swransjcsxaiß & S@SJ 9 Whole No. 2774. Cash Rates of Advertising. I Administration or Executor's Notices $2 OC If published in both papers, each 1 5t Auditor's do 25 Sheriff's Sales. 12 lines 1 oc Each additional line fi Estray. Caution or other Notices, not exceeding 12 lines, 3 insertions, 1 Ofi Tavern Licenses, single, 1 Ofl If more than one. each oil Register's Notices of Accounts, each 5u On public sales published in both papers, a deduc tion of 25 per cent, on all matter over one square. All other Judicial Notices same as above, unless the price is fixed by law. 12 lines of burgeois, or 10 lines of nonpariei. make a square. About 8 words constitute a line, so that any person can easily calculate a square in manuscript. Yearly advertisements will be inserted on such terms as may be agreed on. In all other cases 12 lines constitute a square, and will be so charged. 'jewistowu Post Office. Mails arrive and close at the Lvwistovwi P 0. us follows. ARRIVE. Eastern through, 5 20 a. in " through HHd way 4 01 p m. ' v estern " " " 10 53 a. m. Bellefonte " " " 2 30p m. I Northumberland, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, 6 00 p. in. CLOSE. Fasten through 8 00 p in. " and way 10 00 a in Western " " 300 p. m. Bellefonte 8 00 " Northumberland (Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays) 8 00 p. tn. Office open from 7 00 a. in. to 8 p. m. On Sundays from Bto9 a m. S. COMFORT. P M. Lewistown Station. Trains leave Lewistown Station as follows: Westward. Eastward Through Express, 12 19 a. m. Baltimore Exoress, 4 24 a. m. Philadelphia " 5 20 " a. m Fast Line, 551 p. m. 349 " Fast Mail 401 " 10 53 " Through Accommodation, 2 35 p ui. Emigrant, 9 07 a. ni. Through Freight, 10 15 p. m. 120 a m Fast " 3 49 a. m. 8 55 " Express " 11 (X) " 2 35 p. in. Stock Express, 440p m, 820 " Coal Train. 12 45 p. in. 11 25 a m. Union Line, 7 15 " Local Freight, 700a. m. G4sp. m. 49*Galbraith's Omnibuses convey passengers to and from all the trains, taking up or setting them down at all points within the borough limits. GrEO. 77. ELEEFwj Attorney at Law, Office Market Square, Lewistown, will at tend to business in Mltilin. Centre and Hunting don counties toy 26 DP.. I. ICAP,ZS OFFERS his Professional services to the citizens of Lewistown and the surround ing country. Office in the Public Square op posite the Lewistown Hotel. janl3-6m* Large Stock of Furniture on Hand. A FELIX is still manufacturing all kinds •of Furniture. Young married persons and others that wish to purchase Furniture will find a good assortment on hand, which will I * sold cheap for cash, or country pro duce ten in exchange for same. Give me a call alley street, near Black Bear H<> tel. " teb 21 Jacob C. Blymyer & Co., Produce and Commission Mer chants, LEWISTOWN. PA. ItaTFlour and Grain of all kinds pur chased at market rates, or received on storage i and shipped at usual freight rates, having storehouses and boats of their own. with cart - ful captains and hands. Plaster. Fir-h. and Salt always on hand. sep2 AM3ROTYPES AND The Gems of the Season. r |MUS is no humbug, hut a practical truth X The pictures taken by Mr. Burkholdcr are unsurpassed for BOLDNESS TRUTH FULNESS. BEAUTY OF FINISH, and DURABILITY. Prices varying according to size and quality of frames and Cases Room over the Express Office. Lewistown, August 23, iB6O. TOBAC CO! I Genuine Oriental Turkish, Im. Turkish, Kose, Favorite, Un ion, Kiss-me-quick, s?>eaf;ir latti, &c. No. 1, i and 3 CUT & DRY, very low. ALSO, PIPES, TOMCCO-HOXES, C IGI-A.R.S, and in fact everything that belongs to his ' line of business, at very low figures. Call and examine for yourselves, and save money by buying at the Cigar and Tobacco Store of E. FRYSINGER, no* 11 Lewitown, Pa. Cordage. Cordage. ROPES, Tow Lines. Bed Cords, Clothes Lines, Twines, and other cordage for Bale by J. B. SELHEIMER. ! THE mifRIlJ o ______ *j THE BLUE COAT. 8 The following ballad is from the pen of Bishop Bur gess, of Maine, and was contributed by him to the i 0 book published and sold at the late Sanitary Fair in i 0 Baltimore, under the sanction of the State Fair Asso -0 eiation of the women of Maryland: 0 THE CLUE COAT OF THE SOLDIER. You asked me, little one. why I bowed, e Though never I passed the man before? Beeause my heart was full and proud When I saw the old blue coat he wore; The blue great-eoat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore. 1 I know not. I. what weapon he chose, Wiiat chief he followed, what badge he wore; ' I Enough that in the front of foes i His country's blue great coat he wore; The blue great coat he wore. Sec. Perhaps he was born in a forest hut. Perhaps he had danced on a palace floor; To want or wealth my eyes were shut, I only marked the coat he wore; The blue great coat, Ac. It mattered not much if he drew his line From Sliem or Ham, in the days of yore; For surely he was a brother of mine, Who for my sake the war coat wore; The blue great coat, Ac. He might have no skill to read or write, Or he might be rich in learned lore; But 1 knew he could make his mark to fight, And nobler gown no scholar wore; Than the blue greut eoat, Ac. It may be he could plunder and prowl. And perhaps in his mood he scoffed and swore; But I would not guess a spot so foul, On the honored coat he bravely wore; The blue great coat, Ac. He had worn it long, and borne it far; And perhaps on the red Virginian shore, From midnight chill till the morning star That worn great coat the sentry wore: The blue great coat, Ac. When hardy Butler reined his steed Thro' the streets of proud, proud Baltimore, Perhaps behind him at bis ueed, Marched he who yonder blue coat wore. The blue great coat, Ac. Perhaps it was seen in Burnside's ranks, When Rappahannock ran dark with gore; Perhaps on the mountain side with Banks In the burning sun no more he wore The blue great coat, Ac. Perhaps in the swamps was a bed for his form, From the seven days' battling and marching sore, Or with Kearney and Pope 'mid the steely storm, As the mgbt closed in, that coat he wore; The blue great coat, Ac. Or when right over as Jackson dashed, That collar or cape some bullet tore; Or when far ahead Autietam dashed, He flung to the ground the coat that he wore; The blue great coat, Ac. Or stood at Gettysburg, where the graves Rang deep to Howard's cannon roar; Or saw with Grant the unchained waves Where conquering hosts the blue coat wore. The blue great coat, Ac. That garb of honor tells enough, Though I its story guess no more; Tiie heart it covers is made of such stuff, j That coat is mail which that soldier wore; The blue great coat, Ac. He may hang it up when the peace shall come, And the moths may find it behind the door; But his children will point when they hear a drum ! To the proud old coat their father wore; The blue great eoat. Ac. And so my child, will you and I, For whose fair home their blood they pour, Still bow* the head, as one goes by Who wears the coat that soldier wore; The blue great eoat, the sky blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore. TAiM & l&gKHgj A TRUE STORY. Truth trauger Than Fiction In the autuiiiii of 1816. while the wind-; were bright with the variolated hues winch follow th light touches ol early frost, a mounted traveller was pursuing his way ' through a dark, broad, lonely forest, in the western part of the State of New York He had ridden three miles since seeing a human habitation, and he bad yet two to {jo before he could get sight of another. } He was descending a hill into a gloomy looking valley, through which flowed a shallow hut swift running stream; and on reaching the water, he permitted his thirs I ty beast to stop and drink. At that moment a man came out from | ; a cluster of bushes into the road, or horse j path, on the other side of the stream. This man was dressed like a hunter, and ' carried a rifle on his shoulder. In his gereral appearance there was nothing that indicated hostility or a wicked design. He was of medium size, compactly built, with intellectual features and a certain air of gentility—seeming rather as one abroad ! from some settlement for a day's sport, ! than a professional hunter. All this the mounted traveller carefully noted before ! j be crossed the stream to continue his journey, and when they came near togeth- j : era pleasant salutation was exchanged. 'Fine wea her for travelling, sir!' re marked the man with the gun. 'And for hunting also, I should sup pose', smiled ibe other on the horse. •\es, there is game enough, returned | the other; but 1 am not a good hunter, and can only show one hear for my day's work thus tar, and that is almost useless to me, because I have no means to take it away 1 would willingly give a dollar for the use ola horse like yours for a couple l of hours. If you could spare five minutes WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 1864. or so, I would like you to see the bear. It is only hack behind these bushes, some two hundred yards from here.' '1 will not only look at it,' replied the traveller, dismounting and fastening his horse, • but, it not too heavy, 1 will take it. along lor you, seeing I am going jour way ' The hunter thanked him in a most cor dial manner, and then, as if to make him self agreeable and keep up the converse tion, inquired where the other was from, wiiuLer journeying, and so forth ; and learned in reply that the latter resided in Albany, was a merchant in good business, and was travelling partly tor his health, and partly with the view of making an extensive land purchase for future specula tion. ■YY ell here we are ! exclaimed the hunt er. as the two emerged from the dense thick et. through which they had slowly forced theii way into the more open wood; 'here we are ! and now I will show you as fine and tat a beast as you ever saw. Observe where I point my rifle!' He stepped back some eight or ten feet, deliberately raised the piece to his eye and pointed the muzzle directly at the head of the traveller There was a flash, a loud report, and the victim fell like a log, his face covered with bluod. This might, or might not have been the first crime committed by the man with the rifle. Hut as the traveller fell he shook violently from head tn foot; yet he ran to his victim, and hurriedly robbed him of a p ir-e. a po-kethouk, a gold watch and chain, sunie curintjs seals, a diamond breast pin, and a diamond ring, which he lairly tore from his finger Then lie dragged the ody into the thicket, picked up his rifle, plunged madly through the hushes to rht? road, mounted the traveller's horse, and dashed away from the awful scene YY'e must now suppose a lapse of twenty years. In the spring of 1837 'here lived in the city of New York, a banker and million aire, whom we shall call Stephen Eowards. He owned a pJatial mansion, splendidly lurnished, in the very heart of the town, and he and his wife were among the lead ers of the fashionable world. They had a beautilul daughter, just turned of sweet sixteen, who was about to be married to a foreign nobleman, and great preparations were making for the happy event. One <ay, about this period, as the great banker stood conversing with a gentleman from another eiry, who had called to see him on business, he observed the latter suddenly turn very pale and begin to Irem ble 'My dear sir he said, in the usual tone of offhand sympathy, 'what is the matter, are you ill?* 'A little faint, sir, but nothing to cause alarm.' replied the other, hurriedly. 'L am subject to similar spells. If you will be kind enough to excuse uie for ten min utes or so, I will take a short walk, and re turn in better condition.' In ten minutes he did return, reported himself quite well, calmly proceeded to finish his business with the banker, and then respectfully took his leave. It was, perhaps, a week after i is that oue night, the banker was sitting beluie the tire in lis library, when a servant came in and preseuted him a letter. He took it wi ii a yawn, opened it io the most tndo lent and indifferent manner possible, but bad n*t read a dozen words, before he came up with a start, turned deadly paie, and trembled so that the paper rattled. He finished the note —for it. was rather a nore than a letter—worked one hand nerv ousiy at his throat, and with the other clasped his forehead and temples. For a minute or two he seemed to be choking in to calmness, by an iron will, some terrible emotion, and be so far succeeded as to ad dress the waiting servant in an ordinary tone. •James,' he said, 'who gave you this let ter ?' 'A man, sir, as said he'd wait for an an swer.' 'Then I suppose he is waiting.' 'Yes, sir.' 'Very well, show him in.' 'Soon there was a lignt tap on the door, and the banker said 'come in,' in an ordi nary tone. Ihe servant opened the door, ushered in the stranger, aud immediately withdrew. I fie latter was a man verging on sixty, of rough appearance and coarse attire. He wore an old grey overcoat, buttoned to the throat, and a pair of green goggles, and bis whole dress was saturated with rain 'lake a seat,' said the banker, pointing to a chair near the fire. 'No, thank you, 1 11 stand, was the gruff reply. *\ou got my letter, and of course kuow my business,' he added. •You allude to this, I suppose,' replied the banker, producing the letter which had caused him so much perturbation 'Yes.' 'I do not understand itj you must have made a mistake.' 'No j no mistake at all I was present twenty years ago, come the tenth day of October, and saw you, Stepheu Edwards, shoot the man, and if you go to deny it, I'll have you in prison before morning. I've laid my plans, and got everything sure, aud if you go to playing innocent, and refusiug my terms, I'll take care to see that you die stretching hemp.' 1 he banker, in spite of himself, turned pale, shuddered, and staggered to a seat 'YY hat do you want?" he groaned 'A huodred thousand dollars—not one cent less.' 'I cannot give it— it would ruin me ' 'Just as you say.' rejoined the other, moving towards the door, 'you know what will follow if I go this way.' 'Oh, stay, you must not go yet!' cried the man of crime, in terrible alarm. He argued, urged, pleaded, implored for mercy at a less fearful cost In vain. At last the banker—seeing ruin, disgrace and death before him if he refused—agreed to the terms. He also agreed to meet the stranger, with the required sum, on the following night, in front of St Paul's Church. Both were punctual to the fixed time, and hills and checks to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars, changed hands A month later there was a tremendous run on the bank of which Stephv J Edwards was the principal owner. It was soon broken and closed. Then the sheriff was set to work by eager creditors, and all the real estate and personal property of the lafe millionaire was seized and s< Id, leav ing him a beggar, and the just claims un satisfied. Fashionable friends deserted the family, and the proud nobleman refu sed the hand of a ruined banker's daugh ter. In the very midst of this disgrace and tribulation, Stephen Edwards encountered the man who had turned so pale and be cnine so agitated in his presence a short time before. 'l rather think you do not know axe, sir,' said the geiitieuau, with a forma! 'Your face seeuis somewhat familiar, but yet 1 cannot piacc you,' returned Edwards. 'Permit me to briug myself to vour recollection, then, as I wish you to know me. A little more than six weeks ago, I was talking with you cn business, and you observed that 1 turned deadly pale, and became agitated?' 'Ah, yes, I remember you now.' 'Let me tell you why 1 was thus affect ed. My eye had just chanced upon a cur.ous watch seal which had belonged to a merchant, named Philip Sidney, who W3s shot in the western part of this State some twenty years ago; and on looking at your features closely, I knew you to be the villain who had perpetrated the foul deed !' 'Merciful God ! exclaimed the hanker, with a blanched face and quaking form. •Yes, I knew you,' pursued the other; 'arid a week after, I disguised myself and had an interview with you in your own mansion \ou would certainly remember that?' 'Hut,' gasped the trembling wretch, 'did I not pay you your own price to keep my fatal secret?' 'Yes, and with that very money, and what other I could command, I was ena hied to buy up enough of your own bills to make that run upon your hank wuich broke it and forced rum upon you.' 'And what would you nuw that I am ruined?' inquired the other, with the deadly Calmness of desperation. 'Now that I have uiy revenge, I want you to know that I, myself, am the uiao you attempted to murder, and did rob! 1 urn Phvip Sidney! Hehold the sear where the bali struck and glauced !' and he lifted his hat and showed it. 'God be praised !' ejaculated the other, 'God bo praised tbaf you are still living!' and unable to restrain his emotion, he burst into tears. 'Oh, sir,' he continued, 'you have taken a load off my conscieuce —a weight from my soul! Though pov erty, beggary, disgrace and death are sta ring :ue in the face, I am happy in the knowledge that I am not guilty of murder —happier thai 1 have been tor twenty years, with all the luxurious surrounding ot wealth. It was my first and last crime, and I have never been able to tell how I was tempted to so outrage my nature as on that fearful occasion. Now, sir, do with me what you will—only, I pray you, be merciful to my innocent family.' 'I forgive you,' returned the other, extending his hand. 'I forgive you. You have been fearfully punished already And as God has seen proper to preserve us both and bring us together, let us hope it is for our present and future salvation, and ler us endeavor so to live as to deserve the blessingi we receive. I will restore you enough to place you and your family above want; and for the rest, I trust we shall both remember we shall soon have to render an account of our stewardship in another world.' Philip Sidney kept his word; and with a fresh start in the world, and now an easy conscience, the still enterprising Ste phen Edwards accumulated another res pectable fortune, much of which he spent in charity. Philip Sidney died in 1847, and Ste phen Edwards in 1851. Is not truth indeed strange —stranger than fiction ! The most cheerful and soothing of all fireside melodies are the blended tones of a ericket, a tea-kettle, and a loving wife. amrassTOWsja SEEHHL-ES? ipssrsra lORMMEMGIOOI The Fearful Chasm I remember once reading of a fearful chasm in some uninhabited section of coun try, so deep and dark and awful, that the strongest nerved could not look down into it without a shudder of horror. Few could ever be induced to take a second look into the yawning abyss. A single glance was often sufficient to suspend for the time, all the powers ol life. Have you not often pictured such a view to your mind, and almost involuntarily dwelt upon it until a tremor seized your soul? Perhaps in the lonesome midnight such a thought has come to your mind, the darkness making it more real. You have thought yourself to be standing on the very brink of such a tearful chasm, and the cry of horror has almost broken from your tips. What a joy it was to open your eyes and catch even a single ray of starlight that would reassure you of safety in your peaceful tiome. Oh, mother, how would it freeze your blood to see your beloved child standing in such a place of peril. And yet this is hut the faintest image of the dunger in which every unconverted soul is placed. 'Their feet stand upon slippery places, and fiery billows roll beueath them.' You know it all, and yet you smile, and chat, and idle away the precious hours, as if no thought of peril ever crossed your mind. If death is a solemn, fearful thing, is not lite still more so, since all of eternity hangs upon it? Is not one who can trifle with it far more inexcusable than he who would sport ou the edge of a fearful preci- pice ? Yet we should count the latter a madman, while the former causes us not even a momentary surprise. YY'e should not hesitate to warn those wc saw uncon- sctousiy standing on the verge of this dark chasm, even though we knew at the mo ment they would not desire to have their songs of mirth interrupted. YY'e know that when the danger in all its magnitude is once comprehended, they will bless us for ever for the timely arresting of their foot steps. 'I 'will meet you at the bar of God and condemn you there,' were the awful words of a dying sinner to one who had been the means of his destruction, and yet in whose hands at one time his future destiny seem ed placed. Oh, are there auy who wilj rise up in the judgment to condemn us ' —Sunday Si hool Times. MiimuMioniT The Approach to Atlanta. THE REBEL DEFENCES IN GEORGIA. The defences created by Johnston's ar my in Georgia, rendered useless by the in cessaut flank movements of Sherman's forces, are deseiibed by correspondents as exceedingly formidable. A letter in the Cincinnati Commercial, dated July 8, says : 'As we approach Atlanta they steadiiy grow upon us—line alter line is uncovered i_v our forward march, each more elaborate and irresistible—irresistible by all save Sherman's army—thau the last. Imagine ail the country hetweeu the Ailatoona mountains and the Chattahoochee river ploughed into huge ridges, on an average once in every five miles—continuous cribs built of rails and poles, or oftener of huge logs, twelve miles long—fiiied with dirt wrenched out from the clenched roots of a Georgia forest —four feet high and six feet wide, running through the thickest woods and cleared fields aiii- e, always two, often er three, and sometimes even five Hues deep, and all finished perfectly and polish ed, the trenches cut down square and true and the parapets shaped as if with the square and plummet—and you have a faint conception of the maze of Rebel fortitiea tions through which this army has fought aud flanked its way thus far into the Con federacy. My tent stands to night within five yards of the huge wrinkle of earth erected by desperate Rebels immediately after their abandonment of Kenesaw—the second from the river—and in coming to it 1 rode for hours between their first and second main lines, ruuning aloug on top of a ridge just over against that on which were our own, and truly it seemed more the work of Titans or infernal gods than of any mere men. •The pervading terror with which our artillery has inspired the Rebel imagina tions was well illustrated by the numerous pits dug just inside the breastworks, and roofed over with logs and earth to shed the fierce iron rain which poured upon them both when they slept uuu when tuey wait ed. The neglected cornfields were plough ed for weeks, and I have seen, at least in one case, an oak tree fifteen inches in di ameter and quite souud, broken off twenty feet from the ground and the top lying on the ground, froai the effects of a single shell four iuches in diameter passing through it. Who shall dispute the discretion of burrowing in the ground when such mis siles are flying carelessly about ? •You should hear the sympathizing re marks made by our boys as they pass these works, which they got by a 'flank/ with out auy loss, in commiseration of the 'John nies' who worked so hard to make them, and never had the opportunity to fire a New Series—Vol. XVIII. No. 39. musket shot from behind them. It is one I ol the humorsomo phases ot this grim bus iness of making war; and the substantial effects of marching the men by such works, which were won by strategy and common sense instead of hard fighting, go tar to cheer the spirits ol those who are jaded from the long campaign.' 'Such a Ratter ' A correspondent furnishes an amusing account ot his experience with a terrier whi.'h he bought from a dealer on reoom tr-eidaiiun that he was'such a ratter.' He had some trouble at first in getting a rat on which to try his 'pup ' He succeeded at last, and says: However, the next day I was so fortu nate as to secure from a boy in the mark et a fine old line bob tailed rat, whose fu rious efforts to chaw everything within reach gave promise of glorious sport to ; Nip. Took the rat home, called my dog and told my wife that if she wanted to see the way terriers did rats, to come down in the basement. She came down and shut the door, just in time, too, for as soon as Nip saw the rat, he, Nip, my ratter, for which I paid the old gent five dollars, made : a most unmistakably cowardly movement toward the hall.—Wife on a chair, said the dog did not appear to see the rat. Told wife to keep her breath. Thought I would not give Nip any reason tor Dot seeing the rat again; so I tied the string that held the rat to the dog's hind leg. He saw the rat that time, and jumped on the chair by my wife. Wife laughed and shoved him off. Tried the stove next Got off the stove without being shoved, i The rat, however, an old stager, and not I being used to such treatment, made a dem | onstration on Nip's rear, and I don't be lieve little Flora Temple ever made better time in the same limits than that dog and rat made around the room. First beat, dog had the lead, closely fol lowed by the rat, who on striking the balf rnile pole (footstool in the corner) broke badly, in fact nearly broke his back, and before he could be brought down, (he was i sliding on his back,) dog led him the whole length of the string. Didn't stop for wind, but started on the second heat. Got off well together (tied) and went finely around, neck and tail, until they reached the judge's stand, (wife "standing on a chair,) against which dug brought up solid, bring ing the judge down in a style pre-eminent ly sudden, if net dignified. That heat was decidedly against the dog, you may bet, and it was only after much persuasion that the judge would again take her stand. The third heat may be termed a dead heat. They got off as well apart as the dog conveniently could, and sailed lively i until just as they struck the last quarter, i when the rat, which ran about as well on i his back as on his legs, shied the track, and got rather queerly wound round a ta -1 ble leg. Dog kept on as fast as the string and length of his hind leg would let him. j On raising the rat be was found to be non compos, totally defunct, in fact dead. Nip I was not much better. Wife said that dog couldn't kill mice. Told her had certainly killed that rat; but in viewing the (eat in a scientific light, I must ; confess I did not feel quite satisfied with ' the performance of my pet, and the next morning gave him away to a milkman who i wanted a ratter to free his stable from the ; depredations of the vermin. I have not been able to ascertain which left him first, the rats or the dog. There is a tree in front of General Har i row's Fourth Division, Fifth Army Corps, : Sherman's Army, which is called the fatal tree. Eight men were shot, one after an- I other, as soon as they advanced to the ill j fated tree, to take a position behind its huge trunk. Seven men were shot, when a board was placed there with the word 'Dangerous' chalked upon it. The rebels shot the guide board iu fragments, and a sergeant took his place behind the unsuspecting tree. In less than five min utes two Minnie balls pierced the sergeant's body, aud he fell, the eighth martyr, be neath the shadow of the tree of death. A mischievous boy in Portland is said to have lately tied a couple of cats together by their tails and hung them on a clothes dryer, in order that he might have the sat isfaction of seeing them 'fight it out on s ! line ' General Sturgis, whose name has figur ed so conspicuously iu 'he papers recently, was horn and reared in Ehippensburg, Cum berland cuuuty, Pennsylvania. I SADDLES, HARNESS, SuT /V - The subscriber having now en ( la. band one of the best and largest . stocks between Philadelphia and j Pittsburgh, in order to aeconr> modate business to the times, offers for tale complete assortment of baddies. Harness, Bridies, Collars Irak*. Whips, Hames, Valises, Carpet Bags, which are offered for sale low for cash, or ap proved credit. Among his stock will be found some high ly finished sets of light Harness equal to any manufactured, , Let all in want of good articles, made by experienced workmen, give him a call. JOHN DAVIS. Lewistown, April 19, 1860.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers