2ST I>
jno. S. Mjnr, . __ S. F. Hamilton.
jntisNKTs ITBK. •
lOLUKiE MV.
I the POTTER JOURNAL
AND
>'id\V lT 1-31.
rr ,USHE E"-" 1 AT
L'OCpKH s POUT, PA.
office O. M'tinand Third.)
Iu I 7*. pen Ybak in Advance.
' '
S. F. Hamilton,
Ijuo. S. Mat" • publisher.
proi<r't"r
arthck B. M AS*
"" JOHNS. MANN A SON,
.11 v ami Conveyancers,
AttomY at ■
yot"Bl'.U>rUlri, -v.,
..roinntlT attended w.
K"oU<!rtioß* I ?
Arthur B. Maun,
o *™t 4
PEL McCLA KY, M.D.,
HUtTIfIW PHYSICIAN and HI" KG EON j
COUDERSPORT, I'EXN'A.
Ic. J. CURTIS,
Attorney at Law and District Attorney,
,m .onMA fX (° rer tl,e I ' r " <t °R" ;e '
COUDERSPORT, PA.,
busiuen pietaintng to his profession, j
special attention given to collect ions.
CHAS. T. SCHIVELY,
Mn Public,* laim AsrniM'omryanccr
' and ideal Estate Agent.
iOMISSiONER Cf PEECS FOR SEW JERSET.)
206 SOt'TH SEVENTH ST.,
7'hHadelp/iitt, 7Vr.
, HtTepMon huil experience given tak- i
-■ !hit .• iu cases pen tlug In the iHfler.'tit j
• . lt - Propertieitre ted uml sol
. collti-tlous iiovle. Pensions ami other (
j Correspondence solicit**!. j
UOLWTO P. C. LA HR ABBE
OLMSTED A LA3RA3EE,
LtTOKNKV- AND COUNSKLOKS AT LAW;
s i\:' St. opposite Court /louse.)
(.YiVDKItSi'OICT, FINN A.
SETH LEWIS,
Kforney nt Lut iintl Iwsurtnicc
1 Lh \\ IS\
A.M.REYNOLDS,
DENTIST,
(orfh'H IS OIHNTKD
COUDERSPORT, PA.
lltS-IV.
Baker House,
Bhown& Kei.i.t, Propr's.
Corner of SECOND and EAST Streets,
COUDERSPORT, PEaN'A.
krery attention paid to tit • convenience aud ,
Comtoit of
Ot ioo l stabling attached.
Lcwisville Hotel,
torinr of MAIN and NOIITH Streets,
LEWISVH.LE, PA.
if > Stahling attached.
JOHN B. PEARSALL,
PAINTER,
COUDERSPORT, PA.
£ is? Painting, (.lazing, Graining, Cmlcini. t: k- i
'• filliping, Psper-hangtitg, etc., done
with neati:es>. firmuiituess and
dlspatel: iu all cases, and
satisfaction guar
antied.
KlEh PA I NTS fcr sale. 242H-1
iNItIuaPSON J. 8. MANN
THOMPSON & MANN.
KF.AI.EKS TN
h.'s Medicines, Books Stationery,
'WCt GCOOS. PMNTS. OILS. VY6LL PAPER, SC., j
<Pr. AToin 'ind Third Sts.,
COUDERSPORT, PA.
S. F. HAMILTON.
WOK AND JOB PRINTER
[('orwr Mo in and Third.)
COUDERSPORT, PA.
D J. CROWELL,
fr.3. H. Ball Jointer & Bolting Machine,
"INNKM \UONIXG, Cameron eo.. Pa.
■X; Xl/n: ct 'THJfiy OLE At A CHIXKU>
.
. ,1 - pairing Machiaen ant) General Custom Work
* V) order. 24*J2-tl
John Grom,
5 0 use, Si?n,
Jlcroratirc & irc.src
PAINTER,
c OUDEPSPOF:T, pa.
ami i'.v. 1,1; HANGING dot
Wl "i neatness and dispatch.
"•''faction guaranteed.
,i, akku not Si
* proinjttiy attended to.
C. BREUNLE.
lA hu Lic vv < i,
( Ul'DEiispOßT, PA
*fe nt YeaGn~.t.. ; j....
*'* JgV.iri''" l ." at j he-•flee oi .f;u .
*ll i r -celre prompt alientton
A Country Walk.
'Twas earliest autumn: up tl.e road
Tu wlieie tiie shade trees blended.
And where t!ie gat e ing subbeuios glowed,
My willing steps I wended.
Around the barn the trodd- n way
Curved carelessly, and drifted
j YVhiihe in iuks the ro ven lay,
i By sv-ar.hy hands up.ifted.
! And farther on, a little space,
; It passed a neighbor's dwelling,
j Where thrift bare sign of rustic grace,
A humble peace foretelling.
1 p, speeding o'er the stony path
To gain the st m nit si a ed.
My foot, I'm sure, not ofteu hath
| Been sweetlier persuaded.
And so we reached the bower of shade
Through which the sun was gleaming,
| And in its dappled ambuscade
Yielded to pleasant dreaming;
i And dreamed this dream—that he who w ill,
Kinds peace in lowiiest places
i And if he seales the stoniest lull
I Alert, but for its graces,
I His eye, grow n quick to nearest things,
Shail read the wider pages
| Of distant vision, as though wings
Were ids to spaa the ages.
Not idie then my morning walk,
That led me, by rise sweetness
Of simple wid fiowers' simple talk,
1" learn of life's coinp.eteness;
To we that in the homeliest ways,
Which tend to higher glories,
God's love is there, and cheers the days
YV ith myriad charming stories.
JFroni Godey's Lady's Book.]
A Tale of ChrißLmas.
It was Christmas Eve, ami one of
the loveliest of w inter evt nings. The
streets were dry and clear, the moon
shed her soft radiance over ali ob
jects. and the stars twinkled and
winked j yously at each other. In
the great city of C the air rang
with sounds of holiday merriment.
Houses were brilliantly illuminated,
and gorgeously decked trees were
surrounded by wide-eyed groups of
little ones. Stores were crowded
with the representatives of Kriss-
Ktingle, where lite patron saint of
the day was supposed to cling to the
good old-fashioned tint rn of stock
ing filling. Smiles lighted faces that
were grave or sad on other days, and
happiness gr- eted the yearly festival
in many scenes.
There was one house, however,
where no lights illuminated the win
d"ws, where no Chr st'o sl ee was
waiting for ei.ilch u'- greeting, where
only tears and. sobs fell upon the ear
of any listener. Not for poverty.
Tue house was large and handsome,
and within every room bore token of
the wealth of' its possessor.
But the grim destroyer who stays
not for poverH or riches, w ho conies
now stealthily, now triumphantly to
high and low, had placed his chill
aand upon the heir of the state 1 y
j home, and a little coffin had only:
j fortnight Inf. ,e passed out of the
j wide door, having letter grief and
; desolation behind.
He was the only child of a wid
owed mother; the sunny haired,
blue-eyed boy of four t ears, w ho had
sickened and died, though all that
love and riches could compass was
given for his recovery. And when
he was gone, the world darkened for
the p le mourning mother, who shut
herself up alone to weep, refusing all
com foil.
While the tide of merriment swept
along the streets of the gay city,
Mrs. Hilson, in her heavy mourning
garments sought the room of her
lost boy, and there sobbed and
prayed for death, to bring her to her
loved ones. Site was young, not
thirty, and very lovely, in spite of
the traces of grief upon her pale lace
and as she knelt by her boy's little
bed to weep and pray, the light fall
ing upon her seemed to illuminate
some saintly face and form.
The room where she knelt was a
large one opening from her own, and
had been fitted up expressly for the
petted young heir. The fu nitureof
delicate coloring and soft satin wood,
was all small to suit the little figure
of the boy. Running across one end
was a shelf full of toys such as boys
love: drums, horses, whips, and
many more. A small bookcase held
gaily colored books oi nursery liter
atim, tales of fairi'.s aid giants,
Mother Goose melodies, and S'Oties
of good boys and girls. A little table
.tnd chair were standing near the win
dow, as if waiting for the young oc
cupant to come and draw childish
pictures upon the slate in the diaw
r, or make wonderful combinations
of paste aud paper. En rytliing was
he to make childhood happy,
the carpet was strewn with hmh
flowers, pictures of children hung
COUDERSPORT PA., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 7, 1874.
upon liie walls, statues of children
stood upon the mantle-piece, and on
brackets. The small wardrobe in the
: corner held dainty suits of tine eloth
; ing, the fur trimmed coat and cap
! the boy had worn when he last walk
j ed beside his fond proud mother, the
| tiny tassel led cane, the shining boots,
i In t ie bureau were piles of dainty
| linen, little socks, pretty pocket
handkerchiefs, the gay little neckties
that were worn with such a jaunty
air.
Only one dark spot was in the
room, and it had been its brightest
sunshine; the kneeling mother. She
had wept herself quiet, and w as rest
ing her white, beautiful face upon
her boy's pillow, when the door
opened softly, and a lady nearly her
own age, and closely resembling her,
came in softly.
"Is this well, Sybil?" she asked,
kissing die fair sad face on the pil
low.
Wearily the mourner rose, and
tried to smile a greeting for her only
sister, whom she loved very fondly.
"He was my all, Elsie," she ans
wered; "you have three, and I had
j but that one. Let me weep, for 1
| am very desolate."
"Darling, I know it," was the re
ply, "but we shall lose you too. if i
you shut yourself up here to inourn I
i constantly. I have come for you to j
I take our Christmas drive. 1 am
| alone, and George will stay with the
I children. You will come?"
"1 cannot! I cannot!"
"Our poor folks will expect us.;
it is some years since we have spent;
Christmas Eve in visiting the poor, j
j and it w ill comfort you, to think you
I went."
"Oh, Elsie, T cannot. I will give
' you the money, but it will kill me to
I go. Do you not remember last year j
we took Freddie? 1 can see him
! now us he gave my contribution to I
'one and another, his face Hushing
witii pleasure, as lie said '.Mamma
and Freddie wish vou a merry Christ-1
mas! "
"I remember dear. Try to think
he will be with us to-night. Come i
'
with me! If the trial is too much for
vou, I will bring \on home, and go
* 1
| again alone; but make the etl'ort, :
Sybil, for my sake."
It required much urging and many
I lender, loving arguments to conquer j
: S\ bil's morbid desire to rt main aione j
in Freddie's room, and even after]
: she had submitted to have her cloak ;
i and bonnet on, she iiirgered there.
Opening a closet she said:—
"Here is the sled that was to b
j for Christmas, Elsie, and the pair of
| rubber boots to tramp in the snow. |
j iike a man! You shall take them for I
' Willie, when you come back. I have j
not forgotten your little ones, though
1 could not promise to join you, to
j morrow. Ail their gifts are in my.
1 room."
I
Elsie thanked her with a loving
] kiss, and then led her to the carriage,;
which was piled with packages and
baskets. It had been for many years
the habit of the sisters to distribute
personally a portion of their large
wealth amongst the poor of their na
tive city, giving money, food, cloth
ing and orders for fuel, and giving
what was as highly prized, gentle
sympathy and kindly counsel. Since
Sybil had last been amongst these
humble friends she had lost husband
and child, and many a rough hand
trembled, many a tear dimmed the
eyes of those to whom she spoke, as
they proffered words of sympathy
and comfort.
Yet, as her sister had hoped, it
was doing her good to leave her
home, and feel that there was work
for her hands to do. She realized
full}', as she passed from one poor
home to another, that her generous
gifts were increased fourfold in value,
by the fact that in her own sorrow
she had remembered the wants of her
; fellow-creatures. Many a li nrt\
i "God bless and comfort you, ma'am,'
| though it was answered with tremb
ling lip aim tearful eye, yet left its
healing influence upon her heart.
Elsie spared her too much talking,
by a few whispered words to those
who would have torn her heart by
references to her grief, and she did
tiot claim the prorui-e to return if the
eff it overt x d km stren tu.
It was after nine o'clock, aud the
j carriage was lightened of most of its
load, when Elsie said:—
"There is one new family to visit,
Sybil, and then we will go home."
"Who are they ?*'
"A poor woman living on the out
skirts of the town, who lias been do
ing some sewing for me. ller h mse
i-* a tiny one, but she rented one
floor to a widow, who is dying in
consumption, if not already dead.
It was her kindness to the suffering
lodger, in the face of her own pover
ty, that drew me to the woman.
Sewing hard to support an aged
mother, and four little ones of her
own, she has given this still poor
er sister the rent, put food into her
mouth, and nursed faithfully at her
dying bed. I have comforts here
for both, and some toys, fruit and
candies to make Christmas for the
children."
"What is her name?"
"Nlaloney! But her lodger I think ]
lias seen brighter days. Site speaks ]
like a person of refinement and edu- >
cation, and told me her husband had
been a wood engraver. This is the I
house, aud we are expected."
Entering the small lower room,;
the ladies found an Irish woman]
poorly clad, who was evidently watch- ]
ing for them. She spoke at once t> ;
Elsie.
"You are too late, ma'am. She's
gone."
"Dead!"
"She died at four o'clock, as easy j
as a baby going to sleep. I'd have!
sent you word, if you hadn't said you '
would be here this evening."
She led the way to an upper cham
ber, where it was evident there had
been many comforts added to the;
dying bed. Everything was decent j
aud in order, the wasted form upon j
tiie Iwd clothed in clean white gar- j
inents, the hands folded, and the j
fair hair smooth. But Sybil gave a i
quick gasping cry, and would have 1
fallen, but for her sifter's arm.!
For across the dead figure, asleep as j
if in the utter exhaustion of weeping;
was a golden-haired boy, who seemed |
her own lost darling restored to her. (
The long fair curls shaded a face i
beautiful as a cherub's, :uid the poor
clothes covered a noble litde form, j
He was four years old, and alone in
the bleak world. All that had been
his of love and tenderness, lay dead
under Ins extended arms.
"Dear, dear!" said the kind Irish !
woman, "if tiie poor boy ain't up \
here again. It's three times the
night I've put the poor ciathur to
bed with me own childer, and he j
slips up here again, when 1 think lie's j
slaping. Oh, ladies, if yees could
have heard the prayer he made this:
Christmas night!"
"What was his prayer?" asked
Elsie.
"lie heard the childer ali talking;
of Kriss-Kringh. ma'am, and see]
their stockings all hanging fornist I
the fireplace, und he knelt down and j
sez he,
"'0 God! please send Kris-Krin-j
trie to eive nie a warm room and I
a e> I
some clothes, and make dear mamma ;
alive again."'
"What will become of him ?" asked
Elsie.
"Indade ma'am, I'm afraid it's the
almshouse! I'll try a spell, but I've
more mouths to feed than I've food
to give already. I'm fearful it will
be the almshouse at last."
"1 do not think so," whispered
Elsie, and they both looked towards
the Ikhl.
Sybil was bending over the boy,
softly unclosing the baby fingers from
their clasp on the dead mother's hand.
She had lifted her heavy black veil,
and m her sweet face was a look of
heavenly mother love as she gently j
loosened that hold. Then, still so'
softly that the weary child slept on ;
all unconscious of her tender touch,
site folded the round limbs, so cold
in iheir ragged night garments, in
hr own heavy shawl, and lifted tiie
boy to her own mother's breast.
"1 will ea*'e for the child, Mrs.
Maloney," she said, in a sweet, low
voice. "God has siuel\ sent us to
each other this Christmas night."
Still sleeping heavily, the golden
haired child was carried to the luxu
rious loom of the d> ad s >n of his
Item factress, clot .ed in a dainty
night drei-s aud put in the little
snowy hed. When the pillow was
pressed once more by a child sleeper.
and Sybil had folded the soil covers
over him, she knelt where she had
bent a few hours before over the va
cant be.', and prayed G<xl to aid her
to fill a mother's place to the little
t one site had taken under her roof
that night. Tears 17 11 as *hc prayed,
but in her heart was a new peace, a
new hope, aud Elsie softly crept
away, sure that the cure site had
hoped to effect, was already proving
a blessing.
Many times iu the night Sybil
; came to the bedside of the orphan
boy. Upon the little table she spread
1 Christmas toys and books. From
■ the wardrobe and bureau she pre-
I pared warm, pretty garments, and al
i ready her heart was planning for a
future, she had thought must, be
! spent in tears.
] When the sun streamed in at the
! window, she rose, and dressed herself
j and went again to Freddie's room.
| Sitting upright in the bed, with
flushed face and large wide open
blue eyes, the child was trying to re
j alize iiis new surroundings. Sybil
had learned his name; so she said, in
; a sweet winning voice,
] "yharlie!"
"Oh," he cried, with a long deep
'• breath, "did Kiiss-Kringle bring me
o o
1 here to stay ?"
"Should you like to stay, and be
my little boy?"
"Won't he bring my own mamma ?"
Charlie asked, with a quivering lip.
"No, darling. God has taken mam
ma to heaven, and He lias taken my
little boy there too. lam all alone,
Charlie, with no little boy to love,
unless you will let me be your I:lam
i nia!"
The child pondered a moment with |
' a great gravity upon his sweet baby
i face.
"Ate tliey angels," he asked, "mam
i ma and your little boy?"
"Yes, dear!"
"It is very nice here, but will you
I khs me and love me as my own main
; ma did if I stay?"
l'or answer Sybil took him in her
arms and pressed warm loving kisses
upon the trembling lips, till the boy
1 clasped her close and said,
"I will stay and love you dearly,
mamma."
It Hasn't Any Mother.
A few years ago, a little dark-eyed
orphan boy came to my house to stav
a few weeks. There was a little kit
ten about the house continually pok
ing its nose into places forbidden,
and thereby calling down upon it -1
head the wrath of the housekeeper.;
Several times it had been sent whirl-]
ing through tin \ ard. One day. when I
i' had thus been treated. Willie be-j
held the scene. IB took the kitten ;
up in his arms, stroking its back ten- ]
derlv, and came into the house. His j
dark eyes were full of tears. Pity
and indignation mingled in all his
tones when he said. "You must l>c
kind to the little kittie now, for it
hasn't got ait}' mother!"
Later in the evening, Willie lay
asleep on the carpet, in one hand a
knife, and in the other a half eaten
apple. Directly the kitten came in,
and went whining around, until it
saw Willie, when, without delay, it
ceased its piteous mewing, crawled
up close to his bosom, and went to
sleep too.
I"A Rough World, My Masters!"
"Two children named Mary Brady
and Joanna Dunn, seven and nine
years old, were charged with stealing
lead pipe from an unfinished house.
Being proved old offenders they were
committed. Neither of them could
read, and they evidently belonged to
the lowest rank of our dangerous
classes."
This edifying paragraph we copy
from the public report of a daily ;
journal. We have not heard wheth-1
er it is proposed to exhibit our pris-!
on system at the Centennial, as the j
bright consummate flower of Ameri
can justice, statesmanship and Isu-!
inanity. If it l>e, we suggest the p.< -
auction of Mary and Joanna as its
perfect illustration. There remain
n arly three years of preparation,
dining which they may te safely
wanned to become as hopelessly
bestial as a livety alternation of gut
ter, euiii t-roora, and prison can make
t em. Mot cover, the happy certain
ty exi-ts that in due course oi time,
though too late, unluckily, for the,
interests of the Centennial, they will
mainfe into the fruitful mothers of a
long line of Mac. -* d Joannas, heirs
to a like inheritance.
Malthas is popularly regarded as
a calculating King Ilerod. Hut that
gentle country clergyman at least
gave much prayerful thought and a
most humane answer to the social
questions that beset his conscience;
and if the polite world still insist
that the subject of the reckless mul
tiplication of the pauper class must
not be discussed, it is certainly bound
to see that thai va>t population is
not born to the alternative of starva
tion or crime. Vet this is precisely
the only future which beckons tlious
; amis on thousands of American eltil
• dren to-day. In the state of New
York the depredations of criminals
are reckoned greatly to exceed the
sum of thirteen millions of dollars
'annually. This loss represents the
injury through one form of crime on
ly. The number of "jail-birds" rep
resents ten per cent of the actually
dangerous classes. Our three state
prisons discharge over one thousand
prisoners annually. Our six peni
tentiaries send out neatly nine th/U
--sand. The yield of the workhouses
and county jails is vastly greater.
The Bridewells of this one state cost
some three millions a year.
Inhumanity is a costly laziness
truly. For it is because we permit
Mary and Joanna and Tim and Ter
ence to be born to the nature of the
street and the gin-shop, and trained
i in the schools of thieving and vaga
-1 bondage, that they coine to demand
the higher and dearer tutelage of
jails and penitentiaries. Societies
assume that crime and degredation
are alien to it, and legislates for them
with ignorant indifl'erencc. In reali
ty, they are the wretched fruit of its
loins, claiming parental consideration
, and help us other deformed and
'dreadful births claim it of natural
parents. The Children's Aid Socie
ties, noble and successful as they are,
can do little more than point the way
which the state should take, Their
usefulness is limited; fiiot. by nar
row means: second, by their attitude
of charity. For the kindly service
that they do is the true birthright
of every pauper child, guaranteed not
by generosity but by justice.
Mary and .Joanna educated to r.o
nice perception of nu uvi and tuum,
barter what seems to them useless
lead-pipe for useful bread. Society
holds up its hands at such juvenile
depravity and, at best, packs ilum
off to the Reformatory. This huge
dreary barrack where an anny of,
graceless children goes through a te
dious routine of moral and industrial
drill, is to these wild little Arabs,
an abomination of desolations
Ever afterward virtue, industry, re
spectability, stand l'or the symbol oi
this doleful place, and are scorned ,
and feared of them. They come back j
to the outer world of busy occupa
tion. Virtue has no use for them.
Vice wants them and will pay a cer
tain wage. To thieves and pimps
and swindlers of all sorts they have
a market value. More crime, more
short sentences in merciful consider
ation of their youth, more vengeful
hate of that law and that society
which to them seem simply tyran
nous and vindicative, and by and-by
state prison for them aud evergrow
ing taxes for ourselves.
But suppose that the state held all
children of pauper or of criminal or
drunken or notoriously dissolute pa
rents, as well as deserted children, to
be her wards. Suppose that at birth
they were placed in homes, not in
reformatories, the domestic and not
the military idea inspiring the whole
discipline. Suppose that up to the
age of sixteen they were to be held
as infants in the eye of the law, no
penal sentence following offenses, but
simply a remanding to these homes
of purity and patience. No sane
person doubts the result. Are the
difficulty of finding the right guard
ians and the enormous expense urged
as objections? But among the multi
tudes of motherly, intelligent, unem
ployed women, hungering for work,
these tender, patient, and judicious I
step-mothers stand waiting for just :
such a call. And for the expense,if we
paid three millions a year as we pay
for our prisoners, and thereby made
of the waifs and estrays honest citi-;
$1.15 A YEAR
Zens instead of jail-birds, we should
save money, not to speck of that
higher saving which few of us count
as of equal moment.
Nearly half of our convicts arc
mere youths. AtMettrayin Fiance
there is a juvenile reformatory which
saves over ninety-live per cent of its
inmates. And it pays as it goes.
Surely then the family system could
rescue the whole pitiful multitude of
destitute vagabonds whom now only
their father, the devil, looks after with
observant care. That there should
be "dangerous classes'' in the nine
teenth century of the Christian era is
jail amazing scandal. That they
! should exist in America is a grave
I peril as well, for our institutions fin
ally rest 011 the virtue of the whole
people.
i
The First Result under the Now
Constitution.
• The New Constitution, ratified as
it has been by the people, becomes
the supreme law of the State and
goes into effect on the first of Janu
ary, Ix74—"for all purposes not
j otherwise provided for therein," as
stated in the schedule attached to
' the instrument. Among the imrac
'diale results will he the following:
The Legislature, which is to as
semble on the first Tuesday of Janu
ary, 1 ST4, must be governed by it.
, I pon that body will devolve the pas
sage of the necessary laws to put
the New Constitution in complete
| working order and effect. It will
thus be one of the most important
sessions held for many years.
The General Assembly is required
j at its "next session after the adoption
ot this Constitution" to designate
: the several judicial districts of the
State umlcr the new instrument; al
so to determine the compensation of
j the judges of the Supreme Court and
| of the District Courts; when thejn
. dicial apportionment is completed,
the Governor will appoint Judges in
all new districts entitled there to,
these to serve until the next election,
the question being referred to the
; people next November. Also to ap
-1 portion the State into Senatorial and
| Representative districts agreeably to
'the provisions of the New Constitu
j tion, which provides for fifty Sena
tors and two hundred Representa
tives.
The members elect of the present
i incoming Legislature when sworn
j .
into otlice will take the old oath.
| The article on legislation generaliv
j.ind prohibiting special legislation,
j goes into effect at once.
The first election under the New
Constitution will take place on the
; third Tuesday of February neji, for
j city, ward, borough and township
I officers throughout the state. No
election for local or municipal officers
j can be held at any other time, (ex
cept to fill a vacancy,) in any city,
borough, ward or township of the
State.
The general election for State and
county officers is changed from the
second Tuesday of Octolier to the
J ucsday after the first Monday in
November of each year. This fixes
the next State election on Tuesday,
Nov. 3d, 1371.
The voting is to be by ballot, as
heretofore, but each ballot, as pre
sented, is to be numbered ly the
election officers in regular order, so
as to correspond with the number 011
the tall}' list. The voter may, if he
chooses, write his name on the back
of the ballot before voting.
All present officers are to serve out
the terms for which they were elect
ed. All new elections for officers aro
to bo under the New Constitution.
At the general election in 1374,
and 1875, Senators shall be elected
in alt districts where there shall be
vacancies. Those elected in 1874 to
serve for two years, and those elected
in 1875 for one year.
At the general election in 1876,
Senators shall be elected from even
numbered districts, to serve for two
years, and from odd numbered dis
i tricts, to serve four years. We may
j remark here that the terms of State
! Senators, Eli.sha W. Davis, A. K.
1 McClure, Francis D. Collins, Lafay
ette Fitch, Butler B. Strang, William
A. Wallace, James M. Weakly, Will
an McSherry. James L. Graham,
i 51. S. Humphreys, and Harry Whit#