% Jfamilj flcbspitptr io politics, foperantt, literature, Stieitce, ®jjc HJccjraiitcs, Agriculture, ®jie Utarlids, ®>iieatiatr, J|ntuscuteitt, (general Intelligence, #e., J. S. & J. J. BRISBIN, YOLTJME 26, fjic Centre Democrat. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY J.S. & J. J. BRISBIN. Office in the Arcade Building, Second Floor, Terms. $1,50 if paid in advance or within six months after subscribing,otherwise $2 will invari ably be charged. No subscriptions received tor 1 shorter period than six months and none dis jontinued, unless at the option of the editor, until all arrearages are naid. BUSINESS CARDS. TVF'AE BISTER & BEAVER IYI. AIXOKNEYej-AT-LAW, Bellkfontb, PA Office on Allegheny Street. Feb. 10 59 EM.BE A N C HA RD- , -AT-LaW, Bbllkomtk, Fess a. Office formrly occupied by the Hon. James Burnside. Jan. 19, *6o.—tf. WT W BROWN- \TTORNEY-AT fV . LAW BeLi.LVoHTK, Pknna. Will attend to all legal business entrusted to him, with prompt ness. May, 5 '59. TAS. 11. RANKIN, ATTORNEY-at fj LAW, JjELttruNTS, Pa. will attend prompt ly to all legal business entrusted to hiai. Office next door to tne Post Office- [Sipt. 20, '6O, tf WM. P.WILSON-ATTORNEY-AT -LAW Bjsllfustk, Pa , will promptly at tend to all legal business entrusted to him. Offioo three doors North of tho diamond. jan.l2'6o 1? J. HOCK MAN ; SURVEYOR AND Jui, CONVEYANCER, Bkllefostk, Pa., will attend to and correctly execute all businesi en trusted te him. [Juno 14,-'6O, — tf. TFFIU. It. POTTERTM. D. OFFICE on High street, (oldoffice.) Bellefonte Pa. Will attend to professional calls as heretofore, and respectfully offers his professional services his friends and the public. 0ct.26'58 C A. FA Tit LA MB, M. T>. .MS. A. DOBBINS, M. D FAIRL MSB & DOBBINS. DR. FAIRLAM'3 has associated with him DR J. 11. DUBBIN .in the practice of medicine A tlice as heretofore ou bishop street, opposite tho temperance Hotel. March 19.57. W~M. REIBER, SURGEON AND PilYoiUiAN, having permanently located offers his Professional services to the citizens of l'iue Grove Mills and vicinity, and respectfully oalicits a liberal portion of the public patronage. [Feb. 16, '6o.—ly. J. J. EINGEE. Operative ,and Mechanical Doutist, will prac- RcCTnr tieo all the various branches of his profession in the most approved manner. Office and residence on Spring Pa, [Mnv. ?. '6O. tf. TAMES RIDDEE. ATTOKNEY-AT fj LAW, BKLLBFO.NT.Is Pa. Will atttend to all business entrusted to him with caro and prompt ness. Refer to Gov. Pollock, Milton Pa. and Hod. A. G. Curtin, Bellefonte Pa. Office with John H. Eiover Jan. 5, '6O. J IE MIJFFEV7 Agent fob th , West Branch Insurance Company. Per sons wishing to secure themselves from losses by lire will do weli to call upon him at the store of J. It. Muftly ened a Barber Shop one door above the Frank *l House, where he can be found at all times.— ood Razors, keen and sharp, kept constantly on ' and. Hair Dressing, Nhampooning, r emptied, and Hub ert was just stepping ou!, when hark ! What aound was thai which made his cheek pale ? It was the rushing of water. The next mo ment he caught sight of a stream forcing itself through the fissure in the mountain close to the shaft! Hubert's long experi ence instantly showed them their full danger. It was not a feeblo oozing stream, but a mighty pressure of wa'er that had found its outlet here. They would be overwhelmed— lost! " One foot was yet in tha bucket—a jerk at the rope would save him. But though death stared him in the face, he could not sacrifice others to save himself J Quickly jumping out he seized blind Victor, and plac ed him in the bucket, saying quickly, as he jerked the rope : " ' Tell them the water has burst in. and we are probab'y lost ; but we will seek ref uge at the farther end of the right gallery Say farewell to our poor friends.' In a mo ment he was gone, and with him Hubert's only certainty of escape from a terrible death. " The mine consisted of a long nsrrow passage, on all sides deep caves from which the coal had been dug, Tbe men were all at tbe end of the mine, hewing out the solid mountain, unconcious of danger. Hubert quickly made his war along tbe dark pas sage, followed by the swift spreading water, t>n 1 reached his fellow-workmen with a dread ful intelligence. It was a moment for panic, when each would have rushed to certain death in a vain effort to save himself. . But looking firmly into iheir ghastly faces, the master spoke a few encouraging sentences : " 'Follow my words, lads, and be quick— our picks may save us• " Then came a few steady, quick com mands, to hollow a new chamber above the level of the water would probably reach.— The men obeyed in silence, though eaeh knew not but that he might be digging his own grave. A hundred pairs of hands soon finished the work, and into the cave a hun dred men crowded to await their death of an almost impossible chance of relief. The water gradually filled the old avenues and chambers, and then seemed stayed. Never was a situation more dreadful. No more than a day's provisions had been saved, and already two or three of their number had been killed by the falling rocks, while hastily digging their own chamber. Tbe long dis mal hours, with no change to mark them, brought only the auvance of almost certain death. " Courage, brave Hubert! God, who saw thy noble sacrifice, will help thee ! " The terrified friends and townsmen, on hearing Victor's dreadful news, ran wildly about in hopeless panic. But soon guided by tbe message Hubert bad Bent, they com menced working a new shaft as near as pos sible to tbe spot where the* hopeless men might be. Five days and nights they toiled, digging deeper and deeper into the side of the mountain. "' It is a vain task/ said the men. But —NO EARTHLY POWER SHALL DRIVE US FROM OUR POSITION the women cried, 'Do not cease. God will help us,' "At length, on the morning of the sixth day the muffled sound of blows from within met the ears of the workmen in the shafi.— A signal ran along the rope, and told the sews to the waiting multitude above, who rent the air with joyful shouts. Soon a com munication was made. They were saved —at least some were saved. " Who can imagine the feelings of the un fortunate men, buried five days and nights, without food, when first the day gleamed ia upon them, revealing a human face ! " Of a hundred who had been imprisoned over seventy survived, and with them Hu bert. Without him, indeed, probably no one would have been spaied to tell the story. "This noble act, done in a place Hnd at a moment whan no praise of men eould have been looked for, echoed throughout Europe, and obtained the praise and gratitude of the world. The ten thousand miners of Lirge hailed their fellow laborer with delight and pride. Napoleon beard and admired in kis palace at paris, and sent a leward to the peasant nobleman. He sent him his Cross of Honor, the mark which all the high and great coveted, and, better still, offered bim a pension which raised hiin above want for the rest of his life." When God unfolds io heaven the secret charity of men, many such heroes shall stand revealed, whom tbe earth ani the wave have covered, sending no testimony to the world. Their Father who seeth in secret shall re ward them openly. Autumn. How melancholy, and jet how beautiful, is now the face of nu.ure. What a splendid variety does she present to the eye in the coloring of the foiest. and what a lovelv spec tacle in the brilliant amber of tbo evening sky—fading as it ascends into tbe deep, roft azure of the cerulean vault of heaven. The clouds, too, of every shape, burnished with melted gold, and hanging lazily aluve the western horrizon, give splendor to the dying glories of departing day. But the forest— ah 1 who can print the rich and beautiful tints of the foliage, seen by tho mellow light of an autumnal sun ? Amidst the rich brown and sombre green may be perceived " the eear aud yelloy leaf," harmonizing with the hues around it, but indicating the gradual decay of vegetable life. How still, and calm' and me'ancholy, is this landscape—and how pensive is the feeling it produces ! To Mil ton, Thomson, and some other men of geni* us, this was the favorite season of inspira tion— as if, while they contemplated the de caying beauties of nature, they experienced a warmer glow of imagination, and a deeper, richer, and more luxurious gush of soul.— Its livery is certainly splendid, but its moral associations are not calculated, in some minds, to beget that toDc i f feeling which is to be coveted. The idea that the desolation of all that'was gay,and beautiful, and lovely, in the vegetable kingdom is rapidly approach ing, is apt to spread a gloom over the mind which it cannot resist, and which mars the pleasures that its varied charms would oth erwise produce. It reminds us of the deso lation of winter—of the end of life: and to many this is not a subject of pleasing con templation, though it may bo a necessary acd salutary one. " Han ner is, bo t always tu be bloat." In the spring of life a thousand brilliant phantoms play before his intellectual vision, a thousand forms of anticipated pleasure flutter before his imagination ; a sunny ra diance surrounds bis whole being, and "Hope enchanted smiLs, and waves her golden hair." He lives in a world o: enchantment, in a fairy land, where every object is gilded with the golden bues of imagination. "He 100k 9 on the fasbionings of poetry as the embodied essence of a bright and all radiant substance; every sweet rosied thought is a pleasant song to bis dreaming, a shrined sanctity to his mind; and be thinks DOI of tbe coming clouds that are to darken the bright sunny surface of his existence. A few short years roll over his head, and all these sweot, poet, ic, and rapturous visions pass away. He feels tbe dull realities of lite—and encoun ters the turmoil, business and cares of the world. The friends of his youth have sunk into the graye, or become his enemies or ri vals ; tbe realization of bis dreams has dis appointed him, or be discovers them to be vain and unsatisfying. lie finds mankind cold and heartless—each seeking his own in. terest, and trampling upon him wbo stands in bis way, cr checks his career. Ue feels that life is a dull routine of sickly joys, insi pid pleasures, and splendid miseries ; and his mind, soured by disappointment, and sickened with the world, looks forward at last to the real and undyiDg glories of futu rity, It is well that it is so. An entire freedom from pain and misery, and an unin terrupted succession of enjoyments, would render the bare idea of quitting life too pain, ful to be endured, and preolude all hope of preparation for a future state. Heaven in its wisdom has strewed the path of life with thorns as well as roses, that, in this scene of probationary trial, the future may not be lost in the enjoyment of the present, and that the great end of human existence, a preparation for that boundless eternity to wnich we are all hastening, may bo accomplished. The English Prince of America The visit of the Prince of Wales to this country, is at least, an important event in his own life, and a very interesting one to every sovereign. As heir of the British crown, be is entitled to a national welcome amrng us, and is but decently courteous and polite in our government to give him so much. As a Prince most likely to reign over the mort powerful kingdom of the world, and the kingdom to which we are so nearly allied by blood, language and reli gion ; a common origin and a common histo ry, up to a time within the memory of men still living, he should be well received by us. As the son and heir of a most virtuous queen, the wisdom and harmony of whose reign, and the love and happiness of whose subjects have been the glory of the age, we would gladly show him through our country, and explaiu our institutions.* But while aocording so much, let us remember tho dignity of man hood for which our fathers contended. We have no sympathy with that spirit of snob bery which forgets God to do obsequious hoDor to a prince. We do not believe in the "divine right of kings," nor do wo recognize the prcstigo of birth. It is the fundamental doctrine of republicanism to repudiate one man's inherent right to ride upon the backs of other men. Our fathers established a doctrine in the Revolution; our institutions embody and perpetuate it. Let us remem ber, then, that we owe to this prince a kind ly greeting, but not a survile homage, either social or political. We owe so much to him, not because he is a prince of the blood, but for the reason that, in one sense, ho is the ruler elect over a great nation made up of men like ourselves. Mothers By the quiet fireside of homo the true mother, ia the midst of her children, is sow ing, as in vases of earth, the seeds of plants that shall sometime give to Heaven the fra grance of their blossoms, and whose fruit will be rosary of angelic deeds—the noblest offer ing that she ean make through tbe ever as cending and ever expanding souls of her children to her Maker, Every word that she utters goes from heart to heart with a pow er which she little dreams. Solemn is the thought, but not more solemn to the Christ ian mother than the thought that every word that falls from the 'ips, every expression of her countenance, even in the sheltered walk, and retirement., may leave an indelible im pression upon the young souls around her> and form, as if it were, the underlying strata of that education which peoples heaven with celestial beings, and gives to the white brow of the angel, next to the grace of Uod, its crown of glory.— Traveller. A Word to the Boys God puts tha oaks in the forest, and th# pine on its sand and rrck, and says to men. "There are your houses, go hew, saw, frame, build the house." God builds the trees ; men must build the houses. God sup plies the timber; men must construct the ship. God buries the iron in the heart of the earth ; men must dig it, smelt it, and fash ion it. What is useful lor the body, and still more, what is useful for the mind, is it to be had only by exertion—exertion that will work men more than iron is wrought, that will shape men more than timber is shaped. Clay and rock is given us, not brick or square stones. God gives us no clothes ; he gives us flax, and cotton, and sheep. If! we" would have coats to our backs, we must take them off our flocks, and spin tbens and weave them. If we would have anything good and useful, we must earn it. Thoughts and Facts. Keep yourself from the anger of a great man, from tbe tumult of a mob, from a man of ill-fame, from a widow that has been thrice married, from a wind that comes in at a hole, and from a reconciled enemy. A righteous man regardetb tbe life of bis beast! but tbo tender mercies of tbe wicked are cruel. Lawyers' pockets are lined with tbe will fullness of their clients. It is not the burden, but tbe over-burden, that kills the beast! It is bard to bring cut of the flesh wbat is bted in the boDe. If pride were an art, there would be many teachers. You need net get a golden pen to write upon dirt. THS HAPPY LAND.—Some " feller," (we think it was a morning newspaper typo) with a hankering after an elysium, thus "sighs his soul away:" " Oh, is there not a happy land— A land beyond the seas— Where pot pie smokes in boundless lakes, And dumplings grow on trees ? Where gingerbread is found in staoks, And smearcase by tbe ton, And when you do a job of work You get the " ready John ?" Where Nature's lessons may be read, In every babbling brook? Where bumble bees don't sting a chap, And muley cows don't hook ?" J6@" Better come at the later end of a feast than the beginning of a fray. 4b" * •• The New-born and the Dead. Lavater, in his "Physiognomy," makes the following curious remarks:—"l have had occasion to observe some infanta imme diately on their birth, and have found an as tonish iDg resemblance between their profile and that of their father. A few days after, the resemblance almost entirely disappeared; the Datural influence of the air and food, and probably the change of posture, has so "altered the design of the face, that JjU c mid have believed it a different individual. 1 af* terwards saw two of these children die, the one at six weeks and the other at four years of age—and about twelve hours after their death they completely recovered the profile which had struck me so much at their birth ; only the profile of the dead child was, as might be expected, more strongly marked and more terse t ian that of the living. The third day their resemblance began to disap pear. I knew a man of fifty years, and an other of seventy, both of whom, when alive, appeared to have no manner of resemblance to their children, and whose physiognomies belonged, iflmay so express myself, to a totally different class. Two days after their death the profile of one beoame perfectly conformed to that of his eldest son, aod tbe image of tbe other father might bo traced in the third of his sons. The likeness was quite as distinctly marked as that of the children, who, immediately after their death, brought to my recollection the physiognomies which they had at their birth." A Bi*ter. He who has never known a sister's kind ministrations, nor felt his heart warming be neath her endearing smile and It ve-heauiing eye, have been unfortunate indeed. It is no 1 to be wordered if tbe fountains of jftare feel ing flow in bis bosom but sluggishly, or if the gentler emotions of his nature be lost in the srerner attributes of manhood. "That rnaa has grown up among kind and affectionate sisters," we onoo heard a lady of much observation and experiance remark. "And why do you think so ?" said we, "Because of the rich development of all the tenderer and more refined feelings of the heart, which are as apparent in every word.'' A sister's influence is felt eyen in man hood's later years ; and the heart of him who has growc cold in its chilling contract with the world, will warm and thrill with pure enjoyment, us sumo incident awakes within him the soft tones and glad meiodus ol his sister's And he will turn from pur poses which a wraped and false philosophy has reasoned into expediency, and even weep for the gentler influences which moved him in bis earlier years. Tu .MAS IIOOI>AND HIS WIFE.—I never was anything .dearest, till I knew you—and I have been a better, happier and more pros perous man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, sweetest, and remind me of it when I tali. lam writing warmly and fond ly; but not without good eause. First, your own affectionate letter, lately received—next, the remembrances of our dear children, pledges—what darling ones !—of our old fa miliar love—then a delicious impulse to pour out the overflowings of my heart into yours —and last, not least, the knowledge that your dear eyes will read what my bands are now writing. Porliaps there is an after thought that, whatever may befall me, the wife of my bosom will have this acknowl edgement of her tenderness—worth—excel lence—all that is wifely or womanly, from my pen.— Memorials of llood. Fellow Travelers "Will you help me out of this mud hole ?" said a traveling druggist, who had just been compelled to stop his team in a mud hole, because his horses could not pull it out. "No, I can't stop," said the Yankee, who was heavily loaded, and was fearful that he would be too late for tho cars. "I would take it as a great favor, besides paying you," said the druggist. "What are you loaded with ?" asked the Yankee. "Drugs and medicines," said he. "I guess I'll try to get you out, theD, for I am loaded with tombstones." They were seen traveling together, after :hat. fl®* "What do you call this ?*' said Jones, ;apping his breakfast lightly with his fork; " Call it," snerled the landlord, " what do you call it ?" "Well, really," said Jones, "I don't know. It hasn't quite hair enough in it for plaster, bat there is a little too much in it for hash." Once upon a time, an Irishman and a negro were fighting, and when gabbling with each other, the Irishman exclaimed : "Ye divil of a black nagurl cry "enough' or I'll fight till I die !" •'So'll boss I" snug out tho darkey, "I always does." PETTER AS GOOT. —"My German friend, how long have you been married?" "Veil, dis a ting vat I don't seldom like to tauk apout; but ven I does, it seems to be so lung as it never was." red, white and blue—the red cheeks, the white teeth, and blue eyes of a lovely girl, are as good a flag as a young sol dier ia the battle ol life need fight under. EDITOES & PEOPIIIETORS. NUMBER 44 Beards. Five years ago, or thereabouts, u-man who had the courage to wear a full beard was a rarity, indeed ; but a change has come over the mind* of men and their faces too ! Now, a man without a beard, nearly or quite fuV.i is a rarity. This is un evidence of progress, which is exceedingly gratifying, inasmuch as it pri ves that the progress of eouud senst, when its attention is turned to ft subject, though slow, is generally sura. Alsny an individual, who a few years ago would as soon have gooe down town undressed, as uu-> shaven, now uses the scissors only, and be lieves that tljo person who invented razors libelled nature and added fresh misery to the days of man. "Ah!" eaid Diognes, wko would never consent to be shaved, "would you insinuate that nature had done better to make you a woman than a man!' Very few of the most rabid advocates of razors are aware that our fathers were seduced from the good old natural and manly habits of wearing the full beard and moustache, bv that foolish fashion which originated in il.o fact that Louis XIII. ascended the throne of France when only nine years old, and his courtiers shaved themselves out of foppish adulation to his beardless face. Previous to this time the customs of most nations had been various, but for the most part beards were generally worn, and if they were shayed at all, tha practice was not of long continu ance. Beards, moustaches, and whiskers, have always been most important additions to the face, and the true method of putting the question with regard to the beard, is to ask what is nearest nature and simplest.— Whatever that maybe, men ought to like best, and will like best, as a matter of taste, withe ut regard to the accidental mode of the moment. The time has been, when our di vines would not dare to enter the pulpit un shaven, and many of them have thought it uncomely to wear a heard, but what would these same say wero our Savior to revisit the earth in the costume of a modern diviue, with smooth face, and stiff collar with a while cravat ? We find that many divines are beginning to join in the grand movement for tho restoration of the natural ornauenc of the faue, and their pews still well filled, notwithstanding a few old fogies, male and female, have again and again declared that ttiey would not listen to a minister with a ( beard on his face. To those who object to baards because they are uncomely, it may be replied, that whatever is natural is always more comely than that which is unnatural. The mere fact, that our eyes very goon get accustomed to that which is unnatural, docs not prove that the absence of a beard adds to j the beauty of a man. If the beard is worn, we shall become accustomed to it, and what ' at first may seem uncomely, we shall gradu- yj ally coma to admire, for the reason that a ! simple adherence to nature is always plea sing. The beard and moustache movement I is one in the right direction, proving that men are beginning to appreciate beauty, aiad fl to acknowledge that Nature is the best valet, 1 There was a time when it was thought a pre- J sumption aud vanity to wear oue's own Lair 1 instead of the frightful elaborations of the I wig makers, and who knows, that at somo 1 future age, some one may not ridicule this wearing of one's own teeth instead of tho C dentist's ? At any rate, Nature knows best, and no man need be ashamed of showing his man hood in the bair of bis face if it bo well kept and not fantastically cut. The moustache should be kept within limits, and the style of t! e beard should be adopted to suit the faec. A broad face should wear a large full one; a long face is improved by a sharp pointed one. As to whiskers, it is not every man that can achieve a pair of full length. There is certainly a great variety about tbem, but it may be generally said, that foppishness should be avoided in this as in most other points. Above all, the whiskers should nev er be curled nor pulled out to an absurd length. Still worse it is to cut them close with the scissors, The moustache should bs neat and not too large, and such fopperies as curling the points of it, or twisting them up to the fineness of a needle, are decidedly a proof of vanity. If a man wears the hair on . his face, wxich nature has given him in tho manner that nature distributes it, keeps it clsan, and prevents its overgrowth, he oan not do wrong. And from the large and in creasing number of those who now wear the full beard, we are convinced that wo are not alone in our opinion. Anecdote of Franklin. A young person onee mentioned to Doctor Franklin his surprise that the pooesbiun of riches should ever be attended with undue solicitude, and intanced a merchant, who in possession of unbounded wealth, was as busy, end much mors anxious, than the most industriouac'.erk in his counting-house. The doctor, in reply, took an apple irom a basket, and presented it to child in the room, who could hardly grasp it in his hand. He then gave him a second, which filled the other; and choosing a third, remarkable for its size, he offered it also. The child, after many ineffectual attempts to hold the three appels, dropped tho lost on the carpet, and burst into tears. "See,', said the doctor, "there is a tittle man with more riches thau he can epjoy." \