THE. MOINFROSE --. - - DEMOCRAT, E. B. HAWLEY, Proprietor. ittointoo itardo. woes Cann. LrrircEs & BL.tKESLEE, Attorneys and Counoelince La. Ofnee the one heretofore occupied 137 R. D. & G. P. lloittle. on Mate erect. Titonticree, P. IL E LITTLE 050. T. LITTLE L. L. EILLEZILLLZE. E. lEcKsarms. C. C. FACUOT, ° W. H. McCain. FAITHOT & CO. Dealers In Dry Goode, Clothing, Lad*. .n 41416.441 tine Shoee. Alan, agents for the great American Tea and CoQee Company [Monttoee, , ap. 1, 71 CHARLES N. STODDARD, Dealer In Boot' , and Shoe.. Hatt , and Cap•. Leather mud Ftndine•. Blain Street. ad door below Searle'' , Hotel. Wort made to order. and repairing done neatly. lot.trose, Jan. 1, 1011. LEWIS KNOLL, SHAVING AND BAIR DRESSING. bhop In the (VOW Postodice building, where he will be found ready to attend all who may want anything In his line. Montrose, Pa. Oct. 13, Ira,. I P. REYNOLDS, AUCTIONEER —Sells Dry Goods. and Merchant a--oleo attends at Vendurs. All orders left at my hone, yt ill , receive prompt attention. Ipct. 1. ltab—tf 0. M. HAWLEY, DEALER in DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, CROCKERY Hardware, Hata, Caps, Boot..Shnes, Wady Made 'I., h. 111 g. Pmintx, Oils. etc.. Milford, Pa. [Sept. s. DR. S. W. DAYTON, HITSieIAN S. SURGEON. d•nden his services to the citizens of Great Bend and vil 'nay Office at his residence, opposite Barnum House, G 'L. Rend village. Sept. lel, IRO.— If LAW OFFICE CHANITIF.RLIN b McCOLLT4A4, Attorney. and Coon reliant at Law. Office In the Brick Itt,tek over the Bank L Montrose Ang. A. el. anrauN. . - J. 13. 31cOoLittat. & D. R. LATTIROP, HEALERS in Dry Goods. Uroceri e s, crockery and glassware, table and pocket cutlery Paint., oils, dye stuffs. Bats. boot) and shoes. title leather. Perromery &e. Brick Block. adjoining the • Bank, Montrose. LAu l ,vm ism —lf A. laTilltOr, - - D. IL LALIIROP. A. 0. WARREN, ATTOIVEY A. LAW Bounty. Back Pay. Penrion and Erem '.n Claim! attended tn. Offrr II oor torlowlinyd's store, 1I t 1 oer.Po. [An. 1. WM. A. CR0W431071, hr Attorney at ism. Nontroow. So-y'll Co. Pa., can found at all rennounlde bur un •aa hours at the County CumEnoonouere Whce. [Montrone, Aug. I, Irchi. IV. W. WATSON, ATTORNEY LiT LAW Non' ro-v. P. Of!ire with L F. Ft tett. Nuntrove, Aug. I$C9 NI. C. surToN, Auctioneer, and Insurance Agent, Frlend•vllle, Pia .C. S. GILBERT, 812.4atlozoriez.c , r. Great. Bend, Pa 'l7. M. nugl 491. f EL Y, V. Ei, Aug. 1, 1:0. Ilrooulyn. Pa JOHN GROVES, F k.IIIUNABLE TAF. Nloiluoro. Pa Shop ovo: Chandler's Mom. A" ordert filled in first-rats st)h t siting dune ou short notice, and warranted to AL W. W. SMITII, C vIDNET AND CRAM[ of Math stroot, Mootroec, P. )oug. I. H. BURRITT, DEALER la Staple and Fancy Dry Goods. Crocker} Hardware. Iron, Stoves. Itru gs. Oils. and Paint. Boots sod Shoes. Hats & COps. Furs, Rodalo Robes Groceries. Provisions. New Milford, Pa. DR. C. P. HIES, Has permanently located at Friendsvllle for the por pose of pmeticing medicine and surgery in all It. branches. Ile may hr Lund nt the Jackson Clouse. Ottlee hours from h a. m.. ton. p. m. Friendsville, Pa., Aug. 1. 1569. STBOUD & BROWN, FIRE AND 11113 1:1'4 3ANC6 AGENTS. business attended to prompt ly, on fair terms. Office I first door north of ' Montrore Rotel," west side co Public ASTI..., Montrose, Pn. [Aug. 1. latig. Ra.uises tornonn, - CLIAILLE! L. L'uown. JOHN SAUTTER, RESPECTFULLY announces that be la n.iv: .p' pared to era all kinds of Garments in the mos. fashionable Style, warranted to ISt with elepauce nd arose. Shop over the Post Glare. Montros,., Pa Win. D. LUSK, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Moutrofe. 111. ()fire opt.. •Ire the Tarbell Rouse., near the Court 11uur, Aug. 1. 18C.41.—t1 DR. W. W. SMITH, DENTIST. Rooms over Boyd 6 Corwin's Bard ware Store. Office hours from 9a. m. to 4p. m ldontruse, Aug. 1, 1.:69.—cf ABEL TERRELL, DEALER in Drutm Patent Medicine,. Chrtniral. Liquors, Paints, Oiln.t.tyr stuffs. Varnishes, Glass. Groceries, Gins- Ware, Wall and Wltalos Pa. per. Stone ware, Lumps. Kerosene, Machinery Oil. is:noses, Gans, ALl2llllllllllOn,. Knives, Opeclaries Brushes. Fancy Goods. Jew ary, Perfu rs, being sone of the most numerous, Xteltgl'e. and valuable collections of Goods in Susquehanna Cu.— Established in 1848. [Montrose, Pa. D. W. SEARLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. office over the Store n 1 A. Lathrop, in the Brick Block, Montrose., Pa. [ROTA, DR. W. L. RICHARDSON, PHYSICIAN SPRGEON, lenders his profersional service, to the citizen. of Montrose 0111ce at his residence, on the corner mot of Sayre It Bros. Foundry. [Aug:. 1. Istl9. DR. E. L. GARDNER, PIT YSICI AN and SURGEON. Montrose. Pu. Give. e•qua; attoutitoo to u t the 11.1,1 nht. Lu p nc• and itltSarttical dk..en. , es. When over W B. Dear,. Boards at Searle's Hotel. iAog. 1. lr.rai BURNS & NicnoLs, DEA. .R 6 in Drop, Medicines, (Menden Dye r... 12., Palate, Olia, Varnish. Llquorv, Spices. Fab, tiea. Patent Medicines. Perfumery and Toilet Ar ticle*. 017Preaceptlona carefully compounded Peelle Avenue, above Searle'. Hotel. rilontro.e. Pr A. B. Dense, Anne Nicuora. Aug 1 ISO DR. E. L. HANDRICK, PHYSICIAN & SURGEON. respectfull) tenders hi• profeasional service, to the citizen of Frientigvillt and vicinity. tar Office intboofnce of Dr. Loop Board. at .1. lioaford'a. Ang.l.lBl). PROF. MORRIS, The Hayti Barber. returns hb thanks for the kind pat ronage that hag enabled him to get the beet met—ha ! ha ! T latent time to tell the whole story. but come and see for roomy. , rernt the Old Stand. No loud laughing allowed In the shop. [April 13. !W M. DENTISTRY All those In want of false Teeth or other dental work should call at the office of the subscribers. who are pre. lered to do all kind. of work in their !Wenn short notice. i'artivular attention laid to making full and partial 1.4.1 t. of teeth on gold. silver, or shiminum plate • also on Wvotou'r east composition the two latter preferable to an v of the:cheaper eandances now coed for dental plater. Tooth of youngpereons regulated, and made to grow in natural shape. The advantage of having work done by permanently to. rated and otoponothle partice, must be apicirer.t -7.. Ail work warranted. Phaose call and examine epeel men. Ofplate work at our office, over Boyd& Co's hard ware 'tore. W. W. SMITH & BROTHEIL Montrose. Aug, 18, 1889.—tf SUPPOSE Suppose my little lady Your doll should break her bead, Could you make it whole byerying Till your eyes and nose are red And wouldn't it be pleasanter To treat it as a joke; And say you're glad 'twos Dolly's, And not your bead that broker Suppose you're drmsed for walking, And the rttyi comes pouring down, Will it clear off any sooner Because you scold and frown ? • And wouldn't it be nicer For you to smile than pout, And so make sunshine in tile house When there is none without! Suppose your task, my ittle man, Is very hard to get, Will it make it any easier Foryou to sit and fret ? And wouldn't it be wiser, Than waiting like a dunce, To go to work in earnest And learn the thing at once Suppose that some boys luwe a horse, And some a coach and pair, Will It tire you less while wanting To say " it isn't fair r And wouldn't it be nobler To keep your temper sweet, I.nd in your heart be thankful You can walk upon your feet ? Suppose the world don't please you Nor the way some people do, Do you think the whole amtiou Will be altered just for you ? And isn't it, my boy or girl, The wisest, bravest plan, Whatever comes, or doesn't come, To do the best you can? A PASTORAL SUF.. " Gentle shepherds, tell me, pray, flan my ('olin come this way ? Ile chants a rustic ritornello, And bears a crook on his umbrella, Say then, 7 'ntle shepherds, say, has my Odin passed this way White his shirt-front ns new milk, Sell his wiskers are as silk, Ile drives no flock, the darling wan, Bat wears a vest of Astrnean, Say then, gentle shepherds, say, Iles my Colin passed this way Every morning forth he hies While the milkmaid rubs her eves, With home steps he E.:Loyard got:4, Upon a Bank to seek repose. Then, gentle shepherds, tell me, pray Has my Colin passAvl this way ?, POLICEMAN. - If the party au you mean— Which, his name L. Peter Green— l. clerk with Cash & Co., Then 1 .aee him thither go.- (BM don't henceforth address me thus I ain't no shepherd) on a 'bug. " his pipe—l do not mean a foot— Appeared to be of brier-root ; Where yonder boy's a-blacking shoes,' Ile Mopped and bought a Daily News, Then mounted (I'm no shepherd, mats!) 'Cron the knifetioard of the 'bus." piscellautous. MY HUSBAND'S SECOND WIFE. v husband came tenderly by my side. "A re you going out this ellen lug, love ?" "Of comae I am!" I looked down complacently at my dress of pink crape, dew dropped over with rystal, and the trails of pink azaleas that caught up its folds here and there. A diamond bracelet encircled the one white acm, and a little cross blazed fitfully on my throat. I had never looked better. and I felt a sort of girlish pride us nn• eves met the fairy reflection an the mirror. -Come Gerald, make haste? Why, you haven't b-gnn to drebs yeti Where were mit wifely instincts, that I did not see the haggard, drawn look in his features—the fevered light in his eyes?? "I can't go to-night, Madeline—l am not well enough." "You are never 'well enough' to oblige me, Gerald. • I am tired of being put off with such exensu." lie made no answer, but dropped his head in his hapds.on the (able before him. -Oh. come, Gerald," I urged, petuluut lh•: "It is so awkwara [Lome to go alone atwar." Ile shook his head listlessly. -He thongh,,,perhaps„ you would be willing, to remain at borne with me, Mad eline." "Men are so selfish," I said plaintively ; "and lam all dressed. Claudia took a half hoer for my hair. I dare say you , are determined not to go." No answer again. "Well, if von choose to be sullen I can't help it," 6 as I turned and went out of the room, adjusting my bouquet holder, the tube-rose and heliotropes seeming to dis til incense at every motion. Was 1 heartless and cruel ? Had ceased to love my husband? From the bottom of my heart I believed that I loved him truly and tenderly as ever a wife did ; but I had been so spoiled and petted all my brief selfish life, that the better in stincts were so to speak, entombed alive. I went to the party, and bad my fill of adulation and homage, as usual. The house seemed to glide away, shod with roses, and winged with music and per fume; and it was not until, wearied with dancing, I sought a momentary refuge in the half-lighted tea-room, that I heard words awakening, as it were, from a dream "Gerald Glen!" I could not well be mistaken in the name—it was scarcely common-place enough for that. They ; , were talking— two or three business looking gen tlemen in the hall without; and I could catch, now and then a fugitive word or phrase. "Fine, eneerrising young fellow!" 'Great pity !" " kitally ruined, ao Bess MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESIiAY, APRIL 27, 1870. and Mellorken says !" "Recklessness and extravagance of his wirer All these vague fragments I heard ; and then some one said : "And what is hp Foing to do now ?" `•What can he do f Poor fellow! fam sorry but he should have calculated his income and expenses better." "Or his wife should. Oh, these women! they lie at the bottom of all man's trouble !" And they laughed. Oh, how could they I had vet to learn how easy it is. in this world, to bear other people's troubles. I rose hurriedly up, with my heart beat ing tumultously beneath the pink azaleas, and went back to the lighted saloon. Mr. Albany Moore was waiting to claim my hand for the next dance. "Are you ill, Mrs. Glyn? How pale ?" "I—l am not very welL I wish you would have my carriage called, Mr. Moore." For now I thought that borne was the proper place for me. Hurried by some unaccountable im pulse I sprang out the moment the car riag..Vbeels touched the curbstone, and rushed np to my husband's room. The door was locked, but I could see a light shining faintly under the threshold. I knocked wildly and persistently. "Gerald, dear Gerald! for heavens sake, let me in." Something fell to the marble hearth stone within, making a metulic click, and my husband opened the door a little way. I bud never seen him look so pale before or so rigid, yet so determined. "Who am you ?" he demanded wildly. "Why can you not leave me in peace ?" "It's I, Gerald—your Madeline—your own little wife." And I caught from his hand the pistol he was trying toc-oneeal in his breast—its mate lay on the marble hearth, under the mantle and I flung it out of the window. "Gerald, would von.have left me?" -I would have e:gereped ."' he cried, still half delirious, to all appearances. "Debt disgrace—misery—her reproaches! I would have escaped them all!" His head fell.like a weary child, on my shoulder. I drew him gently to a sofa. and smothered him with a thousand mur mured words—a thousand mute caresses For, had it not been all my fault ? And through the long ii - yeks of fever that followed. I nursed him with unwav ering care and devotion. I had but one thought, one desire—to redeem myself in his estimation, to prove to him that I was something more and higher than the mere butterfly of fashion I had hitherto shown myself. Well. the March winds had howled themsdres away in their mountain fast nesses: the brilliant Atiril rain drops wen• dried on bough and spray and the apple blossoms were tossing their fragrant billows of pinky bloom in the deep blue air of latter May. Where are We 110 W It is like• a picturesgne little village• not far from New York. furnished x.•ry like a magnificent baby-house. Gerald sat in a cushioned ease• chair in the garden, ju , t where he could glare through the open window at me, working busily with my needle. - What au industrious fairy it is!" he said, smiling sadly. ••Well, you see I like it. It's a great deal het ter than thosesoil _ t as on the piano. - -Who would have thought you would make so notable a housekeeper ?" I laughed gleefully—l bud a child's de light in K ing praised. -Are you not going to Miss Delancy's croquet party ?" he pursued. "No. what do I care for croquet parties? I'm going to finish your shirts, and you'll read aloud to me." "Madeline, I want you to answer me one question." "% hat is it ?" "What have you done with your dia monds?" -I bold them lung ago: they paid sev eral heavy hills. be ides adding half a year's rent here." "But, Madeline, you were so proud of your diamonds." -I was once; now they would be the bitterest reproach my eyes could meet. Oh. Gerald, had I been less vain and thoughtless and extravag ant—" I checked myself, and a robin, singing in the I)erfritneil depths of the apple-blos soms, look up the dropped current of, sound. ^That's right, little red-breast," said my huslsoid,half-joking‘ "talk her down ? Slje has forgotten that our past is dead and gone. and that we have turned o%er anew page in the Book of Existence." "Madeline, do von know how I feel sometimes, when I sit and look at you ?" "No" "Well. I feel like a widower who was married again." My heart gave a little superstitious jump. -lAke a widower who has married again, Gerald !" -Yes; I Call remember my first wife—a brilliant, thoughtless child, without any idea beyond the gratification of present whims—a spoiled plaything! Well that little Madeline has vanished away into the past somewhere; she has gone away to return no more, and in her stead I behold my second wife—a thoughtful, tender vrmatt, whose watchful lore surrouuds me like an atmosphere, whose character grows more noble and develops itself into new depths and beauty every day." I was kneeling at his side now, with my cheek upon his arm, and my eyes look ing into his. "And which do yon love best, Gerald— the first or second wife ?" "I think the trials and vicissitudes through which wtf have passed are wel come, indeed. They have brought me as their harvest of fruits, the priceless treas ure of my second wife." That was what Gerald answered me— the sweetest words that ever fell upon my ear. QV — A Hog was killed in Springfield 111., the other day, and in its stomach was thirty nails, half a saw, one tile, and a suspender buckle. It is surmised that at some period the animal swallowed a car penter. Why Awn finny Neva Got Married. "Now, Aunt Sally, do please tell us why you never married. You know you said once that when you were a girl you I were engaged to a minister, and prom- I ised von would toll us all about it softie-' time. Now, Aunt, please." "Well, if I ever see such girls in my born days. It's tease, tease, from morn mg till night, but what you most know all about e verything that, you haven't any business to know anything about. Such inquisitive, pesteriferous critters as you are When I was )Doug, girls was dif ferent; they minded their . business, and didn't go sailing with a whole string of beaux, getting their heads tilled with all kinds of nonsense. I never dared to ask my aunts, married or single, about a ny o f their affairs. Pretty mess I'd have gut in if I had. When they offered to tell me anything of their own accord, I kept my mouth shut and listened. Everything is different now-a-days; young folks have no respect for their elders. But as I see I am nut going to have any peace till I do tell you, why just listen, and don't let me hear a word out of your mouths till I get through." -That's right, Aunt Sally ;go right ahead. do, and we'll keep perfectl y still." -Well. you see, when I was about seven teen rears old. I was living iu Utica, in the State of New York. rhouoh I say it myself, I was quite a good lookityr then, and had se oral beaux. The one that took my fancy most was a young minister, a very promising young man, and remarkably pious and s teady. He thought a good deal of me, and I kind of took a fancy to him, and things ran on till we were engaged. "One evening he came to me—l remem ber it as well as if it were only yesterday. When he came into the parlor, where I was sitting alone, he came up to me and— but now, pshawl girls, I don't like to tell the rest." "Oh, Aunt Sally, fur mercy's sake don't stop; tell us what he did." "Well, as I said, lie came up to me, and put his arms around me, and rather hugged me. while I got excited and some flustered ; it was a long time ago, and I don't know lint what I might have hugged him hack a little. Then I felt— Ia now just clear nut, every one of you, I shan't tell you any more." "Goodness, gracious, no. Aunt Sally. Tell us how you felt. Didn't you feel good ? And what did he do next ?" -Oh, such torments as you are:' I was like any other girl, and pretty soon I pre tended to be mad about it. and pushed him away, though I wasn't mad a hit. You must know that the house where I lived was on one of the hack 'streets of the town. • There were glass doors in the parlor, which opened right out over the street, and no balcony or anything of the kind in front of the house. As it was in the summer season these doors were diaMit - 1 stopped tmek a little front hint, and when he edged up elo,e I pushed him away again. 1 pushed harder than I intended to. and don't you think, girls, the poor fellow lost his balance and fell through one of the doors into the street ! Yes, it's so. As he 1.11 I lace a scream and caught him—but I declare I won't tell anvtli:ng more. I'm going to leave the room. " "No, no, Aunt Sally! How did von catch ? Did it hurt him much Well, if I must, I must. He fell head . first and as he was going I caught him by the legs of his trowsers. I held on for a minute and tried to pull him back, lint his suspenders gave way, and the poor young man fell clear out of his pantaloons into a parcel of ladies and gentlemen pass ing along Ow street." "Oh, Aunty, Aunty, Lordy, Lords!" "There, that's right: sequel and giggle us much as you want to. Girls that can't hear about a little thing like that without tearing around the room, and he-he-ing in such a was, don't know enough to come home when it mina A nice time the man that ever marries one of son will have, won't he ? Catch me telling you anything again." "But, Aunt Sally, what became of him ? Did you ever see him again ?" .!o: the moment he torched the ground he got up, and left the place in a terrible hurry. I tell you it was a sight to be remembered to see how that man did run. Father happened to be coming up the street at the time, and he said he never tsaw anything to equal it in his whole life. I heard others say that he did the fastest running ever known in ! that part of the countrY, and that he ne%er stopped or looked hehitid until he was two miles out of town. He sent me I a note a f.w days afterward, saying that the engagement must be broken MI, as he ; could never look me in the face after what had happened. He went out West, and I believe he is preaching out in Illinois. But he never married. He was very mod est. and I suppose he was so badly fright ' tined that time that he never dared to trust himself near a woman again. That, girls, is the reason I never married. •I felt very bad about it for a long time, for he was a real good mab, and I've often thonght to myself that we should always have been I happy if /4 ix suspenders hadn't yiren tray 1" ---o-ao-i.----- To Train a Child. A little tract issued fur distribution by the Ladies' Sanitary Association of don, gives these wise suggestion for the nurture of children in health of body and spirit :- 1. Never refuse a thing if it is harrnkss, but give it, if you are able, without deln t v. 2. Never give any thing because it is cried fur, that you refused when asked for. 3, Be careful to observe real illness, and. avoid causing bodily uneasiness from over. clothing, or cold, or unwholesome food, such as candy, sugarplums, sour fruit, or giving buns or cakes to quiet the child, 4. Avoid false promises. They arc sure to be found out false. 5. Avoid threats of all kinds. If be lieved, they makes children timid, and in jure both mind and body; if not believed they are useless. Such threats as bogie, policeman, and black-man, are sure - to be found out to be false, if the child lives. 6. Never say any thing untrue to a child. 7. Do not wreak your own bad tempter, or visit your own feelings of fatigue and tronble on children, by being severe with them by saying " You shan't have it" or, "I won't give it to you," when there is no reason fur refusal, except that you are yourself tired, or in trouble, or out of sorts. I 8. Avoid giving orders, such as "Stand still," "Go on," " Hold your tongue," " Put it. down," ect., unless you really mean that they should be obeyed; and the fewer orders you give, the better. 9. Neither give too much pity, nor yet he severe and unkind, when a child tutn blas down or hurts itself. 10. Do not worry a child. Let it alone, and let it live in peace. 11. Teach it early to play alone, and :utilise itself without help. Let it alone, is a golden rule in nine cases out of ten. To sum up all in a few words, try to feel like a child; to cuter into its griefs and joys, its trials and triumphs. Then look forward to the time when it shall have numbered as many years as you have seen, and pray fur help and strength to do your duty by it. You may fail, as we all may ; but if you sow the seed with humil ity and faith, you will bare done all that is permitted to us imix.rfect creatures; and if you have reared upa cheerful, , lov ing, truthful, and brave spirit, in a healthy body. you have been working with hint who told us it was - nut the will of our Father in heaven that une of these little ones should perish." IRsinaging Children Children not only imitate our faults, suffer by our earefeSSlleS, hut govern us through weakness. A friend came to visit me, and brought a generous, frank, and manly boy of four years old. But lie dis turbed our whole circle be his constant crying. This habit was not in keeping with the brave, proud, independent char acter of the children. I therefore felt a curiosity to find the cause. My first dis co \ ery was lie ic i er she'd a tear. His muther wished to take a trip, but could not take her boy. •• Lease him with me. - "Hell torment the life out of you." " I don't think " I will indeed, be most gratefull. You may whip him as often us VOU please." '• I should not strike a child, except in a most extreme case.•' Then you can do nuthiug with him." She was g-nr. The next morning after breakfast, Willie asked : May I go and play in the yard t It r:dned last night, and it's too damp now. You may go at. ten." It isn't damp, scarcely any a bit." I think it is. You may go at ten: not before." '• 800, wu , WOU, " — re,t. 1 kept quitely sewing. - 800, woo, woo"—bass. "800, woo. woo"—double bass. '• ]loo, who°, Nt hou" _thket to—rest. Now may I lro " You mu . g al tell 0 . 1210ek." Concert revoated. 1 zilently sewing tilt whik, -Ain't your load most math - to split " No" 3layn't I zo out n,,w?" “N,.t until tin COnevrt 1-,sumed. nest. - you most eraz ?" -No. not at Concert resumed with the addition of throwing himself on the floor. and knock ing his feet up and down. After a while. "A i n't you most crazy yet? Why don't von shake me, and call me the baddest boy ever was, and send me out duos ?" Because you are not going out until ten o'clock." Concert resumed with the addition of bumping his head as well as his toes. !lest. A pause. Then picking himself up, he stood erect before me, with his nand in his pockets. Why don't you whip me, and scud trw off, to get rid of the noise ?" - Because von are not going out until te•u u'elook: r lie stood a moment. "If I bump inc head. ain't you afraid it will kill me:'" Not in the least." But it does hurt me, awfully." "I ant happy to hear it." 11' drew a lung breath. What can Idu neat rse done all I knows how." See if you cannot think of something, else." -May I take my blocks?" Certainly, - At nine he started tip. Now may I gu r "nue. II went. Inu•k to his blocks, without a murmer. At ten he we tit out, tolerably well cured. The Aie In life Bundle of Rods. The axe carried before the Romans con- SUIS always bound up in a bundle of. rods. An oki ant her tells us that "the, nals were tied up with knotted cords, and that when au otPuder was condemned to be punished, the executioner would untie the knots, ono,. by one, and, meanwhile,. the magistrab• would look the culprit in the face. to olNeme any signs of ripen- I tance, and watch his words, to see it he could find a motive for merry; and thus justice went to work deliberately and without passion." The axe was, inclosed in rude to show that the extreme penalty was never inflicted till milder means had faded; first the rod, and the axe only as a terrible necessity. Readers if you are unconverted, I beg you to look at the symbol and learn a les son. The Lord is gracious and full of compassion toward you. He has waited lo three years, untying the knots very slowly. and seeing whether you will by His lung sufferin,g, be led to repentance. Hitherto, few and feeble have been any to kens for good in von. Beware! for mercy tarries not forever, and justice will not long delay. The rods you have already felt.. Those burials of dear ones were all rods to you. That fever, that broken arm, that 'loss in business—all these put together have been warnings toyou, which you cannot despise without committing great sin. Many have been brought to God by afflictions; but you, perhaps, have been rather hardened than otherwise. See to it, sinner!-For, when the rods have had their turn, the axe must come in for its work. Its edge is sharp, and its blows is VOLUME XXVII, NUMBER 17. terrible. He who weilds it will cut through send and body, and none can escape from His wrath. You have found the rod to be very dreadful, but what will the axe be ? Heil is not to be thought of without trem bling; but it will soon be your eternal dwelling place, unless you repent. Can you endure its endless torments? Trem bler, there is hope! .Jens died. Jesus lives. Trust in him who stood in the sinner's place, and you are saved. Oh. may the Holy Ghost now, while you read, lead you to Jesus and to safety, for time tlics like the weaver's shuttle, and the thread of life is soon snapped. "To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts."—Npurgeon. - -- Marriage Maxim. 1. good wife is tiro greatest earthly bles- mng. A man is what his wife makes him. It is the mother who moulds the character and destiny of the child. Make marriage a matter of moral judg- men t. Marry in your own religion. Marry into different blood and temper ament from your own. Marry into a family which you have long known. Never talk of one another either alone or in company. Never both manifest anger at once. Kever speak loud to one another unless the house is on lire. Never reflect oil a past action, which was done with a good motise and with the best judgment at the time. Let each one strive to yield ofteuest to the wishes of the other. Let self-abnegation be the daily aim and effort of each. The very nearest approach to domestic felicity on earth is in the mutual cultiva tion of an absolute unsellihness. Never find fault, unless it is perfectly certain that the fault has been committed; and even then prelude it with a kiss, and lovingly word. NCVel* 11l till I. with a past mistake. Neglect the whole world beside rather than one another. Never allow a request to be repeated " I forget" is never an acceptable excuse. Never make a nmark at the expense of ' the other: it i, a II h. all Se \er part I,r a day without l o ving words to th:o k .1 tiring abs,•ll,, ; hesides, it mav b, th.it v ,11 will not meet again in life. • Color of the Hair Nationalities appear in the color of the hair, as in many other characteristics. Different nations show a distinct differ ence in their prevailing shades. though some may have, and of course do hate, much in common. English, Irish and fiermans hay:. the same national hue— fair, or yellow—yet there is a manifest difference in shade between them, also in the gi•neral habit of the hair; and the :scot. so like. is vet all three. Each nation has its tint and texture. Among the Irish women, a chestnut seems to predominate. Bat among the Irish and English. in certain dibtriers. we meet ait h tine specimens of blue-black hair, but 1 lulu. , different from the Spanish or Italian type. French hair is not so de cided ni its coloring as the English. It is black. very often, but not the sombre black of the Italian, and very often it is a dark-brown. Blonde hair is not so un common among the French as those who have not seen them at Inime • may imagine. But the Italian blond•... hair is the most beautiful of all. It has not the cold, look of the light hair of the northern nations, fur the sun has bronzed its fairness, and there is a warm tinge in its sunny ripples. The hair of the eaprian IK-its:tut woman is among the finest in the world. It is dark, lustrous and heavy, ma -sivelv rip pled in thick furrows over low, classic brows, the exact reality of what we see in antique Grecian and Roman statues. They wear it plaited in two tong plaits, which hang half-way to their heels when let down. They generally wear the plaits coiled up and shot through with a long, carved silver bodkin. The bodkin, about as large as a small dagger, terminates at the hilt in an open hand, if the wearer be unmarried ; and if a married woman, you may know it by the hand being eloQ-41. Greek women of old times can not have had cry profuse hair; for in genuine Greek heads of lung antiqnity the knot behind is very moderate, but so charm ingly adjusted that more tnodern Venuses, with heads bowed down us if by immense hav-mows, rather shock us after looking at the classic contour and classically ar ranged and well proportioned hair of a Greek model. Spanish hair, especially that of the wo men, has a great deal of character. It i; somber, heavy with actual weight, straight and long ; of a burnished rather than a lustrous blackness, and not very fine. American hair is not inclined to be of any prevailing hue. so Gtr. and we are the only nation in a hich there is not some prevailing national hue of the hair. This is to be ascribed to the amalgama tion of all the different nationalities which is constantly going on in this country. But the predominating tint of American hair, acted on by climate, and the nualifi cationi which take place in a few gener ations' time, is brown—chestnut brown, and all the shades that arc nearest to chestnut; a little lighter or a little darker, as the case may be. which proves that in national characteristics we are quite dis tinct from any other nation ; for we shall be the only brown-haired nation on the earth. The nations of Southern Europe has c darker hair, and those of Northern Europe lighter hair than we. The Rus sians, and all Tartars and the Asiatic ' races have hair like that of the aborigines of this country. A Long Walk In 17:172, Thomas Penn contracted with Teedynscung and some others for a title to all the land in Perinsylvapia, to be taken off by a parallel of latitude from any point as far as the best of three men could walk in a day, between sunrise and sunset, from a certain chestnut tree at or near Bristol, in a northwest direction. Care was taken to select the most capable for such a walk. The choice fell on James Yates, a native of Bucks county, a tall, slim man, of much agility and speed of foot; Soloman Jennings, a Yankee, re markably stout and strong; and Edward Marshall, a native of Bucks county, a no ted hunter, chain carrier, &c., a large, heavy set, and strong boned man. The day was appointed and the cham pions notified. The people collected at what they thought the first twenty miles of the Durham road, to see them pass. First came Yates, stepping, as light as a feather, accompanied by Penn and attend ants on horseback. After him, but oat of sight, came Jennings, with a strong, steady step ; and net far behind, Mar shall, apparently careless, swinging a hatchet in his hand, and eating a dry biscuit. Marshall took biscuits to sup port his stomach, and carried the hatchet to swing in his hands alternately, that the action in his arms should balance that in his legs, as lie was fully determined to heat the others, or die in the attempt. He said he first saw Yates in descending Durham creek, and gained on him. There he sate Yates sitting on a log, very tired; presently he fell off, and gave np the walk. i Marshall kept on, and before he reached the Lehigh, overtook and passed Jennings, \ waded the river at Bethlehem—hurried on faster and faster by . where Nazareth stands, to the Wind Gap. That was as far as the path had been marked for them to walk on, and there was a collection of people waiting to see if any of the three would reach it by sun set. He only halted for the surveyor to give him a pocket compass, and started again. Three Indian runners were sent after him, to see if he walked it fair, and how far he went. He then passed to the right of Pocono mountain, the Indians finding it difficult to keep him in eight, till he reached Still Water; and he would have gone a few miles farther, but for the water. There he marked a tree, witnessed by the three Indians. The distance he walked, between sun and sail, not being on a straight line, and about thirty miles of it through woods, was estimated to be from one hundred and ten to one hun dred and twenty miles. He thus won the great prize. a hiph was one hundred p•umils in 111.:110y. :end five hundred acres of land :my ii hcre in die purchase. James Vat, ii ho led the way for the firA thirty tails or more, was quite blind when taken out of Durham creek, and lived bat three days afterwards. Solomon Jennings survived but a few years. Ed ward Marshall lived and died on Mar shall's island, in the Delaware river. He arrived at about ninety years of age. He was a great hunter, and it is said he die ' cover,4l a r:ell silv‘ r mine, which rendered hint and his family moneetious affluent; hut lie net er di el .sed where it eves, and , it, sauna 1,.. 11.11, ~.itu to this day. Elder Knapp on Swearing. Elder Knapp is not averse to having it understood that he . may be regarded as a sort of ecolso lt lug physician for sick souls when the original handy doctor finds that his pharmacy has lost its efficacy. In ono of his recent raids on the arch enemy of souls, he selected, as fit subjects for ani madversion, the profane swearer: "I will give you, my dear friends, a pin tu re front a scen:: in hell. The devil is sitting in his private corner. In comes an infernal - jailor, conducting a soul to ever asting Humes. " ho are you r asks the devil, as the culprit was brought in. The name being given, the devil said, " take him away and give him a stream of cool air" V Other culprits were brought in, charged with murder, arson, &c., and. were simi lark disposed of. Pretty soon unother victim arrives:— " What has brought you here?" asks the devil. " Nothing but swearing," was the reply. " Noll/ ingbut swearing ! Why ,you mean, despicable, contemptible, low-lived vagabond," said the devil, as he brought his fist down on the table, " there isn't a corner here that is hot enough for yon.— Of all the sixty tnonsand preachers that spend their Sundays in blackguardingme not one eNer yet accused me of swearing. Blasphemed your Maker, did you ? Pro faned the holy name of your Saviour,who forgave his enemies upon the cross, and died to have you saved from here ? You did this, did you ? Why there's no ex cuse for yon. A man by an unlucky blow may kill anuther. In pressing tempta tions he may steal ; he may lie to save his neck or cheat his neighbor. There's some excuse for him. The profane swearer has nu excuse' Attendant take this accursed scoundrel oat of my sight. Put him up to his neck where the coals are the hot test. and put something on his accursed head to keep hint down. A ppleton's Journal thinks that the wearing of fine dresses by church go ing ladies Is not so reprehensible a prac tice after all. It says: - Man and woman is pure linen, in unstained apparel, in choice lsrsona" hdornm ut, Lave a sense of dignity and elevation which those in slovenly garb do not experience. And it' is no particularly siti if this sort of eleva tion is carried a little to far. Pride, of course, often enters into tine dressing, and many women particularly are fond of flaunting their fine feathers in people's eyes; but a great mojority love handsome dressing, in obedience to an instinct of refinement, in consequence of that sense of personal purify which accompanies the wearing of choice apparel—and hence we see perti.ct congruity in the well dressed crowds that pour through our streets on Sundays, wending their way to the place of prayer. And our mostfashionable con gregations, if exhibiting a little too much of ultra elegance, even if showing uumis takeably the presence of pride and vain glory in too large a proportion for the spiritual welfare of the worshippers, have yet au air of sobriety, are reverential in manner, at least—conditions that seems to have been somewhat different in former times. —John Randolph once on a race course, was solicited to bet by a stranger who said : ," Smith here will hold the stakea" . "Just so," replied the descendant of Pocahontas ; " but who'll hold Smith ?"
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers