of the host conjugal partners, and she is much troubled at the thought of parting with her husband. The other day as she . was en gaged in scrubbing off her door steps, a rough looking man came up and thus addressed her: • I hear ma’am, that your husband has been drafted-’ - , . ‘Yes sir, ho has,’ answered Mrs. Piikm son, ‘though dears knows there is few men that could not better be spared from their families.’ . • _ • ~ • Well, ma’am, I’ve come to offer myself as a substitute for him.’ ‘ A what?’ asked Mrs,,Pilkinson, with some, oxoitoment. . • I’m willing, to take his place,’ said the stranger. . , , ‘ Yon take the place of my husband, yon wretch! I’ll teach you to insult a distressed woman in that way, you vagabond!, cried Mrs. Pilkinson, as she discharged the dirty suds in the face of the disbomfltted and as-, tonishod substitute, who took to his heels just in time to escape having his head brok en by tlio bucket. jgg-JAH the rohsl soldiers, prisoners in the North aro to bo discharged upon taking the oath- of allegiance. WHO IS A MASTER.MASON ; Fom an address recently delivered before the Grand Lodge of lowa by Rev. Bro. I. K. Grand Orator, wo take the following answer to the foregoing question; . 44 Latitude and longitude on the earth's sur face is measured by degrees, minutes and sec onds, and tho'smaller divisions, the minutes and seconds, are esteemed to be equally im- with tho degrees, and absolutely in dispensible to the perfection of measuiment. So that he, who, placing undue emphasis on, the degrees, is Unmindful of the minutes, will bo regarded as unskillful and defective in his calculous. And so, brethern, in computing our Masonic latitude onddongitudo, it is to be feared too great stress has been laid upon tho degrees as such, while too little importance has been attached to minutes and seconds, dr what Masonary enjoins upon us between the degrees. It is to .this direction, this crim inal want of attention to what has.been false* ly called the little things of Masonry, that such false estimates have been made as to tho character of our institution, and that pro fanes have sometimes said “ Masons aro no better than other people/' whereas Masons should so exemplify their principles in their lives as to constrain others to desire admission to our rights, lights and benefits. But I has ten to theconsideration* who is a Master Ma son? I hear a brother say, ho is one who is regularly initiated, passed and raised accor* ding to the due and ancient form.—But does this really make a Master Mason ? I answer unhesitatingly, tfd. Masonry,’as you are aware, is a great moral science, and in strict ness he is only a Master Mason who has sue ceeded in mastering the whole subject in all its parts,whether speculative, perceptive or practical. Ho who has simply graduated in the third degree of Masonry, be s only enter* ed the vestibule of our glorious old temple, having pot yet penetrated far enough to be come familiir with its sublime mysteries. If in a Christian country, to profess Christian religion and join a church, necessarily make a man a Christian, then to havo taken the third degree of Masonary, makes a man a gen uine Mason ; but the premise being false the conclusion is of course untrue; still further, a person may take upon himself the solemn obligations of Christianity, and still have done nothihg more than •* stolen the livery of heaven to servo satan.” So ifym were, to ask a brother what makes him a Mason, and ho were to answer my obligation, he would havo but half answered your question, because his obligation only makes him a Ma son nominally, not de facto. It is the wo k ing out that obligation into the life that makes him such in reality ; it is profession and practice', married faith and works* as cause and effect, that illustrate Masonry. In a word, then, a Master Mason! is one whose heart Is k alwuys in the right place, al ways palpitating at the sight of human woe, whose conscience is tremblingly sensitive and true to its. trust as the needle to the magnet, who comes up out of the dust and toil, the complications and antagonisms of daily life unsullied, with bis soul perpendicular to the zenith. Qe is a man whose hand is never lifted up in violation of God’s law as express ed in the decologuo, but who is always ready to mingle*his unaffected tears with the suf fering eons and-daughtors of mortality. Such is the ideal of a Master Mason, an ideal which I am glad to know has many illustri- ous exemplifications in the catalogue of Amo rioan Masons.” - Crockett itr a Quandary, —“lnever, but •once,” said the Colonel “ was in what I call a real genuine quandary. It was during my electioneering lor Congress at which time I strolled about in the woods so particularly pestered with politics thatT,forgot my rifte, you know; blit it isn't every man that can make amends for bis forgetfuluess by his fac ulties, I guess. It chanced that 1 was strolling.along, con siderably deep in congregatiooftls; the first thing that took my fancy was the snarling of some-young bears, which proceeded from a ho[low tree; but I soon lound I could not reaqb the cubs with ray hands, so I wont feot foremost, to see if I- could draw thorn up by the toes. I hung oh the top of the hole, straining'with all my might to reach them, until at last my hands slipped, and down I went, more than twenty feet, to the bottom of that hole, and Ihero I found myself almost hip deep in a family of fine young bears. I soon found that 1 might .as well under take to climb the greasiest part of a rainbow as to Setback, the hole in* the tree being so large, and its sides so smooth and slippery from the, rain. Now this was'a reaVgenuineiquandary.— If I was to shout, it would* be doubtful whether they would bear mo at rho settle ment, and if they did it would ruin my elec tion, for thoy were of a quality too cute to vote for.a man that ventured into a place that he didn’t understand how ip get himself out of. Well, now, while I was calculating wheth er it was best to shout for help or to wait in the hole until after election, 1 hoard a kind of grumbling and growling overhead ; and' looking up I saw the old bear coming down stern foremost upon me. My motto always was *.* go aheaj?,” and as soon as she lowered herself within my roach, I got a tight grip of her tail in my left hand, and with my little buck horn halted pen knife in the "other, I commended spurring her forward., Til bo shot it evor tv member of Congress rose quicker in the world than I did I She took mo but of that hole in the shake of,a lamb’s tale 1 * Items you HousEKitepsna. —Do everything at the proper time. Keep everything in its place. Always mend clothes before' washing them. . , - ,Alum or vinegar is good to set col its, rod, green, or yellow. Sal soda , will bleach ; ono spoonful is enough for n kpttle of clothes. Save your suds,for the garden and plants or to harden yards when sandy. A hot shovel hold over varnished furnitu re will take out white spots. A bit of glue, disolved in skim milk and. water, will restore rusty old orape. - Ribbons of any kind should bo washed in cold suds, and not rinsed. . If flat irons'are rough, rub them with fine salt; and it will make them smooth. ■_ If-you aro buying a carpet for durability, you must ohoosejmall figures. _ A bit of soap rubbed on the hinges of doors will prevent them from creaking. Scotch snuff put in the holes -whore prick ets run will destroy them. . - , Wood ashes and common, wet with water, will stop the cracks- of the stove and smoke from escaping . Green should be the prevailing oolot for bed bangings and windovv.drapery., , - Uowalkof us would hate and despise' theinah Wfib'shbuld misuse our gifts ,as we misuse those df lieavsn-. 9 '' In 18G0, a young lad was sent from Charles ton, S. C., W bo educated at a distinguished school near'Lntrobe, in this State. About the same time, a sister was spot to Now York city for the same purpose., These were children of a widow lady in affluent circum stances living in South Carolina. Shortly afterward, the rebellion breaking out, all communication was cut off with the South, and it was impossible for the children to hoar from homo. In the course of time the young man's funds run out, though he was urged by the proprietor of the institution to remain and pursue his studios gratuitously, ho was too high-spirited to do so; but declared his ability and willingness to earn his own live lihood. In the meantime, owing to some, circumstance, ho and his sister lost all trace of each other. She engaged in teaching in New. York, and he came to Johnstown and went to work bravely and cheerfully. Tno sister advertised in the Philadelphia and Pittsburg papers for information concerning him, and in reply received a letter from one signing himself “E. Jones," to the effect that he had been sent to the penitentiary for horse-stealing. In distress, the young lady visited the Governor to have him pardoned and released, and was told that he could do nothing without knowing the particulars, and to ascertain these she wont to the Western Penitentiary to examine into the matter where, to her relief, she found thet there was no truth in the report. She then renewed her advertising and inquiries, and at length succeeded in tracing him to this place, whore she learned that ho was still living and em ployed at the Iron Works. She sent him word that she was here at a hotel and desir ed to see him; lie stopped work immediate ly, and before meeting her went to the Bar ber shop to be shaved, washed and, spruced up, in order to .look something like lie was in his earlier days. The sister learned where he was—her better judgment gave way to the impulse of feeling and emotion, and she repaired to the shop, ordered the barber to suspend the operation of shaving, threw her self on her knees before.him, embraced and kissed him in the presence ot all the bystand ers, and then took him to her room unwash ed and unshaved, that she might in a more retired way, renew the ardent manifestations of a sister’s undying love., 0, what a lesson this tenches ! Only a mother can love more intensely than a sister! Here she realized that he was still alive, still guiltless of crime and unstained in character and undisgraoed by the fiendish report that ho had met a fel on’s fate. —Johnstown Democrat. LIEUTENANT GeNERAE GeaNT’s PaiEADEE pbia Residence. —The handsome furnished mansion on West Chestnut street, purchased and fitted up at a cost of @50,000, by the cit izens of Philadelphia, as a present to Limit. General Grant, was opened on the 6tb inst., for inspection, and in the course of, the day was visited by a largo number of ladies and gentlemen. The mansion is twenty-two feet front, one hundred and live feet deep, and four stories in height. The front is of sandstone, and has a balcony under the first story windows. In the interior tho arrange ments combine oleganoe-and convenience.— There is a spacious hall, and a handsome staircase ascending from it to the fourth sto-. ry, lighted by a window on the roof. There is also a private staircase leading to-tho din- Ing-roora"and kitchen. 1 1 Buck of tho chambers on the seoond and third floors arc both rooms, which are ele gantly fitted up. The parlor, about seven teen by forty feet, is superbly furnished, the carpets being velvet, the furniture of walnut, and the curtains of the'richest laco. The piano and all the articles of furniture in the room are in the highest stylo of mechanical art. . Vasos.of an antique pattern decorate the richly carved marble mantel; and an elegant clock, surmounted by a figure repre senting the historian is in the centre of it. On the centre table is a magnificent copy of the Bible. 1 Passing on the dining room are exposed to view, on an extension table, a silver tea set and a china dinner and tea-set, together with pearl-handled knives and silver forks. A prominent figure on it is a largo silver candelabra and flower stand combined. In the dining-room is a very beautiful side board. The chambers on the second floor are fin ished in almost as cost); style as the parlors Velvet carpets on the floors, a splendid Jen ny Lind bedstead is in each room, with beau tiful dressing bureaus and wardrobes. The reception room, on the second floor back, is also richly furnished. In the third story chambers the floors are -covered with Brus sels carpeting, and the furniture is of n su perior kind. Ail portions of the house are furnished in the most complete manner. The residence was formally presented to the General in person. Several speeches were made. • • .- Strange Burial Customs in Sicily.— ln Sicily, churchyards aro unknown. The corp ses are placed ip layers in the vaults of ehufolios without a coffin, and when decom position performs its work, the remains, of the 'pAor are piled together in a corner, and sometimes walled in ; but those who can af ford it have their remains placed in a niche in a special apartment, called the Chamber of Death, where for a long time the hideous relics of humanity may bo seen by the curi ous. It is a largo hall on the ground-floor, lighted by a large window, like that of an artist’s studio. Ali round there are niches like sentry-boxes lehinto the wall; they are about six feet’ high, and the bottom is level with the floor. The corpses, blackened by decomposition, are frightful to loook at; they are kept, generally in a standing position by a rope round their necks, and their naked, flesliless feet rest on the floor; but,- ns the ropes are not uniformly tightened, the atti tudes are all different; some leaning forward with their heads outside the niche, us though about to advance into,the centre of the room. All have, a ■ paper label 1 fastened on their, breast, couched thus: “I am so-und-to; have a mass said for me, for mercy’s sake.” In one of the niches is the corpse of a young man, in a 1 Zouave’s uniform ; ho is fastened found the waist,, so that the body is boat in two.'HEhe head down and the hands for. ward, which gives- him the appearance of looking for something on the floor. There are also a few,’only a few. glass coffinsin one of them is o gentleman wearing a ohim ney-pot hat, mtiah too large for what is left of his head. A few wooden ; coffins form a strange contrast with the ghastley exhibition all around. They contain: the remains of la dles, this barbarous fashion at posfo mortem display stopping short of tfiafpirsex. OCT* About 2000 negroes are now employ ed by the Quartermasters department iH Washington. They have excellent pay and but little to do| and bless their stars daily that they are ’‘‘contrabands’' and - not poor white’folks.' A Toncliing Incident. Tub Chiunev Swallows.— The. Cecil j Vent-, ocrat thus describes the.fipat appearance, for this season, of the chimney shallows in that town. It says:, .<■ Last Saturday, a short time after sunset, we noticed the return of the, .chimney swal; lows, from the South. Thousands,of them . wore going through their peculiar aerial evo lutions of wing, over a house in town. .We watched them a few minutes, wondering where so many would find lodgings : the, first night. After flying round and pver the house, top for a while, as if for amusement, the whole flock hovered over one chimney, made several circles in the air, the circumference? gradually lessening,and suddenly commenced pouring into the chimney in a perfect stream, tens, and hundreds, and thousands descend-. ed, until the last'bird dropped in. Wo wore at a loss to know how they found room. un less they swarmed like bees, which Wilson. says they never do. We have, hoard of three in a bed, but wo think three thousand swal lows in one chimney would be oyen closer • .quarters. There has been much diversity of opinion among oven respectable' ornitholo gists as to where and how the swallows spend the winter. Some mention ’apparently well ■ authenticated cases of them having been in mid winter buried in the mud at the bot tom of lakes—one writer says three were, found id king’s pond,in England; This is. about as probable as that the rail bird turns into a bull frog in winter, which is firmly, believed by several residents of this, locality. Others contend, that they lay dormant all; winter in hollow trees or in the gliffs of rooks; and in holes. At Middlebury.in Vermont, Mr. Williams says there,was a large hollow. elm, called by thwpeoplc in the vicinity the swallow tree. Every year, about the middle, of September, the swallows wore observed to, enter this in “ millions” and were not seen any more until in the spring, when they would come out with a loud, noise or roar,. and wore soon dispersed through the neigh borhood. from this and many similar ca-. sea, Mr. Williams concluded that they pass-. cd the winter in hollow trees., But, thoss doctrines haveexploded. The swallows were merely collecting preparatory to the trip South. It is said that the, male birds;of a - whole vicinity roost in one chimney during, the season of incubation, and rearing'of thq young. Worms on' the Currant Bushes.—lho time is athandwhon those who would receive a yield of fruit from their currant and goose berry. bushes, should be attending to them. Hence the following from a writer to thq Syr aoruse Journal is pertinent. He says: I notice that the leavesjof the gooseberry, are already infested withitho eggs that hatch. into those worms that proved so destructive, to this bush and to the currant last year,--. The insect that lays these eggs is rather small er than a house-fly, which it slightly resem bles; The abdomen is, however, of; übright yellowish.brown color. The insect is rather, sluggish in its movements, and may be caught without much difficulty and destroyed, and by its destruction the production of many of tho worms is prevented. The' ,eggs which are white, and about one twentieth ofan inqli ;ii long, are deposited on the under sides of tho >■ leaves in rows along the. more'prominent veins. They are readily removed by rubbing the loaf between thumb and.forefinger, or. If preferred, tbe infested leaves may bo picked off .and burned. If this plan of destroying tbe eggs and mature insects, where found, is thoroughly carried put by giving the.popes savy attention to the bushes fur a few.min utes every day or two, it must of course, save the bushes. From tho slight observation I .made last year, it appears to me those wqrms , come in sueoessiva crops, and, perhaps,the de struction of this early spring crop may .pre vent the development of the later crops., It will do so, if the insects that lay the later . litters of eggs are matured forms of tholarvm of the early crop. ’ The gooseberry leaves seems to be first-at- ’ tacked because they come. forward earlier than those of the currant. Of course, atten tion should be paid to the currant leavgs as soon as the eggs begin to be dopodltad on them. v , . . The suggestion of this correspondent are well but if the mischief goeson and the worms are batched, then they.may bo destroyed by ,tbe use of hellebore, which may bo sprinkled over the bushes in the liipipjng when the dew. is on, by the use of it tiivpox with a per forated cover. '.Preserve the currants by all means, for they are useful and, come' to the table at a season when ho other fruit can be Ua(J. : A Legal Booslebano. —A diniinntive Ger man—wo will call him Mr. Kraut —entered complaint that his wife bad beaten him in a manner literally merciless. Ife unscathed his head from the bandages siirr,ound,mg it, exhibiting the marks of a broom handle ad ministered with, no feeble flnqtion. Mr.. Kraut was arrested. She stood full si? , foot high, with breadth, of shoulder, and length of arm in duo proportion. ,UJbe, hus band reiterated his affidavit! The woman made no defense, and the Magistrate fined her for intoxication. As she didn’t pay the fine, the officer motioned her to follow him to prison, SUo obeyed the order. -. ‘ M’hat ‘are yon goin to do?* abkod'SfrV Kraut. ‘ Take that woman to-prison'.’ * Take her to prison V ' Certainly.’ •„ . v . • . ■ And who dahe care of hop baby ?’ *, Don’t know; suppose you must take oars of it yourself.’ ' ‘ But I can’t. I gnea now to mine vork.’ ‘Well, if Somebody don’t pay her fine she must be.looked up.’ : ,, ‘ And must I get knock jn to der cellar by mine vifo, und ray head broke, and den turn around und pay for it V’ . a Mr. Kraut said something that sounded like profanity. lie dropped live dollars aPd ten tears, the former on the desk of tho rs-s, cordor, tho latter upon the floor, and depart ed with bis wife, plunged in, profound won der at-the curiosities of the l&w. , As we said before, pooplij indulging in matrimony often learn, a great deal by n-vefy short bourse of alaii.—Phitadelphia&NciHk American. ■ ' : ' Bill iom^kinet, 1 vrt&t'a BUT” Schoolmaster— 1 a widow 1” Bill—“A widdor is a matriid woman Whit aiiii’t jtot no' husband,' hoz he’s dead.” Mastei;-? 1 -” Very.well. Wb’at is a widower ?’* Bill—“ A iwiddorer is ainlonwhat inns al ter widdera,” . ... [£?=• A paragraph states that the Empfess- Ehgonib wore §3,500,000' worth of diamOhds at the last court ball. ; V/dua ffxvN* Dban^—This renowtud ,arKst proceeds to Idaho shortly' to fulfill H ■professional engagement.' . 1 . • NO; 40’.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers