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.