Jno. S. Mann, Proprietor. VOLUME XXV, NO. 2. THE POTTER JOUMAL AND >EIVS ITEM. JTBLISHEP KVKRY WEDNESDAY AT COL-PERSPOKT, PA. K,ftc< Cor. Main and Third.) TFBMS * I'EK YEAR IN ADVANCE. JDO. S. Maim. F ' Hamilton, proprietor. Publisher. | c. J. CURTIS, Attorney at LAIN AND District Attorney, , n. j ft Sped* tocoßeeti as. V ARTHUR B H 15S JOHN S. MANN A SON. Attorneys at FAN and Conveyancers, cornEßsroKT. I'A., I FODECT: jus PROMPTLY attended to. Arthur B. Mann. I CjJicnJ LN-URO.-RE AFC-eut A MMF PNB.IC. ft s. S. GREENMAN, I ATTORNEY AT LAW, . -met OTrtt T KI*TFK'S SIOSE,) COI'IiEKSrORT, PA. I 4 G 01 N. C. LARKABRS OLMSTED A LARRABEE, ■ JI:TOI:NEYS AND COUNSELORS AT LAW (Si md St. opposite Ctourt llouse.) (.OCDERSPORT, PKNN'A. SETH LEWIS, I Attorney at IJIW and Insnranee Agent, LEWISVILLE, PA. A. M. REYNOLDS,- DENTIST, rr KIS OLMS'TED BLOCK,! (OUPERSPORT, PA. Baker House, BIIOTVN& KF.LLT. Propr's. ■ mer of NIXOND and EAST Streets, H COUDKBSPOP.T, PKNN'A. attention paid !•> THE convenience an-' comfort of guesU. ■E- ; >! stabling attache L Lewisville Hotel, I iorner of MAIN aud NORTH Streets, LEWISVILLE, PA. IOS J. G. MANN THOMPSON & MANN, PKALKRS IS • R ";>. Medicines, Books, Stationery, I GOODS. POINTS. OILS. WALL PAPER, &C., Cor. Main and Third fits., ■ COUDERSPORT, PA. S. F. HAMILTON. ■EOOK AND JOB PRINTER .H (Corner Main and Third.) V COUDERSPORT, PA. C. M. ALLEN, H SNRGICA] and Mechanical Dentist, . LEWISVILLE, PA. * A guaranteed to give satisfaction. M D. J. CROWELL, E. EAE Jointer K B:lting MACHINE, I XXEM AIIONIX6, Cameron co.. Pa. U: A, .!i, F ci'TSHIXOLE MA CHIXK to inches. •-' -rin. Machines and Gencrai Custom Work " 5RI RR. 2422-TF fl John Grom, W IHISE, £4 I n Hccorativc & rrsco ■ r PAINTER, I COUDERSPORT, PA. and PAPER HA SUING done *ITH neatness and dispatch. "-'action guaranteed. ,K^ AI AI.II HOUSE PF>mptiy attended to. I , NKF.I J'„ ■ ARRIAGE FACTORY, ' DEIt. SPORT. PENX'A. H N -tnaklng, Blacksmlthing, 1 RTN miiig and Kepairing DONE s m N C * B EUNLE, I A L{ HLE YV OITIv , CUUDE Its PORT, PA. '"'^B^5 I MTERTI, !^. I T' EU '" "'"SHED to order, W:* wortmanahlp, on *' VT,R Its nwu-'l^ I '' *' OF Joi n. RV prompt attentlot THE POTTER JOURNAL A. IS[D NEWS XTB3Vn. I At a regular meeting of Electa Chap ! ter of the Order of the Eastern Star held at Oswayo, Pa., June 21, 1573. a committee was appointed who adopted the following resolutions: Tl hereof. It has pleased our Heav enly Father in His infinite wisdom to remove from our midst, to another and better world, one of our mem bers, Sister LAURA DAGGETT. Resolred , That while we bow in I humble submission to Him "who docth all things well," yet we mourn ■with those who mourn for her and ; feel that our Chapter has sustained an irreparable loss by her death. Resolved , That we extend to the family of our deceased sister our heartfelt sympathy in this their deep j affliction, hoping they may find con solation in Him who alone can con. sole the afflicted. Unsolved, That a copy of these resolutions be presented to the hus-j band and family of our sister togeth-; er with the response for her name at the roll call in our Chapter of Sor i rows, June 20,1873, and that they be j furnished to the POTTER JOURNAL for publication. Response for the name of LAURA DAGGETT at the roll call in the "Chap ter of Sorrows," June 20,1873. By Sarah : M. Wells. Faded, gone; the smile of the sunlight fails to bring back the life- : i bloom and our secretary's call is in vain, it carnot waken her. The life current no longer flows in her veins; the angel of death came and shroud ed her form. Laura Yarney Daggett was born June, 1845 and the same month of roses records her death the present year 1873. She was possessed of a quiet ami able disposition and having - given her heart to the Saviour it is manifest that she was resigned to the will of God. With the eye of faith, no, doubt, she looked forward to life's great harvest time when the reapers j shall have garnered home all her' loved ones, as her last words were "I j am going home." She was a faith-! ful and earnest worker in the Society, I ever prompt to attend at duty's call;; ; we shall all miss her cheerful face, i but ought we, if we could, recall her Ito this world of pain? No! the dove has found rest in the true ark of rest above the dark waters in God's mount fie sky. Not many may know the grief of | her lone husband. Heaven grant to ) send to him comforting angels by which lie may discern