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s, W. ALVOR D, Pub Heber.
ivr J. YOUNG,
•.A T TOR SE A L A IV,
ofc wcond door south of the First National
A Msln SI., up stair,
4 TTORNEY,Ti T-LAW
pyre--Rmins formerly occupied by T. M. C. A
AVILLIAMS. & ANGLE,
FFIC E.—Formerly occupied by Wm. Watkins,
- (Oct. 17, '77) E. .1. ANGLY
IMc - PHERSON, • .
e - ,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR,ILT-LAW,.
-,e s ,;,r a. ri Mc e over Bartlett & Tracy, Mal n-at.
(ao'77) ARTDVE HEAD
Office with Smith 4 Mpntinje. • rtiovll.7s
' l- "! ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
Stmet (4 (loots north of Ward flouBel,
rvSla. Pa. (April 12, 1877.
NiT" IL THOMPgON, ATTORNEY
AT LAW. WYALUSING, rA. Will attend
10111 budness entrusted to his care In Bradford,
sl:hveu and Wyoming Counties. Office wllh Esq.
toner. . [novl9-74.
o. tl4-75. TOWANDA, PA.
11 L. LAMB,
. WILKES-BARRE; PA.
Collections promptly attended to.
JOHN I. MIX,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
11. S. COMMISSIONER, -.
Orllce—North Side Public Square. 4
Jan. A, 1 . 875
DAViES Sr, CARNOCHAN,_
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
SOUTH SI PE OF WARD HOUSE.
I)rc 23-75. TOWANDA. PA.
iPR. S. M. WOGDBURNp.rhysi
clan and Surgeon. Office - over 0. A. Slack's
,Th:ry store. _
Towanda, May 1, 15T2,1y..
3I ADILL & CALIFF ,
1, , 70e In Ncee4's Block, first door sout - a of the PIA
Sac tonal bank, up-stairs. • -
IL -I. MADILL. r fang-731y) J. N. CALIFF
4 uiDLRy & PAYNE,
with side Mermir IllocifYrooms formerly occupied
by IMciesACaruochan), •
JAMES WOOD, - vo-f •
TO Afi DA. PA.
CIiAS. M. lIALL,
Attorney-at-Law and Notary,
give careful attention to any I.nsine9s entrust
him. (Mine with Patrick & Foyle, (over
/ ( tffice), Towanda, Pa. (.1 utte7l7.
JOHN F. SANDERSON,
OF Fl CE.—Watis Building (over rowelFs Store
m ch 946 / TOVISVNDA, PA.
S. .W. & Wm. LITTLE,
AT TOR NE YS , -A.T-L ASV, TOW4NDA , P
ty.e over Decker's Provision Store, Main S:tree
7T4lvran4a, ea„ April 18.
1 EORGE D. STROUD,
erok.r . R'y AND COUNSELLo D-AT-L
nl.(—Maiu r st., four do . ors North of Ward Isouso
rractlees In Supreme Court
l'onosylv r 3nla mid
.linited - TOWANDA,,PA
- TOWANDA, PA
OVERTON & MERCITR,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
orVetTer Vontanyes Stgre. imay67s
Irk. °I/EVI'ON. RODNEY A. 'MERE lal.
\ V t., MAXWELL,
FrICE °VMS DATTOiVd STORy., TOW - ANDA, PA
A; , l - 11 12,1676
u 9,,, In 3teiciir's'Block
A T T , J ENE 1 & COUNSELLOR—A T—LAW.
tee Dyer Crkl34 . 11110 k Store, two`thrxtre north of
en. k I.o * hrt. Towanda. Pa. May be &insulted
April 12, *N.)
(i E itTos,k, ELSIIREE,Arroa-
Ll • kT VW, ti,WAL N Having en
loto c. , partnershlp, offer thelr,profeaslonal
lo no. 1.1.1,11,.. Special attentVon given to
' l- i"o's. l In the orphate:. and Iterrn,ter's ('warts.
(aprlt-70) N. C. ELSIIREE.
. C.. WHITAKER,
IWO ic R ISDER.
ntrit fir TIIIIID FLOOR, TOWANDA
11 S. RUSSELL'S
, The fOlowlng
ELIA BLE - 'AND FIRE TRIED
N4 ' , IiiItE.PMENIX,IIO3fE,MERCILANT
Mardi v., • 74 BLACC.
I s ;4 . 1876
r ( IIYA.ND A INStiIIANOE AGENCY
At/in Stmt vpp . gaffe the Cour House
W. S. VINCENT,
DR. T. B. JOHNSON,
Pursler.4x AND SURGEON
orer Dr.rprier & Son's Drug store, Towanks.
1 ant -7:it
, K M F . : } I . ., L it !
t't fi r : I d E ' ll s, TIS.r.
Towanda, ° P a
T "thrtcd On Gold. Silver, Rubber, and Al
termn 1.1,Ae: Teeth extracted without pain..
uct. 33.7 t.
PAYNE, 31. D.,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEO.Y. •
• over Montanyes` Store. Office hours from 10
to 12, A. m„ and from 2 to 4, 1•. x. Special attention
Riven to dh , eases of the Eye and Ear.-0ct.19,16-tf.
GtRITY & MORREL,
LECcitSts SUNDRIES, PAT VST MEDICLNES,
70.:8, 18. '°
EL3LIIA, N. Y.
O warden of the castle .gate,—
Stern Time who bars me from mhae own,
et me one tender moment walt t „
Ere I must wander forth alone.
There . were comparatively few per
s.ons ivlUa knew that George Gleason;
the favorite express messenger of
P. C. and St. L. Road, was a somnam
bulist. His strange freaks perform
ed during a somnambulistic trance
were knowrito a small circle of friends
and associates, - who mention them
not Rhea our hero was appointed to
the position he was destined 'to fill
For two years he ran.his car !with
out incident, no train robbers attactli
ed it, and he became the favoifte
messenger of the road. Strange to
say, that during the time, while he
dozed .often. in his car, he did not
once fall into the - somnabulistic state,
and he, was congratulating himself
that the singular trances had left
him altogether; when occurred the
incident 1 am about to yelate.
His downward run on the night
express extended from Coshocton to
Springfield, a distance Of one hun
dred and eighty miles. There were
few stations of importance on the
route and the Jrain made but three
halt betweertthe two . cities. The
officers of the road were, - at the date
of our story, and still are careful
men of business; jealous - of their pat
rons' interests, and gentlemen of in
- • J 1 1,743.
FAREWELL, MY YOUTH.
Farewell, my youths I pass beyond
The threshold of thy closing 'door,
OnAackyrard glance, regretful, fond,
And I am exiled evermore.
And as In parting days of yoro
I loitered. through my father's halls,
Awl. .11. -ITywat - every door,
Whiliectio sighed her soft recalir,-..
So let me puss these silent rooms,—
llow.Aear I never dre . amed till now,..—
And in their hushed and holy glooms
Whisper anew the parting vow.
Wide halls, recrossed by many feet;—
, :Fair rooms, in which I sat with friends,—
NOt desolate, but peopled yet •
With that swift magic memory lends.
Low murmuring voices still are here ;
Dear faces smile front every wall;
And softly on my listening ear .
The old carols rise and fall.
They came and went, each bosom guest,
And Some will meet Me on the way ;
And other few have passed to rest,.
And we shall meet some brighter day
Farewell dear rooms o may not know
How much or life ye hold for lin;
r give yo blessing ere I go,
leave your charge to memory
Again I paue where widely stands
The busy school•room's open door;'
The books Just dropped front careless hands,
Theidle papers scattered o'er.
Farewell. beloved; enchanted work,
With young ambition's hopes and fears;
My lifWls sill a pealed book,
And I must read it oft through tears.
Sweet chamber of the early days:
I reach' by childhood's winding stair,— .
Still hallowed by a father's praise,
A sanded mother's eying prayer,—
To thee belong my tears• bequest,
'To thee my tenderest thought Is given,
For than art built above the rest,—
Above the rest and nearerheaven.
And now - I
pass the mystic door
That never yields to other touch,
I dare not count those Jewels o'er, •
Lest they should tempt me overmuch
O Inner temple of my life,
No eye but mine and God's may see,
I piss from all my bliss anti strife
And firmly hold the golden key.
Farewell, my youth I thy halls were fair,
Thy gardeps bright with lavish flowers;
But !life's rich fruit Is otherwhere,
ud swiftly fly the warnlnk hours. -
Awl I inusyread the path decreed
.Gross the \ wild, and o'er the sand;
Happy, Irlikt),the ehosen seed
I reach at last.,the promised land.
Bareireil, my youth yet not targyrell,-
My Me from thee I will not part;
Dot bear thee %%tilt me w here I dwell
0 tabernacle, of my heart
Mies. 11. A. ITINGPot
The Mystified Messepger.
When robberies became common
on other - roads* the. messengers .of
the .P. C., and L:, were sure to
receive orders commanding , extra
precaution, arid it was to the obedi
en6e of these orders that mach of
the popularity of the fond was attri
-" Elena!" exeihimed Messenger
Gleason one evening Thile looking
over the cohinins . of the Cleveland.
Herald. " The express car of the .
C. C. and I. C. robbed of .$30,600 !
That's agoort haul- Why don't the
car thieves try my car ?
been on the road for two years, and
never lima moment has the safety of
a dollar in my safes been jeop#diz
Ile considered himself one of the
luckiest messengers in the country,
and with the paper in his hand step
ped into the express car, which a
moment later moved out of Coho
It was a beautiful Autumn even
ing, and the messenger sat at the
open side door, enjoying a cigar, un
til the sun went down -and darkness
fell Over the ealth. - Then . he 'shut,
the door, lighted the lamps, and saw
that everything was safe.
Ho knew the Value of the contents
of the company's safes and he
thought what'a 'haul thieves: would
make if they would successfully burg
larize his car on the present trip.
But he felt
. seeure, for he dropped
into his . own chair and fell asleep:
' The train had
,a run of forty:nine
miles, before the messenger Would
agaiu be called to• service, and lit
thought of this perhaps when he set
tled into the chair, resolved upon a
By-and-by he rose, and c his eyelids
parted. He walked directly to.the
safes which stood side by side, and
opening the combination locks threw
wide open the-burglar-prooft doors.
Then he took forth valuable package
after package until he had emptied the
strongholds of their treasures. It is
safe to say that Messenger PleaSpn
deprived' the safes of money and
other valuables to the aggregate of
seven 4: thousand dollars.
After doing this he closed the
doors, and with the packages, walk
-01 out of the car to the tender.
It' was. filled with coal, Nack and
- - ,
. 1 .
. 1 .
. _ /
grins ; and the heavy smoke of the
engine, the toy of the smart. breeze
blowing, beat against his face.
But he did not seem to he it, for
he climbed upon the tender with one
band and deliberately secreted the
packages amomg the coal in one corn
Having accomplished his singular
task, lie returned to the express car,
washed hiS hands,which had been
begrimed by the umps of coal, and
retired to his chair, where his eyes
closed and he breathed like a sleep
George Gleason had robbed, the
safes in a state of somnambulism, and
their iron doors guarded the messen
ger's books and a few old papers of
little value." ,
He slept for half an hour longer
when he awoke and rubbed his eyes..
His first action thereafter, was to
consult his watch. •
"We're approaching Grafton," he
said to himself, and drew another
eigar from his piwket for a quiet
A minate later the fragrance of a
prime for del lumar filled the car,
and the_ messenger was half envelop=
Grafton was yet nineteen milei
All at 'once Gleason heard his
name pronounced, and turned quick
ly in his chair.
He spring to his feet the moment
afterwards,' and as the half-consumed
cigar fell to the floor, his hand flew
.to 'the 'pocket that held a revolver.
For there stood before him two
men whose dark' masks hung far be
low their chins.
- " Don't draw, Mr. Gleason," said
one of the strangers, and the messen
ger saw a revolver- covering his
head. "We don't want to be so un
gentlemanly as to slay you here. The
road can't spare you, indeed it
Gleason's hand shrunk'away from
the pocket it hie touched, and he
looked at the men for a moment in
"What do you want ?" he asked.
"What most men earnestly delire
--money !" _
" I have none."
" But :gte safes have." .
" Then open them if you mean,"
said the messenger.with a smile.
"With your assistance we- will,"
answered one uf the masked men,
,who until \ that moment, had not
spoken. "Air. Gleason, we didn't
comp here to parley, and, as we mean
bUsiness, we will proceed to it at
once. You have the keys, and - will
oblige us by producing them." •
The young messenger looked twice
in: the eyes of-the men, and once into
the muzzle of the ;revolver, before he.
displayed the keys. • ' -
" Here they are," he said extend
No, no, Gleason," was the re-
Sponse, and the twinkle of the dark
'eyes told our messenger that the face
beneath the mask was smiling. " It's
a combination iodic, you' see, and we
happen to lie ignorant of the cabalis
tic - word=your sesame. - *Open the
doors for us if you please."
\Gleason saw that pleading would
avail him naught. There was stern
'determination in the robber's tone ;
death, in the depths of the- black
eyes. .\ He had often read of such
burglaries how cashiers were made
to open the safes of their own banks
and throw ".thousands at the feet of
therobbers. •He had never dreamed
that such an event would happen in,
express cat N. 56, much less that:
he would be compelled to assist in
robbing the patronizing public.
But he was at the mercy of
,his life was in startling
jeopardy. He came \ forward with
.pale face, and stooped,. before the
"Be lively about l it," said one of
the men. " You know thelocks like
a book, and we know .liow to treat a
man who obeys our orders with Om . .
rity. We give you two Minutes
grac' in which to work. if at the"end
of that, time the doors do not swing
open, the P. C. and '§t. L. will lose
her best messenger 1"
The imperiled man did not reply,
hut' fell to work on the locks. The
combination was quite intricate, but
Gleason was familiar therewith, and
in less than, a minutes' time he open-,
ell-the first door.
" Now for the packages," sah - Nne
of the• men.
The messenger put forth his hand,
unlocked an inner door, and started
The money pocket of the safe was
" What's up, Gleason ?" exclaimed
a mask, looking at the 'messenger
Gleason pointcd'to the empty re
ceptacle, almost too amazed to speak,
and the robbers axchanged strange
" Open the other safe !" command
' The messenger obeyed. It, too,
"George Gleason, we want no-,tri.
ding. You know where the money
" How should I know ?" cried the
messenger, mystified t more than the
robber. " Did I know that you were
coming, and ttecretethe matter ? It
so, wlo betrayed you? Here are my
books, look at them for yourielf. I
swear to you that there was seventy
thousand dollars worth of. express
!hatter in the safes when welleft Co
hocton. I haven't left the cox fOr
one moment, though I have dozed,
but like the cat a footstep, however
softi will rouse me. You ask me
where - the money is, I throw the
question back at you. Upon pain of
death I could not tell you 1" •
He ceased, and the foremost rob
bersaid : •
"This beats me. I 'believe you,
George Gleason. Somebody has
robbed the safes before we struck.
They did it while you slept. Will
yOu slacken the speed of the train ?"
The messenger seized the bell
rope, and the .speed. of the train be
gan to diminish.
" Now good night, Glealion," said.
the disappointed robbers, moving to
the sliding door. " We hope the
company won't discharge you for
sleeping at your post. Of course we
are disappointed—we expected ' to
m.lice a big haul to-night."
The next moment they sprang
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, TIIIIPSDAY MORNING, APRIL 4, 1878.
from the ear, and the messenger p
heard a prolonged whistle.
Then he saw the bell.rope moving,
and the train fast returned to its
He fell back into his chair com
pletely mystified. He could not
imagine who had robbed the safes,
whose empty peockets stared at him
from one corner of the car.
His thoughts were suddenly inter
rupted by the conductor, who bound
ed into his presence.
"They did it, eh ? Money all
gone i l • Curse the fiends! They had
a man on each platforM, masked and
armed: How much did they get ?
They came on board as passengers."
"Not a dollar 1" said Gleason.
The conductor, looked at the .safes,
and then at the man,,whom he seem r,
ed to regard as mad. -
" Where is the money then ?"
" I don't know I"
The train was stopped, and as the
messenger had told his story, search
for the packages began. • •
It came to an abrupt and• hippy
termination. The engineer placed
the lost valuables into Gleason's
• " Bob, the fireman, saw you climb
on to the coal in the tender, and then
you stuffed all these_ envelopes into
one corner. When you went back
into your car we pulled 'em out, and
intended to keep 'em for you till we
got to Grafton. Why, you had your
eyes open, but Bob and me knew you
were in a walking trance.".
Thus spokq the engineer, and the
reader may imagine with what thank
fulnesi the messenger received the
envelopes, not one of whose original
numbers was niis . sipg.
I do not know whether the robbers
ever learned the story of the missing
valuables, biit I do know that since
that night George Gleason has n ot
been a somnambulist.
SABBATH tvialNG AT THE WHITE
Doubtless our readers have often
indulged the wish that they might
know what the home life of our Chief
Magistrate is, and that of his family.
As they sit around their own firesides
during the long winter nights, enjoy
ing the rest they bring, and the quiet
and love and cheer at preside there,
they wonder whether the homes of
those in exalted sta ions are like
theirs, or whether their unseen histo
ry is as unlike theirs as their seen is.
They are apt to ldok upon those in
place and power as quite remooved
from them in the daily experiences of
lif and those sympathies which ought
to make the whole world akin. The
public acts of public men are known
ai they occur, and receive their mit-.
iqisms, often unjust and heartlesti,
but when they retire from the public
view, how is it then ? So much the
more do we desire to know, because
the home is the fountain of virtue
and morality, public and private, the
rOuntain of all the institutions of so
ciety, whether of church or State. If
the homes of those in high places are
illuminated with the light of virtue
and religion, how happy the influence
upon those of humbler life!
Whatever fault politicians may
find with President Hayes for not
submitting hiaiself - to their control,
no one can find fault with his well
order II home. As to the spirit that
reigns there, let a Sabbath evening
spent-at the White House contain
the revelation We of the institutions
of the White House the Sabbath
evening devoted to song. Not gay
frivilous song, but cheerful Christian
Song. We met President andi'Mrs.
Hayes, their nieces, Misses Platt and
Foot, their son Webb, the Vice Pres
inent, Geaeral Sherman -and daugh
ter, Secretary Shurz, Attorney Gener
al Devatis, senator Ferry, Gen. Hast
ings, Congressman MeXinley, Assist
wit Surgeon General Woodward and
wife, and Mr. Dickerson, private
secretary of the Vice President.
Mrs. Woodwardtakes the piano,' and
the first hymn sung is " Jesus Lover
of My Soul," followed by "Majestic
sweetness sits enthroned," "Jesus
let thy pitying-eye," " Pass me not
-0 gentle Savior," "My days are
gliding swiftly by," "Nearer my
God to Thee," " Tell me the old, old
story." The singing of such hymns
filled up the hour, closing with .
"Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts In Christian love."
A session of genial conversation,
and the company breaks up. No
cant, no assumed solemnity marred
the hour. It - was a time of Chris
tian cheerfulness. Nothing was
more pleasing than to see General
Sherman, the hero of so many ,bat
tles, whose name in history will
speak in connection with Grants
and Molke's, join with evident relish
in the exercises of the evening. We
leftwith this thought in mind? . When
the righteous are iusuthority, the
people rejoice."—Pittsburg Christian
Fond mother : " What would you do
without a mother, Tom?" Tom : "Do
as I liked, ma.-"
The mother of male twins, .we learn
from the Cincinnati Times, sings " The
sweet boy-and-boy." •
She stoops to conquer—is what the
young lady does when she says Yes, on
the front door steps.
The boy choked to death by a hunk o
spruce pitch may be said to have sock
gamed to the messenger.
31r. Quick is a manufacturer of ale in
Chi ). His motto should be, "Quick's
ales small profits."
tglishman who said he'd been to
"'ear an Horrortorio," perhaps hit nearer
the truth that . he intended.
The first acroba t ic woman who joined a
circus procession was Lot's wife.. As she
turned 'around she became a comer-salt.
A New York jonianll4 has composed
an "Editor's Waltz." An \ edi , tor's waltz
is usually danced to the tune of " More
Copy," and the music is generally furn
ished by the devil. .
"'Ma I" screamed young Matildaßpili
kins the other morning after she got the
paper, ."Ms, Silver Bill has just pissed
the House." "Has ho, my dear?" re
plied- Mrs. S. from up-stairs. " Why
didn't you oak him in ?"
• RE GA RDLESS 01 ENUNCIATION FROM ANY 4UA.,ATER.
The exercise of the mfectioh of
any one quality alone mil *not insure
the proper management o children.
Their organization'are like the ex
quisite mechanism cif a watchle r each
part for a 'Efferent Use, yet all neces
sary for the operationl of the whble
each requiring the tittnost care and,
attention, a grain of dust being cap
able of stopping the entire works.
Each faculty and taste or inclination
of the child must-be studied and the
good ones encouraged to'full develop
merit, the bad ones repressed, and
later explained, and if possiple, ridi
culed , into quiescence • foraridicule
being almost certain death to good
qualities, should be also to evil pro
pensities. If their mind alone • are
fed 'the work will not be perfect.
After, the arduous studies of the day
there should be a rel Vim, with
Some healthy, cheerfu amusement.l
If they have performe their duties
well during the hours devoted .to'
school, it should 'not be, necessary
for the home hours to be spent bor
ing over lessons. The teacher giv
ing lengthy tasks , necessitating con
tinual study. at home should be sev
erely censured as not knowing , his
or her duty. It may be necessary
for a few of the duller scholars to
spend an hour or so in study outside
of school, but this should be an ex
ception to the rule. Practicing mu
sic in the evening is not a cheerful
amusement, either to the performer
or listener; but playing, or singing is
and should often be indulged in.
Even little boys, 'are happier and
gentler when they can .sing or per
form on some instrument. Nothing
so strengthens the bonds o love in a
-family as singing together. It isbne
of the most charming me oriel of
home. , The scoffs and jeers of pro
fessors and philosophers against ama
teur musicians' should be entirely
ignored, remembered only i the good
that music does in a family.
Little informal gatherings of
friends, young and old, with games,
conversation, and even the simplest
refreshments, help to make home at
tractive.. Family visiting should be
cultivated and fat:filly excursionsf
the art galleries and things of inter
est should be seen together, for /the
Stranger the bond is the better/and
purer the children will , be. Parties
should not begin and end with the
intellect of the feet. - The etirly train
ing of children should tend to render
them, when - grown, capable of those
conversations that sometimes become
historical and 'ate algiays worth lis
tenino• to. The pyactice of locking
up the parlor ex pt for compitny is I
most pernicious rendering th refin
ing influence f pictures, statuettes,
and books' o ittle avail. No 'parlor
should be b good or too cosily to
render happier cir better thoseM'bst
loved, arid kept for the entertainment
of those for whom we sometimes care
so little. •To cook, eat,_and also ex
ist in the kitchen, wlere a pleasant
parlor is available, is not worthy a
civilized being. But all carefully
supervision will' be almost neutraliz
ed by their,intluenceof one.bad coniL
panion ; therefore children should
be often questioned in
. a pleasant,
uninquisitoriarway about their as
sociates at school-and their compan
ions in their hours of play. Much
future misery and shame may
this be spared ;Abe evil habits being
formed will thusbe discovered, and
•can and must be. nipped in the bud.
One thoroughly bad boy or girl will
vitiate the morals of the children of
a whole neighborhond, and his or her
detestable character must be pointed
out, the ignominy to which it tends
contrasted with the nobilty of aßur
er life, and their hearts appealed to.
Astern command thatthe associa
tion with such a one shall beiminedi
• ately • discontinued, withont these
good reasons given, is apt to increase
the danger by rendering the - forbid
den companionship secret and more
fascinating on that account.
Chidren should be studied closely
and supplied with healthy amuse
ments, g ood companions, and a suffi
ciency o f work. To give them proper
home training is" not incompatible
with dignity, for their hearts, mifids,
and bodies skouldbe brought as near
perfection as , possible.
Ever since men began to dig for
silver and gold in Colorado, one of
themany hard things they have, had
to do, has been the journeying into
the rich Silver regions at the San
Juan country. The great Sangre di
Cristo range, with its 'uncounted
peaks, all from twelve to fifteen thou
sand feet high, is 0. barrier which
only seekers after gold or after lib
erty would have courage to cross.
One of the most picturesque - sights
which. the traveler in southern Col
orado during 4 the past two or` three
years,. has' seen has been the groups
of whit6topped wagons creeping
westward,towardlhe passes of this
range; sometimes thirty or forty to
gether,.each wagon drawn by ten,
'fifteen or, even twenty mules( the
sloW moving procession look like
caravan lines in a desert ; two, three
four weeks'on the road, saying in
people iy households; rrying_ in
fdod, and bringing out sil -er by the
ton ; back and forth, patient men and
patient beast have been toiling every
summer from 'June to October.
This sort of thhig.does pot go on
for many years .befeore a railroad
comes to the rescue. Engineering
triumphs where ,brute force merely
evades ; the steam engine has strong
er lungs than mules or men ; and the
journey which was counted by weeks
is made in hours. Such a feat as
this, the Denver and Rio Grind . Rail
road (narrow guage) is now perform
ing in Colorado. A little more than
a . year ago I saw the plowshare cut
the first furrow fgt. its track through
the cuchuras meadows at the foot of
the Spailish Peaks. One day last
week I looked out from the car win - -
dows as we whirled past the same
spot, a little town stood where then
was wilderness, and on either side of
our road were ,acres of sunflowers
whose brown centered disks of yel
low looked like trembling ficesNstill
astonished at 'the ~noise. Past the
Spanish Peaks • past the new town
of eta; into d i n Veta Pass; up 7 up,
THE. DUTIES k ?AUNT"
A (MEAT ENTERPRISE.
nine thousand let up, - acroes a neck
of the Sangre d Cristo range itself;
down the otherside, and out among
the foot-hills to the vast . San Lois
valley, the plucky little railroad has
already pushed. It is a notable feat
of, engineering.- As the road winds
among the mountains its curves are
so sharp- that the inexperienced and
timid hold their breath. From one
`rack, running along t edge of a
plecipice, you' llook u to' another
widch you are presentl to reach; it
lies high on the moue in -side, four
hundred feet above yo r head, yet it
looks luilly more t an a stone's
throw across the ravine betiveen.
The curve by which you are to climb
up_thisJ hill is a thirty degree curve.
To the non-piofessional mind it will
perhaps give a clearer idea of the
curve to say that it is shaped like a
mule-shoe—a• much narrower shoe
than - a horse-shoe. The famous
horse-shoe curve on the Pennsylvania
Railroad is broad and easy In com
parison with this. There are .three
of these thirty degree curves within
a short distance of each other; the
road doubles on itself, like the path
of a ship tacking in adverse winds.
The grade is very steep—two hun
dred and eleven feet to the milp ; the
engines pant and strain, and the,
wheels make a strange sound, at Once
sibilant and ringing on the steel rays.
You go but six miles an hour; it
seems not. like more than fou the
leisurely pace is so unwonted/a 'one
for steam engines. ,W ith e/ch mile
of ascent the view backward and'
downward becoines finer/ The Span
ish Peaks and the pleb s in the dis
tance, the dark ravine full of pine
trees in the fouregrAnd, and Va l e
Mountains on the / left hand—a giant
bulwark furrowed and bare. There
are so many seams on the sides of
this mofintaiwihat they 'have given
rise to name, Vets, which in the'
Spanish tongue means " vein."
H. H.; Siribner for Januarg.
ft is r doubtless a stimu'lant to some
mindsl , to repeat' scandal, not for the
iPurpoie of injury, but for the titilla t
tion o the nerves prOdueed by ,deal
log., eely . with names intrinsically
,There •is a conscious
ness, and even a common understand
ing, that it is not true., but it is none
the leSs repeated with pungent effect.
It is 'also a method of expressing
momentary clislike or opposition. A
man irritated with his friend ' ex
claims, "Who would have thought
that he would do such a thine "
when he does not believe that.he did
it, and expects to have the matter
wholly cleared up. Party spirit es.
pepially is full of tl'is perfunctory in
dignation and this unbelieved slan
der. It is not to be supposed that
any Am - el-lean credited what the Au
rora said of Washington, or that
Fisher Ames really supposed that
Jefferson's party were as bad as the
and the Spectator
saysivery well: "Fiery Democrat in
America used to read every day that .
General Grant was a drunkard and
a horse jockey and a plunderer, and
worse, bat the Democrat who would
not dine with General Grant,or who
judged him differently on nceount of
these stories, might be sought in vain.
lie read in them expressions of an
opinion that the general should not
be re-elected, and that was all','''''
The is a great deal of truth in
this good-humored statement, and a
striking illustration of it was the
speech of •Colonel Ingersoll delivrred
in New York soon after the election
of last year, in which he acknowl
edged that he had done his full share
of feeding theanury fires of the cam
paign. The- fact is that as a "Cam
paign " proceeds, the audience and
the orator demand stronger and
stronger stimulants, until at last
brandy and cayenne are indispensa
ble. There is perhaps an unconscious
and even half-amazed conviction all
the while that the ."other man" is
not quite so black as he is painted,
and in *the high paroxism, of elo
quencein which he is prophesying
the overthrow of the Constitution
and the wreck of liberty which are to
follow the defeat of his own side, the
orator perhaps recalls with a smile
Timothy •Pickering's views of Jeffer
son and his Jacobites, orJefferson's
grave remark that it would not -be
advisable to resort to arms against
the tendencies of John Quincy Adams'
administration " until much longer
and greater sufferings." This is one
of the most ludicrous outburst of
party spirit in our political history,
but it meant only that.the Federal
ists must be defeated in the. election,
"and that wa.sall."
• HINTS TO BOOK-BORROWERS.
When 'you borrow a gook, • borrow
only, the best and what you need at
You cannot-afford to borrow and
then let it lie on your shelves for some
weeks, or months, before you com
mence to read it. It will do you far
less good by such negligence, for
-your interest in it may wane, and
inStead of being a pleasure to read
it, it will be a. task. If you would
derive the greatest profit from a
lxiok; read it as soon as possible
after 13,70 u borrow it.
When you borrow the book your
interest is' awakened, indeed, your
very interest in its contents. promp
ted you to borroir it; now, Ll►is
awakened interest is a command to
you to, read it. Other duties will
claim yOu.atttntion, and other sub
jects engage your thoughts, and per
haps, ilfially, yon will omit to read
it aitogather unless you do it -- at
Next we world urge : do not
abuse a borrowed book. Remem
ber it is not your own. It is the
private property of your friend, and
it would be a gross ' insult to his
obliging kindness to abuse the prop
er*. which for a time he has intrust ,
ed to your carer This perhaps ap
plies especially to those borrowing
frem Sunday echool and public
Do not 'lend a borrowed book to
others without-the owners' consent.
While you may take the best care of
a book, the friend to whom you lend
it may not, and 'besides, his borrow
ing from you will cause Unneessary
detention from Its owner, either
while your friend_ is reading it; or
neglecting to do so. • If you have
lent it linknown to the owner,
all abuses arising therefrom will be
Justly accredited to your account.
The most important thing,, after
reading a borrowed
.book, is to re
turn it. "Do not pack it snugly away .
in your library among - your other
books, -or on your table, with Age
sweet satisfaction of having enjoied
a literary feast, as if you were the
last to be fed from its bounti / es. but
'give it, promptly and - thankfully
back to its . owner. /
Surely, none of the re,ders of the
Christian Weekly will / be guilty of
" selling " borrowed )3ooks as in a
case which the writer knows to be a
fact, though he had/irot the misfor
tune to be one
„of that party. A
gentleman havin g loaned some of his
most valuele hooks to another litera
ry friend, was -wondering why his
books were so unusually long away
from his/libarary ; but supposing
his frieqd had a touch of the preva
lent dis'ease called " bOok-keeping,"
patieritly waited.' "Having occasion,
however, -to go in a store, one day,
he/saw his books in the posession of
anothergentleman. On inquiry, he
learned Ahey had been "sold:"by the
the borrower.—C. - 11. Polhemus, in
South America also has its large
bats, of one of which everybody has
heard—the vampire. Much nonsense
has been written about it, but there
was some foundation for 'the stories
of its sucking the. blood of men and
animals until it killed them t ,,, In the
interior of South America nearly
everybody' Sleeps in a hammock eith
er out-of-doors or with the window
open, and the weather is so warm
that •little covering is, used. The
vampire comes in on silent wings,
and finding a toe exposed, gently
pricks it with his sharp tooth; I
draws the blood until he can swallow
no more. The sleeper rarely is awalt 7
ened, and does not know his loss' un
til morning. He may then feel weak
from the flow of blood, but I am not
aware that a man was ever known td
die from -the cause. Horses are very
greatly troubled by them also. Mr.
Charles Watterlon, an enthusiatic
naturalist now dead, who spent sev
eral years in New Guiana, has told .
•us. much about - this ugly bat, but
could- never induce one to taste of
his toe, although heivould have been
very glad to be able to say that he
had been operated upon. For
en months he slept alone in the loft
of a deserted wood-cutter's but in the
deep forest. , There the .vampire
came and went as, they wished. He
saw them come in the moonlight on
Stealthy wings, and- prick the ripe ba
nanas; lay in his hamitiock 'and
watched them bring almost
bedside the . green wild fruit /of the
wild guava; floating down the river
on other moonlight night was struck
by the' blossoms of the lawar
ri-nut tree which the vampire pulled
from the, branches to get at ,the tin
der seed-vessel, or the insects that
lurk in the deep corollo. He lay
night after nighthis bare foot
exposed, but could never get them
to lance it,' although ; his friends_ and
companions, were all bled by this
nocturnal surgeon ; and except that
he once caught one fastened to the
shoulder of one of his animals, he
he came away no wiser than when
he went of the vampire does-his
The vampires measure about twen
ty-six inches across the winital fre
quent old houses and hollow trees,
and repose in clusters, head down
wards, from the branches of forest
trees,'—Ernest Ingersoll in April
if we were asked, what is the One
thing which more than any one is the
basis.' of true self-fespect, our answer
would be, work. • We.do not see how
any idle person could respect "him
self. Any idle person may be proud
he may be in vain, he may - be arro
gant; but self-respect in the parent
of all manly enterprise : sp is idleness
the parent of all vice.
" An idle brain is the devil's work
shop." Why? Because. self-respect
cannot abide in such quarters. We
have all of us noticed the new light
that comes into a young man's face,
the new grace that marks his, general
beating, when the doubtful lieriod,be
tween school days and active life is
bridged over, and he is fairly enter
ed on his new career, whatever that
may be. We have all noticed in
that doubtful period, what a strain
there was on his seMrespect, in what
karful jeopardy it was sometimes;
and even in after life, if ere the time
has come when a man feels that he
can retire from business with a good
conscience, he is thrown out of busi
ness, how easy it is for him to loose
time, to get "down at heel," 'to feel
himself generally out ,of. place and
out of tune. Work a curse! It is
the greatest of all blessings. The
necessity Which enforces it is the
most beneficial of all necessities.
Not work merely, but faithful and
efficient work, is the ground of self
respect. We .elm ,go in a treadmill
if the mill makes something go;
helps on the world's work and bene
Oiir work may not be efficient, it
May have to be done over again by
other hands, but we must have faith
in efficiency. We must at least be
lieve that our failure will hasten the
ultimate success, or selkespect will
utterly refuse'to wait apon our en
deavors. The work done may be
much or little, but if it is our best,
it need never Make us ashamed.
But besides work, the there must be
good economy. It, is necessary to
self-respect that one shall at least;
feel that he could paddle his' own
canoe, if at any time- his pointer
should fall by those who now have
it in tow. It is aliziost fatal to our
self-respectito feel that we are, de
pendent for our daily bread on
friendly benefactors. ,The best of
charity, hoviever kindly given, - has
something bitter in until we 'can
get along without it. But independ
ence sweetens every gift.
XY MIRY PROPOSAL
At last, the, long day's haying done,
I ttuled to leave the fragrant Meadow,
Where, on the grass, the setting sun .
'Before me cast my lengthened shadow,
Lretruck. a narrow path that ran •
By Lorell's,farm, a;rooked by-way
Which somewhere thereabouts began;
Aud ended en the .dusty highway. •
It reached their bartiyard first of all, •
Then wandered through a wooded hollow,
And darted past an old stone wall,
. \ As If Inviting you to follow.
IC climbed a hill whom all the day .
The crows rehearsed "a mimic Babel;
It crossed a brook which flowed that way;
Therialld beneath our barn's brown gable.
A shorter cut It was, that led- .
To our own homestead fro m the meadow,
And so I folloWed it Instead,. . •
And on before Me went my shadow.
Then nearlngLoiell's farm, I heard '
Tho white-horned cattle faintly loivlng,i
While, huubbllng, In the' bright palls stirred
The inlik from Well-flied udders floirlng.
I glanced behind the harmyarit, wall:
And there eat Katy milking "Speck
The favorite cow among Meth all,
Her fine teat flocked with many ifreckle.
Thtn up got Katy—so by that .
I knew heimilking done—and straightway
title myown heart went plt-a-pat, . • •t• -., -
Came toward me through the open gateway,
The sun dropped down from out the sky,
And left the westwlth ricbtold laden;
An awkward Country lad was 1, .
And Katy but a simple maiden.:
for eyes met mine, as If hy chance,
Not knowing whO It was ; then shyly,
•Heath drOoplng lids nithdrow their glance,
Then back again' to mine stole slyly.
With that last look my courage : grew; .
I said—it may have heed I swore It—
flike was the prettiest girl I knew,
And told her bow Iloved her for it.
PerhapSish*e gave me no, reply,
-Perhaps It was the night's gray:„cartain,
Slow•falling from the twilight sky, c e
Which left her answer tod,uneertaln.
Then winding homeward, , torn with doubt,
The tree-toads trilled -their Arm conviction'
The patriarch frogs, with deep bass e:ibut,
Grew hoarse and loud in contradiction;
The katydids pronounced both ways ;
But ero the moon was one hour older,
I sat beneath its silvery rays
With Katy's head upon my shoulder.
I well ,remember the day, twenty
years ago, when Buchanan was in the
White ouse and Mr. Douglas—in
what was then regarded as Ms fine
mansion—received hosts of friends.
Jeff Davis, Bob Toombs, Bight!. of
Pennsylvania, Speaker Orr; and
many others now • nearly forr ° otten,.
were_the idols of society then. Major
Wallace dispensed profuse hqspltali.
ties from hisTesidenee near the city
Hall. The District was then com
pletely under the domination of
Southern men and ideas. It was es
sentially a So.nthern city. Black
people were bought and sold as free
ly as horses now. The streets were
quagmires; .a hack was frequently
so mired on one of our principal I
streets that it-remained two or three-,
days stuck in the mud. A dead
horse sometimes lay, a week on a bye
street. Dead dogs and 'cats were
considered ornamental; rather than
otherwise in our streets: Things
jogged along after the ,old style;of
slavery. No colored p'erson—slave .
or free—dare enter one of our parks
except in eharge of a white •child.
There were no colored schools except
a little private 'one - kept by Misi,
Minor,,and it was in constant danger'
of being suppressed.
Dr. Bailey published his National
Era then -and it was at the height of
its circulation. I think it nearly
reached thirty 'thousand, which •in
those days was a great - success. The
good doctor did so well that he lived
in generous style, and he used his
means in a noble mannar, for- his
house was at all times the refuge of
anti-slavery people- Mrs.. Stowe had
just finished " Uncle Tom's Cabin "in
the Era- ' C k ail Hamilton was governess
in the doctor's family; autograph
poems by •Whittiel were then -to be
had for the asking in the Era'oftee.
I picked up one day,aniong' the loose
copy " the whole of :" The Witch's
Daughter in Whittier's handwrit
ing. Soon after other journals of
the North began to advocate the an
ti-slavery eauSe. The' Tribune and
Other papers began to crowd the
Era, and the sudden 'death of Mr.
Bailey finished its brilliant career....
Thiswas all only. about twenty
years ago. The great conflict'over
slavery was- rapidily coming to a
head. Two years after the John
Brown mid brought terror into this
city. The anti-slavery 4 men in Con
gress were''ulmost afraid to remain,
il'itense was the temporary feeling
against them. When Mr. Seward,
returning late from a summer trip
in Europe, took. his Seat in the Sen :
ate in February—eighteen years ago,
I believe—he was shUnned by- most
Southern men. • Slavery in .its most
hideons-form was king. In a" few
short years it was destined to a most
And now we haN4 negro schools
negro suffrage; universal freedom,
and an ex-slave is. :Marshall of the
District 1 • The change is simply
marvelous. - That it has its draw
backs is true; the lige is dishonest.
It " jobs ". a great 'deal, and " rings "
flourish. The blacks do not behave
so well as they might, and thousands
of them suffer. More co hungry, I_
think, under freedom than under
slavery. In this District, cettainly,
there is a great deal of crime, vice
and suffering among the .colored
people, Probably there-is a larger
number of them who suffer for good
and decent clothes• that' at any pre
viousjime ; but, on the other hand,
there is a large and - constantly in
creasing class who live respectably
and are intelligent. Large numbers
of colored children are •in excellent
schools and many young men are in
Howard University. The experi
ment of freedom among colored
people is precisely. God's experi
ment with the human - race. How
many abuse their freedom; and yet
we hope Aber° is gradual ; improve
Some of the most striking sighls
to be seen here are some of the old
Southern men who linger about the
scenes of their former greatness,—
Clingman.of Carolina, Foote
of Mississippi, Stephens of Georgia,
and others., Twenty-five years ago
they'were in their glory. Foote was
threatening to bang John P. Hale,
or drawing a-pistol on old Tom Ben-
$2 Or Annum.ln Athanco.-/
ton in the Senate lobby. • An now
this formerly passionate politician
and fire-eater is as gentle ass suck
ing dove and looks like a saint. _.Ha
is a good Republican and an advo.
cote for generous treatment of the
negro. -He is often - to
-be seed in the
Senate and society here. Mr. Ste._
pbens everybody is familiar with.'
He is still a power in Congress ; but
twenty-years ago he seemed asaow
to have one foot in the grave. Boyce
Of South Carolina was the 'one-mem
ber of the delegation from 1856 4 to
1860 who believed to dislike the se-.
cessionists, but he was compelled to
go out with his delegation in the
winter of 1860-61. He had the sym
pathies of many Republicans,' and
during the war > they watched for
news_ of him. He did not take an .
active part in the rebellion, and at
the first opportunity came 'out AS a
jJnion man ; and the moment peace •
was declared be came to Washington, .
where he soon found employment.
El-Senator Clingman was a furious -
secessionist in 1860, and is, now
mild DemOcrat.l, He spends his win
ters here, }laving apparently nothing
to do. His constantly in the House
or Senate, and is one of the connect..
ing links between this and the last "
generation. The - greatest danger
from4he.South,is not of rebel claims,
or 'of 'a repudiation of the national .
debt, but is connected with the fate
of the cOlored people. _Just how the °
two races are to get alongtogether -
bYtand-hy, when the colored rises in „
the scale is not easytosee. The pro
blem occasions muck-anxiety to the
best men in the - St:intik - . At present, '
*hen the blacks ‘aie so poor and
ignorant, there is no danger of a con
.filet of races, but it maybe different
by-and-by.—Washington: Letter in the
• THE BEAUTY or NATURE.
I am never more convinced of the -
progress of mankind thnn when I
think of the sentiment developed in
us by our intercourse with • nature,
and also (although this is not so gen
erally admitted) with oar scientific
knowledge. We learn froin -age to
age to see the beauty of the world ;
or, what comes to the same, thing,
this beautiful creation of th e • senti
ment of beauty' is developing itself
in us. :Only reflect what regions
kvely as Paradise there are over all -
Asia and Europe. and in every gnat- •
ter of -the globe, waiting ; to receive,
their fitting inhabitants—their coun
terparts in , the concious creature.
The men - wno are living there do
not see the Eden that° surrounds
thein. They . lack the moral and -
intelectuql vision. It is not too bold'
a thing to say that the mind of
man, once cultivated, he will _see
aronnd him the Paradise he laments
that he has lost. For hue " Paradise .
Lost," he will sing of a thausand ho
has gained. Now every' tender as•
well as eyery grand sentiment collies
reflected back to us from the beauti
ful objects of nature!. Therein lies
their very power to et chant us. -Ns
ture-js full of our own human heart.
That rose.—has no gentle woman
leant over it, and left the reflection
of her own blush npon[the leaves of
the flower? To the olds man theie
is childhood in every bud. No
hand so , tilde, but that it gathers
with the flower more and other beau
ty than with the dews. of Heaven
have nourished in. it.— . William
Go out in the woods, Sambo,"
said a southern master to one of his
negroes," and cut me some Crotches
fora fence—to stick in the• ground
like this;" making at the same time
an Inverted . A on the table With his
two fingers. The negro took his axe,
went into the woods, was gone all
day, and returned at last with only
his axe in his hand.
"Where are your crotches, Satalt!o?"
said his master. .
'Couldn't find none, massa, 'no
"Couldn't find any," said his
mister; "there are thunsanda of them
in:the woods Why, look: at' that,
tree-; •there are half a dozen on that;
couldn't you find any like that?"
pointing to a forked branch on a tree.
"Oh, yes, massa, plenty of
kind, but dey all crotch up; 'fought
you wanted dem to crotch down"
ONLY ten years ago la a little
Kentucky city a young man of fine
education, fine appearance and large
fortune, stood at the altar and • held
the hand of a sweet maiden who con
fidtntly swore away \ her life
anit love him. To pass their hdme a
few months after was to envy the
hopeful couple: Only a few weeks
ago the track of a• pistol mitts heard
and on the floor. of a barroom fell a
bankrupt, wretched drtnnkard whose
death by suicide ended the life of the
hero of our scene of ten years ago.
It was liquor, first as a social habit,
and last as -a merciless master that
hurled him from the throne.of,youth
ful promise•and expectation, through
a night of &our to a suicide drunk
ard's' grave,—G. T: .Advocate; •
Excellence is the reward of labor.
Idlenes is emptiness; the tree in which
.sap is stagnant and remains fruitless
fer loss befOre unjust gain, for ihat
brings grief but once, this forever.
Vianners requife time, as nothing is
more vulgar than haste.
-It is not ability to beidle, but the abil
ity to work, that constitutes happiness.
Grayikimirs seem like the light of soft
morn, silvering over the evening of life.
Has y people drink the wino of lifo
'scalding hot, and aro angry at the burn
ing... ' .
The heartlthat is soonest awake to the
flowers is always first to be touched by
Let men laugh when you sacrifice de
sire to duty if they will.• You have time
and eternity to Tejoice in.
Authors ought to be wise for they have
to sell their wisdom ; and what is bought
and sold should be genuine.. -
Wo learn to climb by keeping our 'eyes
not on the bills behind but ; on the
mountains that rise before ns. • •