• J -'l 1, lAN VOLUNTEER, jVERY THURSDAY HORNING JIY TOM & KEMMEWY. ™ S: . ■ rrt 1 oN. —Two Dollars if paid .within the. Two Dollars, and Fifty Cents, if not paid :iittSßKe year. Theso terms will bo rigidly i>d- every instance.; No subscription dis- Icl until all arrearages are paid unless at f>£ .o/'the'jßdJtor*,.«/ j .j /J .; * tisbments- — Accompanicdby tbb cash, and oding one square, will bo inserted three r $2.00, and twenty-five cents ■ for each d insertion; Those of a greater length in EBdroftNa—Such- ns Hand-bills, Posting-bills Blanks, Labels, Ac. &c., executed with at the shortest notice. ’ -rifSp: W®* **• BUTIiE AT LAW,- ■ WepSi ! CARRISUE, PA. • .S2Bffeß : wwn IVm. J. Shearer, Bsa. ISO5—Xy. Gi ;GRAH AM,; ■. 3J O'R K y ;.A Jf UWa I : ‘ ■ formerly occupied by. Judge Graham, street, 1 Carlisle. • [sept. t, ’63-ly W. lO A I )~LE R, JTTORNEY M T LJI JV i: . . , CARLISLE, Pa. ' Volunteer, Building. Hanover. XSOl—ly.’. |....... f'j. M. WEAKIEY, ' TOXIN, E X ,A-T LAW, on South llanovor street, in thtj formerly occupied by A. B. Shorpo.; ' 3ia||fe';n~ n ews n a m., T TORN BY" AT RAW. 'witli Via. 11. Miller; Esq., smith ;&ajSp:t&'at pornor of Hanover end Pomfrot street?. 22, 1882^-tf K»wU> ns> c> HEUHArS, • ATT ORNEY AT LAW. . (TICE in Elieent's' Hall Building, in oftUo Court House, next door to ,H«aflWV'Oflice, Carlisle.. [Feb 1 i ■rJiffS.P. —; : 1 ‘ “ A. DISBAR, f IOHET'A! LAW. ■ ■■ PABWSI*, pa. -.Office next door to tho American Printing oflio “Tife.'fedobrs'-weat.W Hannon’s hotel. . 13CXr-ly V F. B. BBtL'ZaOOVER, ' ! s rAfKORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LA IF, CARLISLE PENN’A. South Ilapoyor street, oppo • H store. ' arrangement.with, the Patent Office, to .securing; Patent Rights. \;32,.186‘1-ly 'E. : -MA«IiAU«nfiIW, M K V. Y-AT-L A W. “ ■ XnhoiFa-buildings just opposite * S6BB& Market House-. ' • * .» 13,. 1862-—ly. Jtjjfeo/Tico with James B. Smith, Esq., Bheom s JproßirWßSmcsa oiAfus*cd to him will bo prompt -1 to, • - Fob. 6. 1863. ■ —- - H*W*^ (Re Saltwiore- College, of Dental Surgery attho residence of Ms mother, East Loutli floors holow Bedford- 7 ■ 22(1862. ? L Mar ~ i £ Tc. LOOMSS, DElS from South. -Hanover atrcot to-West I PWfftVstrooti-'oppoaitoaiio-Fomalo; High School, i K J ‘ ; '.' J ; --[April 28,1864. ! • riiHmsu bs c rib o v liavirip; Joaaed .the Yard ■ JL-i>form<3rly occupied by Armstrong & IXofibr, k:■ • /toft of ; f]v*j j> rtifyQU* lt 4tN&,& VM B,:E;R , . p , %■ .together with an Ammonso now stock* have .cop§ tnjjtly on liaiulcind furnish to order of soaartncdV ' * 1 [k-". :>; aSppß, ... BOARDS*'/., , /. 1 „ ; * Shingling I and f\Voat|iorbqaraing, Posts and Hails, |;’ r \ ! ■ ;. : rs?isssindB of Shingles,/to. wit: ;Whitopinc, Ilcm < v of different qualities. Uaving oars ofjfi^owfi l P J oan* furnish «UilU to tmiorof any 1 ‘ I: 'notice and on the moßCtodsonablo t9?pifl., ily worked hoards will bo - keßtandor qoverso they can bp furnished dry at i • ntt-flmoM * 1 ‘l ’l ‘ u 1 / 1 ,■/«'.«• ) u f'Y-havo.<ftilalJanl;ly oplhapd albkmda ;oJf .-F;cVML } ■ \ undercover, which I will deliver clean 1 • tbjwqr part of 1 ' T6 : #itV ‘Lykons Val vEgg, Stoiorand,.Nut, : Luke,Fiddler, Locust* Mountain, Lobbory, which X to sell at tliblowost prices. ' I ‘ , liirmhurnevs’ and*Black smiths’. oal . qn'bfirid which X will .poll at the lowest fig aro, c , w *arU‘ west side of Grammar School, Main 'IOE.- 1 -! still retain the same position rm : of-DELANOY «fc BLAIE, which willho oir aa energetically as ever at their old jaftho Gas house. As our-purchases -will together at tho head of the market, wo ifidont hy so doing to ho able to Eccommo ir icastomers and tho public on the most ible -terms.' * having relinquished tho tan will 'doorto my-entire attention to tho Coal uhlio*“business. All kinds-.of Coal and ■koptcoastantly on hand and in the -host m.- - The Lumber Yard will bo managed by' whoso experience and- skill is well to'the community. ! - By strict attention to Short and a desire-to do right wo ; floduz*o'a liberal share of*public patronage. ANDREW H. BLAIII. "I6i'lß6Q-tfr - JIT J&reat Buchanan’s History of the Ad 7.', ''M'misira'tion oh the " ■ EVE OE THE .REBELLION. 1 ’ :y. iiocriitSlibuld Have It bsieription Price, $3.50, 'All’ordorß will receive'prompt attention. Address 1 " J * 1 ; '- ‘ ■ ' • 1 -A. T. GOODMAN, - . f Pdtrfof and Union Office, ■/.Mil# ,' 77 Hißwsinmo, Pa, ANDEEW 11. BLAIR. forfifal. IffiliE IS i\'() BElm - There is no death! The stare go down , To rise upon some fairer shore ; / And bright in Heaven’s jeweled crown : They shine forever more. Thoro is no.death ! The duet wo,trend i Shall change beneath the summer showers, To golden grain or mellow fruit, Or rainbow tinted flowers. The gentle rooks disorganize j To food the hungry moss they boar ; The forest leaves drink daily life From out the viewless air. Thoro is no death I The leaves may fall, 1 Tho flowers may fade and pass away— They only wait through wintry hours, The coming of tho May. Thoro is no death ! An angel form , Walks o’er tho earth witn silent tread, lie bears our best loved things away, And then w r o call them “ dead.” tie loaves our hearts all-desolate— Ho pi neks our fairest, sweetest (lowers ; Transplanted into bliss, they now Adorn immortal bowers. The bird-like voice whoso joyous tones Made glad this scene of joy and strife, Sings now in everlasting song Amid the trees of life. And where lie sees a smile too bright, ; Or hearts too pure for taint and vice, lie bears it to that world of light : To dwell in paradise. Born into (hat undying life, They leave us but to come again ; With joy wo welcome them the Same, Except in sin and pain. And over near us, though unseen, The dear immortal spirits tread ; For all the boundless Universe Is life—there are no dead. HlWlnnmm UNCLE OBED’S VISIT. It would, have required no very powerful stretch of imagination for Mrs. Amber's guests to have fancied themselves amid the light and fragrance of some tropic isle on that festal night. The stately balustrades were wreathed with deeply-tinted blossoms, the air was freighted with the perfume of helio trope and tuberose, and tho chandeliers that hung from tho froseood ceiling, like coronals of quivering fire, threw noonday brilliance over the crowd. At the further ond of tho superb drawing room, stood Mrs. Amber herself—a stately matron in sapphire velvet, illuminated by the pale glimmer of pearls. No ono would over have imagined from tho smiling solf posscssion of her manner that this night was tho crisis of her life. Through all tho hum and murmur of the aristocratic assemblage—through all tho crash of arriving carriages, and the stormy melody of tho band beyond, Mrs. Amber’s quick ear caught ono low, hesitating step on tho threshold. It was her husband’s. Sho beckoned to him with her iewolled fan, and whispered in scarcely audible voice. “ Well?” “ Justus lexpootod. Wo are ruined, can’t keep above water a week. Norris has failed and wo shall follow suit 1” “A week,” murmured' Mrs. Amber thoughtfully, “a week 1” One can accom plish a.good deal in a week; ■ “Have you noticed how attentive Young Gold is to Ce cillia?” she added musingly. '■ lie won’t ho after—” “ Hush!” Mrs. Amber exclaimed with a quick glance around, as if apprehensive that tho vcry walla would hoar their whispered, colloquy. “If she wins a rich husband be fore -the world- learns of. your distress, we shall be tolerably safe. For your own aako keep a cheerful face; mingle with our guests—throw off that perturbed frown. I tell you all will be'right." Mr. Amber shrugged his shoulders and whistled half a,bar. of some popular strain, then turning away to obey his wife’s behests . to the best of his ability, while Mrs. Amber, her smooth lips all wreathed in dulco’t smiles, resumed the task of receiving her gay friends. ' Suddenly there was' a sort of thrill and filter.’ through the “apartment—the crowd opened as if to make way for somebody, and Mrs. Amber came forward expecting to greet some distinguished arrival. "Good evening, Tildy. ~I kalkilated you’d all bo'gone to bod, at this time o’night, but I sob'you don’t keep Now Hampshire habits. Han’t forgotten mo, have you ? Why, I’m your Uncle Obod Jenkons 1” Mrs. Amber turned pale through all her artificial bloom al/tho unexpected addition to her company that stood before her, his honest features beaming with dolight. It was a ruddy-faced old man, in a suit of butter nut-oolorod cloth, carrying in one. hand n neatly-tied hankerchiof, containing his ward robe, and in the other a crooked walking stick, full of knots and gnarla—such-a stick as grows only in dense swamps, where, the - young sapling have to twist, their little,arms in every direction to get a bit of sunshine, and gvow'.up.in the. most unheard of .shapes. “ I declare,” pursued Uncle Obod, “ you’re fine as. a fiddle, Tildy—and where’s them little gals you sent up . sumner bofore.last, to got red cheeks at their uncle’s? Grown up to be young ladies—well, if I .ain’t beat en.” And Uncle Obed extended a bony hand to Miss Oeoillin, who drew , back and put'up a golddnoiwted eye glass with an air of well bred astonishment. “ I never heard that any thing ailed Co cilly’s eyesight, Tildy,” said Uncle Obod in extreme perplexity. “ And that young fel ler in the yellar waistcoat is her beau, I sup peso? "Well, young folks wilfbo'young folks, and we old ones had’nt ought to interfere:—' That’s what I always said when,, you , and iJim Amber used to walk in the old side-hill orchard; after you’d-done the milking." This unluoky allusion brimmed the already overflowing veins of Mrs. Amber’s wrath— she drew her gloved hand from the old man’s cordial grasp; with an energy which puzzled him and, and spoke with compressed lips: ,“I am really sorry, .air, that were are not previously made aware that you proposed honoring us with a visit. In that case wo could have prepared ourselves for the pleas ure ; now, I regret to say, it will be incon venient to, receive you.” “'What?” ejaculated the astonished old 1 man; who was uncertain whether or not ho had heard aright the words of his only niece —tho girl whom he had brought up and cared for when others rejected the charge of the penniless orphan. Mrs. Amber repeated /the frigid sentence with that emphasis avirroTPonly a heartless woman of tho world can give. “Thisas a big house, Tildy,” said tho old man, in slightly tremulous accents, “and I should ha’ thought thoro was a corner in it big enough for Uncle Obcd. I wasn't cal culating to stay long—not over a week at the furthest; but i’ll go homo to-morrow tho very first train that leaves, if I’m in the way.” Mrs Amber made no answer, but tapped lightly on her mosaic bracelet with one slen der finger, and Undo Obed turned away with moisture in his eyes that made curious rings of mist around tho glaring jets of flame in tho chandelier. Uncle Obcd was wishing himself well out of the heartless scone, w'hon suddenly a pair of plump little arms wore thrown around his neok, and a chock fresher and pinker than a damask rose was pressed to. his brown face. It was Mrs. Amber’s youngest daughter—his own niece—the'incorrigible romp, who had dimed cherry trees and stolon bird’s nests innumerable in tho meadows of tho old home stead, two or three years ago. And thoro she was—a young lady in pink silk and cam eo-bracelets 1 - “ Dear Uncle Obed, I have only just heard of your arrival. lam glad to see you if no ono else is!” And another shower of kisses succeeded, greatly to the discomfiture and onvy of tho young man who had escorted Miss Amber to tbo spot, and stood surveying tho pretty lit tle tableau. ’ “Go about your business, Harry!” sho exclaimed gaily, “ I’ve got over so much to say to Unolo Ohod 1” And Harry Latimer obeyed, hut rather un graciously. “ Just tho same little Fanny as over 1” ex claimed tho old man, patting tho curls with dolightedjfondnoss. “ You haven’t changed, though Tildy has 1” “No ; and I will never change for you, Undo Obcd,” paid theghd. “ I haven’t for gotten how kind you were to mo, up at tho old homestead, how you shielded my trans gressions,. concealod my faults, and always bad a smilo for naughty little Fanny. And sho chatted ou, entirely unheeding :hcr mother’s frown of displeasure. Fanny had always been the least manageable of Mrs. Amber’s daughters, and tho worthy.ma tron secretly resolved to looturo tho young lady at her leisure. Uncle Obed was by no means deficient in observation, and while he related the chang es which throe years had wrought in tho vi cinity of tho old homestead, ho perceived the rosy blood mount to his niece’s chock every time Mr. Harry Latimer passed. “Now little girl,” said ho, “who’s that young fellow thoro by tho.window?” Fanny looked up and then-down, played with tho middle button of Uncle Obod’s coat and answered very softly: “ Mr. Latimer.” “ Humph 1 I suppose that isn’t all you can toll mo about him ?.” There was a minute's hesitation and then Fanny hid her aheek on the old man’s shoul der and told Unolo Ohod all. “ Then why on earth don’tyou marry him 1” ejaculated the old gentleman, at the close of the little life romance. “ He’s oqly a poor lawyer,” sighed Fanny, “ and papa will never consent. But one thing I am resolved on,” she added with 'sparkling eyes, “ I will not marry any ono else, least of all that odious Colonel Woodall, not if ho were worth twenty times twenty thousand dollars. I’ll marry the one 1 can love—not for money.” ; , The stamp of her fair fyot gaye emphasis to the determined words tvs she spoke. Fan ny was very much in earnest, arid if Colonel AVoodall had happened to be present, ho would have concluded that his chances wore, to say the least of it rather small. “ Twenty thousand dollars, elr?” slowly repeated Uncle. Obod. . " Well, Fanny, it is a hard world w.o live in—a hard griping, grinding world. I never thought'so afore, but somehow, to-night has borne it upon mo.” AVhen Uncle,Obod wont away next day he was comparatively'cheerful. The kind words and loving: smiles of little Fanny, had, fallen like drops pf balm upon, the pore spot in his heart. There it was nestling in the hillside, the gray old farm house, with giant sycamores tossing their silvery branches above, it and the lilac bushes nodding before the narrow windows. Uncle Obed thought it never look ed so pleasant as now, in the level,gold of sunset, with.the purple woods rising against the bright far-off horizon. ~ But ho did not .stop in the cozy room whore the eight-day clock ticked, away as peaceful ly as if its master had not been absenf two whole days—a, thing which hadn’t happened before in half a century ; ho .wont straight up stairs, to a tiny, nook under the oaves, where he kept'an old.sort of trunk, curious ly scented with camphor, and bound togeth er with strong clasps and rivots of brass.— From this receptacle ho took, a bit of paper, and, held it so the light fell on its contents. ‘i Twenty thousand,” ho muttered. “ Well I am an,old ingn, and that gal is just the light of my eyes. ~ It shall buy her happb ness, the blue, eyed bird, instead of lying use less in .the garret 1 She deserves it ,all 1” ~ , Uncle .Obod pocketed the,document, locked his, precious, trunk, and wont down stairs wiping, the glasses .of his/spectacles. , . .The financial crash came, and the house pf Amber & Co., :was among the first on .'the list. It wau true that Mrs. Amber had been expecting the failure, but the blow fell none the loss heavy for the anticipation. Some how her plans all prove’d futile,. You’ng'Gold had in ' Bomb unaccountable ■ manner discov ered-the state of the Amber exchequer,- and wisely, concluded, that it was not best to waste, his personal charms and, elegant, stock of small talk on so ineligible a fair one as Miss Cecillia. Colonel’Woodall had also shown unequivocal signsnf withdrawing' his suit, not at. all to Miss Fanny’s displeasure. In short, overliving seemed to bo, going wrong and the only satisfied members of the confed eration wei'tf Harry Latimer and Miss Fanny. ■ It was a gloomy morning of-rain and tempest, and, Mrs. Amber sat in a sort of. slovenly dishabille, in,a narrow room in. ono of bur third-rate hotels. Her own stately house had fallen "prey to’ grfiody creditors '.some-time-since.- Mr. Amber at an opposite table.was slowly oponingiaud glancing over his letters. “ Hallo 1’ ho suddenly exclaimed, dropping one and catching it up again. ' ' ’■ How you do agitato one’s nerves 1’ groaned Mrs. Amber. * Hang your nerves, here’s something to sot them in a flutter—a letter from a Now England lawyer, announcing that your Uncle Obed Jenkins has made Miss Fanny Amber a present of twenty thousand dollars, to be ; oome hor property on the day she' marries Harry Latimer." “OUll COUNTRY—MAY IT ALIY AYS BE RIGHT—RUT RWIIT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY." CARLISLE, PA.. THURSDAY, JANUARY 18,1866* “Twenty thousand dollars,” shrieked Mrs Amber and Cecilia in chorous, “and nothing for us 1” i “Twenty thousand dollars I” murmured Fanny, with a crimson spot tn her cheek ; “Oh, how floppy wo shall bo 1 Dear, kind Uncle Obed 1” '' Vou'rc a nice manager,” (snarled Mr. Amber, turning sharply to his wife. It was for this, was it, you treated Mr, Jenkins so rudely on the night of your last jjarty V’ “ I didn't know—l didn't (suppose”— sobbed Mrs. Amber. ” lie novel told mo ho had any property.”. A, ; "Of course not 1” ejaculated Mr. Amber, “ it’s enough to make a man rajm to hnvo such an idiot as you for a wife!, Twenty, thousand dollars would bavo bceu everything to mo, just now, when there is such a scarci ty of ready money in the market.. And what's worse, the enm is so tied up that nli one but Fanny can touch a cent of it." , i Mr. Ambor strode out of , the room, giving the door a very, energetic slam,, and Mrs. Amber went gracefully into hysterics, while Fanny sat looking at the letter which had been a messenger of so much happiness to hcr/with scarlet lips half apart and the light of deep gratitude in her eyes. “ What will Ilarx-y say ?” she pondered.— " Will ho not think it a blessed dream? Kb more weary waiting—no more proorastina,. tiou. 0, how can I over thank Uncle Obed sufficiently ? ■ ■ ' But Uncle Obed waq already thanked. When upon Fanny’s wqddiug day, the deed which oonatit.ntod her a small., heiress was delivered into her hand, it was inclosed in a narrow strip of coarse blue paper, which the old man commonly used in bis correspon dence. _ Upon this was written one single line, and tears Suffused the fair young bride’s eyes as she road the words, “ In memory of Uncle (Jbod’s visit." Stars.— lt is questionable if pny of the constabulary force who sport n silver or bra zen star on the lappel of. his wqistdoat, has any idea of its origin as a token of his offic ial position. It was the distinguished badge of tho old order of tho Star, founded by King John in memory of the star which guided tho Kings to the Cradle of Divinity. The old chronicle Brantomo wonders at what ho calls tho abuse of tho order, that it had become so common, that the badge—a, silver star—was to bo seen on tho hat and mantle of half tho men in Franco. Louis XI, in abolishing tho order, conferred its insignia, as an ornament of dross upon tho Chevaliers do Ouet, or ‘‘Gentlemen of tho Watch,” who looked in to the safety of Paris when tho stars wore shining, or at least that it was tho hour for them to do so. This appears to have been its first use by conservators of tho peace.— Before tho dignity of tho order was humbled tho members took pride in displaying tho star, oven in battle, although they wore put to high ransom if captured. Some Knights, howoyer, with more prudonoo than valor, oc casionally concealed tho insignia before go ing into alight—a custom, which “ Nagrom,” to whom wo are indebted for this informa tion, assures us not unfroquently prevails with those who still wear tho emblem. The True Man. — Ho la abovo a moan thing. Ho cannot stoop to a mean fraud.— Ho invades no seorots in the keeping of anoth er. Ho betrays no seerdts confided .to his keeping. He never struts in borrowed plum age. 110 never takes selfish advantage of our mistakes. 110 never stabs in the dark. 110 is ashamed of inuendoes. Ho is notono thing to a man’s faoo and 'another behind his back. If by accident ho comes in pos session of his neighbor’s.counsels, ho passes upon thorn an act of instant oblivion. 110 bears seated packages without tampering with the wax. Papers not meant for his eye, whether they flutter at the window or lie open before him in unregarded exposure, aro sa cred'to’him. 110 encroaches oh no privacy of others, however the ‘sentry sloops. Bolts and bars, looks and key's, hedges and pickets,„ bonds and notice to trespassers, are none of them for him, 110 may bo trust ed himself but of sight—hear the thinnest partition—anywhere. Ho buys no office,, ho sells none, ho ■ intrigues for none. Ho would rather fail of his rights than win by dishonor. He will‘.'eat honest bread. Ho insults no rutin.Ho tramples on no'sensi tive feeling.. If'ho have'rebuke for another, ho is straight forward, open, manly. In what ever hojudgos honorable ho practices toward every man. A of thp ,lndependent tells this little story of tbe late President: . “ It is not generally known that the speech nlways niado by the President upon the pre sentation of a foreign minister, is carefully written for him by the. Secretary of State, A clerk in- the department, ignorant of this cus tom, ‘was one day sent, to the White House by Mr. Seward, with the speech to, bo deliv ered up'On such itn occasion':' Mr. Lincoln was widting at his. desk as the'clerk entered • —a half-dozen. Soriators.an'd Representatives' occupying the sofas and chairs.' Unable to disguise a feeling of delicacy, in the discharge of such an errand,' the young, man approach ed, arid in a low tone said to the' President: ‘ The Secretary has sent the speech you aro to make to-day to the Swiss minister.’ Mr. Lincoln laid down his pen, and, taking the panusoript,' said in a low tone i ‘'Oh, this is a speech Mr. Seward has, written' for me, la it ? I guess'l will try it before'these gen tlemen arid' sea how'it it goes.’' Thereupon ho 1 proceeded to fbad it, in a waggish manner, remarking, as hocoricludod, with sly humor, ‘ There, I like that, 1 it'has the merit of orig inality.’ n j A Nice Gibi;.—There is nothing half go sweet.in life, half so beautiful or delightful or lovable asa “nice girl,'"—not a pretty Or clashing or elegant girl; but a nice girl. " One of those lovely, lively, good, good-heart ed, sweet-faced, amiable, neat, domestic creat ures mot within the sphere of home, diffusing ground the domestic hearth the influence of' her goodness, like essence, of swoetflowors. 7 A nice girl is not'alavishing beauty dand ling dn the sofa and discussing the last novel or ooorn, or the giraffe-like creature sweep-, -ing majestically through the drawing room. iTho “ moo girl” may not even dunce, or play, land know nothing'about using her eyes, or coquetting with a fan. She never languish,' ies; slio is too active. ■ She is not given to sensation novels, ;she is too busy. At the opera she is not in front showing her hare 'shoulders, hut sits quiet and unobtrusive— at the back ot the box, most likely, in fact it is not often in such scenes wo discover her. ‘Home is her place. . . “What is the world'coraing to? “said a kind hearted hut simple old lady, as she throw down her newspaper. “ Only to think,” she continued, “ that therein Now York they allow a parcel of french dancing girls to ex ecute their grand pan on the stage, with the people all looking at ’em, and applauded of ’em-too I” - One by one the days go out. Saturday night comes. One one the hopes go out. Eternity comes. Like hail stones, the days drop from tho clouds of time, to fall cold and dreary in to the fathomless past. Each day is a life— is a history. Tho hopes of tho morning aro tears by night—tho air castles of Monday ate tho graves of Saturday night, alas, too oft.— God gives us.sun, life, rain, health, friends and that which is more blessed than all, gol den Hope. All tho rest desert us, butllopo, twin sister ol Immortality, is ours through the week—into and beyond Saturday night— into the grave to bear us dry and happy through tho Stygian Hood and on to God.— Blessed bo Hope, and blessed bo tho nights which call us to kneel at her altar. Changes have come durittg tho interim be tween this and’ Inst Saturday night. Many, a mound church-yard or cemetery marks God’s bruises oh the desolate human heart. Many a heart of joy has been dippedin sad ness. 'Many a dross which one week since was white is now tho deepest mourning.— Some mourn. _ Some .wear mourning while tho heart rejoices. Some there are whoso hearts are darker than tho grave, for tho lamp of lovo is broken and tho joy of years has gone homo. - Scarlet buds.and.sombre blossoms. Such is life. Who of ns all is nearer Heaven than one week since ? Who of us have laid up treas ures abovo? AVho of us have mellowed tho earth in which all must rest? Tho account is for or against us! Wo all thought and vowed one week since to do right, but alas for temptation ! All of us have argued with tho subtle reasonor—few of us have eomo off victorious.. Prayers have been uttered since last Saturday night. Curses have boon in voked. Tho record has been perfectly kept, and some day ’twill bo opened to our eyes.— Let us rest from labor and renew "our vows. By tho.family fireside—by tho family altar— by tho cot and tho couch there is much to do this night. Look back down the dark lane. See what a wreck is there strewn. Hopes which have died. ■ Promises. b»dl_y broker,. Good intentions and noble resolutions lie bleeding and torn as far back as tho eye can roach. Hard words lio whore soft ones Would have been better. There are disap pointments and betrayals, bitter words and wioked acts strewn thick over tho, ground.— Ruins—ruins—ruins 1 Here and there a fragrant flower lifts its silent voice and roars its peiu-ly leaf to gladen tho dobris.around. Hero and there a blossom. Hero and there, but too far apart, can bo soon tho beautiful in strange contrast to the ruins and wrecks.— Life is a dark lane. Would to God there wore more flowers and fewer ruins 1 Would there wore more loves and lower hates. More white and less red. How tho changes come over us ! What tgavo joy is now a pile of ashes 1 Tho lips !we loved to kiss a week since, now have no nectar! The hand which onoo thrilled in rapture at the alight touch of lovo, now for 'gets to answer back 1 Tho oyo has grown cold or worse than indifferent 1 Who is to blame? Someone. And why? None but God, can tell truly 1 As tho sun goes down and tho Sabbath rises, let us strive again ! Atpther 1 clasp still closer to your heart tho pledge you now caress, for God may want' it back before another Saturday night is yours. The pet you kissed and caressed one week ago, has been taken away--who will go next ? Deal gently with those who have erred.— Heaven is forgiving. God is lovo. Strive to bo happy. Lot kind words, good wishes, and liberality of sentiment, expand all our hearts this night, for they aro blessed influences— none too plenty. If you have a friend draw him closer to your heart. If you have a life in your keep ing, do by it ns you would be done by.— Pause ere you do evil. Think of tho reward there is for those who resist temptation;— for those who love. Look hack. Liston ! A little, prattling voice,'now stilled in death! —a mother’s gentle tones, perhaps well nigh forgotten I —a sister's plaintive eye is calling you to happiness ! Look over the past—tho blessed memories—tho mementoes of tho heart—and tell us if you' are not glad that Heaven is nearer.by one more Saturday Night. —La Crosse (IFi's.) Democrat. The Brooklyn Eagle philosopher, in his effort to keep up with the amusements of the ago, has slipped into the base ball sport.— lie thus explains the science,of the game: The gamo is a great invention. It is easi ly understood. AH you have to do is to— keep your oyo on the ball. . It’s all about the.ball. They also usoa .bat. The hnt is a , club built on the model of the club Barnum killed Captain Cook with." This is why the organization is called a club. ■ One fellow takes a club and stands on a lino, and another stands in front of him, and fires the ball hack at him, 1 The chap with the club hits back. The ball flies in the other direction The first fellow drops the club as though he was soared, and runs like a piok-poekot with ail M. P. after him. Several fellows run after the ball; .some body catches it ami fives it at somebody else, when tile ohap who had tho club stops run ning. . . ' . . Another follow then takes the club and the same irian wlio'is called “ pitcher,” pitch es on 1 him, fires the ball at him, and ho hits back, knocks the hall, drops his club and cuts Ins stick for. the,first base.. Ualf a dozen follows out on picket duty scramble for the hall. ' One reliable B.' B. is posted behind the 1 club man,Jin ease the club man misses the ball, to see that it don’t go by and hit the Umpire. When one side is out the other side goes in, and when both.sidbs are out it is called an innings. ' .It is.quite an intelligent : game, depending entirely on the, use of your,legs. The first principle of the game is running. ' When you are “ in” you' run away fnm the hall ; when you are “ out” you run af ter it. It is splendid exercise", keeps you so warm, consequently is always played in the sum mer time. HI?" A newly married couple went to Niag ara on a visit, and the gentleman, in order to convince his dear that ho was as bravo as ho was gallant,- resolved to go down into the ‘Cave of Winds.’ She, of course, objected ; but finding that ho was determined, affec tionately requested him to leave his pocket book and watch behind. Mormon Women. —A Chicago paper says the women of Utah have recently altered the orthography of their creed. They now spoil it Moremvu SATURDAY sight. DUSE BALI. s.' WGBRBBER, An explanation pf tho method of maim-, factnring larger beer may bo interesting; but first wo must toll what tho article is, chemically speaking. Lager boor is a fer mented liquor made from malted grain, most generally wo believe, from barley. Hops and other bitter flavoring matters are added to improve tho taste and impart their peculi ar tonic and otherwise,-to the liquor. Beer is undoubtedly a very nourish ing drink, from tho. gum, sugar, and starch held in solution ; and in Bavaria its use is almost an essential'article of diet with tho laboring classes, and in some instances takas tho place of animal food. Lager boor, prop erly made, if analysed, will give about the. following result; Water, 01.80; malt, 4.C5 alcohol, ;;.dd ; carbonic acid, 0.11. The lager browing season begins' about tho close of October, and ends about tho first of April. In tho manufacture of beer, tho barley, wheat or other grain is selected with much care called steeping, which is effected in largo cisterns-with a depth of some six or seven inches above the surface of tho grain. When tho grain has become fully soaked— usually absorbing about forty or forty-live pounds to the' hundred weight of barley—it is taken out, allowed to drain for six hours, and then spread upon tho malt floor, whore tho next process of the-operation is termed couching. Lying in beds of twelve or sixteen inches in depth, the grain soon becomes moist, through chemical changes, and germi nation commences. When this has gone sufficiently far, which is known by the grain becoming white and crumbly like meal, tho process is changed and germination immedi ately arrested by tho grain being spread on tho floor of a malt-kiln, and- tho temperature raised gradually, from 00 to 140 degrees ; during tho operation of drying the malt being frequently stirred. Thon cornea tho brewing process which, like the first stage, embraces several different operations. The malt ia first ground Or crushed to a coarse powder, which is after wards shaken into largo mash-tubs, contain ing water at a temperature of 100 'degrees, ivioro'water is'aaaeav arm vne 'turnperurtmj carefully raised several degrees higher,,after which the infusion is drawn off. More wa ter is thon added to the crushed malt in the tub, drawn off and added to tho first ; still another wotting takes place with tho water at tho boiling point. The next process, is the boiling, whiph is done by placing the infu sion in largo copper vessels furnished with steam valves. During tho boiling operation tho hops are introduced. The boiling over the liquor is strained and allowed to cool, .when it 13 placed in huge wooden vats, and I'ycast added. After having fermented long enough the liquor is drawn off into largo re ceptacles and stored in huge vaults, where it js allowed to remain for several months. .This is called lagering. How f l iiey Do in Maine.— Quaker young ladies iu the Maine Law State, it is said, still to kiss the lips of the young temper lance men to soo if they have been tampering with liquor. Just imagine a beautiful young 'temperance woman, with all the dignity of an 'executive officer, and the innocence of a dove, i with tlm charge: “Mr.—, the ladies believe you are in the habit of tampering with liq iiior, and they have appointed me to examine ,you according to our established rules; arc iyou willing.?" You nod aoriuiosoenoo. She ! gently stops closer up to you, lays her.soft ■white arm around your nook, dashes back (her raven curls, raises her sylph-like form i upon her round, tip-toes, her snowy heaving bosom against your own and with her angel ic features lit up with a smile as sweet as Heaven, placesJtor rich, rosy, pouty, sweet, .sugar, molasses, liily, baby jumper, rosebud, 'cream,'taH; ftppldpid,' peach puddinh,'apple dumpling, gingerbread,’ nectar ilps 'agdinst (yours and,(Oh, Jerusalem!! lioWusl ) kisses !you, by craokoy ! Hurnib for tb,o gals and ;tbo Maine Law, and dcatli to all opposition. Taking lli.msei.t Orp.-jPoote wag in the habit of,.imitating the peculiar manner of General Smith, whom he introduced into the comedy of “The Nabob,” under the name ,of Sir Matthew Mite. One day the general sent for Foote’. ■ ' —" “Sir," said.ho, “I hear you hnvoan excel lent turn for mini iory, and if find I, among others, have been the subject of your ridi cule." “Oil,” said Pont, gaily, “I take all my ac quaintances off at times, and what is more wonderful, I often take myself off." “Pray let us have a specimen," said the gnu end. Foote put on his hat and gloves, took his cane, made a short how and retreated from the house without uttering another.’ word. , Helioiun of the Presidents. —The reli gious belief of the deceased Presidents of the United States, as indicated by their attend ance upon public worship, and evidence afforded in their writings, may ho Bummed up as follows; Washington, Madison, Mon roe, , Harrison, Tyler, and Taylor, .wore Epis copalians'; Jefferson, John'Adams and John Quincy Adams, wore Unitarians' 1 ; Jackson; Polk and Lincoln wore Presbyterians ; Van Buren was of the Dutch Deformed Church. The surviving Presidents are Fillmore, a Unitarian'; Pierce',’h Trinitarian Congrcgif*- tionist; Buehauau aii Episcopalian; and the present. Chief Magistrate Johnson, who is a' Presbyterian. j, . . ■, Hi; . Knew Him.— Come here, m;, little fellow,' Raid’ a gentleman to a, youngster of five years, while Bitting in a parlor where a' largo company .were assembled. ‘Do yon know who I am V ‘ Yoth, thir.’ ‘ Who am I ? Lot me hear.’ ‘ You ith the man who.kltebed mamma, when papa watK in New York-" • DfT" A Siato fair is a queen ; an agricul tural fair.is a farmer's daughter,; a church fair is a parson’s wife ; an editor’s fair is the, host-looking girl ho can got hold of; a chari ty fair is a female pauper ; and the most un popular fafe in the-universe is hoarding faro. OfT’A dashing young bachelor lately ap peared in Central Park with two handsome ponies,whoso tails wore done up to look like a lady’s waterfall, and cooped up in small fish hots. 'The resemblance was capital, and the team created a great sensation. ‘ O" '1 ho lawyer’s motto—ho brief. The doctor’s motto —he patient. The potter’s motto—bo ware. The typo-setter’s motto— bo composed. J6g?“ Owing to the high price of meat of all kinds, a company has been started to manufacture pork out of pig-iron. O” Woman is said to ha a more .delusion, but it is sometimes pleasant to hug delu sions. r 51 g mu I final OLD PHDIT TREES RENOVATED, , , ; There,.were old qpplo, trees,in,- .profusion; with, nearly'a hundred pear trees ot superior ; vigofous'growth, but utterlyi neglected iand; reported as yielding.small.crops Of.indifforent fruit’. Tlitj oiUifoing'sellor df'tbe fdrin' 1 Hid intonddd.to’ cut .;thom down.. Iltj kpew.jtho, riiarkot value of pickles, but the pear culture was a sealed brook, i Thq Buyer, ediioated in, a different school, believed that there mob yet a money value in these they could bo resuscitated. Ho stood among them ,aiid debated the question, ijjippghL ,tliat hero was a begin upon ail'd that an investment of money in reviving them would yield a far quicker return than in waiting for the product of ,a now-planted orchard. Among other facts and experience, reference was made to’ the memorable ac count recorded in this journal, nearly twen ty years ago, of tho complete renovation of two outcast pear trees. ~tiiko all,these, they had once borne excellent crops of frujtj but for several years had only produced-' worthless specimens. The owner was told that tho trees—for thoro wore several in like condition—had exhausted the -proper ele ment in the .soil and that it must bo re-intrp: ducod by artificial means. That autumn lie carried out the suggestion and scraped off all the rough outer bark from' two 1 trees then coated them with soft soap : out,' about -one third of all tho poorest branches and short ened tho head of tho trees ono-tliird,By cut ting back the principal limbs paring the wounds and covering them with tho shellac solution. Tho preparation being made, n trench'was dug around each tree, throe feet from tho same, four foot wide and twenty inches deep, tho soil being carted away. "In making tlup trench, about a third of tho roots wore cut away. Tho trench was"then filled with soil from a good pasture field, there-be ing added at the time of filling two bushels of refuse scoriae from a .blacksmith’s, forgo, two of well broken charcoal, and two pounds OC [juljotimjj jtwfuoli, - dll ll>«o0 ' Tror() ’ tbiOV'' oughly intermingled ‘after tbo : ‘trench 1 had boon filled, by frequent overturnings with the spado. The result of this cheap and simple operation was manifest tho following summer. Tho luxuriance and vigor of tho.foUage.vyoie surprising for formed roots wore' wandering into fresh and vrholosolno pas ture. Tho next there was a moderate blooni,' but every blossom produced fruit. The third year thoro was a fine crop, tho two trees pro ducing six bushels of superb fruit. It was ■ convincing evidence that the failure of the I old established pear trees to produce good I crops is owing tom want of proper nutriment in tho .soil; and that instead of being.out I down wfism they cease, to Dear, they should bp i taken in hand and rouovatod.—HoriicuKuri ■:St. ' ‘ ' ' ' ''' '' ' ' Bareev and Rye for Horses. —A oortes-. pendent of. the “Country Gentleman” writes as follows: ; “My first experience in feeding barley to lihoraoa was in California, where there was no jobber grain raised tor feed, at the time I was there. All our horses wore fed'on it-for two iycars without any change and never got tired ■of it, always thriving and looking-remarka bly fine' fur the amount of labor they perform icd. This induced mo to raise'it to feed alter ;ray return from that country and. I.have learned to esteem it. higher than any other ■grain, (when ground) for horses, It is too hard to feed in the grain. It is less liable to founder than corn, wheat or rye yet Contains' ! hut verry little loss nutriment than either of ithoso grains.. I, have raised. a great to any, colts apd have,made,.the bropdilg,of.{rotting j horses a study, and in all my experience'. I ihavo found nothing equal'to barley modi to make a mare give milk. -’I have found it Uo disadvantage: to a mare getting with fonl.aud' and not any .while she, was so, : ■ Oats are. a. ’bettor food, for celts from Weaning time until i they go to work. / I' 1 i “Eye is a dangorotia grain-to feed alone ■; it is more liable to founder than any other grain 1 ! "but ’■ to 1 mix with-shorts, or to grind i with: oats and food,without hay. or str. w, it, ’ makes an oxo.ollopt, food .for-houses,.. i Tue'OaTTI.E PeaGUE MEDICAIii.V Alti) ISdtWNt tificai.lv “Treated:— Dr. : Hamilton; ■ an- English physician, who. wont to HoUnndto investigate, says ho found that soTO,nty:threo. percent, of the cattle attacked, and treated homccopathically, were cured; The medi cines used chiefly were arSeniottffl; rhus, 1 phosphoric acid and; sulphur, according to. circumstances, —doses, five, or ten,drops, re peated four-or five times a day, .but treating tho symptoms of the disoase'ns they appear ed, according to the indications, by different remedies; ns no two ooivs hadthe diseiiao.ex aotiy alike?. , . , ... -. r ,. ~ The killing,system is , entirely exploded,. The panic has'quUb subsided, as the - farmers find now that the greater part-of-their oottte can be saved by.treatment; :Tho diet should only, he linseed or pther. farinaceous ,gruel until, the animal is convalescent, and then hay'and turnip-tops, in small quafititieS. Orairis’ and distillor’swash should boavoided as injurious, both to sound.and diseased ani mals. The eyes, nosn.-lips, and all affected partsumist bo washed with' tepid:water! The preventive homoeopathic, treatment ..was-ar scnipuuv chiefly, ton drpps of thc, third dilu-, tion to be given-tQ.eaoli cow pros,daily.’* , ■ JllS’dh Pies.—Take ■ n p'ohnd ofbeof free' from string and skins, audehep itiiine ;,then two,.pounds of ppot,.which likewisOjpick, and[ chon ; then add three pound of currents nicely cleaned' and perfectly dry, and' a half' apples,' the peel and juice- ofa lemon, : half a pint of sweet wino, half a nutmeg, and a few cloves apd maoo,;with pimento,in lino: powder ; have citron, orange, and lemon pool, ready, and put some in each' of the pies when' made.;' • Mince Meat.. —Six pounds., of currents, three, pounds of raisins stoned, three pounds of apples chopped fine, four pounds of sue* two pounds of sugar, two pounds'of hoof, thh peel end juice of two lemons, a pint of'sweat; winfl, a quarter of.a pin: of brandv, halt [an. ounce of mixed spioo. Press the whole into a deep pah when well mixed; Little Plum Cakes to Keep Long.— Di-y One pound of-flour; and mix with six ounces of fmoly-powdercd sugar ; boat six ouuooSiof buttor to a cream, and add to thrpo eggs well beaten, half a pound of currants washed and nicely dried, and the flour and sugar ; boat all for some time, then dredge flour'on tinplates, and drop the hatter on them the size .of a walupt. If properly mixed, if will he a stiff paste. Bake in a brisk oven. EOr What is the difference between' a drummer boy and a pound"of meat f. Ono weighs it pound, and the other’pounds away. NO. 30,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers