Vol XXXVII -Wliole No- 1962. YOCTVW* Song of the Burman Lover. BY MAJOR CALDER CAMPBELL. Oh, come with mo, in my little canoe, For the tide is high, and the sky is blue, And the wind is lair, and 'tis sweet to row To the isles where the mango-apples grow . Oh, come with ine, and be my love, And for thee, the jungle depth 1 11 rove ; I'll gather the honey-comb, bright as gold, And seek out the elk's most secret fold. I ll chase the antelope over the plain, And bind the tiger cub with a chain ; And a young gazelie, with silver feet, I'll bring thee for a playmate sweet! I'll climb the palm for the bya's nest. And red peas I'll gather to deck thy breast; I'll pierce the cocoa for its wine, And twine thee posies, if thou It be mine ! Then come with me in my light canoe, While the waters are cairn and the skies are blue, For should we linger another day, .Storms may arise and love decay! Evening Prayer. ET L. H. s. I.ct the hours of night and rest With thy mercy, Lord, be blest; Make me pure and free within From all taint or love of sin. If throughout the day that's gone. Anything amiss I've done, — If, in act, or, wish, or word, Thy displeasure I've incurred,— Grace and thy good spirit lend, To repent and to amend ; Walking in thy love and fear, Let me view thee ever near. Let me choose my Saviour's cross. Counting earth's poor riches dross ; Let thy mercy move mine own, In kind words and actions shown. Let thy angels guard my bed ; Be thy peace around me shed ; Bid all ill and danger flee,— Let me wake and live for thee ; Or if called in haste to die, Let me join thee in the sky,— Dead alone to sin and pain, There, with thee to live and reign. Hear me, too, for kindred dear ; All—thou'st taught—are brethren here, Friendly hostile —great and small, Jesus died—l pray—for all. is c t llfltt eo us ♦ The Tree that never Fades. 4 Mary, said George,' 4 next summer I M ill not" have a garden. Our pretty tree is dying, and 1 won't love another tre,e as long as I live. I will have a bird next summer and it will stay all winter. 4 George, don't you remember my beau tiful canary bird, and it died in the middle of the summer, and we planted bright flowers in the ground where M-e buried it ? My bird did not live so long as the tree.' 1 Well, 1 don't see as we can love any thing. Little brother died before the bird, and 1 loved him better than any bird, tree, or flower. Oh! I wish we could have something to love, that wouldn t die. 4 George, let us go into the house. I don't want to look at our tree any longer.' The day passed. During the school hours, George and Mary had almost for gotten that the tree was dying; but at eve ning as tbev drew their chairs to the table where their mother was sitting, and began to arrange tbe seeds they had been from d.u to day gathering, the remembrance of tiieir tree came upon them. 4 Mother,' said Mary, 4 you may give these seeds to cousin John; I never want another garden.' 4 Yes,' added George, pushing the pa pers in which he had carefully folded them, towards his mother, 4 you may give them all away. If 1 could find some seeds of a tree that would never fade, I should love to have a garden. 1 wonder if there ever was such a garden, mother V 4 Yes, George, I have read of a garden where the trees never die.' 4 A real garden mother?' 4 Yes, my son! In the middle of the garden, 1 have been told, there runs a pure river of water, clear as chrystal, and on each side of the river is the tree of life — a tree that never fades. That garden is Heaven. There you may live and love for ever. There will be no death—no la ding there. Let your treasure be the tree of life, and you will have something to which your young hearts can cling, without dis appointment. Love the Saviour here, and he will prepare you to dwell in those green pastures and beside those still waters.' INFORMATION W ANTED. —Did you ever know a young lady who had white teeth to put her hand over them when she laugh ed ? Did you ever know a young lad and sprightly lass who could not pick black berries into one basket Did you ever know a woman w ho never had anything taken from her clothes-yard ! Did you ever know a young lady who was too weak to stand up during prayer time, that could not dance all night with out being weary ? Did you ever know a young man to hold a skein of thread for His favorite to wind wilhoulgetting it strangely entangled ? If girls would have roses for their cheeks, they must do as the roses do—go to sleep with the lilies and get up with the morning gloiies. wm>uw-wmw) &ssw) mn iFffi'srsiisr&Sißa IPI^ Colonel Crickley's Horse. BY PAUL CREYTOX. I have never been able to ascertain the origin of the quarrel between the Crick leys and the Drakes. They had lived within a mile of each other in Illinois, for five years, and from the first of their ac quaintance, there had been a mutual feel ing of dislike between the two families. Then some misunderstanding about the boundary of their respective farms, re vealed the latent flames ; and Col. Crick ley having followed a fat buck all one af ternoon and wounded him, came up at dark, and found old Drake and his sons cutting him up ! This incident added fuel to the fire, and from that time there was nothing that the two families did not do to annoy each other. They shot each other's Ducks in the river, purposely mis taking them for wild ones, and then, by wav of retaliation, commenced killing oil' each other's pigs and calves. One evening, Mr. Drake the older, was returning home, with his " pocket full of rocks," from Chicago, whither he had been to dispose of a load of grain. Sam Barston was with him on the wagon, and as they approached the grove which inter vened between them and Drake's, he ob served to his companion— -1 What a beautiful mark Colonel Crick ley's old Roan is over yonder.' ' Hang it!' muttered old Mr. Drake, 1 so it is.' The horse was standing under some trees, about twelve rods from the road. Involuntarily, Drake stopped his team. He glanced furtively around, then with a queer smile the old hunter took up his ri fle from the bottom of the wagon, and raising it to his shoulder, drew a sight on the Colonel's horse. 4 Beautiful,' muttered Drake, lowering his xilie with the air of a man resisting a powerful temptation. 4 1 could drop old Roan so easy !' 4 Shoot,' suggested Sam Barston, who liked fun in any shape. 4 No, no, 'twouldn't do,' said tiic old hunter, glancing cautiously around him again. 4 I won't tell,' said Sam. 4 Wal I won't shoot this time, any way, tell or no tell. The horse is too nigh. If lie was fifty rods ofi' instead of twelve, so there'd he a hare possibility of mistaking him for a deer, I'd let fly. As it is, I'd give the Colonel five dollars for a shot.' At that moment, the ('olonel himself stepped from behind a big oak, not half a dozen paces distant, and stood before Mr. Drake. 4 Well, why don't you shoot ?' The old man stammered in confusion— -4 That you, Colonel ? I—l was tempted to, 1 declare. And I said, I'll give a \ for one pull.' 4 Say an X and it's a bargain !' Drake felt of his riile, and looked at old Roan. 4 How much is the Loss wulli V he mut tered in Sam's ear. 4 'Bout fifty.' 4 Gad, Colonel, I'll do it ! Here's your X !' The Colonel pocketed ids raonev mut tering— -4 Hanged if 1 thought you'd take me up !' With high glee, the old hunter put a fresh cap on his rifle, stood up in his wagon, and drew a close sight on old Roan. Sam Barston chuckled. The Colonel put iiis hand before his face and chuckled too. 4 Crack !' went the rifle. The hunter tore out a horrid oath, which I will not re peat. Sam was astonished. The Colo nel laughed. Old Roan %ever stirred. Drake stared at his riile with a face as black as Othello's. 4 What's the matter with vou. hev Fus' time you ever served me such a trick ; I swan !' And Drake loaded the piece with great warmth and indignation. 4 People said you'd lost your nack of shooting,' observed the Colonel, in a cut ting tone of satire. 4 Who said so ? It's a lie !' thundered Drake. 4 I can shoot—' 4 A horse at ten rods ? ha ! ha !' Drake was livid. 4 Look yere, Colonel, I can't stand that!' he began. 4 Never mind, the horse can,' sneezed the Colonel. 4 I'll risk you.' Grinding his teeth, Drake produced another ten dollar bill. 4 Here !' he growled, 4 I'm bound to have another shot, any way.' 4 Crack away,' cried the Colonel, pock eting the note. Drake did crack away—with a deadly aim too—hut the horse did not mind the bullet in the least. To the rage and un utterable astonishment of die hunter, old Roan looked him right in the lace, as it he rather liked the fun. 4 Drake,' cried Sain, 4 you re drunk! A horse at a dozen rods—oh my eye ! 4 Just you shut your mouth, or 111 shoot you!' thundered the excited Drake. Ihe bullet was hollow I'll swear. The man lies, that says I can't shoot. Last week I cut off a goose's head at fifteen tods, and kin dew it again. By the Lord Harry, Colonel, you can laugh, but I'll bet now, thirty dollars, 1 can bring down your old Roan at one shot. FRIDAY EVI!\L\, JAM'ARY SO, IS 52. The wager was readily accepted. The stakes were placed in Sam's hands.— Elated with the idea of winning back his two tens and making an X into the bar gain, Drake carefully selected a perfect ball, and even buckskin patch, and beaded his rifle. It was now nearly dark, but the old hunter boasted of being able to shoot a bat on the wing by starlight, and without any hesitation, he drew a clear sight on old Roan's head. A minute later, Drake was driving thro' the grove, the most enraged, the most des perate of men. 11 is rifle, innocent victim ol his ire, lay with broken stock on the bottom ot the wagon. Sam Barston was too much frightened to laugh. Meanwhile, the gratified Colonel was rolling on the ground convulsed with mirth, and old Roan was standing undisturbed under the trees. When Drake reached home, his two sons discovering bis ill humor and the mu tilated condition of his rifle stock, has tened to arouse his spirits with a piece of news, which they were sure would make him dance for joy. 4 (Tear out!' growled the angry old man; 4 1 don't want to hear any news ; getaway, or 1 shall knock one of you down !' 4 But father it's such a trick !' 4 Blast you and your trick !' 4 Played off on the Colonel—' 'On the Colonel V cried the old man, beginning: to be interested. ' Gad, if YOU j have played a trick on the Colonel, lei's ■ hear it.' ' Well, father, Jed and I, this afternoon ! went out lor deer—" ; 4 Hang the deer ! come to the trick.' ' Couldn't lind any deer, but thought we i >nWit shoot something, so Jed banged j away at the Colonel's old Ivoan —shot him | dead !' ' .Shot old Roan ?' thundered the hunter. * By the Lord Harry, Jed, did yon shoot : the Colonel's hoss V 4 i didn't do anything eDe.' • Devil ! devil!' groaned the hunter. ' And then,' pursued Jed, confident the joke part of the story must please his fatiier, • Jim propped tiie hoss up, and tied I his head back with a cord, and left him i standing under the trees exactly as it' he , was alive. Fancy lite Colonel going to catch him ! ho! ho! ho! wasn't it a joke V \ Uhl Drake's head fell upon his breast, lie felt lor his empty pocket-hook, and looked at his broken rifle. Then in a rue ful tone he whispered to the boys— -4lt is a joke ! But if YOU ever tell of it—or if you do S un Barston —I'll skin you alive ! By the Lotd Harry, boys, I've been shooting at that dead horse half an hour, at ten dollars a shot.' At that moment, Sam fell into the glit ter. Jed dragged hint out insensible; Sam had laughed himself almost to death. Tho Bachelor is about to Marry. 15> !ke .Mat vt-!, a ill ii it of ''Kevt.-iic.siif it ttacbeior." til contemplating the blissful state of ma trimony, how amiable and kind you sud denly become. ou shake hands with vour office boy, as ii" lie were your second cousin. \ou joke cheerfully with the stout washerwoman ; and give her a shil ling over-charge, and insist upon her keep ing it; and grow quite merry at the recol lection of it. You tap your hacktnan on the shoulder very familiarly, and tell hiui he is a capital lellow ; and don't allow him to whip liis horses, except when driv ing to the post office. You even ask him to take a glass of beer with you upon some chilly evening. Aou drink to the health of his wife, lie says he has no wife ; whereupon you think him a very miserable man ; and give him a dollar by wav of consolation. Vou think all the editorials in the morning papers are re markablv well written —whether upon \ our side or upon the oilier. You think lite slock market has a very cheerful look— u itli Erie —of which you arc a large hold er—down to seventy-five. \ou wonder why you ever admired Mrs. Hemuns be fore, or Stoddard, or any of the rest. You give a pleasant twirl to your lingers, as you saunter along the streets ; and say— but not so loud as to be overheard— 14 fc*he is mine—she is mine !" You wonder if Frank ever loved Nelly one hall as well as you love Madge ! You feel quite sure he never did. ou I can hardly conceive how it is, that Madge has not been seized before now by scores ; of enamoured men, and borne oil", like the Sabine women in Romish history. ou I chuckle over vour future, like a boy who j has found a guinea in groping for six pences. You read over the marriage ser vice—thinking of the time when yon W 'H take her hand, anil slip the ring upon her ! linger; and repeat after the clergyman — 44 for richer—lor poorer ; for better —lor worse !*' A great deal of "worse" there will be about it, you think! Through all, your heart cleaves to that sweet image i of the beloved Madge, as light cleaves to : day. The weeks leap with a bound ; and the months only grow long when you ap proach that day which is to make her j yours. There arc no flowers rare enough Ito make boquets for her; diamonds are too dim for her to wear ; pearls are tame. And alter marriage, the weeks are even shorter than before ; you wonder why on earth all the single men in the world do — : not rush tumultuously to the altar; you look upon them all, as a traveled man will look upon some conceited Dutch boor, who has never been beyond the limits of his cabbage garden. Married men, on the contrary, you regard as fellow voyagers ; and look upon their wives—ugly as they may be—as, better than none. You blush a little at first telling your butcher what | "your wife" would like ; you bargain with ■ the grocer for sugars and teas, and wonder I it he knows you are a married man ? You practice your new way of talk upon your office boy ; you tell hitn that 44 your | wife" expects you home to dinner, and are astonished that he does not stare to hear you say it ! You wonder if the people in the omnibus know that Madge and , you are just married ; and if the driver knows that the shilling you hand to him is for 44 self and wife ?" You wonder if any ; body was ever so happy before, or ever j will be so happy again ? You enter your name upon the hotel books as 44 Clarence —and lady ;" and come back to look at it—wondering if any body else has no ticed it—and thinking that it looks remark ■ ably well. You cannot help thinking that every thiid man you meet in the hall wish es he possessed your wife ; nor do you think it very sinful in him to wish it. You fear it is placing temptation in the way of , covetous men, to put Madge's little gaiters outside the chamber door at night. Your home, when it is entered, is just what it should be; —quiet,small—with every thing she wishes, and nothing more than she wishes. The sun strikes it in the happi est possible way:—the piano is the sweet est toned in the world ;—the library is stocked to a charm :—and Madge, that blessed wife, is there, adorning and giving life to it all. 'To think, even, of her pos sible death, is a suffering you class with the infernal tortures of the Inquisition. You grow twain of heart and purpose. Smiles seem made for marriage ; and you wonder why you ever wore them before ! A Loafer's Soliloquy. 4 Oh, dear! oh, dear! what a world this is. This world ' as Shakespeare very beautifully remarks, 4 is all a cattle show, for man's allusion given—and—and wo man's too.' Thai's a fact. Shakespeare's right. This here is a very—a v ery check ered life. This world is given to faultfinding tre menjus. Now here's my wife—kicked up a row, just because 1 went to bed with my overcoat, boots and hat on, when she knew that 1 wanted to get up airly in the inornin', and start oil' iinmejiily on 'por laiit business. She's very particular to inquire what business it is that calls me so airiy—but 1 won't tell 'cr. She's no right to interfere in my business. I don't interfere in hers. 1 don't never ask her where she buys groceries and provisions, and gets trusted lbr 'cm without throvviu' a wav money for 'em. And then she finds fault with mc for spendiu' so much moncv for licker.—But what am i gout' to do ? Dicker's cash. It can't be boil without the dimes. She says it hurts me and makes my hands peel,—says that it wouid take a great deal of new milk to make a man's hands peel bad.— What o' that ? Hain't the men that sell lickcr got to live Ilovv can they pay rent if nobody patronizes 'em ? —That's a question that goes to my heart like an arrcr. When 1 think of the high rents thai tavern-keepers have to pay, 1 al'avs go and take su'thing just to help 'cm along. I've tho't a good deal about iliis lately—and, now I think of it, the} 'vc riz ott what's his name's rent across the wav, and I'll just go over and give him a lilt.— 4 Oh, dear! tiiis is a checkered life.' OJNE. One hour lost in the morning by lying in bed, will put back all the business oi the day. One hour gained by rising early is worth one mouth of labor in a year. One bole in a fence will cost ten times as much as it will do to tlx it at once. One diseased sheep will spoil a whole flock. < Mie unruly animal will learn all others in coinpanv bad tricks, as the Bible says : j 4 One sinner destroys much good.' I One drunkard will keep a family poor and make them miserable. One wife that is always telling how fine her neighbor dresses, and how little she can get, will look pleasantcr it she talks about something else. One husband who is penurious or lazv and deprives his family of the necessary comforts, such as their neighbor enjoy, is not as desirable a husband as he ought : to be. One child to disobey his parents' com- ! ■ maud, is not as dutiful as it should be. j CANCER. —This terrible disease is said to have '■ greatly increased in England during a few years, : insomuch that a Cancer Hospital has just been j established in London, and is already effecting j an inimeUjts deal of good. In ISoO, before this i Hospital was established, no le-s than lour thousand five hundred and eighty-six persons ' died in England of this frightful malady. Ot i these, three thousand two hundred and twentj j eight were males. White & Cunningham, Hie celebrated pork dealers ol Kentucky, have just converted tuc i Mammoth Cave into a hogpen 1 I'runi the Harrisburg State Journal. The iVevt Presidency. The papers of both political parties are busily engaged in discussing the claims and qualifications of the numerous l'resi idential aspirants, and speculating as to the probable results of the respective Conven tions. Cass and Buchanan are the promi nent candidates on the Democratic side, and the contest between the friends of these rival aspirants to the Presidential honors, is conducted with unexampled spirit and vigor, and characterised by great bitter ness. The Buchananites, conscious of their superior strength, give no quarter, and cry 44 war to the knife" against all op ponents ; while the Cassites, equally de termined and furious, proclaim not only 44 war to the knife," but if need be, 44 the knife to the hilt" against the followers of the 44 old Federalist." From present indi cations, we incline to the belief tiiat the 44 House of Lancaster" is in the ascendant —that Buchanan will not only carry the Pennsylvania delegation, but will be the j nominee of the Baltimore Convention. | So mote it be. Among the Whigs, several distinguished gentlemen have been mentioned in connec tion with the Presidential nomination, viz : Gen. W INFIELD SCOTT, President FILL MOKE and DANIEL WEBSTER. These great men all have their warm personal and political friends ; but whatever may be the result of the National Convention, its action will receive a hearty and unani mous endorsement. Should the represen tatives of the National Whig party, in general Convention assembled, select for our standard-bearer the scar-covered, lau rel crowned Hero of Lundy's Lane, Chip pewa and Mexico, W INFIELD SCOTT, there lives not a whig in this broad land who would not glory in following sucli a leader into the thickest of the light. If. on the 1 other hand, Mr. FILLMORE, or Mr. WEB STER, should be nominated, they would be 1 supported with equal cordiality and una nimity. Principles are everything—men j are nothing. Whigs are actuated solely by motives of Patriotism ; they are gov erned bv great leading principles; and whoever is put forward as the Presidential representative of these great principles, the Whig masses will honor and support. We all have our personal partialities and preferences; but whatever diflereuccs of opinion with regard to men, exist in our ranks now, when the day of trial comes the enemy will find the patriotic Whigs of i the Union united and linn. In the Southern and South-western States, the Whigs are moving with much unanimity in favor of Mr. FILLMORE. In Massachusetts and some other New Eng land States, Mr. Webster has friends who are aciive in his behalf. In Ohio, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and else where, the great majority of the Whigs are warmly and strongly for Gen. SCOTT. Here in Pennsylvania, the Whig party respect and honor Mr. FILLMORE, for the manly ami patriotic discharge of his Presi dential duties, and cordially endorse and sustain the policy of his wise Administra tion. At the same time, however, the fact cannot be disguised that the sympathies of the masses are with Gen. SCOTT, whose nomination thev prefer above that of any : other man living. They are devotedly at tached to the 44 Conquering Hero," whose whole life has been employed in defending his country, and bearing her starry flag in triumph through every contest. Regard ing him as the most available candidate, and believing that his claims have been t >o long deferred, the people now ask for 44 JUSTICE TO GEN. SCOTT." \Y e are pre pared to bow to the decision of the Whig i National Convention, and to support its nominee with cordiality and to the best ol our humble ability. TESTIMONY TO GOV. JOHNSON. —A large num ber of tiie friends ami admirers of Gov. John ston hove had manufactured by Messrs. Cald well & Co., for hint and his lady, a service of plate, at a cost of y!HO. The present con sists of a silver waiter, three feet in length, two pitchers, each i? inches in height; a tea sett, comprising six pieces; a pair of gobiets, cake basket, twelve napkin-rings, fish knives, butter knives, forks, etc. The several articles arc elaborately chased, and the workmanship on each is exceedingly neat and beautiful. On each pitcher is the following inscription: — 44 ITesentcd, by the citizens oi Philadelphia, as a testimonial of their admiration and gratitude, to ins Excellency, WM. F. JOHNSTON." The inscription on the waiter is as follows : 44 Presented by the citizens of Philadelphia, to Mrs. MARY M. JOHNSTON, as a testimonial of the veneration and e>tecm inspired by the amiable virtues which dignify and grace in her character an illustrious Pennsylvania matron. A tribute of admiration, respect and gratitule to her hus band, llis Excellency, WM. F. JOHNSON, Gover nor of Pennsylvania, for his virtues as a man— his public spirit as a citizen—his wisdom as a statesman —his devotion as a patriot, and his eminent service as a Chief Magistrate, in the promoliou of internal improvements in the economy and enlargement of the public reve nues aiid the reduction of the State taxes; in the establishment ol provisions for the liquida tion of the ,State debt; in the resolute eliain panionship f the principles, the welfare and the glory oi his native Commonwealth; in the maintenance and exemplification of justice, purity, and public zeal, throughout every ad ministrativc branch of the government; and in unshaken loyality to the Constitution and laws ot the I niou he cherishes and the state tic adorns—the triumphs of his genius—his courage and uaconqueriiig fidelity to his State as register ed in her prosperity—they illustrate hei annuls, and will perpetuate her gratitude." The rilizons of Savannah, Go. arc luxuriat ing on tresh shad. .Aew Series —Vol. I>—At. !•". Shawls. Muffs. Bonnets. &c. \\7 E have just opened our second sup ▼ T ply of C£->C©S)di£3y included iu which will he found splendid lirochc Lio2s, ISoots A: Slioes, at COST.. Having taken the Rational House and Stage Ojlice, I tind that 1 have 100 many irons in the tire to keep them all going, and therefore give the people this opportunity to buy cheap. J. THOMAS. JjOwistown, October 31, 1851. MWI3 IM 3JM, To Country Merchants, Tavern Keepers, ie. A LARGE stock ot superior liquors, COH i\. eisting- of Wines, Brandies, Gin, &c., are now offered for sale WHOLESALE and RE TAIL at COST, at the Grocery Store on the Canal, opposite the Collector's Office. Heal ers and Tavern Keepers will tind bargains. \VM. REV 1 ALT. Lewistown, July 18, 1851. —lt II YAKS' Ba*ii£ and V ariety H AVJiN'G juot returned from Philadelphia - with a new and varied stock of GOODS, the undersigned invites the public to give him a call. In addition to his stock of pure and fresh DRUGS, he has on hand Spices of all kinds, tine Dairy and Table Sail, pure White Lead -, Copal. Coach, Japan and Shoe Varnish es ; a variety of Xuts , Butter, Soda. Sugar and Water Crackers ; Old and Young ilyson, Im perial and Black TEAS : a great variety of liair and Tooth Brushes, RICE and SOUP BEANS, &c &e., innumerable, at A. A. BANKS' Variety Store. Lewistown, Dec. 18, 1851-tf. JAMES CRUTCHLEYj Valley street, heicistown, near lleisUFs Can dle Factory, Manufactures every description of Picture ntiti 5-,ooiii£ t-ilass L_sT J OX L2i £, SUCH as Gilt, Mahogany, Rosewood, &e. and can furnish Frames and Glass of any required size. IIFA: I CMS A, VARSismsa, ASD POLISMSti of old Frames, and Repairing Work generally, done at short notice and on reasonable terms. {gJ-The public are invited to call and ex amine bis stock. Lewistown, August 1. 1851. LEWISTOWN MILLS. fSlllE subscribers have taken the Lewistown 1 Mills and formed a copartnership under the firm of JOHN STERRETT & CO. for car rying on a general IVXIIdLI&iG BUSI IvTItSS, wish to buy a large quantity ot all kinds of GRAIN, for which we will pay the RICHEST PRICES the market will afford, accord i ing to the quality of the gr;on. Any person wishing to store their wheat can do so, and a receipt vviil be given to be kept in store until the Ist of August, and uffer that until the Ist oi December. In case ot wheat left in store, llio subscribers reserve the privi lege of purchasing said wheat when lue own ers wish to sell, at from lo to 15 cents off ot Philadelphia prices, and if we do not buy at 1 this rate, thou we charge one cent per bushel for storage. No interest will be allowed on | money not lifted for grain sold, as we are pre pared to pay CASH a; all tunes. FLOUR ■ .tJ all kinds of FEED kept and for sale for e..- h. W. THOMPSON, AND. M< PAULANE, HUGH CON LEY, S. S. WOODS. 1 Lewistown, May 2, 1-51. —tf