t u Ftmalovatzuctagt . ttl printea ;Wee et I I: 14, motlar. uut o ona pioprietor.liiloll tke ColttmliliVeTY 0.4 walla 1 1'113111;16. S. " - OND COPT 'ONIIIIDAVCIN ADVANCII. 01 00 IF etOT PA 'WITHIN THRIgEIIdONTIf.' ;. 1 - 251 II" NOT PAID WITIIIIII3IX M.ONTIIB. ,4 IV NUT PAID gam MD MONTHS. .•4 7E IN NOT . PAID WITHIN TWELVE MONTHS, ' 004 . , 6-04.r.The hbove Ottnp.oro'nt Ilbtrit I ni thnvo a 4117 (; th el oou aux paper ti litckto, unit will NI exacted. 0114continutin00.44q11 ImO o llowed until ollartemelli ar bedooaid., • • , I.l(fri Ara rr ftIIII.ITY (IF POSTbrAnlitti l . rosingitterai onglelitlair to notify tho ontilishcr. no directilt by law. of tho fact that Import axe not Illled by I hem to whom (bey. aro diroutod;: aro then alres held tuopontible • for the amount of the a übscriptron money. , • Pirrone lilting papers addressed to the instlres. or to' others, become aubscribori. and, are Ilatito for Otli Pride of aubscrio. llDnt Our pager is now carricu.l , Wall throogbont thO county,i froo or chargo. ' • • • • The' tbree Brothets. • • • 11,,TALD ',OF UNION. AI9IDI3UNION. BY J. T. TRoWDItiriGE. Tho merchant of 'Milbrook, dying, loft thronsons to inherit his estate. This Was tho most valuable property 'in -the village, consisting of an extensive country 'store— the only one in the place—a handsome farm and a very:excellent grist mill. On his death bed the merchant ,called his,throo sons to his side,. and said : bath about to die;. and I Shall have made myself toady to leave this :wcitid in peace, when I have.given you. the advice of an old and '.experienced man, and a fath er's blosing.' to you considerable property, which i.hope you will know how to 'appre ciate and enjoy. I take tho more pleasure itr.bestowiegnpcin y'ou the first fruits of my industry,' since I have . the satisfaction of fooling, that iiitiecumulating2 wealth, I have never knoWingly wronged a living hoing,:ner'.evon deviated from the path of rectitude... And oh, my sons, consider, now, what a heavy bniden of guilt upon . . my: soul this.ivealfh would bo'afthis time, did my pmscienee tell me it had been pur chased at the expense of my:own upright nessl 6 d tho happiness of my fellow be ingS4 - onside!, too, how much better it would eto die in honest poverty, than in the midst of ill-got riches ; and, in alt your dealings with mankind, remember the car nest 'counsel of yclux dying fathert—be just to your neighbor; and . keep your conscience clean." . . . . -.:Ailer.giving utterance to much Moro ad vice of the same description, to which his sons listened with pious attention the old marisaid : • '9l have made my will according to the best °fitly judgment, in the sincerity of my love., In this I have not considered the interests of ono.tnoro than that of's:mother; and - I inns= you will respect your fath er's memory too much to murmur at his last worldly: dispensation." The young* men joined in assurance of veneration for t ' the old man, love for. each other, and pious submissionto his will.— Then the - merchant of .11filbrook continued: "You 'Richard, my first-born, the beloved of your. mother, whom I am going to join in another world=-you, for whom .I. first experieneed a father's joy and she a moth er's tenderness---You' have a just c iauu to Le considered first.". Richard pressed the old instn'shand,and Joseph and James bowed in silent acknowl edgmetit.of their father's justice. .I•zolop; Richard," pursued the dying man, "I give she. farm .with everything pertaining to- .except the land on the - forthest side of the,stream, which I think should. properly .belong to the mill. You have' a, sanguine temperament, Richard ; you nro fond of air.•and exercise; and l.am .sore the. action of Warmer's life will suit you better than anything else. • "You,Joseph. have st• meehanical geni us. You have always taken delight in theinachinerrabout the mill, for the man agement of which, you 'aro well suited:— Accordingly I. have given .it to you, with all its depeddencies, and the land belong-, ing to,it.. • . . • . "You, my dear James, have a talent for trade. You shall be,a merchant, after your father. The :store, and .the village lots, which naturally go with it,belong to .you." "And now, oh my sons, bear my latest compel... Although your 'property is divi ded, let not your hearts be divided also. •Laber.:together, and for your mutual. good, as you have always done till now. United, you ,will ; be. strong;, divided, the world will discover your weakness. No, my dear, .sons, be not divided. , " Richard shall raise grain in abundance, and he .shall Plitir,o.ityith his brothers; for.loseph shall grind it, and James shall offer his store freely,to:both. And so, mar yo. live; oh my, sons, in :lOVP) in integrity, in mutual faith; and so may heaven bless _roe, as I ' , blessi }fait now;'?• • • • • . • death of old • Richard Blanc tool. ' , pliste6 in tlig • famil y. mansion, which ap- Milne& to the (3 tore, • and which nbw be came the property of James thb.youngeSV eon. Here the clothers - had alwayS lived,' -And-hero then ,4ankiriuc,t1 1 to : 114? after the; Inorehaties .;tarnoit Niroutd • iierniii'eilhor'll.ichaTd:or Joseph to . ' teatio him', Milted& bear 66' .farrn. tite 'Waged' ofhousestilmost !fa tHnt belonging, to the store. "No, no, boys," James would say,, "you mnst n tiot leave the 'old 'family mansion, as • leing...:aS.We •all You; .partor of n'inile of your farm, • 'Rieliardnotti ,nuoiii,oh;:'.you, are ',Eitieb walker; and.tam, sure it : iS,''bbter'tO,giVe farin lease • to yonr lenaptsll • •thaii‘to•think.'-'df gong:to , liv9 there your for•yea,•Joe.,l'inn StiO'thitt, I•kevith eitigbodia Miller 'in yettr. employment ' as‘nr:Viieheic, and so large a Cathay' in s4yotiPbbibse lets 1 he!sup - Port's, s you May be ircoritetited lo,reniain here . for . the- •present.' think tthat•wcif ,bappior:Ltogether than wo..;ever•canloieparated ; - .and now, if yd>3 like, I will make iv bargain. ;Iv ith)you; ;:We will ` livo..here emir! - " • ••1-•,,,,. eir4l IP" vo ti• ? Wits . l or juror *.~_ ;~ ,; ~~~, ; PART I: 11, , '. i !..i 11 i...l7i';' ..;!'f •• ?, ,'',...: •I':': !I :;.:.! ,‘..''' ': 7 . - 1,,_ . - ':. t ..- . , • . I.:!,, J :i l t ..1.::.1::o• ify . ar lei _r c........„ ..,.., : ..... ....• ~...•...,.,!..•,. : .i,...., ~..,...: ~.. t : . .....,.....•...• kin , • r , I :. , . ~. , . -.---.---.-------------7--...-.-_=..: A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE, MORALITY, AND FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. Volume . 3. 'liticholors ; and the one who takes a wife home first shall take his brother with him." The young:mon agreed to this propo sition,, and laughed at it, too; for it really seemed absurd to think of three such con firmed bachelors over taking unto them• selves wiVop. Indeed, James named this condition merely to keep his brothers with him always; and they, understanding it so, kindly humored his conceit. For five years; Richard, Joseph, and James lived together in the most perfect peace and happiness, to the marvel of all Milbrook, and more especially of the ex cellent old housekeeper. Sho declared that she had never, in her whole experience, seen anything like the love of those broth ers. Meanwhile the farm flourished, the mill gwund out grists of gold and plentiful wore the profits of the merchant's trade. PART 11. In many things the brothers resembled other; but still no two were much alike. Richard, the farmer, was of medium height, muscular, and of a ruddy complex ion. Ho was considered by ladies of taste to be the handsomest of the Clime brothers. He was naturally quick tempered, hasty in spocch, - generous in his friendship, and openly bitter in his enmity. Joseph,the millcr,was tall, athletic, with round shoulders, thin cheeks, a massive forehead, and a thoughtful blue eye. He was nervous in his motions, sensitive in his feelings, profound in thought ; but he differed most from Richard in the perfect command ho appeared to have over his temper—which was no naturally less vi olent than his elder brother's. James resembled ono as much as the other—and no more. Ho was small in stature, active, cheerful, good-looking and amiable. Ho was generous as Richard, and mild as Joseph the miller. It was very beautiful to observe the for bearance of Joseph and James. towards Richard, in his frequent outbursts of pas , sion. Scarcely over did they offer him the mildest reproof, although sometimes his temper was . hardly to be borne—as we shell see: • It frequently happened, in The spring of, the year; that the stream which Conned the water of Josciih's mill, became so swollen with freshets; -that the waste-weir was, scarcely sufficient to carry away the su-' perfludus water.. At such titncs the mill' was usually kept in motion night and day but even then it Was not an uncommon cir cumstance for the mill pond to overflow a portion of Richard's land. On ono. occasion, after the early fresh ets had subsided, and Richard had sown some choice seed •for spring wheat in the field bordering the pond, there came a heavy rain; which lasted two nights and a day. The stream was swollen, the pond rose rapidly, and the water poured over the waste-weir 'a cataract, but nobody ever suspected that Richard's choice seed was in daeger, until ho himself got up ono morning, and found the pond field covered with water. In a violent passion ho. flow to Joseph, and blamed him for the misfortune. "I have told you hundreds of times, that you ought to have that waste-weir fixed! exclaimed Richard, angrily. "Now your carelessness has ruined the crop I set the most by. II it had been your field on the opposite side, which was in danger, this would not have happened. ," The sensitive Joseph was deeply hurt by the insinuation of selfishness; but he an- swerad, Calmly-- . "Brother, you wrong me. I am sorry ;" "It is very well to be sorry after a mis-. fortune has happened through your care- lessness! NOV tell me, if you please, whether you intend to rebuild that waste- \ weir or not !" . Joseph could scarcely control his anger, at his brother's overbearing manner. 1 1 "I don't think I shall build it any sooner " for your domineering," he said, dryly. . ', ,t'You won't!" • muttered Richard, thro his lips ashy pale with passion. ",gerhaps. you mean to ruin my crops 'every year the same! And I am to bear it, I suppose, without a murmur." • The angry man concluded with a threat, which' roused the: mighty passion of his brother. Although Joseph ,had the day before made' all arrangements to have the wastemeir 'rebuilt ds soon as the dry sea son sliOuld Como, ho did not see fit to tell Richard so, but .rebuked him Severely for overbearance. •' Fiercer words followed, onding in a bitter and lasting quarrel. ' In -vain did lames endeavor to reconcile, hiS . brothers. Richard's, anger was . still, hot, and Joseph's indignation was deep and . kern. The termer declared that lie could have - patience fro toliger with ono who car-1 ed 'only fOr his,own interests, i • = the latter firmly: said that he wished to l =no more .communication,With One so passienate, as so I ,utireg,Sorsible, se: little like a. brother : 'Richard... . ~ .. ~ . .. , • . - But the quarrel did... not end hero.— WO4O fibuadd James because he defend ed Joseph.; 'and' Joseph blamed,him for aid ; ‘ ins with l'rtiehatd, :and . James becam& in dignant at theconditionof bah. In shed ; for to give all . the, circumstances of the 'quarrel *l&:tletail . Widuld fill pages-the dy-, ink Otiose' of old Richard.'lllinc was for- EMIIIIII Clearfield, Pa., !gay es, 1852 gotten, and,. the brothers parted in anger. Richard returned to his farm and Joseph to his mill, leaving James alone in the old family mansion. All Milbrook was struck with astonish ment, and the old housekeeper confounded. For a month, the principal topic of conver sation was the separation of the brothers Blanc, Whose quarrel was ns much a God send to gossips and lovers of scandal, as a breach of promise or a criminal trial. But however pleasant a subject it might be to talk about, it was a singularly un pleasant ono to contemplate, for the broth ers Blanc. ; ft is impossible to describe the discon• tent of Richard, living with his tenant in the farm house; everything disgusted him, from the food ho ate, to the children he heard squall. The only satisfaction he en joyed in his new situation, was the un bounded privilege of scolding; an occupa tion in which the fretful man continually indulged. Joseph was no better Off. The miller's family was not tho most pleasant family in the world, and the miller was no associate for Joseph. The poor man had but one resource---to addict himself to study, and become a morose, melancholy man. Nor did James, who was naturally so I cheerful, and so fond of company, suffer less. He missed the society of his broth ers; he was always lonely, now, in the old house, which seemed so empty and dreary, lie could no longer• bear to he at home. So he spent nearly all his time in the company which frequented his store, to the great distress of the unhappy house keeper, who pined away like a love-sick school girl. It was not in their social feelings alone that the brothers suffered the consequen ces of their unnatural separation. Rich ard now carried his grist to another mill, and it was through his influence that Jo seph lost his•custom. Then both the old er brothers went a great distance out of their way, to make their store purchases at Brownsville and Smithtown, instead of obtaining their goods of James for thirty per cent. less than they paid elsewhere.— Moreover, James no longer had Richard's produce and Joseph's flour to trade upon ; but others enjoyed the profit, while the brothers were copying the quarrel ! Thus matters went on for more than a I year—James anxiously waiting for Rich ard to make the first advances towards a reconciliation, they waiting for each other, the three making themselves as miserable as possible. It was the fourth of July ! Millbrook was like a beehive. The military were out; bayonets glittered in the sun, the roar of artillery darkened the air, anjl a vast quantity of bad rum was consumed, in the ardor of patriotism. All good children went to the "Fourth of July Sunday-School celebration," ate crackers and raisins, and heard an address from the Rev. Mr. Wet whistle, while bad boys preferred the "In dependence Training," and the cannons, jokes, and fire-crackers, with which the field and tavern was enlivened. There was no work on ti,o farm that day; the mill was silent and the store closed. Mr. James, in the forenoon, patronised the, dry crackers—which he furnished the society—the drier discourse furnished by Mr. Wetwhistle—at the S. S. Celebration ; and went after dinner to an auction. It was contrary to the custom of Mill brook to transact any business on the an niy,ersary of our nations independence— but a poor widow having a few household articles and farming utensils to dispose of Millbrook had charitably offered to go and purchase them on fourth ofJuly afternoon. The auction solo was at an old farm house, some three miles from the village; but notwithstanding the distance, James resolved to walk thither in company with a largo party of his neighbors, wl)o went on foot. On his way, the merchant per ceived his two brothers, who were walking in- the same direCtion but with different parties ; and when he reflected on the sad change which had taken place in his fam ily within the last year. and a half, hp was very much cast down. "Once,wo wore as ono man, in every thing I". bought he. "We wore strong— happy-and the world looked upon us with uncommon respectc Now, since we aro divided, We are blamed by :some, scorned by others, and persecuted by no a few. People take adAnintage of our weak t ness to promote their own selfish ends; and we set them the example by injuring each other. For tho past year my profits have been a morn nothing, compared to what they have been horeWforo." The conversation of the party aroused James from his reflections. 'Pho party walked leisurely to the auction, and. soon after, tfie sate commenced. The Widow Wit Son was more benefitted by patriotism in Millbrook that day I am afraid; than MAY body else. The 'attend!' affair was more creditable to humanity, and-More: beneficial .to tioeiety, too, than *till the gun firing, drinking and fighting at the training, and all the marching , hand-- in.-hand, eating 'cakes and raisins, and heaffrg dull specAcs at the cOofirp.tiop. People bid generously; everything went up at a high figure. James bought a horse at ninety-three dollars, certainly all he was worth—and "bid off" n great variety of other articles, without much hope of being able to dispose of them at a profit. Rich ard, too, showed his patriotism, for he bought a harness, a calf, and some farm ing utensils ; and Joseph bid off a chaise. - Atter the auction sale, or venduc, as -it was called, was over, the patriots of Mill brook gathered in groups, to discuss poli tics and the weather, and to offer vague surmises touching the prosperity of the nation, and of Widow Wilson ; when a cry of surprise and wonder called atten tion to a glare in the western sky, in the' direction of the village. "Fire 1 fire 1" exclaimed the owe strick en crowd. The placid groups were in an instant heaving to and fro in consternation. Peo ple rushed in every direction, and a few who had come on horseback or in vehicles mane hasty preparation to depart. Each man seemed to think it was his own house which was burning, and the utmost confu sion prevailed. James was holding the horse ho bad purchased, and which he was going to lead home, by, the halter. The an was wild—he snorted and plunged, and it was with difficulty that James could hold him.l, The young man was in a state of great per plexity and alarm. Anxious as ho was to \ fly to the lire, he dared not attempt to ride without a bridle. Just then Richard hur ried past him. James remembered seeing' him bid off a harness. "Brother, for God's sake,'"cried James, "lend me your blind-bridle. I must ride, for I think it is my store burning.! 'The fire is in the direction of toy house.' began the excited Richard. "Well, put the bridle on my horse, and you shall ride behind me." "That horse won't carry double," said I a son of the Widow Wilson. • "For heaven's sake, what shall we do?"- i i cried James. "Ah 1 there is Joseph ; he bid off the chase. Brother 1 brother 1" Joseph turned. "James, is that you ?” said he, hurried ly. "My mill is afire, Inm sure. Ilavn't you a harness for that horse? We might put him into my chaise, and drive to the village in the tenth part of the time it will take ono to run there ; while my buildings PART 111 r". • are burning. "Richard has a harness," said James. Not another word was spoken. It was I no time for parley. In nn instant the har ness was dragged out of the shed, nutt thrown upon the horse. James and Rich ard buckled the harms and girths, while Joseph wheeled the chaise out of the barn. The three brothers worked in unison, as they had been accustomed to do in days gone by; and so well did they understand every movement of each other, that the horse was harnessed in the thrills with as tonishing despatch, and they were on the road as soon as any of their neighbors, excepting those on foot. "Richard, with the natural energy of his character, took the reins and drove.— Ned Wilson gave him a whip, and awayl they flew with the speed of the wind.— Trees, houses, fonces, dew past them ; foot passengers gazed with envy as they saw them going by ; and the chaise with them was soon the foremost vehicle on the vil- age road. But they arrived nt an impediment ;1 they were obliged til stop. Some drunken patriots had deemed it a part of their duty in celebrating the day to roll a log into the centre of the rond, whore no vehicle could pass on either side. Joseph and James jumped out, but their I united eflbrts were not sufficient to move the log. Richard sprang to assist them, and the three succeeded in removing the impediment. What neither one nor two wore able to accomplish, was still practi cable for the three united. Meanwhile, the glare in the sky bright ened. Richard lablted the horse, and on they flew again. _ Then, as they approached the scene of fire, and saw tho smoke and flumes surge upward in the dim twilight, anxiously each looked forward, to ascertain if possi ble, what buildings were on fire. "Brothers," said Richard, in an agita ted, voice, "be. the fire whore it may, let us work together to extinguish it." "Be it so," replied Joseph; who now felt certain that it was his mill. "We could always accomplish more when united than when our efforts wore divided." "It is''true," added James. "Rut - we have forgotten our father's dying charge. We should never have been separated. ' His brothers made no answer. Rich ttrd's cheek was flushed, his lips lons •; Joseph's brow was pato nnd thought. ful. A turn in the road brought them in lui view of . the villagd. As if with one int , vulso, the brOthers rose to gaze forward et 'the fire. A glow •of light fell upon their, anxious faces... It was the village chuich . , Whielywas burning. • "It is too late to save it •said Richard, with ri• long breath.: "See, thcr roof is: all lot-Hirer. •C . ' , -,;. ,;, .1 At that moment, "a dali'tio . end, like smothered explosion,• shook tho air. A miller. "And you will forgive me, I ram cloud of smoke and ashes surged upward, I sare. ► I have been to blame. Tho waste and a cry of wonder burst from the awe- weir should have been fixed.V stricken spectators gathered around t h e should' not have flown into a burning building. The roof had fallen in; passion about n matter which preyed a the low belfry had plunged into the fiery benefit to my grain after all ; for piti re abyss. member that instead of drowning or Wash-- then, with redoubled fury, the flames ing away my spring wheat the freshet gave burst forth. The church was all of wood; it a fine start." and soon thecrackling, blazing cla-boards "Brothers," interrupted James, "let tho fell from the glowing timhor-frame.p Joists, past bury the past. Let what we have braces, and beams gleamed in sterling re- suffered in consequence of neglecting our lief when the wind, which was blowing dying father's charge, be fed rememre on strong from the north, drove back the out- ly a•lesson for the future. I elthat bursting smoke and flames. • to4esi the curse sent for our disobedience Richard stopped the terrfied horse at a has passed away. Everything this even short distance from the fire, on the north ing has seemed as if designed by Provi side of tho church. donee to prove that—UNITIT WE ARE "How did the meeting house take firer sTnoNo invinnn wr. Ann ßichtird WEAK. " left the asked Joseph elan old man. - On the following day, "Some careless boys must have thrown dismal farmhouse to the sole occupancy a fire-cracker through the window," was of his tenant, and Joseph quitted The soci the reply. "But the alarm was given in ety of the miller's ► rude children, to rejoin season .to save the building, if there had on- their young brother in the family man ly been a fire engine in the village. And sion. we should have had one a year ago," add- They were once more strong—onco cd the old man sternly, "if you three broth- more happy, and there was never more a ors had not met ed like fools in the matter. thought of disunion in either of theirlimirts. Because James headed the subscription list The old housekeeper was delighted; and to purchase an engine, you, Richard and so had all Millbrook reason to rejoice, for Joseph, opposed it; and so the scheme fell the first public acts of tho brothers, afler through." the catastrophe we have described, was to The brothers felt the rebuke, but no rc- chase a fire-engine At that moment there arouse an alarm- build the church. Liberal were their do ing cry on the other side of t h e church. nations; and in beautiful brotherhood Richard drove down the south road. were joined their autographs on the sub , "Deacon Smith's house is on fire!" ex- scription papers. claimed Joseph. • This was too true. Deacon Smith's house, situated on the opposite side of the road from the church, had been lighted from the great fire ; and now the piazza was all flames. "Drive the horse into my shed," cried James, "and we will go together to help save Smith's house." Jame's shed and house were close by— on tho same side of the road with Deacon Smith's, but ! net so near the church. The brothers leaped to the ground.— While Richard was fastening the terrified horse to the post,, James cast an anxious eye upward at the roof of his own house. Ho stoma and turned pale. W hat is that 7" ho cried. • "Fire !" exclaimed Joseph. • It was on the farther side of ihe roof.— James ran round the house followed by Joseph. It took but on instant to see what was-the trouble. Some blazing corn hu:sl: had fallen from the church upon Ce dry shingles, which were now all in a blaze. But to reach the roof seemed impossible. The l►ousekeeper had gone out somewhere to spend the "fourth,' and the door was locked. In vain did James shout for help at the top of his voice ; the fire on Deacon Smith's house hail drawn everybody in that direction. Joseph saw but ono way of getting at the roof—to burst through a window and ascend by the stairs to the scuttle. Joseph smashed sash and pane with an axe. lie was already inside, when James bethought him that there was a ladder in his nearest neighbor's yard. To go for it, and.drag it to his own door, seemed the, work of a moment. But so long and heavy was it, that all Jame's strength was not sufficient to raise it to the roof. Thrice had he essayed it, when, as he was about giving up in despair, assistance came.— The ladder went up in an instant ; and Richard stood by his brothers side. "We must work !" cried Richard. "In a moment it may be too late." The well was near, and down into the pebbly bottom flew a bucket, driven by Richard's strong hand. James ran for a ; pail, and, in an incredibly short space of time, it was filled with water, borne up the ladder by Richard, and placed in the hands' of Joseph, who was standing on the roof.', The burning shingles hissed and steamed: but still the fire raged.. Another bucket full—another—and another,—drawn by James from the well, borne up the ladder by Richard, and thrown upon the roof by Joseph—had been applied before the flames were subdued.. The united strength of the brothers had conquered. What one could not have done—nor two, perhaps— had been safely accomplished by the three. Meanwhile,the flames on ,Deacon Smith's house had been extinrcmished, and of the church nothing was left but a shapeless heap of smoking, blazing ruins. The brother's went together to the well, to bathe their burning brows, after their abor. "Our task is done, and I am thankful," said James, with much feeling. "With lour help, brothers, I have saved my house—our house, rather, for it is the old family mansion. What return cart I make to you, Moro thaii to invite.you-L-c.ordially invite you—to return to the house of your father. and cheer once . more with your presenee and lovo the house which has been so dreary and empty without you." "I accept your kind offer cried the im pulsive Richard. "As I was the first to blame, let me be the first to acknowledge my .fault and ask your forgivpness, James;.' and' your, biother Joseph.. I ' "You'live it Richard," iSxelaltned . the . . . 1 squaw, 110ser1108, ;40 50 2 Start 180 e r 4 16 1; '''.., Alpo I dr, It do _ IooB.do . • Months, 00 Each sabwilnens do, " , -35 15' der' ' is ..t...: vz, 00 2 squares 8 mouthy, ' 9601 MR 00 llOrdol Willa 600 do 6 mouths, .4001 do • 41 0 - 0 Insulthr..B 00 do 18 monad'. 7W. ;de' ,',- dtt Ai , -do AS Utt Bdo 8 months. 4Mt 1 comma 3 months , - BC O do 6 month), Et Ell' 140 d .d 0 do 111 months. 0001 do ' 1/, do . k 0 00 . , . A Iliwal reduction will ho modes to Morohnors and others Who ndvertito by the year. . , ed it tegtl by .. . Oor sinner circulat es in ntery nelghbortiotxl.n neatly .very lowly in tit° -county-"and thcroloro attends is couvtniont nod olicto means for am bottoms Med Or on! emintyt-the merobont. mechnotc ,and all otheits—to e.stenu the knowledge 01 their location and boldness , Wo ,should like to boort "A, Card" for °vett , alochnelo, Wren:sot, and Prolostioard mania tho conetY. We hal, Wolf 1 , 1 ,0003 without Lamm:whine upon pat rending colorant, aoil Ito ntrin inn Iceititrime lowness will lots by advertloing extentltolt - • ror. me t onprol mitt, the moron tonsivzir u man ntlveriiteo. the e touter will be hisfiroilta. • --- Number 24. Books, Jobs and Blanks, OF EVERY DFAIDUPT lON. PEI NTDD IN Tll6 erty BEAT STYI.VI, AND ON THE BUORTEFT NOTICE, AT THE OFFICE OF TIM ''CLEVRVIELD MADAN." • SUNDAY SCHOOLS. We know of no institution which has been so productive of positive good through out the extent of our country, and yet pur- sued its course with so little ostentation, and so few drafts upon public roention, as Sunday Schools. NVJ►erever one of these establishments is located there is an influ ence at work which is not only certain and permanent, but the effects of which for the- highest species of good, soon become visible. The period of life at which the inmates of the schools nre drawn there, the nature of the instructions which they receive at the 'hands of faithful teachers, the unbroken moral discipline -which Is impressed . upon their pliable minds, all tends to their elevation above the standard by which others too often form the course of life. We allude to the advantages of this institution in a worldly point of view only, though we would not be understood 'as undertaking its religious importance, which we regard as being but little inferi or to the preaching of the gospel from the pu pt . Now, it is n remarkable fact; that among the gangs of reprobate youth, whose repeated otlimees have brought them before our criminal tribunals, one is rarely found who has ever enjoyed the benefits of Sun day schools. They are composed on the ' contrary, of tltose whose moral discipline has been neglected, who have knovlut no higher monitor • than their own impulses and desires, and those vitiated, in many instances to an incredible degree, by evil associations and habits. But in the same vicinities from which these lawless and profligate young men nro brought, are others from the same walks of life, who have enjoyed the fostering influence to which we have referred, bidding fair to be come useful and worthy citizens, a credit to themselves and to the community, in which they livo. The growth • of. these schools was never more desirable than --- VTDow, Jr., gives tho following quaint advice in one of his "patent sermon:" Let your home be provided with such comforts and necessaries as piety, pickles, potatoes, pots and kettles, brushes, tongs, brooms and benevolence, bread atidlchttr ' ity, cheese and faith, flour,tiffection, cider, sincerity, onions, integrity; vinegar, wines and wisdom. Ilavo all the:so tilwaya on hand, and happiness-will be . with you. Don't drink anything intoxicating—cat moderately—go about your business oiler breakfast—lounge a little after dinner— chat after tca—hnd kiss after quarrelling and all the joy, and peace and the bliss the world can afford shall bo yours,. till the grave closes over you, and...your spirits arc borne to a brighter and happier sphere. So may it be. - , 07 -People who ate blessed with health and strength and potatoes Hhould never repine at fortune, even if their pockets are cramped now and then. Instead of look ing up with envy, we should look down with gratitude. For every dozen that are better off than you there are ten thousand that are worse. • (* -- To be continually subject to the breath of slander, willVenish the .purcist virtuo, as a constant eicpoSure to the atmos phere will obscure the ',brightness-of the finest gold ; but, in either case the real value of high continues the same although the currency may be somewhat impeded: • ' fr...`r§ay not atways what took Knawe but know ,always what thou.s4esiL
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers