fhole No. 2550. A NEW STOCK OF Cloths, Cassimeres AND VESTINGS, iias just been received at the Lewistowa t ;mporium of Fashion, which will be made up order by experienced workmen. art requested to calk \ViV v HN'D- Lctvistown, April 21, 1839. Removed to the Stand lately occupied by Kennedy v Jiinkin. EARCriLIITSi \ leaf's Credit to Responsible Men! sfik hand one of the best, and large, t stocks between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, in order to accom modate business to the times, offers for sale a complete assortment of Saddles, Harness, Bridles, Collars, Trunks, Whips, Mantes, Valises, Carpet Bags, and other articles in his line, which will he Jisposed of, when purchases are made to the amount of $lO or more, on the above terms for approved paper. Among his slock will be found some highly implied sets of light Harness equal to any inan a fat tu red. Let ull in want of good articles, made bj ex trieiiced workmen, give him a call. JOHN DAVIS. Lewistowa, April 7, 1859. New Fall and Winter Goods. I) F. ELLIS, of the late firm of McCoy V.# A Ellis:, has just returned from the city with a choice assortment of Dry Goods and Groceries, ..-leete offer relief. To calr:. the heart throbs or quiet the strife. There r- those in whose hearts true friendships abound. As waters that gush front the pure crystal stream, ■Shedding light, joy and happiness ever around The hearts of their friends, like a rnerry sunbeam. Ever cherish sut li friendships, oh, ne'er let them fade Or perish as flowers in the chill autumn blast; Let them ne'er by cold chilling neglect be repaid— Prize thorn dearly, for they'll remain true to the last. CARRIE. Juniata Count) - February, 1800. HON ME BELL. Like two rose-buds crashed in snow- Are the cheeks of Bonnie Bell, Like tiie violets that grow Among the daisies in the dell Are her eyes—the stars of night .Ne'er a mortal heart did swell With such pure and fond delight As the eve- of Bonnie Bell. Music trembles on the lip Of the fairy Bonnie Bel!, < >h! I'd give sueli sweets to sip Wealth that Criesns ue'er could ni. I would coin my brain and soul, Could the mintage buy a spell That would waft me to my goal— Waft and win me Bonnie Bell. As the sound of silver fine Is the voice of Bonnie Bell; Wit, like bubbles on the wine, Pure as pearls in ocean shell, fqi.ttkles through her golden theme- Joyful as a marriage bell, I could glide adown life's stream In one boat with Bonnie Bell. rowifljpßß LITTLE PINKY; Or, God Will Show Me the Way. ' Yes, sir,' said the man, running his bund through hisaihaggy locks, bis harsh face showing the marks ok unusual intelli gence, ' mining in this region be a hard life, but I think we've all been better since little Pinky went away.' 'And who is little Pinky V asked the gentleman, while the dark eyes of the young lady at his side sparkled in antici pation of a story. ' Well, you see —it be something of a tell—and if ye'tl move farther on to the shade of the old oak yonder, it'll ruahap be pieasantcr for the young miss, for the sun be hot.' The lady and gentleman followed the brown and weather-beaten man to the cool shadow of' the oak, and finding a seat for the young lady on a convenient root that came squarely up from the ground, the min er Logan with his customary preface: ' You see, I'inky was the sou of Jesse Pinkam, a young man, and a regular good one, ae the saying gees. 1 recon Pinkam was the only man of us as ever said the Lord's Prayer, or any other prayer. He were a nico young fellow, that's a fact! Hut we're a rude set, sir, we of the mines, and 'specially in this place; we didn't like anything that was what we call 'pious.' Sundays, sir, used to be the regular —well, I might say the devil's day, with us. It was nothing but drinking and dancing, pitching, and cards, and swearing. ' Well, sir, you see, Jesse he got married to a regular lady like-girl, sir, and it turn ed out a pious one. They didn't none of 'cm—that is, Pinkam, his wife, and old mother —jine us in our merry-making on a Sabbath, but sometimes the young man and Hessy—that's his wife sir—would walk five miles to hear a parson preach. We was all down upon Jesse, sir—you see the real thing was, he made us ashamed of ourselves by his goodness, and 1 was worse than the rest, trying my best all the time to pick up a quarrel with him. Well, sir, one Satur dav night what did we see but a notice stuck up on this very tree, that there'd be be a parson from Frankstown on the mor row, to preach to us. We didn't like the news, and we could tell pretty well where the move came from, 'cause you see we knew Jesse was pious. So we determined, the greater part of us, that we wouldn't have no psalm-singing —no canting pray ing—no reading out of the Bible. ' Well, the minister came and found a Habel. We all got together, and we raved, and laughed, and pitched quoits, and made sueh a noise that the parson had to give it up. lie tried agin and agin, and came right among us —he was plucky, I tell ye; but we hooted iu his ears, and threw mud on his bettermost clothes, and so he was fairly driven off—'cause you see we had liquor enough in us to set us all crazy. ' Poor Jesse! —how we jeered him after that! —but he bore it meek, sir, and I was often ashamed of myself, thofigh I'd died afore I'd confessed it. But I anl sorry enough for my part of" it; for one day there came a rumbling heavy noise, shaking the earth, and then a crash like rattling thuh- THURSDAY, MARCH 8, 1860. dc-r beneath our feet, and we knew that somebody was buried alive. T was in the working shaft where Jos.se was, and there didn't happen to be a scul in the place ex cept him, poor fellow ! They'd all gone into another shaft, where he didn't like to follow 'em, 'cause they was such a wicked set: and as they were eating their dinners, and lie his, this accident happened. 'We dug him out, sir f lie was awful crushed—all but his face—that looked sruil ling and peaceful-like, and w r e couldn't bear the sight; it made us think how we'd a-treated him. So we carried him home to Bessy. She didn't cry and take on, as most the men's wives do when an accident happens, but it were awful to see how still and white she were! Awful, sir; and I never want to see a sight like it agin. ' We all felt bad—for poor Jesse hadn't never said a harsh word to one of us. and he'd borne many an insult. 'We couldn't see through it when he were living, but used to call him ' weak heided,' and a • tame covey ;' but as lie lay there in his coffin, there came a different feeling over me, . ir, you may depend upon it. Oh !if I'd a heard then to the lesson that was tolling of me, if I'd only listened then to the voice of God, speaking as it were from the lips of that crushed dead body, I'd saved myself many a day of suf ferin'—many an hour of torment. But I didn't. 'We all walked to the grave, and T tell ye it touched even hard fellows like us, to see the widder with lier little child in her arms, foller close to the coffin—never cry ing, only holding her head down as if it were too heavy bowed with her sorrow to keep it up. ' Well, we had a talk at the grave by the same parson as we'd treated so badly. 1 don't know what his good words would a-done in after days, if I handen't been a leader in wickedness, a hater of pious peo ple, and everything that had to do with re ligion,—a wicked swearing worthless sin ner! I say it to my shame, I don't boast sir, —God forbid, f wish I could shutout of my thought all the years of my life that 1 ain't spent piously. But God, 1 hope,'ll be merciful to me. ' Well, sir—his wife —the poor young thing ! look his death sadly to heart. They siid the shock had been too sudden, dried up all he? tears, like. She nevpr cried onc't —only languished and pined, grew thinner and whiter, and died just three months af ter poor Jesse. That was how the little boy—Jesse's little boy—came to be an or phan. sir. ' Well, \vc were all determined to take of the little one, so we cast lots every month to see which should have the xnain tainin' of him. It used to come to me pretty often, but I done it willingly, sir, because I considered I'd been hard to the man—very hard to poor dead Jesse. ' The boy was pretty, sir, but he didn't grow much. You see lie hadn't no moth er-lovn to thrive on. The women they thought did well by liiiq, but they sort o' hustled him, and he wanted something dif ferent, coming of a delicate stock. I don't spose nothing, sir, can give a child that feel, that having somebody to love and eall mother, does—no, not all the cossettin' in the world by strangers. ' Well, the years passed, and the little fellow began to be handy in the mine. It seemed a pity to Bee him beginning that sort o' lite, but then we're not even able to take care of one nvjre helpless hand, and there was plenty young as he down there. But he were so different from all the rest of the children. lie looked for all the world be fore he got the grim in his face, like a gen tleman's child, sir. llis skin was like the shells you sometimes sec with a leetlc red tinge on 'cm, and he had his mother's large brown eyes, and his father's curly hair, and then he was so slim-like and girlish. Hut he had spirit beyond strength, and gloried in work. ' Things was going on about as usual, ex cept that I was harder down on religion than ever. The soft feeling wore oft my heart, and I think I hated what was pious worse nor before. Our Sundays was train ing days—nothing good —everything evil, just as evil as could be. 'Well, sir—one day the little feller was on my beat, and he had done up his work quick and airly, —so he stood sometime be side me talking—l never heard such strange things as he'd say. So says he, as I was fixing my tools—says he, ' Keen,' —that's my name, sir,—'where'd all this coal come from?' 'Come from the earth,' I said. ' Yes, but what made it ?' ' I prided myself on my little laming,' so says 1, ' Why, nater made it, Pinky;' wo used to call him Pink, and Pinky. ' Well, what made nater Keen V he still kept askin'. ' Why—why ! nater made itself!' I said. ' Oh, no V he cried ; and with a solemn look as ever I see orr any face—and his voice somehow seemed strange, and deep, like a voice of waruin'—l don't know why, but I never heered anything like it ; says he 'God made every thing; God is down here in the dark " ' I declare it was nigh as if a man had struck me as could be. Says I, ' Pinky, where'd you get that trom ?' ' Says he, ' The good man told rue' 'What good man?' I asked, and an ug ly feeling came over me. 'What preached at mammy's funeral,' said he. ' And wliere'd you see him ? 1 sort o' growled, like. 'Out in the road yesterday. I seed him on a horse, and he took me up and rided nie ever so fur and back, and he told ine all the good things.' ' I was silent —I tell ye. I didn't know what to say ; but I was mad. Just then, in moving up quick, my lamp went out. Now, that's a thing that don't happen but a few times in a good many years, and I knew I'd have to wait and holler till some body come—for the pit was lull of holes —and so I said, ' Don't be afraid, Pinky, they'll be here soon;' but I was shaky, for we was in a dangerous part of the pit. ' Savs he, ' 1 don't feel afraid, Keeue don't you s'pose God's close to us V ' I declare 1 felt my blood trickle cold, and every wind that came down the shaft way 1 thought was His breath —the breath of God! ' Well, the hours passed, and nobody come. I - eiitly says little Pinky, ' I'll go for you, God will show me the way,' and 1 heard his little feet patting along them dangerous places. It was awful! — The sweat started out on me thick, and it seemed like I couldn't breathe. But when I him back, he shouted with his little voice, ' God'll show me the way.' Gt almost makes me tremble when I think ou't, sir—the boy went over the worst road in the pit, full of sunk shafts and danger ous places without no lamp! Oh! sir, when they came for K3 with plenty of light—l —I couldn't believe it, sir, 1 couldn't; and though they kept telling me that Pinky was safe, T tell you, sir, 1 thought it was a lie till I see him, and heard him cry out — ' I am safe, Ke< no —God showed me the way!' ' Well, sir, you mayn't ihink this looks true ; but 'tis. Oh ! 'tis as true as wonder ful, sir; and 1 tell you, I was a different man alter that. Not that I gvetv good at once —no, I didn't know (he way then, sir. 1 didn't feel like little Pinky; 1 didn't feel sure that God'd show me, but he did. 'One day. after Pinky had been working hard, he said lie was dry and his head ach ed. Well, we always expected something 'd be ailing him—so that night I carried him home in my arms arid laid him on his bed, and he never, sir,' —the miner choked for a moment, drew one rough hand across his eyes, turned away lor a brief second, then said —die never got up from it of himself agin. Every night I came home he was worse and worse, and I tell ve I felt as if all the light 1 ever see was going out! 'One morning he asked me in his weak voice, 'Wouldn't I send for the good man that ! preached for his mammy?' ' I didn't say 110 —'twan't in my heart to ; do that thing, and before long the parson ! was there, talking and praying. That seem- 1 ed to do the child good ! And as the 1111- | ners dropped, in, with their black faces, j and the little lamps in their hands, he'd I .smile round at 'em so sweet, sir, it would a done your heart good to a seen it.' The man paused again, overcome by the recollection cf the scene. The muscles 1 round his firm lips quivered, and over his 1 great bronzed face there swept an expres sion of an almost womanly tenderness. ' Did he die then ?' The question was softly asked, and the dark eyes of the lady were full ot tears. ' Oh, my dear miss—yes, yes, he died then ! He grew very bright and lively, though, and we'd all set our hearts 011 his getting well, when there was another change and the color left his face—and his little hands hadn't no strength in them. The minister came again, and as he stooped down, says hp, ' My dear child, are you afraid to go?" 'And what do you think, sir—what do you think, miss—he said ? Oh, how it went through me! ' God'll show me the way!' • And He showed him the way, sir. I never see anything like that dying sir— never. He held my hand —lie said, 'Keene, you love God, too !' 'lie gave a gasp and then a smile, and then there came a bright glory-light over his white face that made it shine all over — Oh, sir—l—l—can't, tell it.' The wan held his head down and sobbed like a child-—and his were not the only tears. The next morpiag was the Sabbath. A near bell was heard; a plain white meet ing-house stood in sight. The stranger and his daughter met the miner, who, pointing to the heavenward spire, exclaim ed, as a smile broke over his face, 'You see, sir, God shows us all the way!' Reclaiming Presents. —A case is under investigation, sa3'B the Detroit Advertiser of the 25th, in the Police Court of that city, involving the right of a fellow to take back the presents he has made to a girl when she was wont to have him, and is getting ready to many somebody else. A young man who had disposed ol about $75 worth of jewelry in this way, during three years courtship, is on his trial for larcen3 r , in invading the lady's bed-room, and seiz ing the property, when he had discovered it was to adorn another man's wife MiEttUißOffi. Terrible Tragedy in Kcnry County, Va. The usually quiet and law-abiding people of the county of Henry have been intense ly excited for the past three or four days, in consequence of a terrible tragedy, or rather tripple tragedy, that was enacted in their midst on Saturday last. It appears, according to the version giv en us, that some years since, a graud-daugh er of the venerable and talented Vincent Witcher, Esq., of Pittsylvania county, mar ried a gentleman from the adjoining coun ty of Henry, whose nauie was Clemmcns. His christian name we are unable to ascer tain. The maiden name of Mr. Witeher's grand-daughter was Smith. The parties lived hapily together until about eighteen months since, when, upon the most un founded suspicions, as we Lave been in foimed, Mr. Clemmens desired a separation from his wife, and immediately instituted proceedings for a divorce, at the same time impeaching her honor as the grounds for his course. Last Saturday was set apart tor the tak ing of depositions, and the parties met at a magisterial precinct in Henry county. .Mr. Y. if her appeared to defend the suit and protect the honor of his grand daughter. The taking of the depositions progressed, and after the plaintiff had finished with a witness, Mr. Witcher asked a question, which greatly exasperated the husband, Mr. (Teuimens. He immediately arose, drawing a pistol at the same time, and fired at Mr. Witcher. Mr. Witcher, it .seems, also quickly rose, and drew a pistol from his pocket, and as the ball of his antagonist grazed around the abdomen, he fired, strik ing Clemmcns in the forehead, and killing him instantly. A nephew of Mr. Witcher, and a Mr. Smith, a brother of Mrs. Oiemmens, hear ing the firing, rushed into the room. A brother o! Mr. C'emniens, who had also been attracted by the pistol reports, fired at a nephew of Mr. Witcher, the ball taking effect, and producing, it is feared, a fatal wound. Upon seeing his nephew shot Mr. Vincent Witcher again fired, striking Clem mens .No. 2. and killing him instantly. At, t':is stag: cf the sanguinary affair, Mr. Smith, a brother of Mrs. Clemmcns, drew a bewie Life, but had scarcely un sheathed the blade, yrhen lie was fired upon by a second brother of Clemmens, the ball taking effect in the shoulder, and produc ing a painful wound. Infuriated by his wound, Mr. Smith rushed upon his antag onist. and with one powerful thrust of the knife completely disemboweled Clemmens No. 3, the unfortunate man falling dead on the Bpc:. Three of the parties dead, and the other thr'cQ al! wounded, the horrible tragedy here ended. Yincint Witchcr, Esq., the chief actor in this truly terrible affair, is widely known throughout Virginia. He served for many years in the lower House of the Legisla ture, and subsequently represented his dis trict in the State Senate with signal abili ty. lie is a prominent member of the Whig party, and his name has been re peatedly mentioned in connection with the office of Governor of the Commonwealth. He succeeded Whitmcll P. Tuustall, upon the death of that gentleman, as President of the Richmond and Danville Railroad. After two years service he resigned the Presidency ot the road, and lias since been engaged in the practice of his profession— that ot a lawyer. Our informant states that throughout this painful suit, which Mr. Witchcr be lieves to have been instituted against an innocent grand-daughter, he hag acted with great forbearance, and the part he has been compelled finally to act, will be with none, a source of deeper regret than himself. —Petersburg Express. Feb. 20. Mnrder of Dr. W J- Keitt. * On Sunday morning last, our communi ty was thrown into a state of great excite ment by the announcement of the death of Dr. W. J. Keitt, our Senator in the State Legislature. He had been living by himself, 011 his plantation, about three miles from Ocala, and has been : n ill health for some time past. Early in the morning, one of his servants, who had waited on him during his illness, came into town and stated that, as he went into his master's room to build a fire, he found him lying 011 the floor dead. At first it was supposed that he had died suddenly frorti an affection of the heart ; but, on visiting his house, his body was found bathed in b'.ocd, and his throat cut from ear to ear. An inquest was soon held, and it was found that he had been most brutally murdered by one or more of i.Y own negroes. The most positive evidence was obtained against cue of the negroes, and a disposition was man ifested to hang him at once; but, with the view of obtaining proof against others who are supposed to be implicated, he was brought to jail, with three others on whom suspicion rests. The matter is undergo.ng further investigation as we go to press, and wo are therefore unable to give the result. Dr. Keitt was a native of South Caroli na, and a brother of the Hon. L. M. Keitt, representative of that State. The deceas ed moved to this State about six years ago, New Series—Vol. XIV, No. 18. and had so identified himself with her in terests as to render hia death a public ca lamity.— Ocala f/7e.) Companion. Death of Arndt. of the venerable friends of German freedom has parsed away. Ernst Movitz Arndt, poet, scholar, statesman, and-patri ot, beloved and revered by all his country men and lo- noble hearted men all over the world, died at Bonn on the 29th of last month, at the ripe old age of ninety. This is not the place to give a long sketch of his active and earnest life. But no one who remembers the struggle of Germany against Napoleon sheuld be ignorant of the services which Arndt rendered to his coun try by his pamphlets, newspaper articles, and national songs. He stirred the hearts of the people from the Rhine to the Xie men, and di s l mere than almost any other man to mouse those feelings of popular in dignation. courage, and patriotism, which finally incited the Germans to hurl back their oppressors, and achieve their inde pendence. His liberal principles were afterwards so off nsive to the Prussian Government that he was obliged to relinquish the chair of the piof'essorship of modern history at Bmii. With many oilier patriots, ho in d .ilg-, d in the hope for a brief period in ISid that better days for his country wore near, and lie labored faithfully. an, with a youthful zeal, until it was manifest that all efforts were tl.ga in vain. But he never lost the noble spiiit which breathes through every line of his famous song, 1 What is the German's b in a. . land : ' The writer of these lines has a letter from the ven Table patriot, which \sas wvitten' but a few years ago. With a bold and manly hand, the old man writes as his mot to a quotation from an ancient poet, ' The bird sings sweetest when it sings, 'Strike for the Fatherland.' ' For it- he lived, an 1 toiled, and was ready to die.— I'ron'tlrnrc Journal. Presentiment in a Dream. —This morn ing a young lady, daughter of Hainan Mil- KT, track master of the Central Itailroad, told her parents soon after she arose, that slio had dreamed last night that Mr. Keist, who attends the railroad bridge at Allen's creek, was killed, and that Mrs. Keisteame to the house to tell Mr. Miller. A short time after relating this dream, and while the family were at breakfast, Mrs. KeLst came in to tell that her hu.-band was killed by the cars last night at Brighton. So im pressed was the girl with the force of lie*' dream, that she ran to another room when .she saw the woman approaching the door, as she felt sure that she had a tale of sor row to tell. Mr. Keist was a German, who had worked for a number of years on H railroad, under the direction of Mr. Miller, and his wife had often called at his house. When Miss Miller told her dream, Mr Miller had not heard of the accident : ill deed, the coroner having charge of the body did not know who the unfortunate man was. While there are thousands of dreams that are not premonitory, now and then there is one that is, to say the least, coin cidental with actual occurrences, of which the dreamer knew nothing.— Rochester Ad vertiser, 24/7/. Burnt on ,Suspicion of Cunihalism. — The revolting practice of canibalism among the Indian tribes is now, happily of rare occurrence. And by none is it held in greater detestation than by the native.; themselves. Mingled, too, with their hor ror of the crime is a strange superstitious fear of the criminal, whom they believe to be endowed with a supernatural power against which nothing earthly can prevail. At lkiupliiu river, at the beginning of the winter, a tradgedy was enacted which makes one shudder. A poor, sickly old man, nam ed Sachctaekets, was supposed by Cusic and Katchewa, his two sons-in-law, to show a disposition to become a man eater. Alarrn i ed at the thought of such a calamity, they determined to prevent it by putting away the object of their dread before he became proof against their weapons. One da} T thf ; unsuspecting old man was lying helpless i in his camp, when Cusic and Katchewa fell upon him and barbarously murdered him. They cut off his head and then burnt'his body to ashes. — Montreal Gazette, Fch *2l'.* fiss