11111111111-01 P Tha Itammoso larotins L ipsollooll *tea Tkurgag ligfraluit bi Pommies alliryoßcom, at One Dollar per annnin, in advance. • 4firAdrernsing In Tull cases eltObuden Of sub. seriotton to the wer. - • • • EC AL NoTto RS Inserted at rinißavrs per line for first Insertion, sod rIVI cairn peritnelor each subsequent Insertion, but no notice Inserted for less than shy cents. YEARLY ADVERTISEMENTS wlli be Insert ed at reasonable rates. ' • - Administrators and Executers Notions, Auditor'sd Notices,ALSO ; !Rumness Cards, Avelino', (per year) it, additional Huai 41 each, Vastly advertisers are entitled to, quarterly changes. Transient advertisements mast be paid for to adman. . • All resolutions of assocations; comMunleations of limited or Individual Ante:est, and node's of marriages or deathe,exceeding Ave Unman charg ed friva Class per line., but simple notice" of mar. rill4and de albs will betitabllsbedwlthoutcharge. rtelltaroarau having larger circulation than any Other paper in the connty, makes It the best advertising medium in Northern Penisylvsmia. JOB PRINTING of every kind, In plain and fancy colors. done with,neatneu and dispatch. Handbille, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Billheade; Statements. Ate, of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice. The itzeCotrza oaten is :well supplied !with power presses, a good assort ment of new type, end everything in -the printing tine can be executed 1n the moat artistic manner and at the lowest rate,. TERDIS INVARIABLY CASH. Visintss tatbs. MRS, E. S. PERRIGO, MIMICS OF PIANO AND ORGAN Lessens given In Thorough Baas and Harmony. Cultivation of the voice a specialty. Located at .3. Snell% Hilo St. Reference : Holmes Passage. - Towards, Pa, March 4, 1830. , • • TORN' W. CODDING, I 0 ATTOHNZT-11.1 , LAW, TOWANDA. PA. Office over Mason's old Bank. THOMAS E..MYER-. - ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, TOWANDA, RA. • Office with Patrick and Foyle. 5ep.2.5,19 PECK, & OVERTON A TIVIMEYS-AT-L AW, '• TOWANDA, PA, D'A. 0 VLETOIrs RODNEY A: MERCUR, . , ATTORNEY AT•LAW, . • TOWANDA, PA., Solicitor of Patents. Particular attention paid to linsiness In the Orphans Conti and to the settle nient et estates. °Mee In Montanyes Block Mai 1, '79. OVERTON & SANDERSON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, TOWANDA, PA. E. OVERTON. JR. JOIN F.SANDSREON W 11. JESSUP, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW, MONTROSE, PA. Judge.Jessup having resumed the practlceof the law In Northern Pennsylvania, will attend to any legal business Intrusted to him in Bradford county. Persons wishing to consult him, can call on H. Streeter, Esq., Towanda, Pa., when an appotptment can be made. lIENRX STREETER, ATTORNEY .4.ND COUNBELLOII-AT-LAW, TOWA'SDA, PA 1 L. TOWNER, M. D., • • HOMEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN .11 , irrp srmatos r tm. Residence and °nice just North of Dr. Cor bin's, on Main Street, Athens, Pa. unzri-fdn. E L. HILLIS, A TrOUNET-AT-LAW, TOWANDA, PA. E. F. GOFF, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, WYALUSING, U. Agency for the sale and purchase of all kinds of Securities and for making loans on Real Estate. A❑ business will receive careful and prompt attention. (June 4. 1879. 'NYH. THOMPSON, ATTORNEY • , LT LAW, WYA.LUBING. PA. Will attend to all business entrusted to his care In Bradford, Sullivan and Wyoming Counties. OMee with Esq. Porter. [novl9-74. E H. ANGLE, D. D. S OPERATIVE A'SD MECHANICAL DENTIST O! ee on State Street, second floor of Dr. Pratt's Office. apr 8 79. ELSBREE & SON, ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW, TOWANDA, PA. ELSBRit, N. C. Etsnnza /A D. KINNEY, ATTORNET-AT-LATT. Otliceltooms formerly occupied by T. 31. C. A Reading Room. Lipn.3llB. I . M . cPIIERSON; ATTORNST-AT.LAW, TOW , ,ANDA, PA. Dial AtCy Brad„ Co jgHN W. MIX, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW AND U. S. COMMISSIONER, TOWANDA., PA. Vffice—North Bide Public Square. SAM W. BIJcK, ATTORNE T-AT-LAW, TOWANDA, PEN A^ A • Otilee—Sotg . h side Poplar street. opposite Ward Howe.. (N0v.13, IST'. DAVIES & CARXOCHAN, ATTORD2III-AT-L kW, SOUTH SIDE OF WAED HOUSE. Dec 23-75. TOWANDA. PA. JI - ANDREW WILT, • ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. ()Mee over !rumor & Gordon's Drug Store, Towanda, Pa. May be consulted In German. [Aprll 12. 111.] W . J. YOUNG, . . /LTTORNEY-AT•LAW, TOWANDA, P.A. tilee—senond door south of the First Nat!qoal Batik Main St., up stairs. WILLIAMS & ANGLE, ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW 0 F F IC E.—Formerly occupied by Wm. Watkins, 11. N. WILLIAMS. (0et.17,, '77) E. J. ANGLE. TM. MAXWELL, ArrOIDISY-AT-LAM, TOWANDA, PA. °Mee over Dayton's Store. April 12, ISTS. ADILL & CALIFF, A TTORN EY$-AT-L AW, TOWANDA, PA Office In W ‘oo's Block, first door soutl ot the Tint N:111. 11 , hank, up-stalrs . , H.. 1. t' 41)11.1.. tjanlS43l.3l J. N. pALIFF. - FIR. S. M. WOODBURN,'Physi. Jur elan and Surgeon. I)Mee at residence,. on Pine street, East or Matn. Tuaal.. , a;May 1, 1a72 1j• • • W. B. KELLY, DENTIST.—Office Y • over M. E. Rosanneld% Towanda, Pa. Tet , tt inserted on Gold, Sliver, Rubber. and Al uranium terse. Teeth extracted without pain. I a t. 1 - 71 .D. PAYNE, M. D., _• . PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON. (Rlve Yer3forganyes',,Store. °lnce hours from 10 to 12 and from 2 to 4 P.)l. Special attention given to ASES (DISEASES and OP EYE THE EAR MO ME W. RYAN, IB COUNTY strenzICTZNIM face day last Saturday of each month, over Turner • it Gordon's Drug Store, Towanda., Pa. T•neanda, June 20, 1878. 11 S. RUSSELL'S . lie GENERAL XNS IT RANCE, AGENCY I . may2s4ot.t. . TOWANDA. PA. FIRST NATIONAL BANK, TOWANDA, PA .CAPITAL PAIR IN suarLus This Bank offers unusual facilities for the trans ] action of a general banking business. N. N. BETTS, Cashier. • JOS. POWELL, President. EDWARD WILLIAMS, PRAUTICAL PLUMBER & GlB FITTER, Place of business in Mereur Block, neit door to Journal Office, opposite Public Square'. Plumbing, Gas Fitting, Repairing Pumps of ;an k :lola, and all kinds of Gearing promptly attended b. All wanting Work itt Lila line should give him - ' Per. 4, Irt• COODRICK4k HITCHCOCK, Publlshenli. voLum XL. MY LITTLE BOY =THAT DIED. Look on bfs pretty fare for Just one Infante, Ws braided Met, his dainty buttoned shoes, His litm-sbut Land, the favorite playing in It, And tell me, motins, mraa't not•hard to lose And.mtss•froin my idde— ..rly little boy that died How many another boy as dear and charming, iiis father's hope, his mother's one delight, Since through strange sicknesses, all feat disarm ing, . - And lives a long, long life In parents , sight Mine was so short a pride • And then my , poor boy died. I see him rockingon his wooden charger-; I hear him pattering through the house all day I watch his great blue eyes groW large and larger, Listening to stories, whether grave or gay, Told at the bright dreside—, So daii now since be died. But yet I often think my tool' le living, - As living is my other children are. When good-night limes Fall round am giving, - I keep one for him, though he is eo far. Can a mere grave divide Me from him, though he died P BEN'. M. Bzor So. ivbile I come and plant it o'er With daisies, (14,othIng but childish daisies, all year round.) Continually God's hand the curtain raises, And I can bear his merry voice's sound Aud feel him at my side— lily little boy that died. —By the Author of " John lia/Vas GeitleMon.' Miriam Leslie was listening to a word of advice from her stepfather, Mr. Palmer.. She was a very beanti ful.wothan of two and twenty, with a face that was a rare combination of sweetness and strength. Just now the resolute mouth and expression of the brown eyes showed that firmness in her character predominated, tho' no look of temper marred her amia bility. Feb 27, '79 " I havF no power over your move ments, Miriam," said the old gentle- man, kindly. "You are of age, and the wealth' you inherited frbm your father is entirely under your own control; but am afraid you are committing a great error if you ac cept Wilton Seymour's offer. I am afraid he is a man to marry •for money." • cnovll-75 " Why ? I pass over the implied slight to my attractions; byt tell me' why you think Mr. Seymour marries me for money alone." " I don't know that I mean that exactly. I know that you are young, beautil ui and talented, but I, think if you had been poor, you would not have had this offer." " Again I ask what makes you think so ?" " Wilton Seymour is one of that Unfortunate class--a-young man who has lived upon expedtations. He has 'been educated and 'supported by an eccentric uncle, who was supposed to be enormously wealthy. Wilton has lived in complete idleness, passing through college with average credit, and since that, moving in society, received everywhere as the heir- of his uncle's money, who, when he diedi left it—much less than was suppated —to a hospital. Wilton accepted the situation gracefully enough, applied for a situation as clerk in the whole sale house of Myers & 'Co.; and— courted an heiress." tfeb.lis "You are bitter. I believe Wilton Seymour to be an honorable, upright man, who loves me, who is trying to palm a support for himself,'and who .does not look upon my money either hs .a stimulus to his affection or an impediment in the way of it." I see that you are determined to marry him. Well, I will see that your money is settled upon yourself." " I love my 'future husband too wel to offer him insult. My money will purchase him a junior partner • ship with Myers & Co." _• 'ine has told you that ?" . " - No. Mr. Myers informed me that he could Le admitted into the firm if he had a capital of ten thou sand pounds—only a small portion of - iny money. The remainder may remain where it is, subject to Wil ton's check and control." Jan. 1, : 1875 "This is sheer insanity. I never heard of such folly." • Miriam's face,grew very sweet as a look• came into her soft brown, eyes of-devotion and trust. If I am willing to trust myself, my whole future happiness in Wil ton's hands, my money is of little consequence. if he cannot win my confidence sufficiently to control my fortune, do you think he can win my love—myself ?" Mr. Palmer moved uneasily in his chair. " I wish you would listen to reason —I am truly speaking for your own good," he replied. " I know that.. After nine years of stich loVe as my own father would have given me had he lived, after seeing your severe griet for my mother's death, your affection for my little stepsisters—your own children —never surpassing that showed to me, do you think that I do not ap preciate your motives? I thank you from my heart for your advice; but my whole future happiness is involv ed in this decision, and I ' believe I am deciding to secure it." " I •sincerely hope so. If in the future you find I was right, remem ber I claim' a father's right to com fort you, a father's right to.receive you." Too much. moved by the old man's solemn .tone I to reply in. words, Miri am pressed her lips upon the kind eyes that looked into her own. . " There, my dear," he said, gently, "I have spoken as 1 felt it my duty to speak. Now we will mite to Mr. Seymour, who will become my s o n when he becomes your husband. ("let your finery all ready, and we'll have a happy wedding. May God bless you, Miriam." Two hours later Wilton Seymour came to put the engagement rind on Miriam's , tinger,,to thanit.her for his, promised happiness. Looking at this man, as he held the hand soon to be his own, no one could doubt his love for the fair one - s 2 lio stood before him. They had spoken of many subjects when be said, suddenly : • " Mr. Palmer Ilu3 told me your generous wisliesi r Miriam, with' rc.- $125.000 ....... ...... 46;000 Aril 1,187.9 Padre. *blued Pk. MONEY. BEM . . . . - gard to money. I cannot consent to this. In . time, I may prove hOir en tirelyi-disregarded wealth when my, offer Was made to you. It is true we must have waited longer before I, could , offer you a home; but I:will win my way to fortune yet." lie lifted his youtig, noble head as be spoke, tossing the dark - curls from such a frank, manly face, so full of brave, bright resolutions, that Miri am wondered in her heart houi any one could' took into his eyes and sus pect him of mercenary desires. She said nothing in answer to his impetuous speech, only smiled and nestled her hand in hia. i She was not a caressing woman—rather coy in lier sweet maiden dignity; but where she gave love and confidence, she gave them fully and freely. The days of betrothal sped rap idly. During the day Wilton stood at his desk, fingering over massive ledgers and dreaming of future hap piness, and Miriam selected her house, furnished,land kept dressmak- ers. seamstresses and milliners busy. She had no objection to. her .stepfa ther's wish to have hou4e'end furni ture settled upon herself ; ,Lbut was resolute about the remainder of 'her large ;fortune being subject to the control of her future butiband. Busy days were followed by happy evenings. The young people were favorites in society, and friends would insist upon social festivities to celebrate the betrothal. The quiet home evenings were pleasant beyond these, when two loving hearts learned to read each other; while Wilton loved more ddeply every day,his worth and manliness as made her 'future look brighter every day. But the days . of the betrothal were short. A gay wedding, a happy tour and the young people 'came home to settle in the handsome new house as quiet married folks. Two years of happiness folleiwed. Wilton was rapidly rising in the es teem of business men—having pur chased his position as junior partner in the, firm of Myer & Co., at Miri am's earnest request. But, although attentive to his business, he was no mere drudge seeking money as the lionly end and . aim of his life. h Miriam found him ever a willing 'escort to party, ball or opera, and the hothe evenings were given to music, or reading, or such bright in tellectual intercourse as had its pow= er of mutual attraction before their marriage- There were sage people who shook their heads over the young wife's extravagabpe ; but Wilton seemed most hapj when she was gratifying some new whim or desireand she bad never known the need of econo my. Money had always been at her command, and there was riot;estraint upon her expenditures. - For fine dress she . eared but little, though she was tasteful, and' her costumes were always rich and appropriate ; but she was generous and benevolent, loved to collect trifles of exquisite art around her, patronizing rising artists, and found no difficulty in exhausting her liberal income year after year. St was during the third year of her married life Miriarb began to fittd a cloud upon the former bright happi ness of her life. Wilton was'clianged. In these three words the loving heart of the young wife summed up all her forebodings. He had been the sun light of her life, loving, tender and thoughtful; but it became evident to her that some absorbing interest was gradually winning him'. More and ; • more,from her side. Evening after evening he left her, on. one 'pretext or another, oftentimes staying away from her until long after midnight. His sleep became • restless and broken, and some ab sorbing rare kept his face pale, his eyes clouded, . his manner grave. There was no unkindness to complain of. Miriam met ever a tender caress, a loving word ;but she went alone if she sought. society ; she missed t t he pleasant hoine intercourse ' • a.n and; strange, dull fear crept into her heat. Wilton was becoming miserly. He denied her nothing, but some- Mines would sigh heavily if she chal lenged his admiration of some new dress or ornament, and it was evi dent he curtailed his personal expen ses to merest necessities. Too proud. to complain„Miriam, suffering silent ly, prayed that she might never learn to despise her husband as a_ mere money-making machine. At, first she endeavored to win his confidenee, but he kindly evaded her inquiries, and she made no further efforts. But her home grew distasteful, missing the companionship that had made the hours there pass so swiftly. She had never felt household cares, trusting everything to an experienced housekeeper. She' had, no children to awaken mother-love and care, so she plunged into ! fashionable follies and tried to forget her loneliness. Never had her toilet been chosen with more faultless taste; never had her beauty been more marked than it now became; and' she sought for excitement, as she never had done in the first happy , years of her married life. And while Mrs. SeYmour was thus seeking for happiness abroad that could not be found at home, her hus band's face became parer and thinner, and he became more absorbed in business cares. One year more pass; ed, and the hearts that bad been so firmly bound together seemed to be drifting entirely apart. Miriam was sitting sadly in her drawing-room one evening waiting for her carriage, which was to convey her to a large social gathering at a friend's. She was .dressed in costly lace,,over rich silks, and every detail of her co•tume was faultless in finish and' of, choicest quality. Her face was pale and her heart was very sad. , She looked up as the door opened, hoping to see Wilton, though it was long since be had spent an evening ,iu her!society. Instead of his till, graceful _figure, the portly forni of her stepfather entered the room. Miriam sprang forwatd whim glad smile. I am glad to , see yotA" she ex . elaimed 4 warmly. "l3nt yen are going oat." 0 Only to be rid of my loneliness, Eiti INE MEI i ‘TVANDA, BRADFORD 00I1M, PL, THURSDAY MORNING, IvIAROI U 1880, ,:,~. I anti myielf. I ehall•be happier here with you." "Truly, Miriam? Will you treat me as your father-to-night? I come here .ortia painful and delicate errand, and 1 want your confidence." She was silent for a moment, and then said, "You shall have it." "You love your husbnud, Miri. am ?" Tears answered him. " Do you love society, and dress, and excitement better than you do Wilton ?" "No: ! • i d thousand times, no!" " Could 3 , CU give up all therie for his sake ?" " You have some motive for ask ing this 'I" 1 "I have, indecil. I your hus band also, Miriam. I have , learned to respect him, to trust him, and. 1 was wrong when you decided to trust your happiness in his hands." "But, father, some great change has come over Wilton.. He seems absorbed in money-making." ." One. year ago your husband asked me to keep 'a secret Trom you, believ ing he was increaOng your happiness by so doing. I consented, but lam convinced' now' , that the deceit is , wrong. 'He has assumed _a burden that is too heavy for him to bear, and you are not happier than you were a 'year ago." " Happier !" cried Miriam, impul sively. " I am wretched, wretched in 'losing my husband's society and confidence." " You shall- not complain of that again. I cam breaking my promise, but :you will soon un derstand lny meaning. A year ago the bank in which every guinea of your private fortune yeas invested, failed, and,eve rything was lost. This house; and the money Wilton paid to secure his business position, were l all that was left of your father's wealth. Con vineed that luxury, society and ex travagance were , necessary for your happiness,. Wilton enjoined me to keep the fact a secret from you, and braced himself for a tussel with for tune, resolved to regain by his own exertion what was swept away by the failure, before you could discover the loss. But, Miriam, he is over tasking his - strength, add you are becoming a butt for censure on your • extravagance.. My secret has bur denei, me too long, and you must now be the judge of the right course to pursue," Miriam was weeping, but the tears were not all bitter. She gave its full weed of gratitude to the love that would have shielded her from the knowledge of poverty add pain ; and yet she could scarcely forgive the want of Confidence in her own ability to bear the sacrifice that.the deceit implies. It was long before she spoke, but when she did her eyes were bright and her voice clear and firm., "The house is mine?"i. she asked. " Certainly. But it needs such a large income to sustain such an es tablishment." " Tell me, what style of house does Wilton's income warrant ? I mean the i inceme he had two years ago." " - A - smaller house, dear—no cury age, no houiekeeper, two "servants, but certainly no footman in livery no observatory—" "Stop, stop! I understand you. 1. - nn will see, father, if -.I Jun made unhappy by your kind frankness. Wilton is in the library absorbed in business. Will you wait here while speak to him ?" ". I will call again," he said, kindly. Good night, Miriam. Heaven grant that I may have judged your heart Tightly." But Miriam did not seek her hus band at once. It seemcd mockery to go to him with d'amonds flashing from her rich dress; so she sought her own room, and putting-aside her evening toilet, dressed herself plain ly, but very carefully, and then kneel ing down, she prayed with earnest fervor before she left the apartment. " Wilton !"- The harrassed and weary man looked up. "Wilton, you should have •trusted me. Give me your heart, your confi dence, my dear husband." He bowed his head upon her out stretched hands. " Can you bear it, , Miriam ?" 44 I can bear anything-if you are beside me—if you love and trust me. What I cannot bear is to believe my husband loves money better than his wife." " No, no." , " I understand that now.", But there must be confidence between us. Wilton, I , Must be your true wife, bearing your sorrow and reverses:" " My own brave darling." He was standing beside. her now, and for the . first time in that long, weary year the old bright look was on his face, and the old clear ring in his voice. His arm was around her;, and she leaned upon his breast. " Forgive me," he said, earnestly, "for doubting your courage—never your love, Miriam." • She laughed a merry, bright laugh, and then playfully closed the desk. She drew'him to a seat beside her, and 'sketched a burlesque picture of their future home, with Mrs. Sey mour, in a crimson dress, frying on ions, while Mr. Seymour milked the cow in the garden; • • ' It is four years since Mr. Palmer broke his promise: A happier home, a more thrifty housekeeper, or proud husband cannot be found, than in the gretty house of the Seymours, where love, confidence and happiness will j I not yield the• first place to Money: .. , 1 r„, ... _ .. . - r '---. -: '1 i ' 1 L _l ' -. .. .. ' ' -.- I- - ‘.. Two brothers belonging to one of 'the old families, living some' hundred miles from New York, find continuous country_ life rather irksome. As one or the other of them is obliged to be on the estate, they take their turn in coming down to the city for a little recreation. It was re marked to ono of them the other day that be and Ida brother were like two buckets in la well, one always irciing; , up, and the other going down. " 'Yes, replied Toni; "and also like a well-bucket, the one go ing-up is always full."—New York Hour. " Yovico man," says the Owego Re cord, "invest your capital in integrity." It is quite impossible. There is really none. in the market.—pnire Free Prete. =MEE EZGARDLESB OF 'DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER. Nannette's Live Baby. good many years ago, in the city' -of Philadelphia, lived a little girlommed Nannette. One summer afternoon her mother went to pay a short visit to her aunt, who lived near by, and gave her little girl per 'mission to amuse herself on the front door-steps until her return. So Nan• nette, in a clean pink frock awl white apron, playing and chatting with her big wax " Didy,'! which .Was her doll's name, formed; a pretty picture to the passers-by, 'some of whom walked slowly, in Order to-hear the child's talk to her doll. = "You'se a big, old girl," she went on, smoothing out Didy's petticoats, "and I've bad you for e v er and ever, and I ' se mos' six.. But you grow no bigger. You never, never cry, you don't. You'ao a ,stiipid old thing, and I'm tired oryou, lam ! b'leve you'se only a make bleve baby, and I want a real, live baby, I do—a baby that will cry 1 Now don't you see," and she gave the doll's bead a whack—"that you don't cry ?. If anybody should bit me so, I'd squeam m-u-r-cf-e-r, I would 1 And then the p'ilsman would come, and there would be an awful time. There, sit up, can't you? Your back is like a broken .stick. Oh, hum, I'm tired of you. Didy." Leaving the doll leaning in a one sided way against-the door. Nannette posed her dimpled chin in her hands, and sat quietly looking into the street. Presently a woman came along with a bundle in her arms, and seeing Nannette and a Didy " in. the door-way, went up the steps and ask ed the little girl if she would not like to have a real little live baby. "One that will cry?" eagerly ask ed Nannette. " Yns, one that will 'cry, and laugh, too, after a bit," answered the woman, all the time looking keenly about her; and then in a hu , ted voice she asked the child if her mother was at home. - "No—she's gone to see my auntie; shall I call. her ?" replied Nannette, jumping to her feet, and clapping her hand, from a feeling as it, in some way, she was to have her long-wished for live baby. "No, don't call her; and if you want a baby that will cry, you must be \ery quiet and listen.to me. Mark me now—have you a quarter of _a dollar to pay for a baby. " I guess so," answered Nannette; " I've a lot of money up stairs." And running up to her room, sue climbed into a chair, took down her money-box from a shelf, and empty ing all her pennies and small silver coin into her apron, ran down again. " This is as much as a quarter of a dollar, isn't it ?" • The woman saw at a glance -that there was more than that amount, and hastily taking poor _little Nan nett's carefully hoarded pennies, she whispered:— " Now carry the baby up-stairs and keep it in your own little bed. Be careful to make no noise, for it is sound asleep. Don't tell anybody you have it until it cries. Mind that. When you hear it cry, you may know it is hungry." Then the woman went hurriedly away, and Nanette never saw her again. - Nannette's little heart was nearly bieaking with delight at the thought of having a real, live baby ; and bolding the bundle fast in her arms, Where the woman had placed it, she began trudging - up stairs with it. Fi nally pulling and panting, her cheeks all aglow, she reached her little bed, 'and turning down the covers she put in the bundle, and covering it up carefully she gave it some loving lit tle pats, saying softly, " Iffy biohy,my real, little live baby that will cry!" And then she carefully tripped out of the room and down-stairs again. Very soon Nannette% mother came home, bringing her ai line large apple, ' which drove all thoughts of the baby from her. mind; and it was only when night came, and she , was seated at the supper table with her papa and mamma, that she remembered her baby ; but at that time, suddenly, from somewhere that was surely in the house, came a baby's cry ; and clapping her bands, her eyes dancing with joy, Nannette began to slide down from her 'chair, saying with great emphasis, " That's my baby." Her mother laughed. " Your ba by, Nannette?" " Yes, mamma, my ; baby; don't you hear it cry ? 'Tis Wungry 1" And she started to run upstairl, but her mother called her back. , " Why, Nannette, what ails you? What do you meat, about yqur baby ?'1 she asked in surprise. `~' Why, MY BMW, mamma 1 bought it for a quarter of a dollar 1 a baby that cries—not a mis'ble make b'lieve baby. Oh, how it does cry 1' it mist be awful hungry 1" And i away she darted up the stairs. ller father and mother arose from their seats In' perfect amazement, and followed their little girl to. her room, where, lying r upon her bed, was-a bundle from wichh came a ba by's ,cries. • Nannette's mother began to unfasten the, wrappings, and,' sure enough there was, a wee little - girl not more than three weeks old look. ing tip at them with two great wet eyes. Of course, Nannette was question. ed, and she related all she could , re member of her talk with the' woman from whom she bought, the baby. lier papa said perhaps the baby had been stolen, and that something had been given to it - to make it keep. - "• But what - shall we. do with it?" asked both father and other. "Do with it ?" cried Nannette. "Why, it's my , baby, mamma I I paid all my money for it. It cries, it does. I will keep it always." So it was decided that the baby stay, if nobody came to. claim it, which nobody ever did, although Nannette's papa , put an advertise ment in a; newspaperabout it. It would take a larger book than "Wide Awake" in which to tell all of Nannette's experiences in taking care of "my baby,"_as she called the little girl, whom she afterward nam ed 'Victoria, in honor of the then young queen of England. yictoria is now a woman, and sh lives, as does Nannette, in the cit y of Phila. delphia. She has a little girl of her own " mos' six," who is named Nan- nette for the good little" si4er moth er," who, once upon a time, bought her mamma of a strange woman for a quarter of a dollar, as she thought. And this other little NanOtte never tires of hearing the rotoantio story of the indolent " Didy " and the " real little, live baby that will au."—Afa ry. Wager-Fisher in Febrdary Wide Awake. Truth, Worst of All. A man who said he was trying to get sufficient money together to reach. Toledo, yesterday enter/ an office . on Griswold street . nd to his story, adding that 'his name wasiPacsar. "Any relation to dulius i or Augus tus ?" inquired the -CiLiZeN " Well, no. I want to be honest and square about this thin g, and I tell you honestly that I itm not re lated to either." "Then I can't help you tiny. Yon are nothing but a commpn sort of plug, and it won't make any differ erence whether you ever get to Toledo or not. If you were I related to the gieat Julius I should feel in duty bound totelp you." The man backed oat without an other word, and entering the office next door he walked up tto the QCCI.I - with the remark : . "My name is Caesar, land I ami closely related to Julius akict Augus tus. Can you spare me ten cents to' help me to-Toledo?" . .i " Sir, you are a base de iverl" re plied the other. " You ae no more related to Caesar than I am. Ila.d you come in here and- told me a straight,-truthful story, I should have . given you a qur.rter. YOu. can go, sir." - - The man went out and pow be de termined-to tell the truth! and noth ing but the truth; Ilaltitig. the first man that came along, be Old : .- "I have been telling folks that my name. was Caesar; and tat I was trying to collect money enough to take-me to Toledo. Now, the ; real Muth of the matter is that I am named dark, and 1-. wanted - the money- to buy whisky. That's the solemn truth, and can yon help One with ten cents ?" ',' "'Ten cents! Why yot base liar andideceiver, build 31ou over to the police!" exclainied the other., -"l've told you the truth." 'And it's enough to send you up for six months! Pon't you dare ask me for Money !" IThe tramp sat ' , down n a cold stone block, took his last hew of to bacco and Mused "I've lied and I've told the truth. I've told , the truth and live lied. I made as much one way as the other, and nothing out of either. Looks now as if I'd got to plaY deaf and dumb or go to work ?"—,- retroit Free Press. The Boy's 'Rithmetie Lesson. • Several men were gathered at the door of a blacksmith shbp on Cass avenue, the other morni g, when a s h schoolboy not over nine inn of age, came along with tears in his eyes, and one or then group asked : " What's the matte 4 boy—fall • - down ?" - " N-no; but I've got t hard 'rith metic lesson and .I ex eel, to get I-licked," was the answer ' " Let me see, I used th be a king bee on fractions." - 1 - L The man took the book, turned to the page; and read : " Rtme - I—Find,the le st, common multiple of the denomin tors of the fractions for the least ommon de nominator. Divide this least com mon denominator by each denomina tor and multiply. lk)th t4rms of the . fractions by the quotientiobtained by each denominator." Ii He read the rule aloud and asked if anyone could understand it. All shook their heads, and he then con tinued : '1 ~ " Well, now, I think. I 611ould go to I work and .discover the least uncom- Mon agitator. I would then envolve -a parallel according to the intrinsic deviator and punctuate the thermome ter." " So would I l" answered every man in chorus, and one of them added : " I've worked 'cm out Ethat way a thousand times." Not-one of the men, Ilk of whom were in business and had made money, could even understand the working of the rule, much less work examples by it, and it was expected that a nine-, year-old boy'should go to the black board and do every •slim offhand; --Detroit Free Press. Kissing Eictraoidinaty. Two Thousand ha an flour s - t - At a party of - young people in Paris, conversation happened to turn on the subject of kissing, and the questiob was propounded who of the young men present could boast of having given or being; able to give "his girl" the most kisies. I Various were the replies this qaestion caller' out. Finally a young,man and the girl to whom he was bethrothed bet 200 that they could kiss 10,000 times in ten hours, providing they would be allowed to take an occasional glass of wind "between.", Two persons . were appointed a committee to count the numberof - kisses,and work began. During the first hour !they counted 2,000 kisses. Duitik the second hour the kisses were not nea r ly as numer ous, for the committee only counted 1,000. After the third( hour, during which they managed to score but 750, further operations Werel brought to a sudden standstill.. The lips of the young man were seized with a cramp, and he was carried off ; in .a fainting condition. The girl, a few days later, was stricken with brain fever, which nearly . carried her off tO a land where kissing under any form is ,unknown. MTh& the people who , had won the bet deinanded their' money the par ents of the girl refuseil to pay her , share of it. The matter was then taken to the courts, and there it wns , 'decided that the bet mast be paid, • , _ .. . .. . , . ~. ~. ... 1\ \ 1 "1, .! , • : .., ! - „ Pyramidal A It is a saying of Tully, often (incit ed, that there is no philosphical doc trine so absurd as not to have found at acme time a philosopher to-defend it; and Sir William liamilpber goes so far as to declare that every possi ble view has been maintained con- 'eerning the leading facts of human conseiciusness. All this seems suffi- ciently .s trange, but the limit of fib; imrdity is not yet reached. Every thing about which men think is a nu cleus for all sorts of absurd opinions. Even so simple a matter as a tinge pile, of stones, laid as with unmistak able indications of human handiwork: and design, made a subject foil - the most glaring absurdities—absurdi ties entertained not merely by :igno rant and unthinking persons, but by those ,who profess to be learneitsand scientific. Professor Tyndall . says in one of his published works that there have been writers who main tained that the pyramids of Egypt were the production of 'natue, and that this theory was defended With such seriousness and show of learn- ing that Alexander Von Humboldt actually wrote at essay with the ex- press Übject of refuting the notion. When little Topsy was asked who made her, and i replied, "1 'spects:,, 1 groiced," she needed " S S." instruc-. tion, certainly, but her reply was,in finitely less absurd than the thedry . of.. scientists - that the pyramids "growed." One would think that with this theory, exploded by a Von Hum boldt; absurd theories respecting the pyramids might cease. But the for,. mer "scientific " absurdity seems to have furnished not a caution against, further absurdity, but an excuse for one. A bOok has been recently published in Chicago entitled, " The Scientific and Beligious,. Discoveries in the Great Pyramid." A still' larg er work is published in Philadelphia upon the same subject, entitled . 0 A. '-Miraele in Stone, or the Great Pyra mid of Egypt." The pyramid refer red to is that of Gezeh. This pyra mid is probably the most remarkable of all, and indicates a .degree of knowledge and. mechanical skill ex isting at the time it was built, that surpass in some respects the knowl edge and skill of the present day. The works mentioned deServe peru- Mal as evidences of the scientific and mechanical attainments of very.early. i l times. But this plain lesson to he learned 'from the study of the pyramid of Gezeh is not the one which the books referred to seek to impress. it is not the knowledge and skill of the Creator which this pyramid is said to display. One ,learned professor says of itr: " The . Great Pyramid is the highest and holiest subject that. can ever occupy a ,scientific society, supposed now !under an increased. body of evidence, to have been erect-. ed under the eye of. Melchizedek, and accordin , r to a 'design furnished by divine inspiration." Having such an origin, the building is said to be. Constructed in such a manner as to make the 'wisest men "draw their breath with awe." The pyramid is' declared to be synibolic throughout It typifies the main facts of the old, Jewish dispensation and likewise thq, principal events of the Christian disi pensation. It is .Messianie and those who have discovered its true origin *and symbolic character are filled with the liveliest gratitude that the Creator of the heavens and the earth likewise built;a, pyramid' by which it is shown conclusively to both saint . and sinner that " tine science and the Holy Scriptures are in perfect ac cord." All`these results are made to appear in these volumes by a scries of minutely careftil measurements* and computations. Even the Scrip ture itself, not only in the Old* Tes tament, but also, though less clearly, in the New . Testament, is found mak ing unmistakable reference to this pyramid, so that while the pyramid confirms the • Scripture, the Scripture in turn Confirms the pyramid. this is a very ingenious and. interest ing theory, but seems to be a Pyra mid absurdity quite as great as that which Alexander Von Humboldt es sayed to. demolish. One of the Lieutenant-GOvernors Of New York, became in his" old age very eccentric if not slightly . insane. He was very wealthy, but at the same time very 'economical and 'pru dent. Pharaoh-like he seems to have desired to leavea monument in stone of himself and . of his peculiarities. Ile therefore cause all the stones lon two hundred acres of ,land- to be built into a monument thirty or for ty feet high, over a grave dug for I himself on the poorest part of his farm. * It is Well known now • that the monument,is a pile of stones made by an eccentric old man ; but ifthe time ever comes when some scientific man shall maintain that that heap of stones is a production of nature; we hope f in the interest of common - sense that ao sci, , ntific defendei of holy writ will undertake to show that this monument, was designed' and its structure superintended by the. Cre ator of the world in order to demon ,' trate the truth of his word. I "JAmes," my boy, called - Mr. Tilden to his private secretary ;"James, my bey, isn't it about time the announcement was made in all the newspapers that I em about to lead to the altar a beautiful and accomplished youdg female of ,Kalama zoo, or some other seaport? And, • see here, James," called Mr. Tilden after the retreating secretary , "s4rpose you add this time, by way of variety, that she lo'ves me for myselfi alone."—Cincinnati Enquirer. 1, • To have pretty girl of twenty re call that piece of deviltry which she recol lected. Mr. Gallagher had been guilty', of when ho was a ten-year-old boy, and to have her remind him of it before a lot of people, naturally embarrassed him ; I ut ho didn't feel half so badly as she did when he made believe to lau , ,h at the re miniscience and said, " Ah, yes; I recol lect the scrape as Well as you do; though it was almost thirty -years ago.".—Beaton Post. • - LITTLE Mrs. Pott-Hunthr—" Can you tell me of any. one around here who has any old . CbinaAck sell—r Pal old China,. 'you . know Me County man (who thinks ho is being. chaffed)—"No, sir; or iva'am, I mean ; or—or whichever yowhe don't know of any roand here as ; has' any old ehany, but-tbere's a man doWn to Bushkin as has some what belonged io ; 40 .1 1 1r they A 9 Any,".-.itarper's $l.OO per Annum In Advance. IfIJMBER 41 II THE COMMON LOT. . . Into alf Urea 'outs rain must fall, Into all eyes vomit teardrOps' start. Whether they fill as a gentle shower; Or droi a, like tire, from an aching hesrt. Into all hearts some sorroicniust creep, Into all souls some doubtlngs must come, Lashing. the Ir&VISII Of 'lf fell great deep.. From dimpling watersto seething foam. Over all Pathways some clouds must lower, Under all feet some sharp prongs spring, Tearing the drab to bleeding wounds, Or entering the heart with their bitter sung Upon all brims rough winds most blow, • Over ill.aboulders a moss must be lain, Bowing the form in its lofty height Down to the dust in bitter pain. Into all hind's someAluty thrust, - • Unto all arms some duty glycol; ' ' • : Crushing the beirt with Its dreary weight, i ' Or lilting the soul frori earth to beaven. Into all hearts and boMOs and lives ' I God's dear sunshine comes streaming down, Gilding the ruins of life's great vain— ' Weaviog for aft a golden crown. The Surrender at Appomattox. The Conqueror's Story of the Event, and His Opinion of General Lee-. Mee ting of the Great Chieftains. • Courteiies Between the Op posing Heroes--Grant's Own Words. "On the night befdre Lee's sur render," said General Grant, 41 had a Wretched headache—headaches to whjelk I havet . been • subject—nervous prostration,. intenselpersonal suffer ing. But, suffer or not, I hal tokeep.. moving. I saw clearly, especially after Sheridan had'eut off the escape to Danville, that Lee must surrender or break and run- into the mountains —break in all directions and leave us a dozen, guerilla bands to fight. The object of -my campaign was not Richmond. not the defeat of Lee in actual fight,_ but to remove him and his army out:of the contest. and, if possible, to .haVe. him use his influ ence in inducing the surrender of Johnston and the other isolated •artnies. You see, the war v,as an enormous strain upon, the country. Rich as we were I do not see how we could have endured it another year, even froth a financial paint of view. "So with these views I wrote Lee, and opened the correspondence with which the, world ' is tamiliar." Lee does not'appear well in that corres-. pondence, not nearly so well las be did' in our subsequent interviews, where his Whole laaring was t4t of a patriotic and gallant soldier, con cerned alone for the welfaie of his army and his State. lf,received word that Lee would meet in‘e at a point within our lines near Stieridan's head quarters. I bad to ride quite a dis tance through a muddy countr. I remember now that-I was conc erned about ,my. ticrional appearance. I had an old quit on, without my sword, and. without:any diitinguishing mark of - rank except the sboulder-Straps of a lieutenant general 'on a 'woolen blouse. I was splashed with mud in my lOng ride. I .was afraid Lee might think I meant to show -him studied discourtesy by so coming- - at least I _thoright so. But I'bad no other-clothes within reach; as Lee's letter found me away'" from my base. of I kept on riding until I met' Sheridan: The General, - who was one of the heroes-of the campaign, and whose pursuit of Lee was per feet in its generalihip and energy, told .me where to find Lee. I reinem her that Sheridan was impatient when 1 met him, anxious and suspicious about the. - whole business; feared there might be a plan i to escape; that he- had Lee at his feet, and wanted to end the business by going in and forcing an- absolute surrender by capture. In fact,' be had his troops ready for such an assault when Lee's white flag Caine within - his line. • MELTING OF THE CHIEFTAINS. 4. 4 1 went up to the house where Lee was waiting. I found him in a fine, new, splendid uniform, which , only, recalled my anxiety as to my own clothes while on my way, to meet him. I, 'expressed •roy regret that I was compelled to meet him in so un ceremodous a manner, and he re- 'plied that the only suit,he bad Avail- able was- one which had been sent him by some admirers in Baltimore, and which he then wore for the first time. We spoke of old friends in the -army. I remembered haying seen Lee in. Mexico. He was so much higher in rank than. 'myself .at the time that I supposed he had noyeeol lection of me„ But be said' he re -membered me.very well: Wc,talked . of old times and exchanged inquiries about friends. Lee then broached the aubject of our meeting. k told 'him my terms and Lee, listening at tentively, asked me to write them doWn. I took out my ' manifold order-book and pencil and wrote them down. General Lee put on his glasses and read them over. The. onditions gave the officers their side-arms, private horseS and personal baggage. I said to Lee, that I hoped and be iliev&l this would be the close of the war. - lhat it was most important that t men should go home and go t1::t k. and the government would not; throw any obstacles in the way. Lee answered that it would have a most happy - effect and accepted the terms. I handed over my penciled memorandum. to an aid to put into ink-and we resumed our conversation about old times and friends in the armies. COURTESIES BETWEEN VIE OPPOSING . HEROES,. • "Various officers" came in—Long street, Gordon ' Pickett, from the South; Sheridan,, Ord "and otheis from our, side. Some were old friends —Longstreet and myself, for in stance—and we had a general talk. Lee no doubt expected. me to ask for his sword, but I did not want.his I,sword. It would only," said the Gen eral, smilingly , " have gone - to the -Patent,olllce, to be worshiped by the Washington '.rebels. There was a pause, when :General Lee said that most-of 'the animals in his cavalry and artillery were owned by the privates, and he would like to know, uuder i the terms, whether they would be regarded as private property or, the piciperty oi the government. I said that under. the terms of surren der they belonged.to the government. General - Lee 'read over the letter and said that was-so. I then said to the general.that I helieyed and hoped this - was the last battle of the-- war; • • that - Tait tbe•witidOitOr:tbase men . getting bione — ind 'to Work as soon as possible, andithit I woulagive orders S • to allow auysoldier or Officer claim-, ing herke or mile - to" take it.. , General Lee showed some emotion at fe6ling which tali° shared=. tinditaldlt would haveil most happy-. etTect.' . The . interview-' ended and / - gave orders for 'rationing - his troops. • • The next day I met Lee on horse- - • back and we had a keg. talk. In that conversation urged upon Lee the wisdom of ending the war by the ' surrender - or the.ether • ed him to use his ,iniluence with the people of . the. , Sotith- . -aii - influence, that, was supreme—to bring the -war. to an end. - General Lee said that his campaign in Virginia was - tte last . organized .resistanee which the South • - was capable making,- - that I might have to march a good., deal-and - counter isolated commands here and there ; but there was no longer any 'army which could. make a stand. I told Lee Lee that this .fact only .. made his responsibility greater, and any fur.; • . ther war would be a crime. I asked him to go among the Southern people • and use his influence to have all men:. • , under arms surrender -ton the .sanie - terms given to the Arm}; of Northern._ • Virginia. ' lie replied -le. could not , • do sd without .consultation' with; President Davis. I was sorry. I . - saw that. the Confederacy had gone beyond the . reach of President Davis, "," and thittliere was nothing that could be done except what Lee - couid do to it benefit the:Southern people. I was . 1 .1 anxious to get them. hew - and have . cur . :willies go to--their homes • and But- Lee would not 'move without Davis, and, as -a -matter of fact, at that time, or soon after,' Davis was a fugitive in the woods; _ I • GRAN T - 13 OPINION OP LEE. " Lye•was of a s Slow, conservative, cautions nature, without imagination or humor; always the . ".tiame, -with grave dignity- -I never could see in his. achievements what justifies this. ' , reptitati6n. The illusion that noth ing but beavy odds beat him will not stand the ultimate light of history. I ; know it-is not true. Lee -was a good deal of- !a: beadquirter‘ desk general; from whit 1 can hear,: and from. what his officers say. Ile 'was almost too old for tv3tiveservice —the_ hest service - in the field. ,At -the time of the surr,ender_ he was 58 or 59 and Was-43. . Eli " His officers used to, say that he posed himself, that he was retiring and exclusive ' _and"'_and"'that his, ben"- quarters were difficult" of access.. I remember when the - commissioners mine through our lines to treat, just before the surrender, - that. one of them remarked on the great differ ence between our headquarters,and Lee's. I always kept open tiou4e.at - headquarters, so far ss the army was' concerned: ' "My anxiety,". said the . General. " for some time before Richmond felt was lest Lee should 'abandon:it. 3ly pursuit of Lee was:hazardous. I was. in a- position "of extreme difficulty. You see I was marching away from my supplies, while. Lee was falling back on his, supplies. ..I.f Lee had continued his flight, another day • I -should have had to abandon "the pur suit, fall -back to Danville,.build the railroad and -feed my ~army. .5o far ,as my supplies were concerned, was almOst at my last gasp Irlieri the stir render took ,place.7:—...Proqi R. Young's "Around_the .World With Grant." What a In a prison al: New Bedford, :Hass., there now is a man whom we call Jim, and who is b. prisoner on dlife - sentence.' Up to last spring he w regarded as a - desperate, dangerous! man, ready for a rebellion- at any . hour. - He planned - general - opt break, but was " given away 1 ' by one: -of the • conspirators. . - He planned a general mutiny or rebellion and was , again betrayed. He then kept his own counsel, and, while never refus ing to.obey orders, he obeyed like a man, who only - needed backing- to make -him refuse to. - -One - day in June a party of strangers came to. the institution. .one was an old gen- : tleman, and the other - ladies, and two of the ladies- had small children. The guide took one• of the - children -on his arm, and the other: -walked until the . party came to climbing thii stairs.' Jim :wasworking nearby, sulky and morose as evbr, • when the guide said to him ." Jim, won't •you help this little - girl.up the st i airs?" • .• The convict 'hesitated, r'a scowl on his face . , and the littlel•gia held her arms_oyt to him, and said _ " Ifpyou w 4,1 I piess kiss you." ••*••1* scowl vianished in an instant, and he lifted the child up as tend9rly • as a 'father; - Malt' way up the stairs she kissed him. At the head of the' stairs she said : 1' Now you've got to•kiss me, too." 'lle blushed like .a woman, looked' into her-innocentlace,',and.then kiss-. ed her cheek, and before_ he reached the foot of the stairs-again the matt had teats in his - eye's. Ever, since that:day`he his been a ,changed man, and no one in the place gives less: trouble.' Maybe in his far-away West- - ern home he h'as a Matie of his owl'. `No one knoWs. for, he-newer reveals his inner life; bu the' change - so quickly Wrought by a - child proves that'he has a heart, and !gives . hope: that he may forsake his evil ways. =-ArPhapjf.'. ~•,,Thoughtful ThoUghts. PENIFENCF: is God's own medicine. PATRED. is. like fire- 7 it makes even light rubbish deadly. SOME people use their conscience chief ly to judge others by. Daxs~.Eea, oielitude and remorse are a grim and hateful company. - _' T E test of moral character is not _in fallibility but recuperative power. OFTEN a reserve that hides a bitter hu miliation seems to be haughtiness,. MEN's muscles move -better‘vrhen their souls are making merry Music.' THOSE who trample on the helpless are disposed to cringe to the,powerful.- • HOPE softens sorrow, brighteirlit plain surroundings and.eases bard,lor. A. s. .'s good breeding is the best se. curity against other people's ill manners. HE hai mastered all things who has combined the useful with the tgreeable. Its who laughs at:emelt - 3r sets his heel on the neck of religion and godlinesS. . WiTnot:r contentment there is no wealth, s►nd Without it - there is no pov erty. - BE constant in what is good, tut be ware of being,ottstinatein anything that is SIN produces fear, fear leads to bond age{ and bondage makes all our diaries irksome.- • . , ;\ ' MAN has to go out and seek hii Path:; woman's path usually lies close under her ONLY What We , have wrought into ;our characters during life can we take away with uv. A WISE men watches .the devoTopplent ()Pi his. plane, awl Oen ° bends !Oi l ever. give to waiting. • - • uld Do"
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers