Wm. 0 Maser.
I. B. HAWLEY & CO.,
E. B. Hawley,
PUBLISHERS OF
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT,
AND GENERAL JOB PRINTERS,
lbodrose, Susquehanna COUnly, Pa
orrice—Weet Side of Public Avenue
Business Cards
J. B. & A. 11. IIrCOLLG)I
,rnIIALTS AT Law Mace over the Bank, Moetroea
Meetro,e, May 10, 1071. tf
D. W. SEARLE,
k rTOII74EI' AT LAW, office over the Store of hi.
:),..,goer,ln the Brick Block, Montrose, [sal GO
W. W. SMITH,
,BINET AND CHAIR BLANUPACTIIRRES.—Poo:
.‘l' NI airs street. Montrose, Pa. lan. 1. 1869.
Jr. C. SUTTON . ,
A l 11' lONE ER, and binuniams AGENT,
Atli Ott Frlcad•vllle, 'Pa
A.lll EL Y,
Addrerr. Brootlyn, Pa
AUCTIONEER
dunc I, 12,74,
J. G. WHEATON,
CIVIL ENOINENII AND LAND Brnrszon,
P. 0. addrtss, Franklin Forks,
Suiquotlanna Co., Pa
JOHN GRO FES,
F IoNABLE TAILOR, dlontroae, Pa. shop over
nandleee Store. Ali orders diledln drat-rateetyla.
,ung done on short notice. and warranted to fit.
A. 0. W_IIMEN,
rt , l 2 NEI. LAW. Bounty. Back /'n y. Pensloo
,11 Claims attended to. 0111ce fir
hciow Bo3d's Store, Montrose.l 2 n. (Au. 1.'69
W. A. CROSSMOY,
~.rocv at Law. Office at the Court House, to the
..ausitsstoner'd Office. W. A. eILOSIMCIN.
M.s.lrote. isn.—tr.
LAW OFFICE'.
!ITCH WATSON, Attorueys at Law, at the old °Mee
&Fitch, Iluntrm , e,
F rcrcit. [Jun. 11, 'll.l w. w. w ernoa.
1,,', In Braze Medicines, Chemicals, Paints, Oils,
4lils, Teas. Spires, Fancy Goods, Jewelry, Per
t ..ncr3. Brick Block, Montrose, Pa. Established
[Fab. 1, 1873.
,SCOVILL d DEWITT.
.i.lonteyo at Law and Solicitors in Bankruptcy. Wilco
No 19 Colin Street., over City National Bank, Bing.
into, N. V. W a. B. Sec.-my
EIZEMEM
DR. W. L. RICHARDSON,
aL s icIAN S 31711GRON, tenders his professions
rvices to the citizens of Montrose and vicinity.—
utlice at hisr.siderce, on the cornereast of Sayre &
tiros. Foundry f Aug. 1, 3e.69.
CHARLES X. STODDARD,
ttertn Roots and Shoes, lists and Cape, Leather ano
Fttlttml, Main Street, lot door below lloyd's Store.
11 or a made to order, and repairing done neatly.
Itut.trose Jan. 1 IS:U.
LEWIS KNOLL,
ShAVING AND HAIR DitESSMG.
i. 05 in the new Poetalce building, where he will
....found road; to attend all who may want anything
31ontrose Pa. Oct. 1.3 lan9.
DR. tl. W. DAYTON,
:IYale/AN 6 SURGEON, tenders his services to
citizens of Great Bend and vicinity. Office at nil
.idence, opposite Barnum louse, 01., Bend
Sepl Ist. isai.—tf
DR. D. A. LATIIh'OP,
A ulnietcra litzonto Trignatat. Hauls, a lie Foot of
C.,tunt street. Call and cousnl to at Chronic
o:.ca., es.
4fonii . Use. Jan. 17. '72.—n03-0.
BURRITT.
Pe-ater .0 Staple and Fancy Drs Goods, Crockery. Gard-
Will C. Iron, Stoves. Drugs. Oils, and Palate, Boots
and Silos., flats and Cape, Furs, Buffalo Robes. Gro
ceries. Provisions, &c.
New-Millard, I a., Nov, 6, '72—tt.
EXCILING E HOTEL
ti ..1. HARRINGTON wishes to Inform thepablic that
haring rented the Exchange Rotel In Montrose, he
Is now prepared to accommodate the traveling public
In first-class style.
.Montrose. Aug. Y 9, 18","3.
LITTLE'S & BLAKESLEE
ATTORNETS AT LAW, have removed to their New
ofth.. opposite the Tarbell Donee.
. . ,
Al out rose, Oct. 15, 1873.
BILLINGS STROUD.
HE AND LIFE INSIDIANCE AGENT. Al'
11 nines. attended to promptly,on fair terms. Office
.rut door cast of the book ga , Wm. E. Cooper S Co.
Public Avenue, Montrose, Pa. (Atm.1,1869.
sly 17, 1.572.1 BILLINGS STROUD.
B. T. d• E. 11. CASE,
IIARNESS-Nash prices. Also,. Blan k e ts. Breast Blan
:,, iower.t
Whips, and everything pertaining to the line
Wan the cheapeat. Repairing done prompt
c:
and . good style.
. o a.. Oct. V. INVI.
cm:IIILE Y MORRIS
THE HAYTI BARBET:, has moved his shop to the
zdd ing occupied by E. Mr-Henri° ff, Co., where he if ,
, reparvii to do nit Muds of work in hit ffuc.such ...-
F.:l, switches, puffs, etc. dll work done on short
to we cud prix „ low. Please =II and see me.
TIIE PEOPLE'S MARKET.
Pun.lar lima. Proprietor.
Fru,h and Salted Meats Ilatns, Pork, Bologna San
. of :he best quality, constantly ou hand. at
to eOit
Pa,. Jan. 1.1. ltrl-3.-11,
VALLEY HOUSE.
kT BEND. Ps. Situated near the Erie Railway De-
Is a large and commodious house, has undergone
a norouzli repair. Newly furnished rooms and slee
p mauente.spleudidtable,audalltbingscomprle
p.
t r,g a in st clues betel. 1.1.13NRY ACKERT%
11)Eb.1Sn.-11. Proprietor.
DR W. W. SMITII,
D ,1714, Rooms at his dwelling, nest door north of Dr.
Ild'Aey', on Old Foundry street, where he would he
liel,py to see all those In want of Dental 14 orb. Ile
t•tifidtat that he OM please all, barb In quality of
erk and to price. Office hours from 9 e. K. to 4 p. m.
M.,,,Lnwe. Feb. 11, IS74—tf
EDGAR A. TERRELL
01,E1.1.011•T LAW,
No. VD Broadway. New York City.
Nltends to all kinds of , and con-
C ntlees In all the Courts of botht the State and the
I ~:tre States.
b .1.1a14-'y
E. P. EINES, M. D.
l.mchuite of the eniversity of Michigan, Ann Arbor.
iv:, and also of Jefferson Medical Coll ^c of Phila.
ler:4 4 boo returned to Frit:oderMee, where he
‘ll attend to all calls In his prohweion as areal.-
11,idente to Jessie llosford's house. (nice the same
iwretolure.
Friendeville, I'e., April 29111.. IY•L--Gm.
BURNS d•
-DU to Drug., Medicine., Chemtealr. Dye-
PLLlnte,Oils, Varnish. Liguori', Spleee.Faricy
cue. Patent Medicines, Perfumeryand Toilet:Ur
;ff-Preteriptions carorally compounded:—
1 . -rid; Block, Moutrose,P l .
t • Ch. 1. 163
I. 4.. 1, + , r .1
troo ringtirlivo
Mi-scloimit4aw::a
OFFICE. CHEAP.
- : - A,'. ,
fila , '' ',i'•
A
ff 0 N
,
TWO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
VOLUME 31.
-0-.
There are sighs unhenvedi, there are tears an
wept, 1
There are dates unstrung, there arc harps an
sweet;
There are griefs unknown, there are thoughts
untold,
There are hearts beat warm, when they seem
but Bold ;
There are loves unlost when they seem so dead;
There are wounds unseen, but have often bled,
For the soul feels most, when in silence deep,
It lives unheard as the winds in their sleep.
There are sorrows very dark that o'ereloud our
way
And that shade the heart in our lile's glad day ;
There are joys unfelt, there are hopes unfcd,
There are pledges hushed, there are vows un-
said,
There are flowers dead among the blooming
leaves ;
There are treasures lost among the golden
sheaves ;
There are memories sweet, and we love them
well,
But the eye grows dim In their current swell.
There aro IH•icndahips gone, Like the dew of
morn,
There arc smiles now turned to tho coldest
scorn
There are dreams we loved,in the days gone by
When the sun was warm, and so bright our
sky,
That are past like spray, on the ocean's breast,
When the corm has ceased, and her waters
rest,
.Lad the heart grows sad, that Its loves have
fled, -
That its hopes are gone, and its garlancla - dead.
There are scenes we knew that are faded now,
There are gathered wreaths a and shaded brow
There are songs unsung, that we loved to hear.
When the heart was fresh, and tts pleasures
near;
There are footsteps hid in the sands of time,
There arc voices stilled in this earthly clime,
But the echoes come from the boundless shore
That lies beyond in the vast evermore.
There are prayers we breath for the ones we
love,
While we linger here trom our home above.
Yet we smile to think that our griefs will cease
And our hearts rejoice in an endless peace.
Far away above the ethereal blue,
Where each soul is glad, and each heart is true;
We will live in love, and her radiant beam
M=M=l
Will inspire the soul with a heavenly dream
THE STORY TELLER
A RAILROAD SIIAIIII
--o
Whoever has traveled mach or little by
railroad knows how the faces of his fel
low travelers interest him, how in the ab
sence of anything else to occupy his mind,
he will study them, trying to imagine the
history and character of its owner. Such
was the ca, , e of Chalky Iteymart, while
on his way to Chicago from New York.
In the next seat in front of his,sat a girl
whose beauty would have attracted his
attention nuywbere ; but here be studied
her youthful, perfect features, her dark
luminous eyes, her golden-brown hair,
and her perfect round neck and shoul
deis until she seemed perfection to his
enraptured vision. Drinking in visually
of all these things, h fell into a kind of
day dream, of which the fair creature
was the heroine, and matrimony the cli
max.
Suddenly he was aroused from his rev
erie by a screech of the locomotive whis
tle, a terrible crash, and a sensation of
being violently forward into the debris
of the smashed car. As soon as he had re
covered from his first shock he realized
his position. A violent collision had piled
the train in a confused mass, and he was
buried beneath it. It was dark, and as
he felt about with his hands he found
that he was, although uninjured and able
to move a little, completely wedged in
by the wreck of a car. His hand.in grop
ing, came in contact with another hand,
and as it grasped his in its trembling,
scared grasp, he knew it to be the soft,
small hand of a woman. It clung to his
tenaciously, as if its owner felt safe in
the contact.
MEl=O
"Are you hurt," asked li, , ?ymart.
"No, I think not. At least. I. feel no
pain."
The voice was low and sweet, although
its tone attested - its agony of (right,
"Can you move your body freely?" ques
tioned Reymart.
"Yes," she replied ; "but I have no
space to move it much. Do you think
we'll get out alive ?"
"Almost certainly so," he said, with an
assurance of unconcern he scarcely felt.
"It may require some little time to re
mote the wreck, but I think we have lit
tle danger to fear, having escaped the first
sbock of the collision. Have you any
companions on the train ?"
"No, I am alone."
The thought that she was the beauti•
ful girl who occupied the seat in front of
him made his heart bound, insomuch as
the soft hand that clasped his had been
joined by its mate, and both clung with a
nervous pressure that made hie blood
tingle, even amidst the surroundings.
Already the sound of vigorously applied
axes began to mingle with the groans of
the less fortunate passengers, and Wy
man knew that the wreck was being re
moved as rapidly as prssible. Yet it
seemed ages before they drew near his
vicinity. He shouted to them, and they
worked slowly in his direction. After a
while a ray of light streamed in, and fell
upon the face of his companion. His
conjecture was correct—he saw the ad
mired features of the beautiful passen
ger.
A few moments later and they were
both lifted out uninjured, save by a few
unimportant scratches and bruises,
Reymart led his fair companion to a
station, which was but a few rods distant
from the scene of the aceident,and found
her as comfortable a seat as possible.
The other rooms were filled with
wounded and a train was momentarily
expected to convey them to the next city,
which was Buffalo,
Very soon it came.
"I presume we had better take this
train, said Reymart.
"If you think best," sbe replied.
He was flattered, by her def-rence to
his judgement, and politely escorted her
to a seat in the train.
suppose it would be useless to at
tempt to learn the safety of your baggage,"
he said, when they were seated.
"I had none," she said ; "my journey
was not a very long one. I live in Cleave
land, and have been on, a day's visit to
some relatives."
"Arid* baggage," he added laugh•
Altos liscuois
POE TRY.
NAMELESS.
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 19, 1874
ing, "is not bulky. though tolerably val
uable. I carry it all in my breast pocket,
and it consists of several thousand dol
lars in bills,which I was taking to Chica
go."
Tbe ride to Buffalo was not long, and
the strangely introduced couple talked
together glibly.
Before they reached the next city Rey
mart had been informed by his fair com
panion that her name was Lydia Maple
son, and that her father was a clergyman
in Cleveland. In conversation her deli
cate beauty was lighted up with the radi•
ance of intelligence,and lie was entranced
under the spell of her presence—by the
casual touch of her hand—by the pure
warm breath that fell upon his cheek.
"‘Good-tifght," said Reymart, as he
pressed the girl's hand, as they parted in
the hotel parlor ; "it is now ten o'clock
and we are to take an early train in the
morning, I hope to see you fully recover.
ed from the effects of the excitement of
the accident when we meet at breakfast."
"Good night," she replied, "and many
thanks for your kindness."
Reymart went to bed and tried to
sleep ; but for a long t ma was unsuccus
ful. His mind was full of Miss Hapleeom
and when he did fall asleep it was only
to dream of her.
And how was it with Miss Mapleson ?
She went to her room and without un
dressing, laid down on the bed. She was
soon asleep and soundly so, to all appear-
ances, until daylight. Then she awoke
with a start, rubbing her eyes, sat up in
bed and looked at her watch.
Jnst then there was a rap at the door,
and a waiter informed her that passen
gers for the early western train must get
up for breakfast. Miss Mapleson arose,
smoothed out her traveling dress, washed
her face and hands, dressed her hair, and
looked lovlier than ever with the flush of
early rising.
She met Reytnart at the dining-room
door and they took their seats at the ta
ble.
"And have you quite recovered ?"asked
ReyniarL
"Indeed, I am alriud not," she replied
with a faint smile. •'I am really ill this
morning, and fear you will have to leave
me here another day."
"Leave von !" he said warmly, "you
have no friends here ?"
"No, but donbtless I shall got kind
attention here at the hotel, and I may be
able to go home to-morrow. I can tele
graph to my father, too, and he can come
here for me."
"A day Dr two will make no difference
with me;' he said, "and if you will al
low me, I will remain."
She was silent, and he was afraid he
had presumed too far.
"ily motives are honest," pleaded the
poor fellow. "I wish only to be of err
vice to you."
"I believe you," ahe answered,"and on
ly feared that your politeness had led you
to offer too much,l shall be very grateful,
and my father, too, will scarcely know
how to thank you.'
She could eat nothing; her head ached
she said, and was dizzy. Reymart aided
ner to her room,and she laid down on the
bed again.
"Oh, it's nothing serious`" she said
sweetly in answer to his apprehensive
look ; "and excitement has thrown me
into just such attacks and they never last
long."
"Shall I get a doctor ?"
"0, No ; I never could take medicine
—it's too nasty—and I get well quick
without it."
"Shall I *telegraph to your father ?"
"If you please.'
She wrote a message herself on a page
from Reymart's memorandum book, and
he went out to send it.
Wheu.be had gone she rang the bell,
and a boy answered the summons.
"Take this to a druggists'she said writ
ing an order in the form of a physician's
prescription, "bring back what it calls
for."
After the lapse of a few minutes the
boy returned and handed her a small vial.
Soon after Reymart, too, returned.
"I have sent' tho message, and now I
suppose I can serve you the best by going
away, and letting you sleep ; but you can
send for me if you want anything during
the (lay."
"No, don't go," she said gently detain
lug him. "I couldn't sleep, and I should
be frightfully lonesome if left clone. Stay
and talk to me, please."
The task was by no means an irkslme
one to the infatuated young man.
The forenoon passed before he scarcely
knew it, so agreeable was his enslaver's
society, su piquent her conversation, so
pure, childish, and graceful her manner.
At noon at hie urging, she ate a slight
meal of toast and tea, and announced
that she felt much better. Ile proposed
a ride, and urged that the air would im
prove her and so she consented.
"I'll go to a livery stable and select the
best available beast," he said jocosely,"but
don't expect too much "
When he had gone she arose, brushed
ber hair, which she had allowed to flow
over the pillow, and put on her cloak and
hat.
Reyritart found her ready when be re
turned. and with natural pride he helped
his attractive charge into the carriage.
The day was bright and warm, and the
way which they took—a shaded road that
led into the country—most picturesque.
With his companion lightly touching his
side, with her voice thrilling him, with
her eyes looking shyly into his, is it nec
essary to state that Reymart enjoyed the
ride ? They talked of the fields and the
farm houses which they passed, of them
selves, of their likes and dislikes—while
the horse flew by almost unnoticed.
Twilight settled down about them, and
under its cover Reymart drew the girl to
his 'breast, and told the impassionate
words his sudden but overflowing love
for her.
. .
"I know that it is precipitate,"he plead
ed. "and perhaps foolishly rash, but I
must speak now or risk loosing you for
ever. We might never meet again. and
I should carry through life the words
which I had neglected to speak."
. Miss Mapleson allowed him to hold her
in hie arms. while her fair bead dropped
on his breast, while her hand went to her
Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County,
pocket and produced the vial for which
she had sent the boy in the morning.
Deftly and unperceived by her cogipan•
ion, she poured the cuntents upon her
handkerchief.
It was chloroform.
With the saturated handkerchief in
her hand, she gently folded her arms
around Reymart's neck, bringing the
chloroform close to his mouth and aos
trils.
So blinded was he by his passion, so
enraptured by her embrace, that he did
not realize the presence of the pungent
odor of the drug, until it had partially
stupified him. Then bewildered by the
strange torpor that was stealing over him
he strove feebly to push the handkerchief
from his face. But she held it closer now,
throwing herself on him. and pressing it
to his mouth and nose. ECe lost conscious•
ness, and his head tell back listlessly.
The Miss Mapleson showed no signs of
sickness or indecision. The load was
dark and deserted, but she knew that the
work must be done qnickly. Her soft,
white hand went rapidly to his pockets,
abstracted his money—the thousands he
had unsuspectedly told her of—and a fine
gold watch. Then she pulled his body
to the side of the carriage, and tumbled
it out in the road. The horse had been
walking slowly during all this ; bnt now
she seized the reins, applied the whip,aod
went spinning towards the city.
Arriving at a qufiet street, she got out,
leaving the horse and vehicle standing,
and walked quickly away. An hour later
she took a train to New York.
That dose of chloroform cost Charley
Reymart deeply, but it effectually cured
him, of romance. He managed by a hard
struggle, to replace the stolen money,and
never breathed of his adventure to a liv
ing soul. Two years later, chance led
him into a criminal court in New York
city. A young and beautiful woman had
just been convicted of shop-lifting, and
sentenced to a long term of imprison
ment to the penitentiary. It was Miss
Mapleson, now, Dora Mathews.
"And was it lwr real nume ?" asked
Reyn.art of an old detective, who sat at
her side
••Why, bless you," was the reply, "she's
got a dozen names. and nobody knows
which is the real one."
"Is she an old offender ?"
"Rather."
"What is her particular line ?''
"Anything and every-thine. I've known
her for ten years, and a quarter of that
time she's been in prison. She's the
smartest confidence woman that ever
breathed."
"She could swindle anybody, and her
beauty is her strong point," replied Char
ley Reymart.
"Woman Knows one ➢fore Point
Than the Dowil."
A SHORT AND GOOD STORY
——o—
If you want to know how the natural
bridge was built across the Meynach river
in Wales, this is the true story :
Once upon a time an old woman had
a cow that fed on the Crom Toider
mountain, and came home. night and
morning to be milked. One evening she
did not come, and the ohl lady, much
troubled, went out to fetch her. When
she came to where the Meynach flows
between two high rocks, she saw the cow
on the other side.
Then she set up a loud lamentatton,for
she saw the cow cfld not, orne to her,
and she could not oto the cow ; for the
river could not b crossed, and it was a
day's journey to go round.
In this strait the devil appeared. ,'So !
so! you've lost your cow, old lady, have
you .. ? Never mind, I'll build ydu a bridge
and on shall go fetch her."
“lhankee kindly, sir," and he cast a
look out of the corner of his eye. "Bat
the cow is worth something—l must have
toll ..keep that dog quiet, can't von ?"
for the old woman had a cur dog that
kept on growling and grumbling.
"Harkee, old lady—lf I build you the
bridge, I'll have the first that crosses it.
Is it the bargin ?"
She was sorely troubled. If she went
over for the cow, she knew that she had
sold herself to the devil ; and if the cow
came to her, she lost the cow.
"Bridge or no bridge ?" said the devil
"Build the bridge, sir, if you please."
"Ay, ay," said the 'devil. "It's very easy
to say build the bridge, but do you agree
to the toll ?"
"Yes, sure, sir," replied the woman.
With that the devil put both forefin
gers to his mouth, and gave a shrill whis
tle; and there was the bridge sure enough
and the devil sitting on the middle of it,
smiling away like a clock-work, rocking
himself to and fro, and switching his tail
with great satisfaction.
The old ' woman shook like an aspen
leaf, but she took a crust of bread from
her pocket, and showing it to the dog,
threw it over the bridge and passed the
devil where he sat in the
"Whip that dog I" saii the devil ; for
he was cut to the quick at being outwit
ted by the old woman ; but he did not
want the (lag, and be did not try to stop
him, and the bridge was crossed and the
spell broken. He was mortified and an
gry, but being a gentleman, he rose and
doffed his cap to the old lady—for the
keen respect the keen—and having done so
he hung his tail, much humbled and
walked away.
And the old chronicle who records this
fact comments thus on the incident : "It
must be acknowledged that Satan be
haved honorbly and kept his word—
which is more than men always do. •
Anecdote of Thad Stevens.
_co—
Pierre M. B. Yonng,now the Represen
tative in Congress from Georgia, was a
confederate general and a graduate of
West Point. He came to NVashinctoo
soon after the war, seeking to have his
disabilities removed. He is a fine, manly
fellow, and seems to have accepted the
war in good faith. He. went to Thad.
Stevens, who was Chairman of the Elec
tion Committee, and Thad. began'to play
with him,as he sometimes did with those
whom he intended to make his victims.
He said :
"Yon are a graduate of West Point I
believe ?"
"Yes sir."
"Educated at the expense of the Uni
ted States, I believe, which you swore
faithfully to defend ?"
"Yes sir."
"You went intp service for the infernal
rebellion ?"
"Yes sir."
"Yon were a brigade commander in
the raid on Pennsylvania, which destroy
ed the property of so many of my con
stituents ?"
"Yes sir."
"It was a squad of men under your
direct charge and under your personal
command that burned my rolling mill
down ?"
"Yes air."
Young thought ho was gone, but, see
ing that the old veteran had come into
possession of the last fact, which Young
did not dream he knew, it was impossi
ble to deny the truth of his question.
Thad. roared out :
„Well, I like your d—impertinence.
I will see that your disabilities are re
moved. Good morning.”
The next day the bill passed the House.
Obituary of an Editor.
--o
Ye editor sat in his rickety chair, as
worried as worried could be, for ye devil
was grinning before him there,and 'copy'
ye devil said he.
Oh, ye editor grabbed his big quill-pen,
and it spluttered ye ink so free, that his
manuscript looked like a war map when—
" Take this," to ye devil spake he.
Ho scribbled and scratched through
ye live-long day, no rest nor refuge had
he ; for ye devil kept constantly coming
that way,and bowling for more "cop-eel"
Day after day he scissored and wrote,
a•slaying the whole countree ; while ye
devil kept piping his single note. "A
little more cop-ee I"
And when ye boys in ye newsroom
heard ye noise of ye fray, ye sound of ye
blow and blasephemous word, He's rais
ing ye devil ! says they.
And oft when a man with a grievance
came in, ye editor man to see, he'd turn
hie back with a word of sin—"GO talk to
the devil," says he.
And ever oft, when a proof of his
works ye proprietor wanted - to see, "Ye
proof shall be shown by my personal
clerk ; you mast go to the devil," says he.
And thus he was destined, through his
life, by tnis spirit tormented to be; in
hunger and poverty, sorrow and strife,
always close to ye devil h as he.
Ye editor died . . . Bid ye Devil
lived on ! And ye force of life's habit we
see; for the Editor's breath no sooner was
gone, than straight to ye Devil was he.
Justice Mater's Game Cock.
——o—
Justice Miller of New Castle, tells the
following story about himself :
My wife had half a dozen Leghorn
hens and roosters which she thobght ev
erything of. She had all the modern im
provements put on her henhouse, and
took particular pains to see that her
fowls enjoyed all the luxuries that well
regulated and orderly hens could enjoy.
One day a friend of mine from Groton
Falls gave me a game cock. Of course I
had to keep him in a coop to prevent
him from exterminating the Leghorn
rooster. My wife disliked game fowls. sad
I had to feed it myself. One morning the
rooster got out. He went straight for
the masculine. Leghorn. I pursued him
and seemingly' made deepirate efforts to
catch him. But I took good care not to
catch him until he had half a dozen en
chanting battles with the Leghorn.
When I thought that leghorn had about
all he could stand, I cooped up my chick
en. Mrs. Miller was very excited, and I
was very sorry about the accident. The
next night I went out to find my-rooster,
but he was not in the coop. I searched
the yard,but could not find him. I went
into the kitchen and made inquiries of
my wife.
"He got out this morning," said Mrs.
Miller.
"How did ho get out," said L
"I let him out,'! said she.
"Where did he go ?" said I.
"Into the pot," said she, pointing to
he steaming vessel on the stove.
1 haven't had a game fowl since.
sharp Shooting.
—o—
Father what does a printer live on ?
Live on ? the same as other folks do of
course. Why do you ask Johnny ?
Because you said you hadn't paid any
for your paper, and the printer still
sends it to you.
Wife spank that boy.
I shan't do it.
Why not ?
Because there is no reason to. '
No reason ? Yes there; is, spank him
I tell you and pat him to bed.
I shan't do any such thing. What in
the world do you want him spanked for?
He is too smart.
Well that comes of marrying me.
What do you mean ?
I mean just this, that Life boy is smart
er than his father, and you can't deny
it, He knows that a man printer, or no
printer, cannot live on nothing; and I
should think yon would be ashamed of
yourself nut to know as much.
A verdant at a Troy hotel left his
young wife in his room Sunday evening
and went down to ask the clerk what
time he lighted up. "Well," saiCl the ac
commodating clerk, with a smile, "we
usually tight up at nine o'clock, but to
accommodate you, I'll light up immedi
ately." He then sent a bell boy to the
room of the verdant to light the gas.—
The young man was profuse in his thanks
and wouldn't go back to his wife until
the clerk had accepted a cigar.
An old clergyman spying a boy creep
ing through a fence exclaimed : "What!
crawling through a fence 1 Pigs do that."
"Yea," retorted the boy, "and old hogs
go along the street."
It a Miss is as good as a milo,how good
is a Mrs.? If she is a widow, she will be
good fora league under any circumstances.
FIFTY CTS. EXTRA IF NOT IN ADVANCE.
MISCELLANEOUS READING.
1112TES CHOICE.
A wealthy old farmer was Absalom Lee,
He had but one daughter, the mischlevous•Hit
ty,
So lair and so good, and so gentle was she,
That lovers came wooing from country and
A city,
The first and the boldest to ask for her hand -
Was a trimlyAressed dandy, who worshiped
her tin ; - •
She replied, with a smile he could well under
stand :
"That she married no ape for the sake of his
skin I"
The next was a merchant from business retir
ed,
Rich, - gouty, and gruff—a presuming old sin
ner ;
Young Kitty's fair form and sweet face he ad
mired,
And thought to himself, "I can easily wm her."
So he showed her his palace and made her a
bluff bow,
And said she might live them; but wickedly
then
Kitty told him she'd long ago made a rash vow
"Not to marry a bear for the sake of his den f"
A miser came next, he woe fearless and bold
In claiming his right to Kitty's affection ;
Ho said she'd not want for a home while his
gold _ .
Could pay for a cabin to give her protection.
Half vexed at his boldness, but calm in a trice,
She courtesied, and thanked him, and blushing
ly then
Demurely repeated her sage aunt's advice,
"Not to marry a hog for the sake of his pen 1"
The next was a farmer, young, bishibl, and
shy
He feared the bold wooers who came from the
city,
But the blush on his cheek, and the light in his
erSoon kin ad a flame in the bosom of Bitty.
"My life will be one of hard labor," he said,
"Bat, darling, come share It with me, if you
can.'
"I suppose," she replied, gaily tossing her head
"I must marry the farm for the sake of the
man.'
NEW YORK RAG PICKERS.
The looms above ground in Bone alley
where the rag pickers of New York ex
ist, are used only for the ordinary purpos•
es of living. Business, which begins in
the street is here resumed only in the cel
lar, whence it is transferred to the roof,
and is finished around the corner. Un
der the building are a dozen or more
small vaults, extending beneath the pave
men t,and lighted only by the narrow grat
ings above them. The air in then vaults
is impure to the last degree, and is damp
and chilling. There is neither floor nor
tiles in them, and their clay bottoms are
slimy and covered with mould. Here,
crouched upon their knees, the old and
young are busy from seven o'clock it the
morning till noonday in assorting the
contents of their sacks, which have been
emptied upon the earth. These consist
of cotton and woolen rags, paper, bones,
fat, crusts of bread, old bottles and occa
sional scraps of leather and metals. They
are separated and placed in little piles.—
All this work is completed by twelve
o'clock, at which hour the bone dealer
arrives in the alley to make his daily pur
chases.
Bones are brisk at present at sixty
cents per barreL
The little heaps of cotton and woolen
rags are scraped together and transported
to the roof of the building, where they
are suspended upon lines. They are usual
ly quite wet, and the object in hanging
them up is to get rid of the foreign mat
ter that clings to them and which wind
and rain will remove. They are not suf
fered to remain long exposed, as to much
heat would dry them and reduce their
weight to an unprofitable figure. On Fri
day or Saturday afternoons theyare gath
ered in separate bales and bundles and
carried to the ragdealers in the neighbor
hood or to a large warehouse in Third
street. near Lewis. The prices vary from
time to time, but are usually at the rate
of about two and one-fourth cents -per
pound for woolen. At this rate the men
women and children engaged earn an av
erage of about eight dollars a week. -
Fat is sold to the soapmakers, the usu
al price being about two cents a pound.
Bread crusts are eagerly purchased by
Long Island countrymen, who come alter
them with market wagons atutcarry them
away as food for hogs, for which purpose
they have a value of 82.50 per hundred
weight.
Empty bottles of every description
make up no small share of a rag picker's
daily collection, both in volume and
weight. They are carefully packed among
the rags to prevent breakage,and are sold,
at seven to eight cents per dozen. The
bottle merchant resides opposite Bone al
ley, and his place of business is a curiosi
ty. He receives miscellaneous collections
and assorts them after purchase. There
you will find wine bottles which have
contained the choicest importations, with
the remnants of their labels carefully
preserved ; ink bottles, glue bottles, mu
cilage bottles and babies nursing bottles;
blue bottles and green bottles; the small
est of crystal vials and the largest and
most . uncouth of all kinds of German
Seltzer jugs ; patent medicine bottles,
with the most astounding names of mi
raculous liquids cast on the eider. These
make up the contents of the shop. Bro
ken glass is bought here at half anent
per pound.
Many of the rags that find their way
into the garbage barrels . and the gutters
are pregnant with contagion. Heedless
or thoughtless people have, instead of
destroying them by fire, thrOwti them in
to the street. They are not cleansed by
the water with which they become satu
rated, nor does the filth which attaches
to them destroy infection. In fact, the
street produces precisely the condition'
required for the earliest possible germi
nation of whatever seeds of disease and
death may be concealed in them. &leo
ted from the grease,bones and glass, jum
bled together in the sack of the rag pick
er, they are removed from the vaults of
the cellars to the roofs, for the purpose of
drying, and the air which fans them
feeds the lungs alike of the poor and the
rich—of the factory girl and the million
aire's daughter. . . Often, in the adjoining
tenements, some poor wretch lying longs
for a breath of fresh air in his close and
overheated room, zed prays that the win
dows may be opened to admit the breeze
he watches curling tho 'smoke irout the
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT
Conti'lns el the Localandaenezal Nowt, Poetry.tito•
dos, Ante /lota, Miocollioneons lieading,Corrcepond•
onto, sad a relloble class of antertisements. .
Ons square, 0( of an Inch spacejawetts, or leis. $l.
1 montb,6l• months. 6.2.50 ; 6 months. $4.60. 1
year, $6.50, -A Liberal discount on advertisements or a
meter length. Business Locals, 10 cu. • Ilne for
Inscrtton, and 5 els. a line each subsequent twat ton
Martiages and deaths, lees; obltumles,lo cts. a llne,
NUMBER 33.
chimneys and rustling the clothes drying
on an adjacent roof. The casement is
opened, only to admit the poisonous
breath of the wind that hasrioted with
the deadly rage and comes to the lips of
the sufferer only to cool them forever.--
Surrounded by malaria arising from fil
thy gutters, panting under a. heat that is
simply an incandescent stench, breathing
an aerial poison, they gradually lose their
hold on life, and sink away from its noise
and fever into the quiet and chill of the
grave.
This is the beautiful heritage of the
well born man and the gentle woman.—
They may be poor or rich to day they
may be living a life of leisure or toiling
for their bread—all the same they carry
with them the grace, the e.are,the gentle
ness, the consideration, the knowledge
which we call intuition or instinct,which
cornea from generations of culture and a
thousand qualities of mind and heart
which win social recognition and bring
happiness to- the possessor.
The accumulation of more money as
an inheritance for children is often worse
than nothing in their hands ; it deprives
them of all incentive to personal effort
and infrequently proves the means by
which they ride fast to destruction. Mon
ey is. worse than nothing if the lives of
the past and associations of the present
have not taught us how to put it to its
noblest uses. .
But the order, the training, the experi
ence of a life are invaluable. They form
with education, a key that unlocks the
recesses of the world,and becomes a.pow
er that no loss in stocks or bonds or
houses or lands can deprive the unfurtu
natepossessor of. They make him the
equal p ot the'best, and, therefore at ease
with all men. Deprived of leisure and
of resources which we would know how
to appreciate, he still finds within him
self more than others find outside of
themselves. Outwardly, his life is isola
ted; inwardly, he holds communion with
all that is best and finest in art and so
ciety and literature. His gracious and
kindly manners,which he retains in spite
of poverty or wealth, shows that he con
sorts only with the noblest, whether his
dwelling here be a hut or a palace,
How graphically the varied aspects of
the leaf picture the various seasons of
man's life I The tenderness of its bud
ding and blooming in spring, when that
rich golden green glints of it that comes
only once a year, represents' the bright
beauty and innocence of youth,whenevei
sunrise brings its fresh glad, hopes, and
every-night its holy, trustful aim. The
dark greenness and lush vigor of the
'summer season portray the strength and
self-reliance of manhood ; while its fad
ing hues on the trees, and its rustling
heaps on the grotind,typify the decay and
feebleness of old age, and that strange,
mysterious passing away which is the
doom of every mortaL The autumn leaf
is gorgeous in color, but it lacks the bal
my scent and dewy freshness of hopeful
spring ; and life is rich and bright in its
menden splendor ; deep are the hues of
maturity, and noble is the beauty-idf suc
cess ; but who would not give it all for
the tender sweetness and promise of life's
morning hours?
Manners are simple in Iceland. There
is really no distinction of ranks. Nobody
is rich, and hardly anybody abjectly poor
everybody has to work for himself, and
works with his own hands. There is no
title of respect save Herra. to the Bishop,
and Sim to a priest; 'nit even such a tit
le as Mr. or Mrs., or Esquire. If you go
to call for a lady you tap at the door and
ask if Ingibjorg or Valgerdr is in ; or,-If
you wish to give her her full name,
jorg Tharvaldsdottir, or Eiriksdottir, or
Bjarnardottir (as the case may be) for
there is no title of politeness to apply.—
Her name, morever, is her own name,ini- -
changed from birth to death; for as there
are no surnames or family names among
the Icelanders, bat only Christian names
there is no reason for a wife assuming
her husband's niune,and she isThorvalds
dottir after her marriage, with Gud-,.
mundr just as before, while her children,
are Gudmundsson and , Gudmandsdotti. •
A bill hat' been passed by the Californ
ia Legislatuse, making it a misdemeanor
to invite any person to take a drink at a
public bar. This is a more in the right
direction,and it is a rule in .Europe,with
out a law to compel its observance. In
other civilized nations a man will take
his drink when he wants it, and let his
neighbor do the same. In Germany you
would as often be asked to take a hat or
a pound of butter as a- drink. In these
countries, therefore it is possible for a
man to go into,a public bar room anti
take one drink and go about his birsiness
In America the chances are that he
meets one, two or three irionds,and when
each treats, every man has more than ho
wanted, and many a man goes away
toxicated - who would have left the place
sober, if he had been allowed to tend to
his own personal irrigation, without the
interference of this silly custom. To
abolish"treating"ia a movement in Casey
of temperance. '
Wordawoth was a single-minded man;
with less imagination than Coleridge, but
with a more harmonious udgment, and '
better balanced principles. Coleridge, -
conscious of his transcendent powers, ri
oted in a license of tongue which na
man could tame. Wordsworth, thofigh
he could discourse most excellent music,
was never unwilling to sit still in Cole
ridge's presence, yet could bo as happy in
prattling with a child as communing
with mange. If Wordsworth condescend
ed to converse with me be spoke to me
as if I wero his equal in mind and made
mo pleased and proud in consegiience.--0
If Coleridge held me. by tho .button, tot
tho lack of fitter audience, he bad a tal
ent for making me feel his wisdom and
my own stupidity, so that I was misera
ble and humiliated by the Bonne of it.
Is Prawn= EMI' WC1,1117.011r M0713/10
AdverUstni Hates:
TEE GENTLE LIFE.
TILT LIFE OF NAN.
IN ICELAND.