fei?f tit -aO'jD 'ieri->oM bvv,. •* " • V " i“SSarattentlon given to the soilingor;ront mo of Kcal Estate, In town or country, in all let ters of Inauiry.-ploiwo enclose postage stamp. Jaly 11. W-ti . ' ' ’ . M e. HERMAN, Attorney at Law, Olticoln Rheem's - Hall Building, in 'the of the Court House, next door to mu Her !iM'' Office, Carlisle, Penna. Dec, 1.1805. ‘ . tttm. j. SHEARER, Attohnev and W counsm.W>B AT DAW, lias removed Ilia olUco 10 the hitherto unoccupied room lu tuo North East corner of the Conn House. Jan. IN, ’ii9-ly W KENNEDY, Attorney M' Law Carlisle. Penna. Cilice sumo as that of tuo "American Volunteer.” Dec. 1. isilu ; EL. BHRYOCK, Justice-" of the Peace. Office No 3,'lrvin's Row, Carlisle. April IW, 1«R)—ly * ■ he. GEORGE S. SEARIGHT, Den- I I tist A’rwii the Baltimore (Jolleys of JJental turnery. ‘oifice at the rosideuco of his mother East Loulher Street, threo doors below Bedford •Carlisle, Penna. Due. 1 18115. , . - Db: J. 8. BENDER, Homoeopathic Physician. (Juice No. U, Soul h Hanover at,, /urmerJy occupied by Jbim Bee, Esq. * June 3, 1800-iy. . TNDEPENHENT Detective police. Notices by tolegrapli' promptly attended to. 9cp. 23 tit.* ’ McGaKTNKY &SANNO. anir Cops, JjIREBH BUMMERARBIVAL OF AT.Ii THE NEW STYLES OF H A’T S ,A N X> C A PS. The subscriber has just opened at No. 13 North Eanover Hired, a few doors North of the. Carlisle Deposit Bank, one of the largest and best Stocks of HATS and CAPS.over.offored in Carlisle. Silk Hats, Cassimere of nil styles and qualities, Stiff Brims,’different- colors, and every descrip tion of Soft Hats now made. . The Duukard and Old Fashioned Brush, con stantly on hand and made to order, all warrant ed to give satisfaction. , - A full assortment of MEN’S, BOY'S, AND • CHILDREN’S, HATS. 1 have also added to my Stock, notions of differ ent kinds, consisting of LADIES’ AND GENTLEMEN’S STOCKINGS, Neck Tics,, Suspenders, . Collars, Qlovcs . Pencils. ■ Thread, sewing Silk, Umbrellas, tie PEIME SEGABS AND TOBACCO ALWAYS ON HAND. Give mo a call, and examine my stock as I feel eoDlidont of pleasing all, besides saving you mo ney. JOHN A. KELLER, Agent, No. 15 North Hanover Street. May, 1809. JJATS AND CAPB! 1 DO YOU WANT A NICE HAT OB CAP ? IF SO, DON'T FAIL TO CALI, ON J. G.OALXiIO, NO. 20. WES 2 MAIN STREET, Where can be seen the finest assortment of HATS AND CAPS ever brought to Carlisle. He takes great pleas* ure in Inviting his old friends and customers, niul all new ones, to his splendid stock Just re* celved from. New York and l?hiladelphla,,con* • slsllng in part affine SILK AND CASaiMERB HATS, besides an endless variety of Hats.and Caps o the latest style, all ol which he will sell at th Lowest Cash Prices. Also, his own mauufactur of Hats always on hand, and HATS MANUFACTURED TO ORDER, lie has thu best arrangement for coloring Hats and all kinds of Woolen Goods, Overcoats, ifco., at the shortest notice (up ho colors every week) and on the most reasonable terms. Also, a line lot ol choice brands of TOBACCO A1&30,. CIGARS . always on hand.' Ho desires to caUthoattoutlo to persons who have COUNTRYFURS to sell, os he pays the highest cosh prices for the same. Give him a call, at tho above number, his »ld stand, as ho fuels confident of giving entire satis faction. May, 180 H. iJoots anti Srtjoes. dayid strohm, W. D. SPONSLER, JOHN W. STROHM. new and romiiAK boot, shoe, TRUNK AND HaT STORE. ~ NO. 13, SOUTH HANOVER STREET. ■ Carlisle, Penn'a. A few doors South of Inhofi’a building. Wo have just opened the largest and best slock BOOTS AND SHOES ever ©fibred In Carlisle, and continue almost dolly to receive such goods In our line as every body wants. Our stock consists In all kinds apd varieties of Womens'; Misses and Childrens' strong Leather oboes, Womens’-Misses and Childrens 7 Lasting Gaiters; Womens’ Glove Kid, Turkey and French Morocco: Mens’ and Boys’ Calf, Buff and Kid hoots; Mens’ ~nd Boys’ Call and Buff Congress Gaiters; Mens’ and Boys-Lasting Gaiters and Brogans; Mens’ and Boys' Calf ana Buff Oxford lies; Gum Sandals, Buskins and Ovorshoos; Men and Womens’ Goat, Welland Carpet Slip- Boys’ and Childrens’ Fur and Sox* /hunks of all sizes and prices; Traveling' Satchels and Valises, 1 together with a lino *°t of goods, which we Will sell to suit the times, . QUICK SALES AND,,M ALLS PROFITS.-’ jaour motto. Therefore, In Issuing our card, It w intended as a personal invitation to all In need to call add look through our stock without aeilng under oollgatlons to buy unless suited In I and price. Wo shall always try to-deal' with every one In a straight forward manner, mm give every customer u full equl valant /orhls money. Wo hope all will avail themselves of wielr first opportunity to call and see m*. 4 STROHM <k SPONSLER. April 8,1800-ly 1 1 John dorner, MERCHANT TAILOR, Kramer’Building, near Rheom’s Hull, Car «i,, ■ Ea., has justreturned from the Eastern eiWea with the lamest ami most* COMPLETE ASSORTMENT OP fall and winter goods, consisting of CLOTHS, CASSIMEREH, , VESTINGS, Gents’ Famishing Goods,* no., over brought Carlisle. His'ctoths comprise English, ■ FRENOIL and . AMERICAN MANUFACTURES, "v.no nnest texture and of ail shades, inn r * Eornor being himself a practical cutter of ,I,’ir xperlenoe, is prepared*to. warrant perfect “pi Rn d prompt tilling of orders. "•on Goods by Uieyurd.or out to order. Don't orgot the pipes. . ... Aujf, 21i, IBU9, aOTIOE.— Notice la hereby given th a the Carlisle Deposit Banlr will make appii >n to the next Legislature of Pennsylvania I'V, mo renewal of Its charter, with ns present' “no and capital. j, p. hASSLER hm lO.BdiiMJm Cushler' BY BRATTON & KENNEDY. f&fertlitmJous, for the Sights j Seers'' OF THE NATIONAL CAPITOI The moststarUlng, instructive, and entorbiu logbook of the day. Send for Circulars.’and sot Our terms. Address U. H. PUBLISHING CO., Sep. Si—lw. 11l Broome St„ New York. SONBUMPTIOtf, BRONCHITIS, Asthma and Catarrh, cared by inhalation. Dott’s Inhaling Fluid is the. only remedy known that operates on the luiigs—dissolves the tubercles, which .are thrown «.ff, the cavities heal, and a cure Is effected. Treatment by letter or in person can be had only of Q. VAN HUMMELL, M. D., 13 West Hlh St„ York. Augusts, 1800—10 m WANTED FOR “WONK3RS. of the World,'" ■ - Over one thousand illustrations. Tho larg est, beat selling, and most attractive subscription book ever published. Send for Circulars, with terms, at once. Address U.S. PUBLISHING CO., ■HI Broome St., N, Y. Sep. 21—1 w ?.. AGENTS are making fortunes selling our new household work, which will prove rory family to bo tho Good Samaritan or money reftihdod. By an eminent author. Finely Illustrated: highly endorsed by profes sional and scientific men ;■ meets a long felt ne cessity-; sells to all classes; without regard to politics, religion, or occupation. Secured by Act of Congress. Now ready. Send for Illustrated Circular, giving full particulars, ’ . A. H. HUBBARD, Bop. 23—4 w., 400 Chestnut St., Philadelphia. Fa. iforficaL TEEM MT FIRST PROPOSAL • At last, the long day’s baying done, I turned lo leave the fragrant meadow, Where, on the grass the sotting, sun Before hie oast my lengthened shadow. I struck a narrow path Unit ran liy tjovoU’s farm, a crooked by-way, Which somewhere thereabout began, And ended on the dusty highway. It reached their barn-yard first of ah, Then wandered through a wooded hollow. And darted past an old stone wall, . . . As If Inviting you to follow. ‘ It climbed a hill where all the day The crows rehearsed a mimic Babel; It crossed a brook which flowed that woy, Then tdld beneath our barn’s brown gable. A shorter cut it was that led. To our own homestead from the meadow, And so I followed It Instead, And on before me went my shadow. Thun nearing Lovell’s farm I heard The white-horned cuttle faintly lowing, While, bubbling in the bright palls stirrt-d The milk from well Idled udderSilowlng. I glanced beyond the burn-yard wall. And there sat Kuty milking “ Speck lo,” The favorite cow among them all, Her line coat Hooked with many u fn-ckle. Then up got Katy—so by that 1 knew her milking done—and straightway, While my own heart went plt-u-pat,- Come tow ard .me through the open gateway, The sun dropped down from out the sky, And left the west witu rich gold hulen, An awkward country iud was I, * And Katy was a simple maiden,. Her eyes mot minoms if by chance, Not knowing who it was; then shyly, ’Neath drooping lids, withdrew their glance Then back again to mine stole shyly. With that last look my courage grew • ‘ I said—it may have been I swore It— She was the sweetest girl I knew, And told her how I loved her for It. Perhaps she gave mo no reply, Perhaps It was the night’s gray curtain, Slow-falling from the twilight sky, Which loft her answer so uncertain.' Then winding homeward, torn, with doubt. The treo-toads thrilled their firm conviction The patriarch frogs, with deep base shout, Grow hoarse and loud in contradiction. The katydids pronounced both ways; - But ero the moon was one hour older, I sat beneath its silvery ruya With Katy’s head upon my shoulder. —Harpers Weekly. Iftisttnanfous. UOME INFLUENCES.. ‘Who's that, I wonder ?’, said . Mrs. Beaburn,.as she heard ajfing at the base ment door. 1 Ah! it's Marshall,' returned her hus band, who bad looked out at the window and recognized the grocer's cart, ‘ Ami whut have you sent home now. Henry ?’ ■ But before Mr. Seaburn could answer, the door of the sitting room .was opened, and one of the domestics looked in and asked— ‘ What'll I do wid -the demijohns, mum?’ * Demijohns ?' repeated Mrs. Seaburn. 1 X’ut them in the hall, and I’ll attend to them,’interposed the husband. ‘ Henry, what have you sent home now ?’ the wife asked, after the domestic was gone. ‘ Spme nice old brandy,’ replied Hen ry. Cora Seaburn glanced up at the clock, and then looked down upon, the floor.— There was a cloud upon her fair brown, and it was very evident that something lay heavily upon her heart. Presently she walked to the wall and pulled the bell-cord, and the summons was answer ed by tjhe chambermaid. J ‘ Are', George and Charles in their room ?> t ‘Yes, tnqlam.’ • ‘ Tell them it is school time.’ ■ The girl went out, and in a little while two bbys entered the sitting room, with their books under their arms and their caps in their bands. They wofa bright, happy,: healthy- fellows, with . goodness ana truth stamped upon thehr rosy faces, and the light of free consciences gleam ing in theireparkUhg eyes. George was thirteen years of age, and Charles eleven ; and certainly these two parents had rea son to be proud of them. The hoys kiss ed their motner, gave a happy ‘ goo d morning’ to their father, and then went away tq school. ‘ Come,’ said Mr. Seaburn, some time after'the. boys had gone,-*, what makes you sp sober ?’ ‘Sober!’ repeated the wife, looking up, ‘Yes you have been sober and mute ever since the grocer came.’. ‘Do you want me to.tell you why ?' ‘Of course I do.’ » ‘ Well, Henry, X am sorry you have had that spirit brought into the house. ’ ‘ Pooh! what’s the uae'-of talking so, Cora? You wouldn't have me to do without it, would you ?’ ‘Yes.’ 1 Why, what do you mean V ‘I mean that I would out clear of tho stull, now ah'd forever.’ ‘But, Cora, you are wild. What should we do at parties without wine?’ ‘ Do as others who have it not.’ ‘ But—mercy !—what would people say I Are you afraid I—but no, I won’t ask so foolish a question.’- • Ask it, Henry. Let us speak plainly, now that we have fairly commenced;’ ‘ Well, I was about to ask if you were afraid that I should ever drink too much?’ ‘ That’s not a fair question, Henry. I was, not thinking of that at all. But I will answer it by-and by; You have mo flxed,appetite for it now!’ *Of course not.’ ” , ' ‘ Then it would not cost you any effort of will to abstain from its use?’ .‘Not a, particle.’ * And yon only have it in your bouse, and 1 serve it to your friends and drink it yourself, beoauselt is fashionable? or you do It because others do it ?’ 1 X do it/ because—said Mr. tieaburii, hesitating in his choice of language— ‘ because it would appear very niggardly, and very fanatical, hot to do it.’ Tills last was spoken emphatically. •But,' pursued Mis. Seaborn, with the calmness and assurance of one who feels the sustaining influence of right, ‘ you would not do what you were Convinced was wrong, out of respect to aoy* such considerations, .would you?’ * You know I would net, Cora,. This question pf temperance, I know,, is a good one in the abstract, and X am will ing to live up to it as I understand It j but l am no teetotaler.’ 1 Henry,’ said bis wife, with an earnest look into his /ace, * will, you answer me a few question's?—und answer them hon estly and truly,.without equivlcutiori' or evasion,, : ‘ , 1 ‘ BleSs me, how methodically you put it, Cora I But I will answer.' * Then ilrat—do you believe you, or your young friends, are in any way bene lltted by tbe drinking of intoxicating beverages at your board ? 1 i, ‘ No, I oau’t say tbaS wo do.’ 1 l)o you tbluk the time has over been, since weiwore married,.when we actually needed wine in the house, eltber for. oui health or comfort?’ , . V . ’Why, X think it. has. added to our comfort, Cora.’ • How ?’ ‘ Oh I dn many ways.’ 1 Name one of Xhom.l 1 Why in the enjoyment of our guests.) 1 Ah!, but I am speaking of oureejves - CAHUSU:, I’A., THURSDAY, OCTOBER; U..IW. Henry—of you, b(Tr oita Utile family. Has It ever ministered to our comfort? 1 * No, I can't say that It,has.’ 1 And if it was banished from our bouse, to-day and forever, as a beverage, should we suffer inconsequence V ■ Certainly. What would our friends— ‘Ah ! but stop. I am only speaking of our own aflalrs, shut out from the wprld, by our fireside. I want all ex traneous considerations left out of the question. Should we, ns a family, suffer in our moral, physical, sooialfor domes tic attairs; in the total abstinence from this beverage 1 No, X don’t know that we should.’ ‘ Then to you, as a husband, and h father, and. as .a man, it is of no earthly use ?’ • No.’ ‘ And it would coat you no effort, so far as you alone are concerned, to break clear from it?’ ‘Not a particle.’ • ■ ‘And now, Henry,!, pursued the wife, with increased earnestness, ‘ I have a low more questions to ask ‘ Do you be lieve the drinking of intoxicating liquors is an evil In this country ?’ ‘ Why, as it is now eoingon, I cartoln ly do.’ ‘ A|id isn’t it aneyil in society?’ * Yes.’ ....... .r'S ... * took over this city, and tell mb if It is not a terrible evil!’ f * A terrible eyil grows out of the abuse of it, Cora.,’ , ‘And will you tell mo what good grows out Of the use of it?’ . - ‘ Really, love, when yon come down to this abstract point, you have the field. — ‘lint people should govern their appetites. All things may he abused.’ 1 Yes. But will you tell me the use — the real good—to be derived from drink ing wine and brandy ? I As I said before, it is a social custom, and has its charms.’ ‘Ah! there you have it, Henry- It does have its charms, as the deadly snake is said to-have, and as other vices have. But I see you are in a hurry.' ‘ It is time J was at the store.’ I I will detain yolr hut a moment long er, Henry. Just answer me a few more questions.. Now call to mind all the families of your acquaintance ; think of all the domestic circles you have known from your school-boy days to the present; run your thoughts through the' various homes where you have been Intimate— do this, and tell me, if in any one. in stance you ever knew a single joy to be' planted ,by the hearth-stone from the wine cup ? Did you ever know one.item of.good lo flow. to a family from Its use?’ ‘ No ; I can not say that I ever did— not as you mean,’ ■ 1 And now answer me again. Think of those homes once more—call to memo ry the playmates of your .childhood, thiuk'ot the homes they have made, think of other homes, think of the fire sides where all you have known dwell— and 101 l me it you have seen any sorrows flow from the Wine-oup? Have yousqen any griefs ‘planted by.the intoxicating howl upon the hearthstone 7’ Henry Seaburu did not answer, for there passed before him such grim spec ■ tree of sorrows pud grief that he shudder ed at the mental vision. He saw the youth cut down'in the bouriof promise; he saw the gray head fall in dishonor; he saw hearts broken; he saw homes made desolate; he saw affection wither up and die; and saw noble intellect stricken down! Good Heaven! what, sightsjhe saw os he unrolled the canvass ol his memory. * Henry,’ whispered his wife, moving to bis side and winding one arm gently about hia neck, ‘ we have two boys.— They are growing to be men. They are noble, generons, and tepder-hearted.— They are here to form those characters,- to receive those Impressions, which shall be the basis upon which their future weal or woe must rest. Look at them oh! think of them. Think of them do- iug battle in the great struggle of the life before them.V Shall they carry but from their home our evil influence?. Shall they in the time to come fail by the way side, cut down by the demon of the Clip, and in their dying hour curse the exam ple whence they derived the appetite? Oh! for our children—for those two boys —for the men we hope to see them—for the sweet memories we would have them cherish of their home—for the good old age they may reap—let us oast this thing out now and forever!’ .Cora kissed her husband as she ceased speaking; and then he arose to his feet, but he made her no reply. ‘ Henry, you are not offended ?, .‘No, 1 he said. He returned her kiss,' .and without another word loft the house and went to bis store. How strangely did circumstances work to keep the idea hiSwife h4d : given him alive i n his mind ? That very morning he met a youth, the son of one of, his wealthy friends, in .a state of wild intoxi cation ; and during the forenoon he heard that young Aaron G had died at sea. ' Ho know that Aaron had been sent away from homo that he might be re claimed. After the bank bad closed, and as'Henry Beaburn was thinking of going to his dinner, he received u note through the penny post. It was from a medical friend, and contained a request that ho Would cull at the hospital on his way home. This hospital was not much out of his way, and ho stopped there. 1 There is a man In one of the lower wards who wishes to see you,' said the doctor. ‘ Does ho kuow me? asked Beaburn, ‘ Ho says hq does.' 1 What is his name?' ‘He won't tell us. He goes by the name of Smith; but I atnsutialied that* such is not his true name. He is in the last stage of consumption and delirium. He has lucid intervals, but they do not lastloug. He has been here a week. He was pick ed up in the street, and brought hero. He heard your name and said he knew you once.” Mr. Seaborn went to the room where the patient lay, and looked at him.— "There must be seine mistake” he said. The Invalid beard him, and opened his eyes—such blood shot, unearthly eyes! . ‘Harry,’hq whispered, trying to lift himself up on bis elbow i ‘is this Henry Beaburn f ‘That is my name.’ ‘And don’t yon know me ?' 'I am .sure I .’do not.' And he would have said he did not wish to, only the man seemed so utterly miserablethat he would uot wouuii what little teeliug be might have ibft.' ‘Have you forgotten your old playmate hi boy hood, Harry—Your friend In other years, your chum hi college?’ ‘What?’ gasped Beaburu starting'back agust, for a glimmer of the truth burst upon him. ‘This is uot Aleo Lomberg ?’ ‘All that la left of, him, my Hal,’ re turliod the poor fellow, putting forth his wasted, skeleton hand, and smiling a faint, quivering, dying smile. ‘Alexander Lomberg?’ said Henry, gazing into the bloated, disfigured face before him. •You wouldn’t Uave known me Hal?' ‘lndeed, no!’ ‘I know I am altered.! ‘But, Alec,’, cried. Seabutn, tide ? Why are you here ?' ‘‘Hum, ray Hal—nun'. I’m about done for. But 1 wanted to see you. They told mo you lived not far away, and X would look upon one friend before J died.’ ■ ‘But I heard you were practicing in our profession, Alee, aud doing well.' , ‘Bo X. did do well when I practiced, Hal. I have made some pleas, but X have given up all that.’ 1 ‘And your father—where is ho ?’ ‘Piifi’tmentionhim; he taugh mo fo, drink; "Ah, he 1 taught, 1 me ! dud therv, turned the cold shoulder upon mo when 1 I drank too muohl But I’m going;’ Ail—going,, going!’ ... ■ Henry Benburn gazed into that terrible face, and remembered .what He owner had been—the son of wealthy, parents,, the. idol of a fond mother, the favorite at school, at play, and at college; a light of. intellect and physical beauty, and a noble, generous friend. And how, alas I ‘Aloe, can I help you?’.... ... . f ‘Yes.’ And the, poor fellow started higher tip from hls pillow, and something of the light struggled, for a moment In bis eyes. ‘Pray for jiffle, Hal. Pray , for my soul, I ’ Pray thath urns' go where my mother is! She won’t disown her boy. She could not have done it had she lived. 0 I she was a good mother, Hal. Thank Cod she didn’t live to see.this 1 Fray for me—pray -pray! Let me go to her I ’ As the wasted man sank back he fell to weeplug, and in a moment more.' one of bis paroxysms came on, and ho begun to rave. He thought Harry was bis father, nud be cursed him; and cursed the habit that bad been fastened upon him under that father'slnfluence. But Henry could not stop to listen. With an aching heart he turned away and left the hospital. He could not.go home to dinner then; he went down Town, and got dinner there. At night he wont to the hospital again. He would inquired after his friend, if he did not see him. ‘Poor fellow!’ said the physician, ‘be never came out of that lit; he died in half an hour after you went out.' It was dark when Henry Seaburn reached home. ‘You didu t tell Bridget where to-put these demijohns, Henry,’ said his wife. She bad not noticed his face,-for. the gas was burning dimly. ••Wh! I forgot. rComo done with me, Cora; and we’ll find a place for them.’ His wife followed h>m down into the basement, and one by one he took the demijohns and carried them intotbo rear yard, there be erupted the contents into •the sewer. Then he broke the vessels In pieces with his foot, and bade Bridget have the dlrtunm hike the fragments away in the morning. Not a word bad he spoken to his wife all the while; nor did she speak to him. He returned to the aittibg-room where the boys were at their, books, and took a seat on ono of the tete-a ietes. He called bis wife and children about him, and then he told them the. story of Alexander Lomberg. ‘And now my, loved ones,’ be added, layiug his hand upon the heads of his boys, ’I have made a solemn vow that henceforth my children shall find no such influence at their home. They shall never have the occasion to curse the ex- N ample of their father: I will touch thd* wine cup no more forever!' What say you my boys—will you join me in that pJedge ?' They joined him with a glad, gushing Willingness; for their hearts were full and their sympathies all turned, by a mother’s careful love, to right. ‘Aud you, Cora?’ Yes, yes I she cried: ‘And may tha holy lesson of this hour never he forgot ten. O God! let It rest, as an angel of mercy upon my boyar; Letit he a light to their feet in time of. temptation ; and so shall they Bless through life the influ ence they carry with them from their home!' JOHN WAXTOIV’S 11EVE.VOK. ‘Be oil from here you little beggars 1” said Oscar Ronalds, imperiously. , The speaker was a well-dressed boy of fourteen, and the-words were addressed to a boy about his own age imd his sister of eight. The contrast between outward appearance was striking. Oscar was of a light cbliiplexion, and looked like a pet ted child of the aristocracy. He held it olub in his baud, which, it might bo Judged from his scowling face, be would not be unwilling to use. John Walton, who confronted him without fear, was a stouter boy than Os car; His complexion .was dark, bis hair, black as a raven’s wing, hung over his , fore-head. His clothing was coarse and well worn ; his pants were tucked up nearly to Jala knees, and shoes and stock-, ings were luxuries which he dispensed With. His little sister terrified by Oscar’s rude mauner, clung to her brother in af fright. ‘Don’t be soared at him Lizzie,’ said John. ‘He won’t dare to touch you.’ ‘Won’t I though ?'-aaid Oscar, clutching his stick tighter. . Not if you know what is best for your self,’ said John, looking fixedly at him; ‘You have no business here, you beg gars,’said Oscar furiously. ‘l’m no beggar,’ said the barefooted boy, proudly. . ' ‘This is my father’s land. Can you deny that demanded Oscar. ‘I know it is, and I suppose it will bo yours some day.’ ‘Then why have-you intruded hero?' ‘I did not suppose it would do any harm to pick a few berries, which would other wise decay on the vines.’ • ’.Then you know it now.. I don't care for the berries, but I Uon't wanl any beg: gar's brats bn my father's place.’ 1 .‘Stop there,.young master,’ said Johu, firmly.’ ‘You called me a beggar, and I did not care much, but if you call my mother by that name, you will bo sorry.’ “I ?’ said'Oscar very contemptuously. •What will you do ?■’■ ‘l’ll beat you with that stick you hold in your hand.’ ‘Then I do call her a beggar,’ said Oscar, furiously, ‘What are you going to do about it?' ‘You’ll see;’ John Walton let his sister’s hand fail, and spriuglngupou Oscar, he wrenched the stick from his hand laid it over his back with sharp emphasis three times, and then threw it in the pond near by. Leaving his young enemy prostrate, he took his terrified sister by tho hand say ing: ‘Weill go home now, Lizzie.’ Oscar picked himself up, mortified and furious. He would have pursued John and wreaked instant vengeance upon him had he dared, but io tho hands of the young savage, as be mentally character ized him, he bad felt his own utter ina bility to cope with him, and resolved that vengeance should come in another form. ‘My father shall turn the beggars out of house and home,’, he muttered. ‘I wish they might starve.’ The father of Oscar Ronalds was the proprietor of a handsome house ami largo landed estate, including several tene ments which he rented out. Iq, the poor est of these lived Johu Walton and his mother. They lived poorly enough ; how, It would be hard to cell, but at all events they lived and never sought help. When John told the story of his en counter to his mother, she was disturbed, fearing that trouble might some of it. 80, indeed it did. - The next morning Squire Boualds, with his stiff, erect figure, was seeu ap proaching the widow’s cottage. Mrs. Walton opened the door. ‘ Won’t you.come in, Squire Ronalds,’ she said nervously. ‘No, madam, I have but a word to say, aud that Is soon said. Are you aware that your boy grossly insulted my sou, yesterday?’ ‘He told mo that Oscar called him names, and be knocked him down. Ho has a hasty temper.’ ‘Your son is a ruffian, ma’am.’ ’Not so bad as that. He is a good hoy to me, Squire Ronalds.’ " ‘lt is a pity that he cannot treat others with respect.' ‘Do you think lie was wholly to blame?’ •Certainly he was. My son caught him trespassing on my land, and he very properly ordered him oil’. I don’t care to urge the matter- If ho will apologize to Oscar, I will lot it pass. Otherwise, as your month is up to-day, I shall require you to leave this tenement.’ John, who had been inside and heard what had been said, came forward, look ing resolute and self-sustained. ‘X shall not apologize to Muster Oscar, Air,’ he sajd, . ‘it la he who should apolo gize to me.’ ' ‘Apologize to’you I That would look - well j would it not ?’ said the Squire scorn fully. .. i 'lt would be right,’ said John firmly, •You are animpudent young rascal. 'Mother said John, quietly, “there is tie use listening further. T shall not ap ologize and am ready .to,take the conse quences, Da not ho alarmed. I will take •Cato of you..’ '‘.how Is *Y6u must leave this house to-morrow,* roared the Squire in indignined rage, stamping hiy gold-beaded cane upon the ground. ‘Very well,’ said John. ‘Good day sir,’ and John closed the door, leaving, the Squire under a vague impression that he bad got the worst of the encounter. ■What shall we do John?’ said Mrs. Walton dismally. *l’ll tell you mother. There is .nothing for me to do here. We’ll go to Brandon, where there are woolou mills. There X can get a chance to work, and I’ll rise, uever fear. It is best for us to go.’ The next day Mrs. Walton's tenement was empty, and no ouo knew where the» family had gone. Oscar exulted in what he regarded us bis triumph. Twenty years passed. To the bare-foot ed boy they brought wonderful changes. At twenty-four he found himself super intendent of the mill where he had en tered as a poor operative, earning a salary of live thousand dollars a year. He had built a handsome bouse, over which his mother presided with matronly dignity. His sister Lizzie was the wife of a young physician in successful practice In the same town. One winter evening they were all seat ed in a luxuriously furnished room, be fore a glorious lire. His sister had come to spend the afteruoou, but was prevent ed by the violent storm from returning to her own home. ‘What a storra.it is I-’- she exclaimed, wonderingiy- ,*I pity those who are out in it.’ ‘Yes, said her brother, ‘it is the most violent storm of the year. The snow must be two feet deep, at least. But .we need not feel lt is aiimmer indoors.’ ‘Who would have thought, obn, that we should come to live in Such comfort?’ said bis mother. ’Twenty years ago we were poorly off.’ It well remember. It was a lucky thing we came to Braiulou.’ ‘So it has turned out. But I was alarmed when you quarreled with ypuug Oscar Ronalds.’ ‘I have forgiven him. The barm ho in tended baa quly done us good.’ ‘Have you beard of him lately?’ she inquired, ‘Not lately. His sister died ten years ago, and I’m told Oscar is very extrava gant- That is all.’ ‘ ' ( The storm increased In violence, sha-' king the house, firm aud strong us it was. All at once the door,bell rang sharply, ■ *l’ll go myself,’ said John. -‘The servant may not be able to close the door again. l He opened the front door aud a sharp cutting wind entered with, a flurry ofsnow. ‘Will you give me shelter?’ said a hum voice. It was a man who spoke, still young. He stepped in quite exhausted, aud John Walton closed the door. ‘You have had a hard struggle in the storm, have you not ■ ‘I have indeed. lam chilled to the bone. ’ ‘Ooine, to the fire,’ and John threw open the door of the sitting room. ‘He perceived that the.stranger had no overcoat and appeared thorouglilychilled. Warm bricks were ordered, and in half an hour he was more comfortable. He looked thin and haggard ; bis face bote .the Impress of dissipation. He had more than once looked earnest ly at John Walton, Finally he said ab ruptly : ‘Will you tell me your, name? Your face looks familiar.' 'My name is John Walton.’ ‘What?’ said the other, with a start. ‘Did you live, when a boy, in the town of 31 ——. ‘Yes, but I don’t remember you.’ ‘I am Oscar Ronalds,’ said the other la a low voice. ‘lsit possible?’ exclaimed the three, and they involuntarily glanced at the i 11- el ad stranger. ‘I see what you are thinking of. I u u not look much like the boy you used to know;. I have been wild and extrava gant, and lost arid squandered all my property. I have gone down hill—you have gone up.’ ‘I am sorry for your misfortunes,’ paid John kindly. ‘lf I can ha of any service to you, I will.’ , ‘I came here hoping to get the post of clerk, which I understood was vacant. If I had known that you were here I would not have come.’ .. ‘And why ?’ ‘Because you cannot have fo’gotten my ill treatment of you.’ ‘lt is not forgotten, but forgiven,’ said John, Walton, kindly. ‘Unconsciously you did me a service. Tin* clerkship you seek is mine to bestow. You shall have it, and 1 will guarantee your conduct. The salary will ties.uail-oulycighfhuh dred dollars,’ ‘lt will be a femme I" me, who am penniless. Goil b ets y.ni John Wallon, for your generosity.-, Yn.i si.aji not find your confidence ill-hcstoned. 1 I have no more to tell, except Unit then and there began a new and heller life for Oscar, who was after u while |.n.looted, anrrnow has umodest nud cheeciil home of his own, with a good wife to add to his happiness. And this was John Walton’s revenge—a noble and Christian revenge, the only one worth inking loruu injury. TUB “WH.I> JiAJf.” “ INTKUVIKWED.” There has been so much talk about the mysterious ‘ wild man’ out there in the West for some time, that I finally felt that it was my duty to gooutnmlinter view”. him. . There was something touchingly romantic about the creature and bis strange actions, according to the newspaper reports. He was represented as being hairy,long-armed, ami of great strength and stature ; ugly and cum brous ; avoiding men, and appearing sud denly and unexpectedly to women and children; going aimed with a dab, but never molesting any creatine, except sheep or other prey ; fond of ealing and drinking, and not particular about tho quality, quantity or character of the bev erages and edibles ; livlug in the woods like a wild beast; seeming oppressed and melancholy, but never angry; moaning, andsometimes howling, but never utter ing articulate sounds. Such was ‘Old ohep,’ as the papers painted him. I felt that the story of his life ipast lie a slid one—a story of suffering, disappoint ment, exile—a story of loan's inhumani ty to man in some shape or other— and I longed to persuade flic secret from him. * * ‘Since you any you ure » member of the preas,’ said the wild man, 'X am willing to tell you all you wish to know. By and by you will comprehend why It la that 1 am so ready to unbosom myself to a newspaper man when I have so studi ously avoided conversation with other people. I will now unfold my strange story. I was born with the world we live upon, almust. I am the son of Cain.’ ‘Wllatl’ ‘I was present nounced.' ‘Which?' ‘I am the fal Jew.’ •Sir!’ I moved out of reach of his club, and went on taking notes, but keeping a wary eye on him tho while. .He smiled a melabcholy smile, and resumed ? * When I glauce back over the dreary waste of ages, I BL*e many a glimmering landmark that is familiar to my memo ry. And oh l the leagues I have travol-t ed: the things I have seen; the event* I have helped to emphasize J I maroheu upon Mecca with Mohamet. I W B *,® the assassination of Ciesar, I was in the 1 Crusades*, and was with Godfrey when ho planted the banner of the Cross upon the battlements of Jerusalem. I— 1 4 One moment, please—have you given these items to any other journal V Can X—» ‘Silence! I wasjo the Pinta’s shrouds with Cdlumbus when America burst upon his vision, I saw Charles, I be- headed. I was iu London when the Gunpowder Plot was discovered. I was ? resent at the trial of Warren Hustings, was on American soil when Lexington was fought—when the Declaration was promulgated—when Cornwallis surren dered—when Washington died. I enter* ed Paris with Napoleon after Elba. I was present when you mounted your guns and manned your fleets for your War of 1612—when the South fired upon SunUer—when Richmond fell—when the President’s life was taken. In all the ages, I have helped to celebrate the tri umphs of genius, the achievements of arms, the havoo of storm, lire,pestilence, and famine.’ ‘Your career has been u stirring one. Might I ask how you came “to locate in these dull Kansas woods, when you have been so accustomed to excitement during what I may term such a protracted period, not to.put too flub a point upon it.' ‘Listen. Once 1 was toe honored ser vitor of the noble and the illUBtrious’(hero he heaved a sigh and passed. Ills hairy hand across bis eyes),‘bill in these de generate days 1 am become the slave of of quack doctors and newspnpers. 1 am driven from pillar to post, and hurried up and down, sometimes with stencilplate and paste brush to deille the fences with cabalistic legends, and sometimes in' gro tesque and extravagant character for the .behest ofsomedrivingjournal. f attended to that Ocean Bank robbery some weeks ago, when I was hardly rested from fin ishing uy the pow-wow about the com pletion of the Pacific Railroad ; immedi ately X was spirited off to do an atrocious murder for the New York papers ; next to attend the wedding of a patriarchal milliohare; next to raise u hurrah about the great boat race ; uud theu, just when I had begun to hope that my old bones were to have a rest, I am bundled off to this howling wilderness to strip, and jib ber, and be ugly and hairy, and pull down fences, and waylay sheep, and scare women and children, and waltz around with a club and play ‘Wild Man’ gen erally—and all to gratify the whim, of a bedlam of crazy newspaper scribblers from one end of this continent to the other. I am described as a gorilla, with a sort of human sneering about me—and ail to gratify this quill-driving scum of the earth V 1 ‘Poor old carpet-bagger I’ <1 have been served infamously, often, modern and semi-modern times.. I have been compelled by base men to create fraudulent history and personate all sorts of impossible humbugs. I wrote, those crazy Junius Letters; Imobedin a French dungeon for fifteen years, and wore a ridiculous Iron- Mask ; I poked'around your Northern forests, among your vaga bond Indians, a solemn trench idiot, personating the ghost of adead Dauphin, that the gaping world might ‘wonder if we had ‘ a Bour.bon among us;’ I have played sea-serpent at Nabant, and Wooly- Horse and What-is-It for the museum. I have ‘interviewed' politicians for the Sun, worked all manner of miracles for the Herald , ciphered up ejection return s for the World, and thundered political economy through the Tribune, I have done all the extravagant things that the wildest invention could contrive, and done them.well, and this Is my reward— ploying Wild Man in Kansas without a shirt!’ . ‘Mysterious being, a light dawns vague upon me—it grows apace—what — what is your name!’ ‘Sensation !’ fHence,’ horrible shape.” It spoke again : . ‘Oh, pitiless fate, my destiny haunts ihe oneo more. lam called. I go. Alas, is there no rest for me ?’ In a moment the Wild Man’s features began to soften and refine; and his form to assume a more human grace and sym metry. His club changed to a spade, and be shouldered it and started away, sighing profoundly and shedding . tears. ‘Whither, poor shade ?’ ‘To dig up the Byron family.’ Such was the response that floated back upon the wind as the sad spirit shook ito ringlets to the breeze, nourished its shovel aloft, and disappeared beyond the brow of the hill. AH of which is in strict accordance With the facts. [L. S.J FoarlUen Precipitated One Hundred and JBlirbty Feet dowu .a Sbuft. A very sad accident occurred at thecoal minefe at Gardner, 111., on Friday evening lust. At about 8 o’clock on that evening, ' as four persons were descending the coal shall, the wire hoisting-rope broke, and the men were precipitated, together with the baf upon which they Were standing, to the bottom of the abaft, n distance of ISO feel. At the news of the accident the most tremendous excitement, prevailed among theminera employed in the ueigh- v borhood, and tbo citizens of tbe town. As soon as these facts developed themselves immediate steps were taken to afford the unhappy men relief. With a few slight repairs the second c*r w.as brought into requisition, and lowered to the bottom of the shaft- Here the sufferers were found, in a badly mangled stale, but none of them killed outright. Tneir names were discovered to be Ben. Harwood, Robert. McKinzie, Henry Watts, and Edward Sutton. Harwood was so badly injured that be has since died. Edward Sutton was au engineer iu the employ of the company , and was probably the least, injured. His mind is unim paired, and he describes his" terrible feel ings while making the awful descent to what he supposed to be instant death.. He will probably recover. Robert McKenzie received such severe internal injuries that no hopes are enter tained of his recovery. Henry Walls is also badly mangled, but it is thought he may survive. Walls is an Englishman by birth, and has very wealthy parents living In tbe old country. When he arrived of age, his futher»gave him £lO,OOO sterling to start iu the world with. Ho soon squandered this sum on the turf iu England, and came to this country to mend his wasted fortunes., fie had been at* work in the coal mine but a short time when the accident oc curred. . There Is no satisfactory theory yet given as to the cause of the accident. Thesteele wire rppe which supports the cage on which the men stood, is said to ho capa ble of suatalulug sixteen tons ueight. It had been used all tbfttday»iii uoisting coal. The weight of the uieu was but 500 pounds, which wus ail there was upon the car when the casualty happened. Of course no blame is attached to the com* pany, as the officers have always spared no pains or cost to make the mine per fectly safe. The unhappy suflerers by the casualty were immediately taken care of, and those whose injuries resulted latally will be buried at the expense of the company. The event has ca-jt a deep gloom over the community at Gardner, and work was suspended in various mines for the bal ance of the week. The scene of the acci dent continued to draw immense crowds ibr a long time therealter. J An investigation will at once be had to ascertain, il possible, the cause of the ac cident. flood was an- Lbc Wandering jtgy A /"armor’s sou had for a long time boon ostensibly studying Latin In a popur lar academy. The farmer not being satis fied with tbe course of tbe young hopeful, recalled him from school, and placing him by the side of a curt.one day, thus addressed him: . „ " ‘•Now, Joseph, here jswfork, and there Is a heap of manure and a cart, what do yodcall them in Latin?” ‘‘Forklbus, cartlbus et manurlbus,” sold Joseph. •‘Well, now," said the old man, “Ifyou do not take that forklbus pretty qulokl bus, and pitch that muuuribuu into that cartlbus, 1 will break your baoklbus.” Joseph went to worklbua forthwithibus. VOL 56.-107 187 Mark Twain, DISASTEItS. [From the Chicago Tribune.] Hates for - Advsbxibsxxnts wUI Up t ceDi per line for the first insertion sniT flvV cenis per lino for pack subsequent inurtton.,. Qua?* terly half-yearly,arid y&tly tuttfeniNv/niuuin serted at a liberal reduction on the above rates Advertisements should be. accompanied by the Cask. When sent without any ierlgtk of time specified for publication )x> until ordered out and onarged accordingly. job rabsinfo;-’ oth er description of ios and cXhh Prlhtikg.'j w BasainLE mtcitcßT xsr KKVvronK. A Chinaman Harders Ui» Wife ami a Hoard* er. and then i'snitulta Nulcldc—Mbkcnlnar Detail*. One of the most cold-blooded murders and suicide that hits taken place in this city for a long time, resulting in the al most instantaneous death of three per sons, occurred of No. 67 Clierry street. The facts of which that could be gather ed, were as follows: . , On the third floor, in the rear of the above premises, resided Henry Acoug, his wife Sarah Ann, Charles Arch oe, and a young man, about seventeen years of age, named George Aguay, the latter of whom only remains to throw any light upon this horrid butchery.' About half past ten Acong pnd his wife, in company with his boy, were in the sitting-room, the wife asleep on the sofa, the man Aroboe being in his bed-room adjoining the hall, Acong suddenly sprang up and proceeded to the hall bedroom, and began a conversation with Archoo in re lation to money matters; shortly after, Which the young man states be heard Charley crying murder, and rushing to the door saw Acong plunging a large dagger into the body of Cliar/ey, who was still lying on the bed with his. clothes on. He immediately ran for tho stairs, shouting “-Murder" at tho tup or bis voice, and was pursued part way down, but Stumh ing. ho.rolled to tho bottom, and Acoug mturned to the sit ting-room, ' The boy, os soon us able, gained the street and secured the servi ces of Officer Burns, of the Fourth pre cinct, who entered the bouse, and was horrified at behdlding Acong’s wife ly ing at the foot of tho stairs, dead. Pro ceeding up the stairs to the sitting-mom he discovered Acoug lying imbed in u room adjoining the sittlng-i »m, plung ing a large knife into his breast and side, and groaning in mo.-( agonizing tones- Seizing tho arm of the murderer and suicide be wrenched the weapon from his bands. By this time Officers Nash and others, of the Fourth precinct, came to his assistance; bat the unfortu nate man lived but about twenty min utes, when he breathed his lust. Upon examining the bodies they were found to bo mutilated and butchered in u horri ble manner, the man Arcboe having nine stab wounds on him—three on the breast, three on the leftside and three on the left arm; besides a slight cut across the throat. Acoug's wile was stubbed in several places about the breast and stom ach, the entrails protruding from the latter wounds, Acong himsejf was stabbed several times in tho breast, bow els and side. It is presumed that after stabbing the man In the room, where his wife lay, sleeping on the sofa,'add plunged the dagger into her, as the wall and sofa near by were besmeared with blood, add in her struggle to hee her.seif she bud reached as far as the top of ihe stairs and either fell down from the Joss of blood or- was pushed down by her husband.— Her place was, previous to the bloody transaction, scrupulously neat and .clean ; but lost night the scene it presented upon entering was sickenihgT'the entire place being besmeared with blood. Aoong is a sailor and returned, from a five mouths’ voyage about a week ago, since which time, the boy Arguny states, he has been acting u funny,’ ’ laughing to himself ail the while. No 'motive can be ascertained for the committal, as both he, his. wife and Arcboo have been on friendly terms. The instrument with which the bloody deed was comrnittea was a dirk &oife having a blade' about six inches long, with an ivory handle, and is now in possession of Captain Allaire at the Fourth precinct station house. Coroner Flynn was uoiiiled and held an inquest over the bodies. The boy Arguny has been looked up in the Fourth precinct staiioa-huuse to appear as a witness before the Coroner’s jury. , The parties were all in the prime of life, none of them being over thirty-live years of age. Acong loaves one clulu, a boy of about four ydfirs of age, who was taken care of by the police. Cannibalism:.—lf any of us look for ward fo being oaten by cannibals, beinuy wish to be informed how ho is likely to be cooked.' It Is a comfort to know that tbe savages who may devour him are by no means devoid of refinement iu their culinary disposition. Some French soldiers was recently ta ken prisoners by tbe Kanaka, and one of them was killed and eaten, fils comrades describe the process. The Kanaka first decapitate their victim, a mutter of no small difficulty, considering the blunt nesa of their hatchets. ToutolUteenhlows are necessary. The body is then hung up to a tree by the feet, ana the blood uii,» v ed to run out for an hour. Meanwhile a hole, a yard and u half deep, and a yard wide, is dug iu tlie ground. The hole is lined with stones, and then in the midst of them a great fire is lit. When i lie wood is burned down a little and glows with heat, ills covered over with more stones. Tbe man is then cleaned out and divided . into piece s about a foot long, tbe hands and leet being thrown away as worthless. The pieces of the man are piaeud on the leaves of a large rose tree peculiar to the tropics. The meat is surrounded with co coa-nuts, banana, and some other plants noted for their delicate flavor. The whole is then tied together flrmiy, the tire is re .moved from the pit; tbe meat is placed in among tbe hot stones,and thus, carefully covered, is left to cook for au hour. Women to not partake of.this warrior’s feast. Men alone are permitted to enjoy t so great an honor and so rare a delicacy.— London Daily 'News. -t . stST Gall ‘Hamilton lately wrote in reply to au iuvitatioiu to a “silver-web* ding;” “When one has stayed mar ried • twenty-five years in Chicago, I suppose it is worth while to ring the bells over it! Pray consider that L touch the rope with none tint less heartlessness because I mu ilufidretis of miles away.” jßfiyA woman at a dispensary ap plied for medical aid stating her dis ease to bo the flirtation of the heart. “Not on uncommon ailment with your sex, ma’am,” said the doctor, with a twinkle of the oye,\“but it"is not dan gerous if the proper remedy is ap plied.” . A young wife demonstrated with her husband, a dissipated spendthrift, on his conduct. My love,” said lie, “X am oaly like the Prodigal rfou—l shall reform by and by.” “And I will bo like the Prodigal Son too” she re plied, “for I Will arise and go to my father;” and accordingly oft* she-went. Jonathan who had been gaz ing at a garden in the vicinity of this city, In which were several marble statues, exclaimed: 'Just see what a. waste I Here’s no less than six scare-' crows in this little ten-foot patch, and any on ’em would keep crows from a flve-ace lot JKay ‘Kitty,whore’s the frying-pan?’— ‘Joqny’s. got it carting mud and oys ter shells up the alley, with the cat , for a horse." ,The .deer Utile fellow I . what a genius he'll yet make; but go and get it. We’re, going to have company, and must fry some fish for 1 ! dinner.' tgy* “John,” said u stingy old hunk, to ‘ ! his hired man, as he was taking din-; 1 ner, "do you know how many pan- 1 cukes you have eaten?” , ' “No.” i "Well, you’ve eaten fourteen.” ! ; “Well,” said John, “you count aud! . iyi>t.'< . • gfif A man in Maine applied for two. gallons Of rum for “mechanical pnr-: poses.” For what meohanioul pm-', poses ?" inquired the agent. “For I raising a baru,” was the reply. 1
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers