Vol \xxVII —Whole I\o 1988. Terms of Subscription. ONK DOLLAR PER AMTI M, IJi ADVANCE. For six months, 75 cents. iEjP 4 All NEW subscriptions must be paid in advance. It the paper is continued, and not paid within the first month, $1,25 will be char ged ; it not paid in three months, $1,50; if not paid in six months, $1,75; and if not paid in nine months, $2,00. Rates of Advertising. One square, 16 lines 2 squares, 6 mos. $5,00 1 time 50 44 1 year 10,00 " 2 times 75 £ column, 3 mos. 8,00 44 3 44 1,00 4 4 6 44 10, 00 1 mo. 1,25 44 1 year 15,00 3 " 2,50 1 column, 3 mos. 10,00 " 6 41 4,00 14 6 44 15,00 1 year 6,00 44 1 year 25,00 2 squares, 3 times 2,00 Notices before MAR -44 3 mos. 3,50 RIAGKS, &.C, sl2. The above rates are calculated on burgeois type. In smaller type, 15 lines of brevier, or 12 lines of nonpariel minion constitute a square. For stereotype plates, a liberal deduction will be made. The above are cash terms for all advertisements inserted for three months or less. Yearly ad vertisements are held payable, one half at the end of three, and the balance at the end of six months. Communications recommending persons for olfiee, must be paid in advance at the rate of 25 cents per square. isoctri>. The New Song- and the "Old Song." A new song should be sweetly sung. To charm the heart and ear ; A new song should be sweetly sung, It toucheth no one near. Hut an old song, e'en though roughly sung, Los help may need from art; Tho' rude the strain, untaught the tongue. It thrills thro' every heart, It thrills, it thrills through every heart. A new song should be sweetly sung, For memory gilds it not: It brings not back the strains it rung Through childhood's sunny cot. But an old song, e'en tin ugh roughly sung, It tells of days of g!ee : AVheu children round their mothers clung, Or cliuib'd their father's kn< •. Or elimb'd. &e. On tented fields't is welcome still, T is sweet on stormy sea ; In fen t wild, en rocky hill. And o'er the prairie lea. But i is dearer far, the good old song, When fri' nd> we love are nigh. And well-known voices, clear and strong, Swell out the chorus high. T he good old song ! the good old smig • The sung of days of glee, AN hen children round thor mother clung, Or elimb'd their father's knee. O, the good old >ong! the good old song The song of days of gieo ; J lie new song may !*• better sung, But oh, the old song for me. M L. lunsoxs. \.i-l no clouds of sorrow darken Brows that always should be bright, Banish melancholy feelings With determination's might. S ,k to make thv brother happy ; Greet him with a joyous smile; Watch him with a fond devotion, Free alike from sin and guile. < ft a noble heart has perished For the want of tender cat"': For a sympathetic feeling, That we should with others share. When a word of kindness spoken Would have cheered hint on his way, And he would have nobly risen From oppression's heavy swav. Let us strive to do our duty To our fellow-brethren here; Rather help them in their calling. Than to pass them with a sneer; For they all alike have feelings That are tender, good and true. When they see 'tis our endeavor To esteem the good they do. fH facellaweatta. The Rival Painters. , A TALE OF ROME. 4 Farewell, my son ; go trustingly for ward, carve thine own foriui e by untiring effort, and it will be doubly enriched by the memory of those years of patient toil that gained so much happiness for thee. The world is bright and beautiful to a voung heart, but its light and loveliness pass away. Set not, therefore, too great value upon its riches. Walk calmly in the quiet path that leads to thy duty, en vying none, hating none, loving all, and a purer and more lasting joy will be thine than the praise and homage a flattering world can give thee. Fear nothing but sin and temptation ; follow only the dic tates of thy innocent heart. Be faithful to thy friends, forgiving to thine enemies, true to thyself, and earnest in thy love to God, and with a mother's blessing on thy head, fare thee well.' And with nothing hut a deep love for his beautiful art, and a heart filled with pure and lovely feelings, Guido, a young Florentine painter, left his quiet home for the great city of Rontc, where all his hopes and desires were centered. Nothing could stay or turn him aside, while his mother's words lingered in his ear. No harm could fall oil a head made sacred by her blessing, and no evil enter a heart filled with such holy love. And so, 'mid all the allurements of a luxurious citv, he passed unharmed, and labored steadilv on till he won his way msiw:ZS , IF®WS3 , 2> SESIFSMS? ©©OTHFSS U><&O among the first of the high-born young ar tists who crowded the studies of the great masters, and as time went on. honor and wealth seemed waiting for him, but not happiness. The kind old painter with whom he had spent so many happy years, had a fair voung daughter whom he had loved j long and silently, happy that he could be near one so good and beautiful, lie never thought of asking more till a fellow stu dent, possessed of wealth and rank, comely in person, and courtly itt manner, sought her hand, and then only when he feared it was too late did he gain courage to plead his love so well and earnestly, that the old painter could not refuse to leave the choice to his daughter. 'Tell me truly, Madeline,' he said, 4 which will bring the most happiness, the j pomp and show of a countess, or an hum ble painter's home, subject to all the care and sorrow poverty brings? Wealth or love—few maidens would pause ; and vet 'tis a hard choice—both so nob'e and comely, 1 wonder not at your indecision.' The image of the pale young painter came often to the girl's heart, all his silent acts of kindness, his humble, self-denying life, and most of all, his deep and earnest love for herself-—and tiie gay, gallant Count, was forgotten. A llowcr from Guido was more highly prized than all the costly gifts her titled suitor laid at her feet; but she knew her lather longed to see her the wife of some high born lord ; his own life had been darkened by hours of pover- , ty and sorrow, and he fondly hoped to spare her that pain which he had home uumurmuringly. So with a daughter's self-denying lore, she answered — 4 Father, as a painter's daughter, my life has been one of perfect happiness ; why not as a\ ile ? The Count loves the beau tiful art only as a means of gaining honor, and even that love will soon pass away, and some trilling thing succeed it. Guido is poor, and his art is his all. 1 know the deep, earnest love he bears for all that is great ami good ; beauty and purity he j worships with a true painter's steadfast ness, and while he humbly toils lor bread, the noble genius which lies hidden now will awake, and, hallowed by such a pur- j pose, will bring him honor and wealth, j Hut 1 am young, father, and the world is ; new to me ; judge as your own wise love counsels, and by that judgment will I abide,' 4 See.ors,' said the old painter, when he joined the rivals, who together sought to ; learn their fate, ' my daughter leaves the choice to me, and as a father, I would ask what you would give up to win her love ?' 4 More than life, liberty, wealth, or hon or,' replied the Count, wih a glance at his j humble rival, who possessed so little to sacrifice. 4 And you, Guido,' said the old tnan. The bright blood mounted to the pale face, and the clear lit:lit glowed deeper in his dark eye, as he answered with a low sad voice— • I would give up that which i more precious than life or liberty—that for winch ! would toil and suffer long vears— that for which 1 would most gladly give the little of honor, wealth or happiness that 1 possess; all these w ere trifles, use less anil vain, if that one thing weie not gained.' 4 And this is what ." asked the wonder- ; ing painter. 4 A our daughter's happiness is more to me than all the earth can oiler. Let her bestow her love where she will, and God protect him who is so blest as to possess it. My deepest, truest joy will he the knowledge of her own. Cold and selfish were the hearts that did not find pure hap piness in the joy of those thev tiulv love.' 4 It is enough! hear my decision:— Three weeks hence is the Carnival ; h who before that time has painted a pie lure the must perfect in grace and heautv of form, design and coloring, to him will 1 give my daughter.' And as the two rivals turned awn v. his eye rested proudly on Guido, as he whis pered, with a smile, 4 lie is worthy of her, and will succeed.' The hours went by, and rumors of the j strange trial between the rival painters were rife through the city. Many were ! the wondering thoughts of the people ; gay ; jests went round, and happy visions of | fame from the hand of the painters filled many a fair lady's heart. I he beautiful Madelihe sat alone, and strove to banish the thoughts that would | come bringing a picture that she would not look upon ; and so the time went on, the I days were spent, and the Carnival was in progress. Gallery after gallery filled, and still the crowd poured on till the dim old halls were brilliant with the fair and noble of the gay city ; the sunlight stole softly in i through the richly stained windows, throw ing strange, bright hues, on the old pic tures within, and the air was heavy with the Iragrance of the flowers twined round | statue and pillar. Two dark mysterious curtains hung side by side, and before litem stood the rival painters —a strange contrast. The young Count, his proud lace glowing with joy, his garments glittering with embroidery, and his plumed cap heavy with jewels, stood proudly forth; and many a light heart FRIDAY EVENING, JILY 30, 1832. beat, and fair cheek flushed, as his dark eye glanced over the galleries, bright as an eastern garden with the loveliest flowers of Rome. But they soon turned from him to his rival, and lingered there, llis humble dress and threadbare mantle were unheeded for the noble face that looked so pale in the dark shadows where he stood ; but a ray of sunlight lay softly on the long dark locks that fell heavily round his face, and all unconscious of the eyes upon hint, he stood looking calmly on the sweet face of a Madonna above. As the twelve silvery chimes died awav, the Count sprang forward and exultingly flung back the curtain. A long breathless pause, and then loud and long sounded the appiauso, till the vaulted roof rung again. It was Madeline, beautiful as love could make her. Beneath the picture, traced in golden letters, were courtly words of love and flattery, and before it the Count knelt gracefully, and with uncovered head. I hen the pale young painter lifted bis : dark curtain, and not a sound broke the deep stillness as with fascinated eyes they gazed. Fears were on many a cheek, for the simple word 44 Mother" traced below brought back to many a careless heart, the long forgotten hours of innocence and j youth ; it was strangely beautiful. The silvered hair lay softly round the gentle face, and the mild dark eyes seemed look ing down on her son with all a mother's loudness, while the light that fell from the , high window seemed to shut the world of ' sin and shadows from them. The silence was broken by a burst of ; applause that shook the old walls, and of ten as it died away 'twas again renewed ; plumed caps waved, and flowers fell at his feet, Still with folded hands he stood heedless ol all, for his thoughts were far away : he saw only the gentle face before him, heard only Iter low, sweet voice, felt only her hand laid in blessing on his head, and all else was forgotten. I'll en clear and deep among the mur ; muring crowd sounded the voice of the old painter, saying— -4 Guido of Florence hath won the prize; and more than this, he hath gained our ; love and honor, for one who holds in afiec j lions prized above the young and lovely the face that first smiled upon him, the heart that loved, I ask no greater wealth for my child than the love of so noble a , son. JSlie is thine, Guido, with my fondest blessing,* And html a hurst of triumphant music, the wreath fell upon his head, and Made line upon his breast. The noblest pain ters crowded round him, fair ladies scat tered flowers in his path, and even his ri ! val, shrouding his own fair picture, hung a bright wreath over the other, and with tears on bis proud face, stood humbly be fore it. while gentle memories came steal ing back, bringing a quiet joy, long un known to his ambitious heart; and he rose up a better man tor the holy lesson he had 5 learned. And while noble painters and beautiful women paid their homage to the humble artist, and the deep toned music rolled through the bright halls, high above all the calm, soft face, looked proudly down on the son, whose unfailing love for her had gained for him the honor ar.d love he so i richly deserved. Deceiving Children. On a certain occasion a physician was called to visit a rich boy about twelve years of age. As be entered the house, the mother took hint aside and told him she could not get Iter boy to take any medicine unless she deceived him. 4 W ell, then,' said the doctor, 4 1 shall not give him any. Ile is old enough to be reasoned with. 1 will have nothing to do with deceiving a child lest 1 help him to become a man that will deceive his fellow men, and finally deceive himself, and he lost forever.' lie went to the hoy, and after examin ing his condition, said to him : 4 My Jillle man you are very sick, and YOU must take some medicine. It will taste bad and make you feel bad for a while, and then, I expect, it will make you ■ feel belter.' The doctor prepared the medicine, and the boy took it at once, and without the leant resistance. He said also he would : take anything from his mother which the physician prescribed, but would not take anything else from her, for she had so of ten deceived him, and told him it was I good when she had given him medicine, that he would not trust to anything she | said. But he saw at once that the doctor ' was telling the truth ; and when he took the bitter draught he knew just what to expect. Is not honesty with children, as well as ; olhers, and in all circumstances, the best ! policy ? How can parents hope to gain anything in the long run by deceiving | their children ? The following recipe will he found ex ceedingly valuable during the hot months, when there is so much liability to affec tions of the bowls. Parch half a pint of lice until it is brown ; then boil it as rice is usually done. Eat slowly and it will stop the most alarming cases of diarrhoea. He Didn't Think. So said a little boy as lie stood by the side of a mouse-trap which had an unwil ling tenant in it. 4 \\ hat a fool he was to go in there,* said some one. The little boy wished to protect the character of the trembling pris oner, and added: 4 Well, 1 suppose he didn't think.' No, k he clin't think' and for the very reason he was not made to think. But what shall we say ot that boy who is standing in the circus door, waiting for it to be opened, or that boy with his strag gling hair, a pert twist to his cap, and a segar in his mouth, or the one who stands at the corners ol the streets on the Sab bath or frequents the company of profane anil filthy talkers and singers ; what shall we say of such as those ? 1 hey will be caught in an evil net.— 1 hey will fall into a hidden trap, andean they say : •We didn't think !' Yes, per haps they can. But if they tell the whole truth, they will add, because ire wouldn't think. They have eyes but thev see not. Give a mouse their wit and see if he will be caught in such a trap. Selling Chickens to the Legislature. AN bile the Legislature of Missouri was in session, a few years ago, a green fellow from the country came to Jefferson to sell some chickens, lie had about two dozen, all ol which he had tied by the legs to a string, and this, being divided equally, and thrown across his horse or bis shoulder, formed his mode of conveyance, leaving the fowls with their heads hanging down, with little else of them visible than their naked 1< gs, and a promiscuous pile of out-stretched wings and milled feathers.— After several inefl'ectual ellorts to dispose ol his load, a wag, to whom he made an offer of sale, told him that he did not want chickens himself, but that perhaps he could sell them at that large stone house over there (the Capitol,) that there was a man over there buying on speculation, for the St. Louis market, and no doubt he could find a ready sale, The dolighted countryman started, v. hen his inferior stopped him, 4 Look here," says he, 4 when you get over there, go up stairs then turn to the left. The man stops in that large room. You will find him sitting at the other end ol the room, and is now engaged with a number of fellows buying chickens. If j a man at the duor should slop YOU, don't mind him. He has got chickens himself ' for sale, and tries to prevent other people from selling theirs. Don't mind him, — | but go right ahead.' Following the directions, our friend soon found himself at the door of the Hall of Representatives. To open it and enter was the work of a moment. Taking from his shoulder tiie string of chickens, and giving them a shake, to refreshen them, he commenced his journey towards I the speaker's chair, the fowls in the mean i time, loudly expressing from the half-form-' ed crow to the harsh qttaark, their bodily presence, and their sense of bodily pain. 4 1 say, sir,' Here he had advanced about halt down the aisle, when he was seized by Major Jackson, the doorkeeper, who happened to be returning from the Clerk's desk. 1 4 What the devil are you doing here with these chickens; get out, sir, get out,' j whispered lite dorekeeper. 4 No you don't, though, von can't come that game over me, you've got chickens I yourself for sale, gel out yourself and let me sell mine, I say, sir. (in a louder tone to the Speaker) are you buying chickens here to-day ? I've got some prime ones j here.' And he held up his string and shook his fowls until their music made the walls j echo. 4 Let me go, sir,' (he said to the door keeper.) let me go, I say. Fine large chickens (he said to the Speaker,) only ! six hits a dozen.' AY lere's the Sergeant-at-arms,' roared the Speaker, 4 take that man out.' 4 Now don't, will you, I ain't hard to ; trade with. You let me go (lie said to : doorkeeper,) you've sold your chickens, now let me have a chance, I say, sir, I (he said to the Speaker in a louder tone) ] are you buying chickens to' | 4 Go ahead,' 4 at him again,' 'that's right,' whispered some of the opposition members, who could command gravity enough to speak, 4 at him again.' 4 He'll buy them. He only wants you to take less—at him again.' 4 1 say, sir, (he said in a louder tone to the Speaker)—cuss your pictures let me go—fair play—two at one ain't fair.(he said to the Doorkeeper and Seargant-at-arms.) let me go : I say, sir, you up there (to the j Speaker,) you can have 'cm for six bits ! ; won't take a cent less. Take 'em home : and eat 'em myself before I'll take | Drat your hides, don't shove so hard, will you ? you'll hurt them chickens, and they have had a travel of it to-day, anyhow. — I say, you, sir, up there' Here the voice was lost by the closing of the door. An adjournment was moved, and carriad, and the members, almost fran : tic with mirth, rushed out to find our friend in high altercation with the door- I keeper, about the mean ess of selling his 1 own chickens and letting nobody else sell [ theirs, adding that 'if he could just see that man up there by himself he'd be hound they could make a trade, and that no man could a fiord to raise chickens for less than six bits.* The members bought his fowls bv a pony purse, and our friend left the Capitol, saying, as he went down the stairs, — 4 A\ ell this is the darndest roughest place lor selling chickens that ever 1 came across, sure.'— Spirit of the Times. A gentleman in Lowell, Alas., latelv sprinkled some eowage over the petals of a Poeny which stood near his garden fence, as a trap for persons who had often taken the liberty of helping themselves to flowers as they were passing. The bait took ; a gentleman and ladv were shortlv after noticed most vigorously rubbing their noses, and doubtless wondering 4 how they came so.'—On the principle that the hair of some dog will cure the bite, it may be supposed that the itch caused by the cow age effectually cured the itch for stealing. A GOOD COI.O WATER ARRANGEMENT. —The Maine Legislature passed a law at the late session, providing that anv person who will construct, maintain, and keep in good repair a watering trough beside the highway, and well supplied with water, the surface of which shall be at least two feet and a hall above the ground, and made easily accessible for horses and car nages, shall be allowed three dollars out of his highway tax for each year he shall furnish the same. CURE FOR THE BITE or A SNAKE.—A colored man. belonging to Col. David Gibson, near Romney, A a., was bitten by a copper snake last week, and in the course of half an hour drank about a quart of whiskey, and was relieved from the effect resulting from the bite. A butcher boy, going up street from market, the other day, carrying a large tray on his shoulder, accidentally struck it against a lady's head, and discomposed her dress. 4 The deuce take that tray !' cried the lady in a towering passion. 4 Madam,' replied the youngster, 'the deuce cannot take the tray.' A man at the north recently collected a large audience to see him crawl into a bottle. After settling his cash, he apolo gized to tiie audience for disappointing them, but said it was impossible to per form the feat, as he could not find a buttle large enough, A village pedagogue, in despair with a stupid boy, pointed to the letter A, and asked him if he knew it. *A es Sir.' 4 AVi H, what is it ?*' * I know her very well by sight, but swallow me if I can re member her name.' A person once sent n note to a waggish friend for the loan of ins noose-paper, and received in return his friend's mar riage certificate. 4 I pon your oath, sir,' said a lavvver fiercely, 4 will you swear this is not your handwriting V • 1 will,' said the witness cooly, 4 for I can't write. AVatennellons grow so large in Cali fornia that they dig them out and use them for rovvboats. AVe don't believe it, do you.' Guess not! AA'lien travelling in the cars, always take a scat in the rear of a fat gentleman. In case a collision he breaks the hurt wonderfully, 4 M v tale is ended,' as the tadpole said when he turned into a bullfrog. National House & Stage Office. rplIE undersigned having leased this popular T and well known public house, has made ar rangements for the accommodation of all laiUi his friends who may feel disposed to en courage the enterprise. Every attention will be given to secure the comfort of his guests. There is an extensive stabling attached to the establishment, and none but careful and attentive hostlers will be kept. He hopes the advantage he others will secure him a share of the traveling custom commensurate with the extent of his provision for the public accom modation The BELLEFON'TE and NORTHUMBER LAND STAGES leave this House, the former daily, and the latter three times a week. C. O. HEMPHILL. Lewistown, May 14, 1852—tf. WESTERN HOTEL." The undersigned has removed ''•f, f rom Tavern Stand known as %l!l'ia ,he Black Bear, lately occupied ..CyEA "Eiujlhv him, to the Western Hotel, "< ■""'formerly kept by Ered'k Schwartz, and lately by Thomas Mayes, where he invites his old friends and others to give him a call. Every attention will be given to secure the comfort of his guests. Charges moderate. ADAM HAMAKER. Lewistown, July 2, 1852. ?gl SUjttS, fglllE undersigned continues to manufacture A celebrated Quilted and French ca.l Boots, together with all articles connected with his business. MOSES MONTGOMERY. Le wistown, August 8, 1851-tf few Series—Vol. 6-No. 41. Srott and Our Flag. AIR — OCR FLAG IS THERE " Brave Scott has borne that hag aloft. On many a field, on many a shore ; And fought for Freedom well and oft, Amid the battle's deafening roar. CHORES —Our Flag is there ! Our Flag is there. We hail it with three loud huzzas !" t kir Y tag is there ! Our Flag is there! Behold its glorious stripes and stars.. On Ohip'wa's plain lie dared to meet Proud Britain s arms with dauntless eve ; The Lion eowcr'd beneath his feet. The Eagle shrieked and soared on high. Our Flag, ke. At Lundy's Lane, with gallant few, lie welcomed hosts to bloody graves : The thunder hush'd, the smoke withdrew ; And there ! our glorious banner waves. Our Flag, &c. Niagara shall, lift her voice, And tell the triumphs of that day, And Freedom shall with Fame rejoice, To see Our Flag its folds display. Our Flag, &c.. San Juan's castle strongly stood Cur fleet and Army's power to dare ; lie shook her strength on field and flood, And placed Our Flag in triumph there. Our Flag, \.c. On Cerro Gordo's lofty height, W hen death shots flew in tempest hurl'd, lie stormed the hills, put hosts to flight, And on the breeze Our Flag unfuri'd. Our Flag, &e.. Upon Chapultepcc's proud walls lie struck the last decisive blow ; And from the Monte/, umas' Halls Dictated peace to Mexico. Our Flag, Xe„ To Washington he'll lead the van, In bloodless triumph nobly won ; A hero, statesman, and a man, To crown in age what youth began. Our Flag, &c.. That Flag shall o'er the UNION wave, Nor from its folds one badge be torn ; An ensign of the Free and Brave, Its stripes shall glow, its stars shall burn*. Our Flag, &c. ©SO. W. ELSEKj Attorney at Law, OFFICE in West Marketstreet,opposite Eisen bise's Ilotel, will attend to any business in the courts of Mililiu, Centre, or Huntingdon coun ties. Lewistown, Jan. 23, 1852. SUMMER HATS7 rpilE NOMINATIONS being made, the next J. thing to be had is a nice SUMMER HLIT, for we may now reasonably suppose that Sum mer is at hand. The undersigned has just re ceived and opened a new supply, to which pub lic attention is invited. A very fine assortment of CHILDREN and YOUTH'S HATS, very low, to suit every fancy, and please every taste. Call and see, ' N. J. RUDISILL. Lewistown, June 11, 1852. YmWsvmwtsk a—The subscriber respectfully informs his friends and the public that he has I'M' handsomely fitted up the house on J:'- corner of Valley and Dorcas >ts., opposite M'Dowell's old stand, where he is now prepared to accommodate WAGONERS, TRAVELLERS, AND BOARD ERS, in a style equal to any in Lewistown. New and extensive stabling has been erected, and a careful and attentive ostler secured. llis bar is supplied with a variety of choice liquors, and his table will bear evidence for it self that neither pains nor expense will be spared to meet a share of public patronage. ALEXANDER EISENBISE. Lewistown, June 18, 1852. Lewistown Academy. IHIE Male and Female Departments of this INSTITUTION, under the management of the subscriber, w ill open on MONDAY, April sth. The subscriber flatters himself from an experi ence of ten years in teaching, and the informa tion he has acquired during the past year in some of the Normal Schools of Europe, that he will be able to establish a High School, worthy the patronage of the public. In addition to the present teachers iii the Female Department, an experienced teacher will assist the principal iu the Male Department. TERMS OF THE MALE DEPARTMENT .- For tuition in Reading, Writing, Arith metic, Geography and English Gram mar, per quarter, of eleven weeks, $3 00 Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Book keeping, History, Aigebra, Rhetoric and Geometry, per quarter, §4 50 For tuition in the Latin, Greek, French, Spanish and Italian languages, Drawing, and the higher branches of Mathematics, 6 00 Weekly exercises in Declamation and English Composition, will be required of all the pupils, and special attention will be given to the prima ry department. R. C. ROSS, A. M., Lewistown. March 12, 1852. Principal. LEWISTOWN MILLS. 'PHE subscribers have taken the Lewistown Mills and formed a eo-partnership under the firm of JOHN STERRETT & CO.. for carrying on a general JIILLUG BPSISESS, wish to buy a large quantity of all kinds of GRAIN, for which we will pay the highrstpri ces the market will afford, according to th® quality ol' the grain. Any person wishing to store their wheat can do so, and a receipt will be given to be kept in store until the Ist of August, and after that un til the Ist of December. In case of wheat left in store, the subscribers reserve the privilege of purchasing said wheat when the owners wish to sell, at from 13 to 15 cents off of Philadelphia prices, and if we do not buy at this rate, then we charge one cent per bushel for storage.— No interest will be allowed on money not lifted for grain sold, as we are prepared to pay CASK at all limes. FLOUR and all Kinds of FEED kept and for sale, for cash. W. THOMPSON, AND. McFARLAXE, HUGH CONLEY, S. S. WOODS. May 2, 1851.—tf.
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