The Montrose Democrat. (Montrose, Pa.) 1849-1876, October 15, 1867, Image 1

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A. J. GERRITSON, -Proprietor.'
BUSINESS CARDS•
M. C. strrrofq,
Auctioneer, and Insurance Agent,
ap7 65tf Frleadsville, Pa.
ROGERS & ELY,
V. SI. a gh..u.c,til.o33.e•erriss,
mylOe Brooklyn, Pa.
C. S. GILBERT,
Q. ell. .49..1.2.oticrimeier.
sepl 64tt Groat. Bond, Pa.
Dn. A. J. AINEY,
PTSICIAIVand SURGEON, has located at Brook
lyn, Snag. Co. Pa. Will attend to all calls prompt
ly. Office the one formerly occnpied by Dr. E. L.
Blakeslee. [Brooklyn, Sept. 3, 1831.—tf
DR. W. W. SMITH,
TO,NTIST. Rooms over Boyd & Corwin's! Hard
JJ ware Store. Office boors from 9a.m.t04 p. m.
Montrose, July 1, 181!7.—tf
JAMES E. CATOIALT, '
ATTORNEY AT
[Mo LAW. ntroee,i Mro Dee. e 18, nxt to
1866,-11 Franklin Ho
tel. .
WM. D. LUSK,
4 TTORNEY AT LAW. Montrose. Pa. Office oppo.
I& site the Franklin Rot el, near the Court noose.
Nov. V, 1866.-41
ABEL TURRELL,
DEALER In Drugs, Patent Medicines. Chemicals,
Liquors, Paints, Oils, Dye St nth , . Varnishes, Win-
Glass, Groceries. Glass Ware, Wall and Window
Paper, Stone-ware, Lamps, Kerosene, Machinery Oils,
Trusses, Gans, Ammunition, Knives. Spectucics.brush
es. Fancy Goods, Jewelry, Perfu r ry. &T.—being one
of the most numerous. xtensive, and valuable collec
tions of Goods in Susquehanna County, [Established
in 1848.3 [Montrose, Pa. ,
D. W. SEARLE,
TTORNET AT LAW. °Mee over the Store of A
/V Lathrop. in the Brick Block, Montrose, Pa.
May 1, 1866
Die. W. L. RICHARDSON,
inoIEITSICIAN & SURGEON, tenders hts profession
r al servicea,to the citizens of Montrose and vicini
ty. Office at gin residence, on the corner east of Sayre
Bros. Foundry. ", [June IS, 1667.-1 y•
T. E. LOONIA. DANIEL ILAYNAII.
LOOMIS tt; HANNAH,
TTORNETS AT LAW, Solicitors in Bankruptcy,
and General Real Estate and Collecting Agents.—
v. , satile City Lots, Residences. Farms, and Coal
I.auds tor sale. , [Scranton, JunelS6i—y
E. L. WEEKS 4t - CO.
urccEssorts of I. N. lIINE ,th CO., Dealers in
1:7 Dry Goods, Clothing, Ladieland fine Shoes.
Also, agents for the great American Tea and Coffee
Companr_ [April, 1,1861.
E. L. WEESS. - - - - C. C. FAVIIIIT.
DR. E. L. GARDNER,
HYSICIAN and SURGEON, Montrose. P. Gives
P
especial attention to diseases of the Heart and
Ltinga and all Surgical diseases. Office over the Post
Oflice. Boards at Searle's Hotel. (Sept. 4. 1866.
BALDWIN, ALLEN, & McCAIN,
DEALERS in Flour, Salt, Pork. Flab, Lard, Grain,
Feed, Candles. Clover and Timothy Seed , Also,
Groceries. such as Sugars. Molasses, Syrups, Tea and
Coffee. West side of Public Avenue.
Montrose, April .7,1.961.
BURNS ez NICHOLS, •
DEALERS in Druge, , 'Medicines, Chemicals, Itye
stuffs. Paints, Liquors. Spfees. Fan
cy articles. Patent Medicines, Perfumery and Toilet Ar
ticles. 'Prescriptions carefully compounded.
Public Avenue, above Searle's Hotel, ldontrose, Pa.
A. B. Brims, - - locos Nichols.
Sept. 11, 1868.
DR. E. P. HINES,
HAS permanently located at Friendsitille for thepnr
pose of practicing medicine and surgery in all its
brancl.es. He may be found at the Jackson House.
Office boars from 8 a. m., to 9 p. m. jaunt(
Friendaville, Pa.., Jan. 19tb, 1866.
STROI7D & DROWN,
'ENTRE AND LIFE rra7avirg AGENTS. All
business attended tromp, on fair terms. Of
fice first door north of " Mo ntron eHotel," west side of
Public Avenue, Montrose, Pa. [Jan. 1.1646.
Bn.uitoa STaotrzt, - - Clum.se L. BuowN.
C. 0. FORDHA3I,
00.7 et SHOE Dealer and idanufnetnrer Montano..
II Pa. shop on 3faln street, one door abovel,N. Dul
lard's. All kinds of wore, .nde to order, and repairing
dune neatly. janl 65
JOHN SAUTTER,
RESPECTFULLY announces that he is u:)tv pre
pared to cat all kinds of Garments in the most
Fashionable Style, and warranted to lit with elegance
and ease. Shop over I.N:Ballard'sstore,Biontrose.
DOCT.. E. L. HAikTDRICK,
PIIYSICIAN & SURGEON, respertftdly tenders his
professional services to the citizen of Frieruits-
Title and vicinity. eirOffine.itittieotliceof Dr. Leet.
Boards at J. Rosined's. ROO 68tt
JOTIN GROVES,
wAsmoNABLIC TAELOIL, Mantras°, Pa. Shop over
r Clfandler's Store.
Allordere filled or:raptly, In Snit-rate style. Cut•
ttag.dcrtielthishortriotlee,snE iteirlited,f,o St_
WM. W. swat,
(*KUM AND CHAIR MANCTACTDI=3,—.I , noi
lilt of Main street, Montrose, ra. tr
H. BURRITT,
T‘HALERIW Staple and'ffancy Dry Goods, Crottery,
AY Hardware, Iron, Stoves, Drams, 01Is. and Paints,
Boots and Shoes, Hats and Cape, lours, Buffalo 'Hobes.
Groceries,Pvvisions, f.:4).,'New Milford, Pa.
H..COOPER.4 CO.,
BBANKERS.l3iicceitioreteTnet,Cooper
Co. Once, I.l4bn?p's new building, Turnpike-et.
" . 4. 'O. Wkilt -
k TTORSET AT LAW: "Bounty,Mack Pay; Pension,
.011.`and Exernittton Claims attended to. tett',
rirollice first door belotrßoyd's Store; Mont rose, Pa
TWELVE - TEAR ATION
liasvfoica Dr: 11DWAIZDT'reei QCtfd ettenscend
Cer 60.0 Th e , tniutVeziedessfel
Ceairrimm Toe eine ur use - or CVO cough',
tpunvigi : Deafdergese, ietirma:lehne44;Dree•
ettitili - Inloopitte•Cotigt r 4etti
tiMAJP.r..nrAr. '4.7i.La'apss
Or 40) XII: D 7 .13 CI .43.. DM 3P.
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.
I say, mister, there's suthin' out yon
in II:lel:mu% Better send out to see
" Something ?"
" A critter of a human. It's dark, and
it's groaning."
" Witere is it?"
" By , the barn, mister."
Out ame Farmer Dunn and his hired
man Joshua, and lanterns glimmered red-
ly over the snow, and Timothy Sugg, the
half-witted lad who had brought the news,
followed timidly behind, with a hay fork.
Something was there—a man almost
covered by the white drifts—a man in rags
—loathsome to touch, and.. with the stale
fumes of whisky not yet frozen out of his
breath
" ICS some poor drunken creature,"
said Farmer Dunn, " but we mustn't let
him freeze whoever lie is. Catch hold,
Josh, and Tim hold the lanterns."
Thr(Sugg, delighted to have a finger in
the pie now that danger was not to be ap
preheMled, held the two lanterns aloft,
and tIW farmer and Joshua carried the
heavy .form of the insensible man over the
snow and into the bright kitchen, where
they laid it down on the settee before the
fire, and then proceeded to the work of
ri.steration, Margaret Dunn busiest of all
in her own quiet way.
She *as not a young woman, this Mar-
garet Dunn ; nay, she had accepted her
spinsterhood as an undeniable fact years
before'. She was an old maid, and knew
it ; but she was comely still, and had a
peachy color in her cheeks, and a dark
gloss in her wavy hair. A woman of five
and thirty, HI.. is not indiscreet to tell a
lady's nge.
She was dressed in brown merino, with
a little color at the throat, fastened by a
tiny knot of scarlet ribbon. On her fing
er shOwore a ring—a singular one fur a
woman to wear—for it was a man's seal
ring of unusual size, more singular for her
than for most women, for -she 'was averse
to ornament. Neither pin, nor earrings,
nor brooch, nor buckle, were ever seen on
Margaret Dunn's person ; but 'that seal
ling she wore by night and day, as if it
had been a talisman.
As she busied herself about the help
less man, it glittered in the firelight with
every motion of ;her hand. Once she
caught it in some button-hole in the bo
som Obis coat, and drew it back with a
frightened start. Silly Tim Sutra saw that
and cried out :
Eh! what a pooty ring you've got,
Miss Maggy 1" and then her color
and a ljnick glance passed between her
father and herself, but she made no an
swer.
What a face that was lying in the fire
and candle light in that clean kitchen !
Whoever had looked upon it and reflect
ed, and tben gone to ruin drinking, must
have been unimpressibte.
It was a drunkard's face. have you
ever, seen such a one ? It had eyes, and ,
nose, and mouth like other people ; it had
a brow and a chin, but oh ! what a brow,
wrinkled as though a plough had gone
through it, though the Mall was not more
than middle aged ; a nose swollen like
some bnlbous root, cheeks puffed and flab
' by, and about the mouth a drunken leer.
Not a beast's face, for beasts do not
drink-v-not a man's face, fur man was
made, the Bible tells us, iu the image of
his Maker.
It was a }terrible thing to see. Marga
ret Duun found it so. When she was no
longer needed she went from thezoom,
and kneeltng by her.bed,, hid her head in
its white counterpane and sobbed. Not
long—only for -four or five minutes.
Then she. bathed her face, ; and went
down to prepare supper for her father,
who always made a meal just Oefore re-
tiring.
The wretched man was sitting up be
fore the fire, looking haggard aim pitiful
in the ruddy blaze, and the farmer was
talking to him.
" Lust yourself in The snow, I reckon."
"Yes."
" Come from far away ?"
" Don't knoW how far."
" W here are , you going ?"
" Nowhere!"
"'Any partictilar object ?"
." No.
The farmer whistled. Soon added :
" You seem hard up, stranger."
"1 have no moiy, no friends,no home,
no nothing. If that's being hard up, you
have hit it."
Ile - tipoke in, a diiftant way, and the far
mer was sileficelf-for a moment ; but soon
be spoke out again.'
" Vsuppose that you were thinking of
Something." •
"Yee, dying. If you had let me alone
I sheiild . have known what the other
wciritl\was like by this time." '
The tiimer-was a deacon also. He lin
proved' the:ceasion. - .
" Were . you prePared friend, to rush
rashly into the, presenCe of your Maker?
You were graut)ed a. time of grace—take
,it and try to impioye."'_, . ..,'
The man laugheka bursb E rude laugh,
full of bitter seorn - . , I -. ::
I Yet Umidst all; undii 4ii, .what was
tllo . e that told yott'this: ebiseddellow
bad been born &gentleman Heaven on
MONTROSE, PA.., TUESDAY; OCT. 15, 1867:
•
ly knows. Perhaps you • have seen some- I
thing like it. It is too subtte to be de
scribed. His clothes, too, bad also been
a gentleman's garments. Tile ragged
vest was velvet, the battered hat was
once a costly thing. As they took ()Mho
coat, a torn kid glove dropped from the
pocket to the floor.
.1.s:o low born sot, nursed on the whisky
bottle was here, but a debased gentle-
In an.
" Improve," ho said. "Suppose I
would or could, honest folks take me and
my tatters into their houses, wouldn't
they? They'd provide me with employ
ment and overlook my faults. They
wouldn't see at a glance what a worth-
less craven dog I was, and turn me like
a dog from their doors, oh no l Why,
deacon, suppose I wanted to reform, who
would take me and help' me ?"
He said the words with the bitterest
scorn in his voice ; scorn of himself so
fallen; and of al! good hypocrites who
preach to wretchedness with folded hands.
But as though he had asked the question
in good faith, Margaret Duun turned
from her occupation by the fire, and stand
ing before him, said :
" We will."
"You will?"
He looked at her, so did the farmer, so
did Joshua, the farm hand. She Spoke
again :
" Father, you know, we need more
help: you can try hidu. Homeless and
friendles., no man can do much to save
himself. I would not crush that hope with
in any mau's heart for a world's wealth.
Let him stay here."
The farmer opened his mouth and shut
it again. Joshua never took the trouble
to shut his.
"You see"—thus spoke the deacon af
ter a while, slowly—" You see, Meg,
when you hey' help you want help, and
for to be efficient, help must be sober.—
Now do you think 'mould be wise to take
on a hand that couldn't promise fur to be
"Why, bed be drunk the heft o' the
time," burst out Joshua. " Lor, Miss
Marg'ret, 'Want no doubt o' that."
rgranger looked at him.
"Perhaps you might have said it in a
lower tone," he said. "But you are per
fectly right, my kind christian friend.- I
should—l always am." •
Hi staggered to his feet as he spoke,
but dropped back again ; for once he was
not intoxicated, but he had tasted and
frozen long hours together.
" I mcant to go." he said, "hut T'm too
weak. You must feed me, I suppose, to
get rid of me."
12u• Sl .. r~oroe put, IsCI Laud uputit Lta
arm.
"We will feed you," silo said ; "we
will warm you and clothe you; we will
give you honest work to do—% cork, per.
haps, that you would= have rcorned as be
neath you once—but that I know you will
be glad to do now, because in doing it
you may save yourself, body and soul."
The miserable man listened. He looked
in her face with his bloodshot eyes
\Viten she had finished, he bent his
head upon his hand, and muttered:
" God bless you !—God bless you !—I
gill try."
So this poor waif, picked up from the
snow upon that bitter night, remained be
neath the roof of farmer Dunn.
He was a strong man yet. Out in the
j fields he worked as no farm hand had ev
er worked bef.ire. The more there was to
do the happier he seemed. But he never
spoke to those about him, seldom even to
the old farmer.
To Margaret, since that night he had
not addressed one word, save in reply to
any question she might ask him. But he
used to look at ber, as though in adora
• tion.
Often and often, when she had no tho't
of it, and the day's work being done, sat
sewing by the ctindlelight, he would sit
outside the window, watching her.
He said strange things to himseT at
such times, but no one heard. him. So all
went well enough until the month's end,
when • wages were paid to him ; before
that the morning bitters, and the noon
tide ale, which all farm hands drank, suf
ficed him. But when his pockets went
full, the mad demon possessed him ; and
they found him drunk in the barn, after
much search, on Sabbath eve.
Margaret sighed, -her father shook his
heal. Joshua roared, "1 telled ye so,
missus; no good in him." But yet he
stayed, because the farmer found that he
worked well, and because be yet had hopg
of saving him.
His very name-they never knew'. When
they asked it he' had said, me John
Scamp"—and John Scamp - be was called I
forever afterward. It grew at lafit to be
the regular-77t14'1g to know that at 'pay
time John Scamp would be missing; to
let him remain so untilhe crept back some
morning, shaklng an'd red-eyed, and took
his plate in tlfe field.' "
Tbat he bad been :lying drunk in, 7 the
mud someWheye, no ode doubted; but,
"absolately ,so,,hp never let,,bimselfbe vett.
Margaret said it.was ; a good omen.
Another person said:
,sp3o---Lthe clergy
man:d the little church a fair
I ,baire&tuan, who ‘ catne,yery . often to the
;:farna,.. , uldsame,. it *as ; very plain; ta *on'
[Miss Margaret, thciligh - ,.00010.ii9;N
win her wits a problemetilt to
i
salve. He talked to 'John Setimp often—
not with anything of cant s but as a good
man might talk to one gone astray.
At first John Scamp listened grudging
ly, at last in silence, but without. avers
ion. Once he said :
"It is too late; I know the truth of
what you say, but it is too late, While I
was a gentleman Leonid have been sa%ed
perhaps ; but I haye fallen too low. Look
at me—l was handsome once."
" But the soul—," began the clergy
man. And the fallen man answered.sol
emnly :
" It is in God's hands.'•'
So, going home that night, the Rev,
Edward Belmont began to wondgf if, of
all, there might not be some spark,of
heaven in that l ost creature yet, and said
less to, and prayed more for, him alter
wards.
Yet there was little outward change
in poor John Scamp. Others saw mere
ly a t 4 retched sort of man toiling at any
needful task, or missing, heard be was off
on a "spree" somewhere.
At times the Rev. Edward Belmont
quite forgot him; and everything else al-
so, in hi; one great hope of Margaret's
love.
Evening after evening he came to the
farmer's house, and eat listening to the
farmer's talk of ernps,and cattle—happy .
when a few words fell from Margaret's
lips, or when she walked with him to the
gate to say good•oig g ht,
Yet he knew they Said'Maigaret would
never marry, and had heard tales of a bro
ken match and a lover she had not yet
forgotten, and had seen on her finger that
strange ring which was said to have been
a love token. Sometimes his heart sank,
for she had a constant face, and constant
women have lived and died faithful to a
first love.
At last, one evening be went, to decide
his fate, across the fields to the ofti farm
house. Ile knew that Margaret would
be alone that night, and as with accus
tomed hand he lifted the door-latch, felt
sorry to see a man's form bending over
the hearth. The next moment the feel
ing passed away, for it was only John
Scamp polishing the Sunday boots for far
mer Dunn and Joshua.
" Is Miss Margaret in, John ?"
" Yes—in the parlor."
Arid John Scant) went on_brnsbing and
never looking up as the minister crossed
the kitchen. But as soon as the murmur
of voices caught his ear he started to his !
-.a °rept on tiptoe to the passage
way
Outs itia„twiitr door and listened.
Lao nu a .
Margart talk. This time he 11e-21"d-some
tiring new—a declaration of love. Elo
quent, fen:cut, from the heart, John
::...camp heard every word and wept in si
lence—wept, wringing his hands and
moarritn4 under his breath.
" Oh, to be a man again 1 to be a man
and a gentleman once more !"
He stilled himself to harken to Mar
garet's answer.
" I cannot say you surprise me," she
said ; " I have expected this. I do not
know how I could have prevented it. If
I Could I would have done 'so. I respect
you—perhaps---no matter ; all I need to
say is, it cannot be."
"If you like me—if yon respect me—
' might you not learn to love tne,,Mar
-70
garet
" Then—dearest—best—"
" Hush.! I have told you that it, could
not he. I must not tell you why. It is a
story my past life. You see that.ring ?"
She stretched forth her hand. .On it
glittered a man's heavy ring. The minis=
ter saw it. .John Scamp, crouched in the
corner, saw.,it also.
".0n that ring," ssia.Margaret, "I have ,
taken a solemn vow. When I. was a girl
—very young, scarcely a woman—l had a
lover. lie was a little older,than I, not
much—perhaps we were both too young
to :now our own hearts, but we. loved I
very dearly. His family were wealthy
! . and fashionable. He was educated and
accomplished. You have wondered why
I used better language than those about
me. I learned it of him. I tried to fit
myself for his wife. I believe we were to
he married, and I was very, very fond of
him. But our parents opposed it. His,
because I was a plain country girl ;, mine,
because they feared he was dissipated.
My father bade me . brealc. off otmengaffe-
ment, and I met him to do so. In the
•WittO4fi yonder, under the great oak, John
Sterlin and I saw: each; other for the last
time. We w erepettlier.of•usologe—we
cOuld not resist r but we were,. miserable.
At last he took4pe ring fromhis finger and
slipped it on' yo*,' said he, that,
you will never tuarrTany one else until
I take this ring from your tiageg and say I
. •—,
" He - put bisLarm around my waist.
We knelt. .•,
t , Vow Win - the sight of God, .be•said.
And•l repeated: • •' • -:-. • • •
" Before my .blakdf Z viiw never to mar
ry any but tl6lol4terling until . he takes
this ring frorn'thjijingerpt 4 d tells me I am
free.'
".Edwarfi Belmont; caii i "l'brealCsuch a
vow'? Ton i kl'tOuiT'"eoti4tot' . And SAD'
nmiat - '9ogrx ilow:fo'l.Set Lap .
fidif*liffolafilbitgtet /".i • ; •
But as sheiiiihke . those-36Ni the dear
IVOLEIk4E XXIV, NUMBER, 42.
opened widely, and before stood the sott
ish farm-drudge, Jpbn-Seanip.
He crossed the rociM; he took Mar
garet's hand in his.o.wctand drew from it
the ring which has' rested there so many
years. Then, bolding it . clutched in his
hand, he said-botirefy-:-
" Margaret Dunn, John Sterling releas
es from your lloW and gives you to your
lover. God bless you both, and pray to
gether sonie•times fora ruinedman: Oh,
they were `right to keep you 'fr6m me.
Yet with you at my aide I might not have
come to -um
And then bursting into a wild cry of
pain, be dashed from the room and out in
to the night, while Margaret fell in a
death-like swoon into Edward Belmont's
arms. .
No one
,ia the farm,house ever saw
John Scamp again.
But two years• after,. when Margaret,
yielding to her lover's prayer, was mis
tress of the parsonage, there came thither
a letter—an army letter with a black seal,
writ ten by the chaplain of a regiment. ad
dreseed to Mrs, Belmont. In it was
these words:
MADAME ThOre died under my care
yesterday, a private soldier named John
Sterling. At his last hour be bade me
write to you, telling-you, with thanks fur
all your kindness lo him; and;blessings on
you and yours, the best I could of him. I
eau say ofhim that he was brave—that he
lost his life gallantly—moreover that he
batted down the - horrible vice that had
ruined him, and died a sober man. He
died also with words of prayer and repen
tance on his lips—a sinner, as we all are,
but not, I trust, a sinner beyond pardon.
He bade me tell you, also, that he had
prayed us to bury a ring he wore, in his
coffin. It has been done.
" I remain, Madam, yours.
" E. WESTED."
And so they knew what his end bud
been and thanked Heaven for it.
Autumn Days.
When Autumn days come, Nature,like
a retired /merchant, changes its manner
from thrift and bustling industry to lan
guid leisure and unostentatious repose.—
The sun rises later and sets earlier than
when it had all the summer crops on
hand, and was playing universal husband
man.
There is no nest-building now, and no
bird singing7—which is a purely domestic
arrangement, designed on the bird's part,
to keep peace in the family while the
children are being raised, and laid aside
noon as the younz birds are off their
Mornings come fleeced in mists, which
hang over streams and low moist places.?
The sun plays with them hut they perish
in his arms. A few belated !flowers yet
keep watch, but chiefly the asters, which
fringe the fields, star the edges of forests,
and, like a late corner at a feast, seem
bent for making up for lost time. At
night, crickets and katy-dids scrape their
shrill viols, and fill the air with stridulous
music.
Over, all the shrinking fields, the trees
lift up iheir gorgeous foliag,e, and, like
those who wait for the marriage bell and
the bridegroom, they shine out in glori
ous apparel. The hills, forest-clad, are
become the Jord's ybunger sons, and like
Joseph, they are dressed in a coat, of ma
ny colors.
October days, short between horizons,
reach higher into the vault than any days
of the year ; and through them the seas
po seems to look with softened sadness,
as one who, in the calm of,age, meditates
on all the mistakes of his past life, and
solemnly thinks upon the advancing fu
ture.
Along the fence rows, where seeds and
late berries may •be found, birds hop si•
lently, as if ashamed to be seen. Soon
they will change their solitary ways, and
collect in flocks. To-day the fields will
swarm with them ; to•morrow there will
not be one left—an& they will be picking
their food many degrees of latitude in the
South.
A Mixture.
The afflicted widow, the disconsolate
family, the lamented hir. Edward Jones,
and the beaver bat trade, are somewhat
mixed in the following extract from the
columns of an English paper, and after
vain endeavors on our part, we must
leave our readers to class-it-either as au I
" obittiary," a " token of- affection," or a
" puff. extraordinary": • ,
" Died, on the 11th ultimo,
at his shop
on Fleet street, gr. - Edward Jones, much
respected by all that , knew- and dealt with
him. - , As•a man, he was amiable
,; as,a
batter, _upright and moderate. His• vir
tues were beyond all price v and his beav
er hats were only £1 ,4s each. He has
left a widow to deplore his loss, and a
large stock to be sold for the benefit of
his family. ,;He was snatched4o theoth
er worhi in the, prime of bis,life, and
as : he, had copoiaded an extepaive par-
Owe of felt, which r lie got sa cheap that
the widow can supply hats at a more
Imodarate_ohnrge than any. . other house in
London. Ills disconsolate
,family will
carry on' therbusinetts with'rnmetnality."'
argument icith-ladiec%
qiinniug's faro. swing
0643'141M . td tie
Drunk.
Young mail, did you, ever stop to thiqk
how terrible that word sounds ? Did ph
ever think what misery and woe you
broUght upon your friends, when You'de
graded yourmanhood by getting drunk?
Oh, it is a fearful. thing thus to trample
under foot the high claims that God and
man have upon you.
Drunk How it rings in the ear of a
loving wife! How it makes the heart of
a fond mother bleed! How it crushes out
the hopes of a doting 'father, and brings
reproach and shame upon loving sisters.
Drunk See him as he leans against some
friendly house, he stands ready to fall into
the opening jaws of hell, unconscious as
to his approaching fate. The wife, with
tearful eyes and aching heart, sits at-the
window to hear her husbands footsteps,
but alas, they come not
He is drunk 1 The husband, the parent
is drunk, spending his time and money v
when he should be at borne, enjoying the
pleasures and comforts of the thmily cir
cle. Drunk! He is spending means of
support for liquor;while his family is star
ving for bread, his children suffering for
clothing. Drunk! His reputation is go
ing, gone! His friends, one by.one, are
reluctantly leaving him to his miserable
fate. He goes down to his grave with
dishonor—a drunkard's grave!
—A lady who began service as a teach
er in the Elm Street School, at Spring
field, Mass., last week, remained just half
a day. She was to have four hundred and
fifty dollars a year, but at noon received
an offer that brcught seven hundred dol
lars a year for similar duties in a neigh
boring city, and of course felt it her duty
as ministers usually do under similar cir
cumstances, to remove to a wider field of
influence.
—An old resident of Jamestown, N.Y.
reports that-in 1808, when that town was
first settled, the village common was
cleared of stumps by fines imposed on
those who got drunk. Tho penalty for
getting drunk was to dig up a largo
stump, and for getting only tipsy'a small
stump. The removal of every stump in
about two months was the result.
—A few days since a woman named
Catharine Rady was arrested by the po
lice, charged with being a vagrant, and
committed to the work-house. When she
reached that institution, she showed the
authorities that she was possessed of
$157.33 in specie, (gold and silver,) and
gattaj,lat_ the
_policeman who arrested
—Two men at Fairlee, Vt., have had a
trial at law lately, about a sheep, worth
five or six dollars, which the plaintiff
claimed the defendant had in his possess
ion, belonging to him. After two trials,
the defendant recovered 8116.46, The
whole expense to the plaintiff wasmot less
than 8250—enough to buy quite a flock of
sheep.
_ .
—A few days since a barrel of mer
chandise was received by one of the New
York steamers addressed to a clergyman
in Lawrence, Mass., with the additional
mark " crockery." In transportation tbo
head fell out, and it was discovered that
the barrel contained fine brandy, to be
used solely for medical purposes."
—ln compliance with the law of the
last Legislature, the New York Central
Railroad Company have instructed their
conductors to procure their uniforms.—
The coats and pants will be of dark blue
pilot, beaver or broadcloth, the coat trim
med with brass buttons. The cap will be
of blue cloth, with two bands of gold
lace, the lower band to be an inch in width.
—The "stone fleet," sunk in Charleston
harbor during the war, does not appear
to have done any injury. An English
vessel, drawing eighteen and a half feet,
has entered the port loaded with railway
iron. The deepest laden vessel that bad
previously entered drew but 17 feet. ,
--A navana paper taunts the United
-States with the act that of all the monu
ments and statues proposed to the mem
ory of Abraham Lincoln, not one has been
erected.
—A St. Louis beggar, who goes about
on crutches, is discovered to own property
in New York worth $65,000. When his
labor of soliciting alms from the public
for the day are over, ; lie repairs to a very
comfortable tenement, where ho lives in
spacious apartmentsiAnd indulges in fine
winos and other !modes. .
—The Republicaris of.Albemerle, Va.,
have nominated, es delegates for, the Vv..
ginia State Conventier.,-Ifon..4.lol.mander
Rives• and a coloredlnan.
—The
_annual report of the Cashier of
.the Bank of California shows translations
for Abel/ear anaouetiog to over. 1it32,000,-
' 000. •
Vr'Ladies' and Children's Paney•Furs
at John 'Pereira's; '4B Arch street, Phil-
Rtvir.bisiadver
ttOtbenkitlsivrllini:tret4ll.if: