' it IP pi v 111 111 I 1 jHlii nT,?LZe7'- . AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER. . Vol. vil. Now nioom field, !?., Tuesday, Lpril 29, 1873. IV o. 17. lit fjfoomfitlb feints. IB PUBI.I8H1ID EVERT TUESDAY MORNING, BT FRANK MORTIMER & CO., At New liloomflcld, Ferry Co., Pa. Being provided with Steam Tower, and large Cylinder and Job-Presses, we are prepared to do all kinds of Job I'l lnting 111 good style and at Low Trices. ADVKKTISING ItATKSl Trantlent 8 Cents per lino for one Insertion 13 " " two insertions 15 " " " three Insertions Business Notices In Local Column 10 Cents per line. VFor limner yearly adv'ts terms will be given upou application. "Not a Drop More, DanieL" A Good Temperance Story. DANIEL AKIN had become a con firmed drunkard. So fully had be come under the dominion of bis appetite, that he was perfectly miserable when he could not obtain the means of gratifying bis thirst. Ho had neglected bis family till his wife's father had taken her and the children to the paternal roof, lie bad spent all bis substance in drink, and was kept from the poorbouse only by perform ing menial services for bis food, and by the kindness of 'Thomas Edgerton, a member of the Society of Frionds, who had known bim from bis youth, and who had a strong hope that, in tho course of time, ho wotdd see his folly, and turn again into the right path. Tho loading publican of the place had let him have drink so long as his money lasted, but would trust him no longer. He was lounging about tho place one bright moon-light evening, pleading with the publican to trust bim for a drink bis reply was: " Not a drop more, Daniel 1" lie remained a while longer, and then left. As the cool air of the evening full upon bim, be, all at once, gave utterance to bis feelings in the following strain: "Not a drop more, Daniel." Am I drunk or am I sober? I am sober. "Not a drop more, Daniel.'' Did Hoskins think a drop would hurt me ? No; but by 'money was gone. Ho has got all got everything I bad; even the Bible my mother gave me ! He has got the boots which my wife, with ber own earnings, bought for Jenuio. "Not a drop mora, Daniel." Daniel, what say you to that ? I Bay so too. I once had good clothes, but now I have nothing but rags. "Not a drop more, Daniel," till I have clothes again as good as when Mary ' and I were first married. I once had a . good watch, but that, too, is gone! "Not a drop more, Daniel," till I have another as good as the one I pawned to Hoskins for drink. I have seen the day when I bad a good horse and buggy, and could ride into the town in as good a style as any man in the place. " Not a drop more, Daniel," till I bave another horse and buggy as good as I once bad. ' I bad cows that fur nished my family with butter and cheese, but Hoskins has got them. " Not a drop mure, Daniel," till those cows or others as good are mine again. I once had this wal let full of bills; but now not one cent bave I got. " Not a drop more, Daniel," till this wallet is well filled again. By this time be had reached the place where he formerly resided, and leaning up against the fence, he mused a long time in silence. He viowed the desolate place by the light of the moon, and bis eyes ranged over the house and farm, once his own. He then said to himself: "Once I ownod this house and farm. Here I was born. Here my father and mother d.ad. I was the pride of their hearts ; but I brought down their gray bail with sorrow to tbo grave 1 Here I began my married life; and all that heart could wish was mine. Here Mary and I took comfort together, till Hoskins came and opened his rum-shop and now. be calls it his. In that south room my children were born, and there my Jennie died. Oh, bow sorrowful she looked when Bhe saw me take her boots and .start for the store to pawn thorn for rum, while she lay sick upon the bed ! And then how she begged ine never to strike her mother agaiu t Ilcau see her now; ber pale face, ber wasted form; but she cannot come to me again. And oh, my wife,'how shamefully I abused her I It was not your Daniel that did it. No; it was Hoskins1 accursed rum I No wonder you were taken from me by those who loved you and would not see you abused. They won't bave me 2. in the house. They won't let me live with you. "Not a drop more, Daniel," till this house is mine again. " Not a drop more, Daniel," till these broad acres are again in my possession, and the wife and the chil dren that are living, are in yonder rooms, and we are a happy family once more. " Not a drop more, Daniol." nolp -me, my Ood, till all these things are accom plished 1 I thank you, Hoskins, for those words. I shall not forget them." He had become so much occupied with bis thoughts, and spoken in a tone so loud, that be bad not noticed the wagon which by this time, bad reached the road, in which was Boated the kind-hearted Quaker before mentioned. Ho stopped his horse, and heard distinctly the language Daniel used. As be closed bis soliloquy ho turned and saw Thomas Edgerton, who said : " Daniel, does tbee mean to keep thy vow ?" " Yes, Friend Edgerton, I do." "Thee bast promised a great many times thee'd drink no more. What makes thee think thee will keep thy vow this time?" " I know, Friend Edgerton, I have often vowed I would drink no more, but now I feel different from what I have felt before ; my heart is almost broken, and I feel my weakness; and I believe Qod will help me this time." " God grant that it may bo bo ! Daniel, get in and take a scat. Thee must be hun gry, coma home with me." On tho way the Quaker drew out of him all that has boon written, and he advised him to go to California. He told ' him to go to New York,and work bis way round the Cape. He decided to do so. The Quaker kindly promised to furnish bim with suitable clothing. Thee would like to see thy wife and children before thee goes?" ' I should ; but they have become so es tranged from me, if I went, perhaps they would not receive me. I think it will be better they should not know where I am, I want to surprise them, and hope to do so, by coming back a sober man, and with money enough to make them comfortable prefer that you and your wife should be the only persons in the place who shall know whore I am, or what I am doing. Thus, while riding toward the quiet farm-house of the Quaker, the whole thing was arranged. When they reached the farm, the horse was put into the barn, and they entered the bouse. As they seated themselves before the fire, the Quaker said to bis wife: " Amy, tbee can put on another plate Daniel will stay with us a fow days, and then be will go to California." The good Quaker folt confident Daniol would keep bis word this time. At the end of a few days everything was in readi ness. The old horse was harnessed, and before daylight , Daniol Akin was on his way to the railway station, he ba d not been in the village since the night when the words "Not a drop more, Daniel,' were uttered. He was missed from bis customary haunts; but it was supposed he bad gone on a " spree," and so nothing was thought of his absence. No inquiries were made, for all were glad that he was missing, and cared not for his return. He had been gone somewhat more than a year, when the Quaker was iu the store of Hoskins, and wished to hire a pasture for the coming season. " I bave one I will let you bave free, if you will put up the fences on the place,' said Hoskins. " Where is it ?" asked the Quaker. "It's on the Akin's farm," was the reply. " If thee will let it at that rate, thee must have let it get sadly out of repair." " It is, indeed : I cannot leave the stor to look after it. The house is poor and the family who lived in it last weie too shift less to buy wood, so they burnt up all the fences ; in fact, I would rather sell it than ront it." " What will thee take for it?" inquired the Quaker. "It cost me sixteen hundred dollars." " Yes, but thee paid it in goods, and charged them your price for them." " J o be sure I did. Akin could not got trusted anywhere else, and I felt that I was running a great risk in letting bim have goods ; so I charged accordingly ; just anybody elite would bave done under the circumstances." " But thee has not told me what thee will take for the place. I will give thee eight hundred dollars for it, if that is any object to thee." Hoskins thought long enough over the matter to conclude .that the interest of eight hundred dollars was far better than farm, for the use of which he realized scarcely anything, and at last said: " You can have it." " Very well, Hoskins ; thee can make out the deeds to-morrow ; and thee shall have thy money. By the by, does thee know what has become of Daniel Akin-?" " No ; he has not been in the village for more than a year ; at any rate, I bave not seen bim." We may here tell tho reader something that Hoskins did not know. The Quaker had that day received a letter from Daniel Akin, 'stating that be was at the mines, hard at work, and sticking to bis motto, 'Not a drop more, Daniel," that he bad laid up a few hundred dollars, and dosired him to inquire what the place ho once owned could be bought for. Mr. Edgerton had taken the method above mentioned to find out tho vievs of Hoskins respecting the place ; so confident was be that Daniel Akin would come borne a sober man, with money in bis pocket, that he had ventured to ' purchase the place, to keep for bim till his return. He wroto to Akin, informing him what he had done, and about three moths after he received a lotter from him stating that he had sent by express five hundred dollars in gold to a banker in New York, with orders to sell it, and remit the proceeds to him to go towards the money for the farm. Gold at that time commanded a high premium, and the five hnudrcd dollars became eight hundred before they reached the hands of friend Edgerton. Akin re quested bim to draw up a deed giving the whole proporty to his wifo, Mary, and to have it duly recorded, and left with the register of deeds. In bis letter, he said : "If, perchance, I should ever break my resolution, I shall have secured a home for my wife and children. I prefer, however, that thoy sheuld not know anything of this for the present. If I live to como homo I will give Mary the deeds with my own hands ; if not you can do it. Now that the farm is bought you bad better stock it, for I still Btick to my motto, " Not a drop more, Daniol. Another year passed away. By this time friend Edgerton had stocked the farm with young cattle and sheep, the fences were put in repair, and everything but the house wore a tidy appearance. Another remittauce came, which paid for all the stock, and left an overplus with which to repair the house. ' Carpenters were busy, and villagers who happened to pass that way found that extensive repairs were going on ; still no one presumed to question the Quaker with respect to bis plans. These repairs completed, furniture found its way into the house. A yoke of oxen were seen on the farm. The villagers were astonished to see the Quaker driving an elegant horse, and riding in a new DUgy. Mo received this snort note one day : " I have arrived all safe and sound. Please go and get Mary and the children Friend Edgerton rode over to the next town and onlled on Mary's father, and in' vited ber and the children to go home with bim and make a visit. The invitation was accepted, and they Quaker to his house, the next day be said : returned with tbe In the afternoon of " Mary, I want to go to tbe railway station. Tbee and the children can stay with Amy." Ho went down to the station and fetched Daniel, and left him at bis own house, where he had previously conveyed some provisions, and where be was to pass the night. It was dark when Friend Edgerton reached his home. Next morning Friend Edgerton said to Mary : " Mary, I suppose thee has heard I have bought thy old place ? I bave got It fitted up. and thee and thy children shall ride over after breakfast and see it. I think thee will like it." They rode over ; and Mary was surprised to see the change which bad taken place! They looked over the lower rooms first; aud over the mantle piece, in the sitting-room was a frame, and under the glass, in large gold letters, were those words : " Not a Ditor more, Daniel." Mary, on reading these words, said : " Oh, Friend Edgerton, if Daniel could have said these words, and stuck to them this beautiful place might have still been his." " Then, thee don't know where Daniel is ?" asked the Quaker, "No. I have not beard anything of him for more than three years." "Thee would like to see him, would thee not?" " Oh, yes ! indeed I should." " Let us walk up stairs." As they went up tbe front stairs, Daniol slipped down tbe back ones, and took bis stand in the front room. When they re turned, Mrs. Akin noticed a stalwart man standing in the room with his back to the door, and started back for an instant. The Quaker said : . "It is a friend, Mary." Daniel turned around, but in tho man with the heavy beard and moustache Mary did not recognize her husband. Daniel advanced to the spot where . Mary was standing, aud in a voiee tremulous with emotion, exclaimed. " Don't you know me, Mary?" We leave the reader to imagine what the meeting was. Friend Edgerton said he must go and see Amy, and addressing him self to Mary, said : " Mary, this house and farm are thine. Daniel has got the papers, and will give them to thee. Thee can stay here as long as thee likes ; thee will live happily once more, for that ( pointing to tbo frame over the mantel-piece) "Not a drop more, Daniel" is his motto now, and will be as long as he lives." Daniel aud bis wifo fell on their knees before the Lord. Their prayers were mingled with many tears, but in their future lives those prayers were found to be answered. Several years have passed away since tho above ovents occurred, and Daniel Akin, now an earnest Christian man, still sticks to his motto : " NOT A DROP MORE, DANIEL 1" Mrs. Print on Scandal. No, my doar Goodness be thanked 1 no person can sny that I ever scandalized any one, or even my worst enemy, no mat ter what she or he may do 1 I've bad chances enough to talk, if I had a mind to, as everv ono in tho town knows full woll. Of course, living here right in tho High Street of the town, I can't help seeing great many queer things ; aud when our windows are open and our blinds shut in the summer time, I can hear them, too But I novel repeat them I scorn to make mischief. I never lisp a word, except when I got bold of some safe person, like you,my dear, that I know I can trust. And if a body is never to open ber -mouth among ber most intimate friends, why, the world isn't worth living in is it ? But that isn't scandal, you know. I hate and abhor that just as much as you do, and I don't think any one can say I was ever gulity of it in my life. But then, as I said before, it isn't for the want of a chance. Why, only last ev ening who do you think I saw walk up by here, in the bright moonlight, as brazen as you please, but Miss L. and Colonel P. 1 Fact, as suie as you sit in that chair ! and they were walking close together, and talking so confidential t I suppose you know all about tho dis graceful affair with the school girls? No My dear, you must really live in the dark Why, they bave been writing a lot of an onymous letters to people bore in town,and the Postmaster Buspected what was up at last, and he just kept a quiet lookout, and caught some of them putting the letters in I don't know what Miss C. will do. Expel them, I hope ; great girls like those have no business to act so I There's Mrs. P. going by. I presume she has been down to choapen a fowl, or got half-penny or two taken off of a joint of meat. She's the stingiest thing, my dear it would really make your heart ache to bear how sho manages and contrives I And there is her husband oue of the richest men in town, and folks do say that he can't get a docont meal of victuals in his own house, Wouldn't you What I going ? Can't you stay any long. er? Woll, do como again very soon, won' you ? Good-bye t Thank goodness, she has gone 1 I really thought she was agoing to Btay all night, I hoard a nice story about her, by the way, last week how shamefully she treats all her servants 1 Suppose she thinks I don' know It. I might make mischief enough in ber family, if I chose. But I abhor scandal. tW A girl named Roberts, aged thir teen, living iu Slalington, Lehigh county, left her home last Deubiuber without moo er, and succeeded in cottinir to Liverpool After staying in Wales for about a month she became dissatisfied with the land of her forefathers aud returned to Slatingto few day ago. A Political Reminiscence. ITROM the records of Nilef Regitter the fact is shown that Congress, in 18lfe, passed what was called a "compensation bill," changing the pay of members from per day while in service to $1500 per annum, and increasing the pay of Speaker and Vice President at the same time. It passed by a very decided vote, but was so distaseful to the country as to defeat every man who voted for it and compel the next Congress to change it although it made the new act take effect upon the following Congress. Pay was again fixed at so much per day during the session, but the amount was raised to $8. The increase voted then amounted to $200,000. Henry Clay was among those who had to run the gauntlet of popular disfavor because be voted for it. Hence this little incident: . ' i During the canvass Mr. Clay met an okl hunter who bad previously been his devoted friond, but was now opposed to bim on the ground of tbe compensation bill. "Have you a good rifle, my friend? " asked Mr. Clay. "Yes." "Does it ever flash?" Once only." " What do you do with it- throw it away ?" " No; I picked the flint, tried it again, and brought down the game." Have I ever flashed but on the compensa tion bill ? " No." " Will you throw me away?" " No 1 no 1" quickly responded tho hunter, nearly overwhelmed by bis enthu siastic feelings; " I will pick the flint and try you again ?" John Pope, well-known in the politics of Kentucky, offered himself as a candidate against Mr. Clay. He was a one armed man which gives point to the following bit of Irish wit: An Irish barber residing at Lexington had always given Mr. Clay h is vote, and on all occasions when he was a candidate for office electioneered warmly for him. His ardont temperament and unrestrained pas sions involved him in scrapes and diffi culties, out of which Mr. Clay had gener ally succeeded in extricating him. While the canvass was going on, after tbe com pensation bill, the barber did not evince his usual zeal and animation; on the con trary seemed to be indifferent as to the re sult of the election. To all inquiries- for whom ho designed to vote he answered eva sively. He was accosted a lew days pre- ' vlous to the election by a gentleman for whom be entertained the most profound ' regard with the question, " For whom, Jerry, do you moan to vote?" Regarding bis interrogator with a shrewd look, he re plied, " Faix an' shure, docthur, I mano to vote for the mau who can't put more nor ono baud into the threasury." The Irishman's logio was as good as bis wit. But tbe results of the proceeding are most fully described in the following extract from a letter of Thomas Jcflurson to Albert Gallatin, dated June 10, 1817. He says: According to tbe opinion I hazardod to you a little before your departure, we have bad almost an entire change in the body of Congress. The unpopularity of the compensation law was completed by the manner of repealing it as to all the world except themselves. In some States, it is said, every member is changed; in all. many. What opposition there .was to the original law was chiefly from Southern members. Yet many of those have been left out because they received the advance wages. I have never known so unani mous a sentiment of disapprobation, and what is remarkable is, that it was spon taneous. The newspapers were almost entirely silent, and the people not only un ruled by their leaders but in opposition to them. I confess I was highly pleased with this proof of the innate good sense, the vigilanco, and the determination of the people to act for themselves. Robbing tho Malls. For mouths past, the popular and relia ble publishers, Messrs. Hunter & Co., of Hinsdale, N. II., have been annoyed and dismayed at tho iinmonse losses of valuable letters which were daily occurring. Aided by the chief Detective and two special P. O. Agents, they have at last the satisfaction of seeing tbe thief a night clerk in the Boston P. O. "btibind the bars," and he has confessed all. Messrs. II, & Co.'s losses have beon enormous; iu fuct, no ex act estimate can at present be made. The tbifcf carefully examined, aided by a light, every lotter, and took every on that con tained money. Ho was caught lu the act and arrested, and, if he gets his dues will board with tbe State for from Ave to ton years. Meantime tho prosperous (business of Hunter & Co. goes on with its usual energy, promptness and care, and those who bavo lost money by muil will now Bee Just whore it went, and avoid giving the blame to honest persons.
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