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,
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' COUDKHSIMRT, PA.,
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ft Sped* tocoßeeti as.
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I CjJicnJ LN-URO.-RE AFC-eut A MMF PNB.IC.
ft s. S. GREENMAN,
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OLMSTED A LARRABEE,
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(.OCDERSPORT, PKNN'A.
SETH LEWIS,
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LEWISVILLE, PA.
A. M. REYNOLDS,-
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rr KIS OLMS'TED BLOCK,!
(OUPERSPORT, PA.
Baker House,
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■ mer of NIXOND and EAST Streets,
H COUDKBSPOP.T, PKNN'A.
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C. M. ALLEN,
H SNRGICA] and Mechanical Dentist,
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* A guaranteed to give satisfaction.
M D. J. CROWELL,
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I XXEM AIIONIX6, Cameron co.. Pa.
U: A, .!i, F ci'TSHIXOLE MA CHIXK to
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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.— E<iitr>r 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