glimpses of ! the good hereafter. May he t rust in God whose gracious love Is balm for every sorrow, While on the midnight sky of rain ; He paints the golden morrow. ! We are fading too, dying hourly; 'the form may be erect, the cheek blooming with health but hidden forces are at work; slowly, it may j be, but surely the blows are aimed, at the citadel of life and at last it j crumbles away into ruins, sometimes in happy childhood. When the beautiful blossom is fairest to view Transplanted above, it bids earth adieu.; Sometimes when the sunlight at noon-1 day weaves A soft "silver lining on tremulous leaves Life's mission performed with tender- j est love And Fatherly care He transplants them above. And some gorgeous flowers that have I blossomed all day, Until the deep twilight then faded; away To blossom again in God's glorious j light j And never, no, never to fade from His sight. In that city of gold, this garden is made . i Where mingle in beauty the light and j shade , Uf flowers transplanted, whose splendor ; i 1 ween Transcends all the earth-flowers ever, were seen. , There eternally blossom, in tliat sacred j i spot Friends faded and gone, dear forget-me not, . Pure violet, white lily and rose so fair : No much loved on earth, yet loved more ■ up there. When the seeds of death which soon or ; late. Attain the completeness they now await, , i And life floats away as floats a calm prayer From pure lips of faith on the willing air. When the gardener, death, shall trans plant us alone Bevond time's river, the great unknown. Released from earth,s fetters from sor row and care, I trust we shall know them and love them more there. At a Chapter of Sorrow of the Order of the Eastern Star, at Oswayo village, June 20. 1873. in memory of members I COUDERSPORT, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 30, 1873. who have died, the following introduc tory remarks and response to the name of LVCRETIA E. LYMAN, deceased, were read by L. D. Estes: It is the usage of the Order of the Eastern Star that one day in each ; year be observed as a day of sorrow and mourning in memory of members 1 of our Society who have passed away from earth, that we may by solemn ceremonies and appropriate demon strations express our feelings of re gret and sorrow for the loss to us and for the places in our Society made vacant by death; and that something eulogistic may be said commemora tive of their lives and character dur ing the short period allotted to them in this world of joys and sorrows— of pleasures and afflictions. We meet to-day in obedience to the custom of our Order, and with plea sure. though solemn and sorrowful, we contribute these heartfelt offerings in memory of the dead. We are pleased to find with us friends who are not members of our Society, but were friends of our de ceased sisters and brother. We give you a cordial welcome, believing that you, too, mourn with those who mourn for the loss of some of our best citi zens. Lucretia E. Lyman was born in Washington county, X. V. She was reared by kind and affectionate pa rents and under the influence of their gentle admonitions the twig was bent; and in this case we have an illustra tion that as the twig is bent the tree inclines, for her life was ever charac teristic of those good qualities that society is better for the presence of such as she in our midst. She was baptized in her infancy in the Episcopal church, of which her father and his family were members; she adhered to its faith and teach ings to the last, but was always in terested in the advancement of Chris tianity wherever it was found and was ever active in the cause of educa tion, ti mperance, and all reforms that tend to make mankind better and happier here on earth and better pre pared to cross the river of death to a brighter and better world than this. In the year 1855 sister Lyman, with her parents, sisters and brothers, came to Oswayo. Since that time we have known her well; she has mingled with us at onr social gatherings; was a constant attendant and attentive listener at church; has been a teach er of our children in our schools.— Oh, that all her scholars would take heed and follow her excellent exam ples. Her life was one devoted to doing good to all around her. How fitting, then, these floral offerings, this tribute of esteem, of love and of respect to the memory of her main good deeds, her excellent examples, her kind and genial deportment to wards all. Sister Lyman was a member of Electa Chapter, No. 4. of the Order of the Eastern Star, at Oswayo— hence we mourn her loss, not only as a respectable citizen, but also as a sister in our Society of Adaptive Ma sonry, and although sickness came on apace and she was prostrated by disease so that she could not attend our meetings, still we knew her heart was with us as it was in each and everything designed to improve and benefit society. Sister Lyman departed this life on the 16th of December, 1872, at the age of twenty-eight years. She died with a blessed hoj)e of immortality beyond the grave, hoping and believ that ere long the family circle would again be united, never to be severed while countless ages roll their rounds. There is an ancient infantile bap tismal ceremony that contains the following beautiful sentence: "Little one. when thou came into this world all around were smiling. May you so live that when you leave this world all around will be weeping."' Verily, our beloved sister did so live that when she passed away all around were weeping. Though stout hearts might suppress the rising sob, the flowing tear, there was sorrow in every heart as we laid her away in the cold, silent tomb. Ah, L>eath! though thou rob us of loved ones, 'tis but the body thou canst control; her spirit soared high above the dark valley of the shadow of death; and as she passed the v ail 'twixt Heaven and earth she saw the Btar in the East shining brighter and brighter still, which led her angel spirit on— not to Jesus cradled in a manger but to Christ crucified and risen again, who said, "In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not sol would have told you—l go to prepare a place for you." She still lives, and perhaps even now her spirit with others are vert near us, hovering round these floral offerings, this gathering of tribute and respect to the memory of those who are not dead, but only gone be fore. Gone! Where flowers like these, yea. brighter, ne'er decay, But still are blooming through that end less sunny day— Redolent splendor here, there and all around On that eternal, holy, heavenly ground. Farewell, sisters! farewell, brother! I ' thou art gone and left us; but we have an assurance that the spirit never dies and a hope that we will meet again. Then, till we do meet again, farewell. A Lepers' Village in the Sandwich Islands. In William R. Bliss's new book of travel in the Sandwich Islands, he describes as follows a Lepers' Vil lage: There is leprosy in the Hawaiian blood, but none of it is to be seen in Honolulu, as those who are afflicted with it are sent to the lepers' village, on the island.of Molokai, which is about thirty miles east of Honolulu, we embark on a clipper schooner bound to windward to bring down a cargo of sugar from Lahaina—a town on the island of Mani, where lepers may be seen in its one broad street. After rolling to starboard and rolling to larboard all night long the schooner "heaves to" at sunrise off the southern coast of the island, and we are set ashore from a small boat in the little harbor ot Kaunaka ki. The island is green with vege tation, but is nearly deserted. There are less than 1,500 persons on it, although it contains 170 square miles. As we ride on horse back away from the shore, up the ascend ing plains, in a northeastern direc tion, we pass deserted garden patches, fallen walls and ruins of native huts, on which knots of long grass are waving like signals of dis tress. Crossing a succession of green hills we come suddenly to the brink of the precipice of Kalauppa, which looks north to the ocean aud is 2000 feet high. Below from the foot of the precipice stretches a plain, di versified with hills and vales and reaching to the distant shore, where it curves like a scythe into the sea, turning up a white swath against the trade wind. The plain is covered with luxuriant vegetation; but we see no life on it. Here and there a few brown liuts catch the eye. Far on the right are dots of white houses. That is the lej>er village. A steep bridle path zigzags down the front of the precipice, and tve must de scend it. Under wreathing vines, white blossoms and swinging trailers which adorn and obstruct this de scent into the valley of death, the horses step carefully and tediously. In an hour they reach the plain, when a gallop of two miles brings us to the settlement. It consists of de tached houses, inclosed by low walls or picket fences, standing in open pasture lands and sweet potato fields. Papara, pubala, banana trees and a winding brook give a picturesque appearance to the village. Its hori zon is bounded on one side by the flower-covered precipice, which shuts off the world, and on the other side by the ocean. "Even- prospect pleases and only man is vile Every person in this community is a leper. Of those who have not sore hands or feet, the men till the ground and women braid mats. Those who cannot take care of them selves are nursed in hospitals by lep er nurses. The boys and girls go to school to leper teachers, learning the branches of a simple education which none of them probably can live long enough to appreciate. They leave the school with frolicsome shouts; they romp across the green fields, enjoying the air and sunshine like children in other lands, uncon cious of their misfortune. In a grassy field near the sea-shore stands a little church, visited all day by the sun and sea-breeze. Here a na tive minister, a leper, loads religious services on Sunday for his miserable fellows. These poor people seem to be contented. A ration of five pounds of vegetables is issued weekly, in ad dition to what each cultivates with his own labor. This support is so much better than any Hawaiian ever has at home, that natives living on other parts of the island have desired to make themselves lepers in order to be taken care of in this village of death. As we turn away for our homeward journey, it is natural to wish, for the sake of humanity, that there might lie iu this lieautiful val ley a river Jordan into which these miserable people could dip and be cleaned. But the curse of Elisha upon his corrupt servant seems to be irrevocably fixed upon them: "The leprrwr of Naanian shall cleave unto thee and to thy seed forever." Sitting for a Photograph. Having a photograph taken is one of the great events in a man's life. The chief desire is to look the very best, and on the success of the pic ture hinges in many cases the most important epoch in life. To work up a proper appearance time enough is used which, if devoted to catching fleas for their phosphorous, would cancel the entire national debt and and establish a Xew York daily pa per. When you have completed your toilet you go to the gallery and force yourself into a nonchalance of expression that is too absurd for any thing. Then you take the chair, spread your legs gracefully, appro priate a calm and indifferent look and commenee to perspire. An at tenuated man with a pale face, long hair and a soiled nose now comes out of a cavern and adjusts the camera. Then he gets back of you and tells you to sit back as far as you can in the chair, and that it is a remark ably backward spring. After getting you back till your spine interferes with the chair itself, he shoves your head into a pair of ice tongs and dashes at the camera again. Here, with a piece of discolored velvet over his head, he bombards you in this manner: "Your chin out a little please." The chin is protruded. "That's nicely; now a little more." The chin advances again and the po made commences to melt and start for freedom. Then he comes back to you and slaps one of your hands on your leg in such a position as to give you the appearance of trying to lift it over your head. The other is turned under itself and has become so sweaty that you begin to fear that it will stick there permanently. A new stream of pomade finds its way out and goes downward. Then he shakes your head in the tongs till it settles right and says it looks like rain, and puts your chin out again and punches out your chest and saj s he dosn't know what the poor are to do next winter unless there is a radi cal change in affairs, and then takes the top of l our head in one hand and your chin in the other and gives your neck a wrench which would earn any other man a prominent po sition in a new hospital. Then runs his hand through your hair and scratches j our scalp and steps back to the camera and the injured velvet for another look. By this time new sweat and pomade have started out. The whites of your eyes show un pleasantly, and your whole body feels as if it had been visited by an enormous cramp and another and much larger one was immediately expected. Then he points at some thing for you to look at; tells you look cheerful and composed, and snatches away the velvet and pulls out his watch. When be gets tired and you feel as if there was but very little left in this world to live for, he restores the velvet, says it is an un favorable day for a picture, but he hopes for the best and immediately disappears in his den. Then you get up and scratch yourself, slap on your hat and immediatelj' sneak home, reeling mean, humbled and altogether too wretched for description. The first friend who sees the picture says he can see enough resemblance to make certain that it is you, but you have tried to look too formal to be natural and graceful.— Danbury Neics. The Josh Billing-s Papers. Thare iz lots ov peoples who die ov old age and liaint got nothing else tew show that they hev ever lived. A lazy man is a living corpse. It iz a brave man who iz willing tew die when hiz fort in izat the highest. The chances are that lie who iz an xious tew live his life over agen iz the very wun who haz spent it foolishly and probably would do it agen; None but the ill-bred ridikule the pe kuliaritys ov others. A covetous man iz alwus koutriving how he can cheat himself out ov some thing more. What chastity iz tew virtew. credit iz tew reputashun. I A cunning man iz alwus anxious tew cheat sum wun else —a wise man iz satis fied if no one else cheats him. Deference is duin flattery. Thare iz 2 kinds of kuriosity: the one prompts a person tew find out tilings be kauze they are sekret, the other bekauze they may be useful. Idle kuriosity is a moral itch. All things that we need we can easily git. Put Flowers on Your Table. Put flowers on your table, a whole no9egay if you can get it, or put two or three or a single flower, a rose, a pink, or a daisy. Bring a few daisies or but tercups from your last field work and keep tliem alive in a little water; pre serve but a bunch of clover or a hand ful of flowering grass, one of the most elegant of nature's productions, and you have something on your table that reminds you of God's creation and gives you a link with the poets that have done it most honor. Put a rose or a lily or a violet on your table and you and Lord Bacon have a custom in common, for this great and wise man was in the habit of having flowers in season set upon his table, we believe, morning, noon and night; that is to say, at all meals, seeing that they were grow ing all day. Now here is a fashion that will last you forever, if you please; nev er changes with silks and velvets and silver forks, nor be dejiendent on ca price and changes to give them impor tance and a sensation. Flowers on the morning table are es pecially suited to them. They look like the happy wakening of the creation, they bring the perfume of the breath of nature into your room; they seem the very representative and embodiment of the very smile of your home, the graces of good morrow; proofs that some intellectual beauties are in our selves or those about us. some Aurora (if we are so lucky as to have such a companion) helping to strew our life with sweetness, or in ourselves some masculine wilderness not unworthy to possess such a companion or unlikely to gain her. — Leigh Hunt. CURIOUS CUSTOM OF BIRDS In W. C. Prime's lately published book, entitled "J yo a-lishing,' n at page 325, I find a statement, given him by a friend in a conversation, which is evi dently intended to be accepted as truth. I condense it somewhat as follows: " 'A 's birds yonder have, beyond question, means of exchanging ideas.' 'You would think so if you saw them at prayers.' AY ha —at V" 'Yes; at prayers. It isn't anything less. There are birds of every country under the whole heavens and with voices as various as the languages of men and you hear what a wild conceit of de light they keep up all day long. But every day this entire group of birds as semble in silence and if it isn't a prayer meeting I don't know what it is. There is no forewarning that we can detect. While they are all chattering, singing, playing here, there and everywhere, suddenly one of them, sometimes one and sometimes another, utters a pecu liar call, totally distinct from his ordi nary note. Whatever bird it is, the call is much the same and instantly even bird stops his play and his noise. They gather in rows on the perches, shorten their necks so as almost to siirk their heads into their feathers and make no motion of wing, head, or foot for a space of thirty minutes and often longer. It is almost a daily occurence. Ordinari ly, you cannot approach the aviary with out frightening some of the birds and producing a sharp commotion; but while this exercise is going on nothing dis turbs them. They are birds of every land and climate, as you see; but this is their custom and no one fails to at t*nd, or behaves ill in meeting. You think it something like mesmerism, for the leader keeps up his curious call note throughout the service. The instant it is ended they break up with a shout of delight and rush around singing and having a jolly time of it, as if thorough ly refreshed.'" My object is to ask whether this cus tom of birds iu an aviary has ever been noticed before, or accounted for, sup posing the statement to be accurate. J. S. IE [Of the accuracy of the statement we can assure our correspondent, having frequently seen the occurence at the re sidence of the friend of Mr. Prime, whom many readers of his book will re- 8. F. Hamilton, Publisher, $1.15 A YEAR cognize, and in the precise maimer de scribed. We are not aware whether it lias Ix-en elsewhere not iced.— Er X, Y. Obsarrtr.) Grandmamma Kirke's Gift. "How do you like it?"' said Char ley Clare to Millieent Kirke, as he pointed to the villa he had selected for them to commence housekeeping in when they should lie married in a few weeks, "Oh, it is beautiful!" she whisper ed. "But, Charley, don't you think it is rather small?" "Well—yes—jierhaps so; but what do we want with anything larger? The bedroom up-stairs is really a good size, and—" "But is there a bedroom on the ground floor?" asked Millieent, anx iously. "No; why?" "For grandmamma, you know." Mr. Clare's countenance fell slight ly at the reference to "gfand mamma." " I have made no arrangements for your grandmamma, Millie." "But, Charley, she brought me up. Oh, Charley,' we cannot settle down without her." "We can't settle down with her, you mean!" said Clare, imperatively. "When a man marries a girl lie don't contract to support all the relatives she happens to have." *'? am all that grandmamma has," said Millie, her face all aglow, her eyes darkly coruscating. "Grand mamma has loved and cherished me more years than you have and 1 will not leave her to neglect and snflfering in her old age." "Very well, then," said Mr. Clare, quietly, "it is settled" "Yes," said Millieent, in a firm voice, "it ie settled." And g r andmamma Kirke, sitting alone by her fire, was astonished some five or ten minutes later by the sudden apparition of little Millie, flinging herself upon her shoulder and sobbing most bitterly. Grandmamma Kirke listened to the ]K>or girl's story with an mid working of her venerable features. "I don't ask this sacrifice of you, child," said old Mrs. Kirke, stroking down the lustrous masses of dishev eled brown hair. "I dare say I shall do well enough." Millie looked up. loving and indig nant at the same time. "Do you suppose 1 could leave you, grandmamma?" Mr. Charles Clare was a little sur prised at the turn events hat", taken: it had never for an instant occurred to his mind that am girl in her sober senses could prefer the society of a a crooked old woman to that of him self. ''She'll come to her senses after a while," was the reflection with which he was consoled. "All crirls indulge in heroics now and then, but it won't last long.'' Mr. Clare was destined to disap pointment. "Engaged to Frank Blakesley!'' lie cried about six months subse quently. "Why, he has been court ing her this long time—sending her flowers, books, music and all that sort of things. And the old Witch of Endor is to live with them, I sup pose. I wouldn't have stood it!'' went on Clare, growing more heated and angry as he talked: but Frank Blakesley never had any mind of his own. Well, I wish them joy, that's all!" But the tone of voice in £hich Mr. Clare spoke indicated anything but the benevolent aspirations shadowed forth by his words. Frank Blakesley and Millie Kirke had not been married more than a year when a sad messenger came to the door of their humble, yet infi nitely-contented borne—Asrael, the mighty and relentless angel of death! "You've been very kind to me, Frank and Millie," said grandmamma Kirke, "but it's well-nigh over now. I only wanted to live long enough to see my little girl confided to the care of some good man who would value her as she deserves, and I have got my wish?" And grandmamma Kirke, whose old eyes were growing dim, fumbled under her pillow for the old work bag with the outlavish little pocket which, with its paraphernalia of an tique housewives, bodkins, scissors