Wm. 0 eraser. E. B. HAWLEY & CO., E. B. Hawley, PUBLISHERS OF TILE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT, AND GENERAL JOBCPRINTERS, Itentrose, Susquehanna County, Pa Orrin—West Side of Public Avenue Business Oard& J. R. cf: A. H. AfeCOLLUM, ATTORELTS AT LAW °Mee over tho Bank, Montt . °so Ps. Montrose, May 10. 1071. D. IV. SEARL 11013248 Y AT LAW. ofllOo ove r Store of 1!. DClls6l3er.ln the Brick Block ohto role.BC fool GO W. W. SMITH, BINET AND CHAIR MANMPACTURERS,—Noot of Main street. Montrose. Pa. lan. 1. Ma. M. C. SUTTON, CCTIONEER, and Isimnasca Adam., sal Ott Frlendsvllle, Pa AMI ELY, Address, Brooklyn, Pa A 11CTIO NEER Juui• 1, lel4, Exaotaki aim Lairn SUISTETOn, P. 0. 1411drm. Franklin Forte. Susquehanna Co., Pa JOHN GROVES, Y to MO NA BLS TAILOR, Montrose, P. Shop Dyer Chandler's Store. Al) orders ailed lo Enderlin style.. ,•atting done on shod notice. and warranted to St. Al. 0. WARREN, TTORNE 1 . LAW. Bounty, Back Pay, Pension and Enema on Claims attended to. Office dr.i ~00r below Boyd'. Store, Ildontrose.Pa. [An. 1.'69 W A. CROSSMON, Attorney at Law. °nice at the Court House, In the comtninetoneen Office. W. A. Cuoshuon. Itentrooe. Sent.htl. LAW OFFICE. r ITCH S WATSON, Attorneys at Lags, nt the °Mc/taco of Bentley dt . Fitch, liontroge, Pe. L F. PITCH. [Jan.ll.ll.[ w. w. wAroos. ABEL TURRELL Denier la Drugs Medicines, Chemicals, Paints, Oils, Dye.staffs, Tens, Spices, Fancy Goods, Jewelry, Per fumery, Brick Block, Montrose, Pa. Established 18/8 IFeb. 1,1873. SCOVILL d• DEWITT. Attorneys at Law and Solicitors In Bankruptcy. Omen No. 49 Court Street,over City National Bank, Ding aunton,.N, Y, W. ticormu, =OM DR. W. L. RICILARDSON, II reICIAN & BURGEON, tenders hisprofessions services to the citizens of Montrose and vicinity.— Odlce si sisr.sideree, on the corner castor Sayre & tiros. Foundry. i/inc.l, 1869. CHARLES STODD.d.RD, )ogler in Boots and Shoes, Hats and Caps. Leatherand Findings, Stain Street, Ist door below Boyd's Store. Work made to order, and repairing done neatly. Mo,troso Jan. 1 1570. LEWIS KNOLL, SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSING. ‘non in the new Porto:Dee buildina, where he will ue found ready to attend all who may want anything in hie line. Montrose Pa. Oct. 13 /569. DR. S. W. DA 1702/, & St RGEON. tenders his eervicee to tee citizen. of Cheat Bend end vicinity. Omen at nis reeidence, opposite Barnum House, .Bend Sept. Ist. 1569.—ti DR. D. A. LATHROP, ♦dm I rki sten EL Crap TIIIIMIAL BATIKS, X Ste Foot of chestnut street. Call and consul to a.l Cbronle Diseases. Montrose. Jan. 17. "12.—n01--I.f. H. BURRPTT. Dealer in Staple and Fancy Dry Goods, Crockery, Hard ware, Iron, Stoves, Dross. Oils, and Paints, Boots and Oboes, Rats and Caps, Fore, Buffalo Robes, Gro ceries, Provisions, &e. New-Ittllord,tri.. Nov, 0, '72—tl. EiCW 4 WE HOTEL g.. 1. H.AItiIECGTOZS wishes to inform the public that having rented the Exchange Hotel in Montrose, he Is now prepared to accommodate the traveling publlc. In first-class style. Montrose. Aug. 2 9 , 1873. LITTLER tE BLAKESLEE A.TTOHNLTS AT LAW, have removed to their Sew Office, opposite the Tarbell Ileum Montrof c. Ott. 15, 1873. BILLINGS STRO VD. ?IRE AND LIFE 11181 GLANCE AGENT. AL brtettlese attended to promptly, on fair terms. Offie - drat door east of the bank or Wm. 11. Cooper A, C. Public Avenue, Montrose. Pa. [Ang.1,1869 aly 17,187.1 BILLINGS BISOLTD. B. T. d: E. II CASE, HARNESS-MAKERS. Oak Barnes', light and heavy lowest cash prices. Alm, Blankets, Breast Blan ka;s, Whipe, and everything pertaining to Ms line cheaper than the cheapest. Repairing done prompt and In good style. liont....ose, Pa:. Oct. 21, 1573. CILCRLEY MORRIS HAITI BARDER,_ bas moved his shop to the building occupied by HrKenzie & Co.. where he Is prepared to do all kinds of work In his Ilne,ench as ma king ewitchee. pals. etc. All work done on short notice end price. tow. Plcaec call sedate me. TEE PEOPLE'S MARKET. Pttua.n. Liam:, Proprietor. Preeti and &kited Meats, name, Pork, Bologna Sati ng, etc , of the beat quality, conetantly on hand, at prlcts to suit Montrose, Pa,. Jan. It. 1873.-Ir VALLEY HOUSE. one,. Bann, Pa. Slumlord near the Erie Railway De pot. le a large and cornmadiona house, has underone a taoroagn repair. Newly famished rooms and sleep tag apartments,aplendidtables..andallthin,,,es compria- Jag a at et eine. hotel. HENRY ACKERT, ,pt lath. 1,',73.-tf. Proprietor. DR. YI E.111T.11, Drsrler Rooms at hie dwelling, next door nortbef Dr. Ilalrey e, on Old Foundry etreet, where be would be happy to gee all those In want of Dental Work. Ile !stn. confident that he can ,please all, both in qoality of work and in price. Office noon from 9 .1.11.t0 4 P. M. Moctree, Feb. 11, 1.414—tf EDGAR A. TURBELL 1!111:1 No. ITO Broadway, New York City. attends to all klnda of ALLOCOCy BUFWEES, and con do to cauaet in all the Courts of both the State and the i"nic.•d State,.. Yth 11, lb-74.-+y. E. P. RISES, M. D. fl refloat. of the Calve:nifty or Inchlgan, Ann Arbor. Isar, and al. ot Jtdlemon bledical College of PhHa delphte. 1074. boa returned to Frienflarlllee, when be .11 attend to all calls In lila profession as nattal.— Ileaidenee Jeeele lloeford's home. Office the same as heretofore. Friel:astille. Pa. April 27th., 174.—dm. B URNS 4 NICHOLS, jet, aSes in Drugs, Medicines, Chemicals. Dye. , sslists,olls, Varnish, Liquors, Spices,Faney PiazotliedlcLoes, Perfameryand ToiletAr• , i a rrreserinnons carefully compounded.— find, Esi c .ck, Me utilise, re, &.Eicess. °ob. 21. 11:2 F=MT2EI rßrAirvite Xlkc.coosaleal marriage, my dear. "My marriage, sister ! "Your father certainly yon that you are to marr] replied Ellen, looking inti "Oh ! yes, he Enid so," "but I cannot believe be 3 ‘Why not," asked Ellei 'Z'ry l eye•browi. aT TEEN OFFICE. CUEAP. ONTROSE DEMOCRAT. TWO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOLUME 31. L How vastly different in man's estate • Prom that of boyhood's gay unheeding time! His mind dotb now the eheck'rlng world de bate— Its fashions, foibles, virtues, and its crime, His life becomes one everchanging scene Wherein be hopes for some loved place to rest, That ho may all his days enjoy serene Nor wearied be with Ills which life infest. It. With heart now ill at ease he hopes still on This guerdon to achieve—he wills no more ; To-day exults, he thinks the object won ; To-morrow, sees it distant as befbre ; Thus lives he on: with Intermittent sway Despair and Hope alternate shake Ids breast, Till, quite bewilder'd in this dubious fray, He sighs for death to be aye at rest. AL t how unlike this stage of dife appears To that when young and gay he careless strayed Where'er his fancy led him, and no fears 01 good or ill his little breast once swayed ; His cheerful brow, with sweet content aglow, Discloses a heart from every care secure ; His mornings brought no gloom, Lis nights no woe, Naught from his pastimes could his thoughts allure. Yes ! then it was his heart's true Joy had known, All things seemed destined to impart delight, The pebbly brook, the hillock mossy grown, The mazy woodland, and the lakelet bright ; The morn's approach in him new life•inspired Awhile the merry songbirds charmed his car; • While pastimes novel his lithe fancy fired By which to total up his day's career. And let me say that gallantry sublime Held ample space - within his boyish s,ml; As yet young Prudence scarce could mark the time To place impellant rashness 'Death control ; And wild Ambition, in its fancied state, Descanted glowingly of far off bliss, Pointed with Jewelled hand to stations great 01 which his stirring votaries ne'er could miss. JmoxE Davin Oh ! vain, delusive dream of life's bright morn! How thou did'at mock me! laugh me in dis dain, As forth stalked Disappointment, grim, forlorn, Shatt'ring the hopes I labored to attain ! And yet I pause—nonchalant for a while To the heart-witlering ills I needs must brave, Ma3 - hap these cares, while seeming to beguile, Are only meant soy erring soul to save. Oh bright conceit in Booth truly so ; No more I'll yearn for life's swift passing joys ; Too long they've lured me with deceitful glow From the one pathway where true rapture lies. Come, bless'd Contentment! light my turbid breast, Dispel from thence all shades of rayless Be mine! e'en till my soul has sought its rest, Its careworn temple laid within the tomb. THE UNWILLING BRIDE -o The mother of Ruth MU - twain died while she was an infant, and her father remained, a widower for ten years, and then married a lady who had a daughter b a former husband. The second Mrs. Mcllwain was a woman of plausible manners, but a selfish and artful disposi tion, and her daughter Ellen resembled her exactly. OEo. P. Lrrrr.s, EA. Bz-traza..zr One day, when Ruth had just entered her seventeenth year, a gentleman whom she never had seen before came to tea with the family. He was a widower,about forty years of age, of good figure and fine manners, but plain even to ugliness. He was silent and reserved. Ruth paid little attention to him,and would have thought no more about him had not her father said when he was gone : "Well, Ruth, what did you think of him ?" "I think he is extremely ugly," replied his daughter. "Humph !" responded her father, "that is unlucky, for he is to be your husband." "My husband,father ?" said Ruth rais ing her blue eyes and gazing at her pa rent with a look of astonishment. •'Oh ! you are jesting ; that is impossible." "Not at all," answered Mr. Mcllwain. "Yon will find it very true, I assure you, that I am serious?' "I will never marry him," replied Ruth, "and I scarcely think he will desire an unwilling bride." "But you will not be an unwilling bride," presisted her father. "Don't mistake me father," continued Ruth firmly, but kindly. "In this matter I must consult my feelings. I cannot commit so peat a sin." "Well, we shall see," coolly responded Mr. Mcllwain, and the conversation was dropped. Caleb Walker was a man of immense wealth. in early life he had emigrated to Louisiana, when the city of New Orleans was scarcely more than, a village, and by judiciously investing the means be pos sessed, he amassed r great wealth. No mai had a kinder or more sympathizing nature than Caleb Walker. Re was very charitable, but as he shrunk from obser. vation, and was so utiobstructive, the I knowledge of his benev fence was almost invariably confined to himself and the recipients of ,iris bounty Mr. Walker continue his visits to Mr. Mcllwain's, and Ruth :mule it a point to 'iti keep out of his way as nth as possible. She had little difficulty n doing this, as he paid no particular ttention to her. She perceived, however that her step mother and sister were c ose together.and that their minds seemed ways occupied with something that she uld not discov er. They sometimes 100 - ed at him in a peculiar manner. One day when she was a one with Ellen, she said : "What Is it that o :pies you and mother so much ?" Her step-sister answere , liberation : "The prepay /Laos Nzcnoza POETRY. A CONTRAST BY JOHN GAFFNEY THE STORY TELLER with gnat de tion for your with whom ?" has informed Mr. Walker," flu th'e,face. repliediltttth, lane it." , elevating her MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 26, 1874 "Because it is a very summary way of disposing of my affections, and I think I am entitled to a say in the matter ; " re plied Ruth. Ellen laid her hand on Ruth's shoul der. "My dear," she said, "don't be silly. You certainly will marry Mr. Caleb Walk er. He is agentleman of immense wealth and will make you au excellent husband. Besides, he is fond of pu, though you will not give him a chance of making you sensible of the fact. There is not a girl in the community but what *bald dance at your chance. 7am sure I woculd." "Then take him," said Ruth. "But I can't take him," said Ellen ; "he don't want me. Besides, my dear, everything is settled in your case ; even your wedding wardrobe is purchased.' Ruth took her step-sister by the baud, "Is it tine ?" she asked solemnly. "It is true," replied the other. Mr. McElwain was absent in the coun try. Ruth, therefore, went to her step mother, who listened to her suplicatioos with a countenance as 'immovable as steel. "I am surprised at your nonsense," she cried. "I expected to find you a reason able girl. Are you going mad ? Do you really know what you are refusiag ? This is preposterous. There is scarcely a young lady in the country who would refuse Mr. \Volker. What are your ob jections to him, pray ?" "I don't love him,' sobbed Ruth. "Well, who snit' you did," cried her step-mother. "But you can do so ; you will have plenty of time, and he is a kind man and will teach you to do so." "It will be committing a sin it I mar ry him," continued Ruth, still weeping. "I can't see bow that is," replied Mrs. Mcllwain, as if speaking to herself. "Peo ple have a variety of ideas on the subject of particular violations of religious dog mas. Yours and mine perhaps, are not alike. I don't think you will be guilty of any sin at all." "But I can't and won't n.arry a man that I scarcely know and do not love," said Ruth. "Yon may alter your opinion," replied Mrs. McDwain. "It is to your father you must say that." "Will you not appeal to him for .ne ? sobbed Ruth. "No," replied her step-mother sternly, as she went out of the room. "Fool," she muttered, "but she shall yield, and that right speedily too." Several days elapsed without Ruth see ing either her father or Mr. Walker,when one bright morning, as she was reclining upon her bed, her father entered the chamber, and commanded her instant ly to marry Caleb Walker. "All is prepared," he said harshly, "get up instantly and dress yourself. Let me hear no murmur." ;At this moment a couple of servants entered the apartment, bearing a number of box's, while Mcllwain placed a mag nificent necklace of pearles upon her dressing-case. "There," said be, "is a present from your future husband." Half stupified, Ruth attempted to re monstrate. "Don't speak," said the father, "marry Caleb Walker or leave my house, and take my eorse along with you." He turned on h's heel as he spoke, and quitted his daughter's presence. Overwhelmed with grief and dispair, the unhappy girl could not maintain the resolution she had expected to command in the moment of her need. Passively submitting to the fate that overtook her, she was docile under the hands of the waiting-maids, who began to array her for the bridal. During the performance of the cere mony she appeared more dead than alive; And it was only when Walker saluted her as his bride, that she started as if from a dream. They proceeded direct from the church to the house of the bridegroom, where a splendid dinner awaited them. Ruth desired to be conducted to ber chamber, locked herself in and left Ca leb Walker to entertain the bridal party as best he could. In vain did her step mother and sister solicit admission. She refused to suffer them to come into ner presence. Suddenly indisposition served as a pretext for her leaving the company, and her husband bad presence of mind enough to put the beet face up on the matter. When the guests had.gone Caleb Walk er ascended the stairs with a low step and thoughtful mien, and tapped at his wife's door. "Let me in," he said in a low tone, "I have something to say to you that will not displease you." Ruth opened the door and averted her eyes. Her husband divined what was in her mind. Seating himself near her, he spoke in the tune of a man whose soul is penetrated with sorrow. "Don't make yourself unhappy," he said. "Hear me patiently. If I tell you that I repent having married you, you will not perhaps believe, yet it is true. I was made to believe by your father and eb p-mother that your affections were dis engaged, and that you had no aversion to me—that you would dispense with those attentions customary from a lover to his betrothed, but which the difference in our ages, and my consciousness that na ture, had dealt hardly with me rendered me adverse from offerirg. Too late I have discovered the cruel deception your father has practised upon me. Still it is in my power th render your fate less wretched Chan you anticipate. Bear the name of my wife, command in my house, and dispose of me and my fortune as you please. Before heaven, I promise to live with you only as a brother, and never to approach you until you can receive me as the husband of your choice." He ceased speaking, and sat gazing at her, awaiting her reply. The force of truth is always terrible. Ruth dried her tears and extended her hand to him. "I accept your offer, and thank you for your generosity ; I will try and repay your kindness. You have a daughter; that child shall be my care. Bat from this hour I will see my father's face no more. I forgive him the wrong he has done me,but I can never willingly behold his face. As to my step-mother and her daughter, as your wife, I forbid for ask Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County. stunt their presence under this roof." "Your wishes shall be the law of my house," replied her husband, "fear not, you shall be implicitly obeyed. Good night l" and without shaking hands, or even looking at her, Caleb Walker left his young wife atone, and descended the stairs. The following day she met him with a cheerful countenance, and a few days later, his daughter, an interesting child about four years old, was brought home. Ruth was naturally a very affectionate woman. Estranged from her nearest connections by the base deception they had practiced upon her, she needed an object upon which •to lavish her tender ness, and soon found it in little Effie,who. become passionately fond of her. Time flew by, and Caleb Walker kept his word strictly with his beautiful wife. He did more, he was incessant in his en deavors to render her happy. Two years passed away, with scarcely any change in his domestic relations except perhaps that Ruth was more confidential with him,and at times evinced more tenderness towards him than she had hitherto done. Effie was her darling,and she appeared to love the child with so strong and passionate an attachment, that Mr. Walker often marvelled at it. One day in early spring, Caleb Walker informed Ruth that he had taken a coun try house for the summer. This was welcome news to Ruth, and she began to prepare for the removal. Three weeks later they were comfortably installed in their country residence. It was a moder ate sized farm house having an abun dance of shade trees and fruit surround. ing it., and Ruth began to busy herself among the flowers and plants as soon as the weather permitted. The place was near enough to the city for Caleb Walker to make daily visits thereto, if he had occasion to do so. It was in the month ofJuly, the weath er was intensely warm, when one mor ning Caleb Walker set out for the city to be absent for the day. Late in the after noon Ruth took Etlie by the hand and wandered into the adjacent woods to seek for some roots she desired. So intent was she upon the object of her search, that she did not observe the heavens growing overcast until the storm was nearly upon them. When it was she, catching the child by the hand, hurried onward, hoping to reach the house before the rain fell. She was yet halt a mile distant when the storm burst upon them in all its fury and the rain descended to torrents,drench ing them i o the skin. She had passed beyond all shelter, and could find no ?lice nearer than her home where she could gain a refuge. It therefore became a matter of sheer necessity to go for ward. When she arrived at the house,as Melt have been expected, she was in a very exhausted condition , but Effie did not seem much the worse for the accident save her wet clothing. The first thing Mrs. Walker did was to attend to the child, and it was not until her step daughter had her wet clothing changed, that Ruth pulled off her own drenched garments. The following morning Ruth was so ill that she could not leave her bed, and her husband immediately summoned a phy sician. Two or three more days and Ruth lay prostrate in bed with typhoid lever. Days and nights Caleb Walker sat by the bedside of hie wife, who lay uncon scious, her mind wandering, and raging fever wrecked her frame. He would not be satisfied with the attention of her nurse, but watched every roovemen Labe made. For a long time it was doubtful whether she would recover. But at last the disease took a favorable turn, and she gradually began to mend. But what a wreck she presented, when contrasted with her former self ! Her first inquires were for Effie, aed when the child was I 'brought she hugged her passionately to' her ematciated form. Dunng the progress of her recovery, she was one day lying on a couch beside husband, who had been reading to amuse her. Effie was seated near and prattling a great deal. Mr. Walker laid down his book and gazed at his wife. Effie began to talk again. "Mamma," she said, "you love me very much don't you ?" "Certainly," replied Ruth, "why do you ask ?" "I don't know," answered the child, except that it makes me very happy to know that you love me so dearly. Ruth pressed the little one nearer to her heart. "You love me better than you love any one in the world ?". continued the child. Ruth did not reply ; the color faded and can't' to her cheeks as she looked in quiringly into the child's face. "Is it not so, mamma ?"continued Effie "You love me better than you do papa, don't you ?" And she took her step mothers baud and looked into her eyes. Caleb Walker sat breathless and mo tionless. Ruth hesitated for a moment only, and then she answered in a low but distinct tone— "No, Effie, I do not." The next instant Caleb Walker was on his knees beside his wife. "My own darling !" he exclaimed, „now I feel that you are my own indeed;" and he fervently kissed her pale brow. And so, hi truth, she was. His cease less tenderness and unwearied attentions had won her heart, unknown even to her self. krom that time forward a joy en tered the hearts of Ruth and her hus band. Two lovely bhildren blest their union, but their births did not diminish Ruth's affections for her step-daughter. She Always treated that charming girl with the same tenderness as her own off spring, and received from her a filial love. 4 married lady who was in the habit of spending moat of bee time.in the soci ety of her neighbors, happened to be ta ken ill, end sent her buidaand in great haste for_a physician. The husband ran a short distance, and then returned, ex claiming, "My dear, where shall I find yon when I come back ?" Why should a magistrate be very cold? Because he represents just•ice. Enoch Arden Reversed. ——o— A Mrs. Newell, with her little girl,pas sed along the Kansas Pacific a few days ago,who had a very dreary story to tell. She said she belonged to New York, and about a year ago had left that city to join her husband, who had taken Horace Greeley's advice and gone West, but where she knew not. She hardly knew indeed, whether he was in the land of the living, and had a long search before she found him, and then it was a case of Enoch Arden reserved. Her tmunt hus band was found in Caribou, Colorado, living with another woman as his wife. But this was not all. When she went to prove her prior right to her truant hus band, he disclaimed all knowledge of her and declared that his then wife:was the only one he had ever had. He further had the impudence to give her what he called good advice, which was not to go gadding about the country claiming strange men for her husband, but to go back to her home in New York. The unfortunate wife did not attempt to an swer him, but tried to seek solace for her misery in death by poison. She was, however, prevented from carrying out her design, and when she made known her story of her wrongs to the people of Car ibou, as she had exhausted all her finan ces in finding her husband,who disowned her, they made up a purse to carry her and her more than fatherless daughter back to whence they came. And, too, it was only to her earnest pursuasion that her alleged lord owned his life, as a good many Caribonians were very anxious to tie him to a tree. Beauties of liVashoo Buller — 0 - It was our good fortune a day or two since to hear the following dialogue in one of our principal "hash-houses." The interlocutors were a dandified looking, side-whiskered, lisping, middle-aged man from California, and a burlj, round-head ed, merry-eyed, Comstocker, who were seated at opposite sides of the table. The men were evidently strangers to each other. The conversation ( pened as fol lows : Dundreary—Dear me, this is disgust ing 1 (Holding np his knife and gazing fixedly at its point,) This is eithaw the second or third hair—l think it's the third—that I've found in this buttah 1 Comstocker—You've not been here long,l judge ? Dundreary—No, sir ; I arrived hero yesterday morning. Corostocker—l though so, otherwise you would• not have complained of hairs in your butter Dundreary—Not complain of hairs in buttah You suppwiss rue, sir. How could I do otherwise ? Comstocker—These hairs sir, are just as natural as Wahsoe butter as butter is the natural product of milk. They afe just as good and just as clean as the butter. Du ndreary—lmpossible ! Comstucker—Not at all, sir, All our butter comes from the great valleys of our State where flourishes that moat nu tritous and truly wonderful plant, the white sage. On this our cattle feed and fatten. This white sage has many vir tues. Strange as it may appear to you, sir, for the white sage is manufactured a most wonderful liad popular hair renew er. Dandaery—Ah, yes ; I've heard of it --in fact I may say that on the occasiou, when I thought I observed my hair grow a little thin, I used some of the preps. wation. Comstsocker—Well, then, sir, in a country where all the cows feed on white sage do you think it likely that the but ter will be bald-headed ? Dundreary turned red, pushed back his chair and left without dey,nieg to answer the conundrum.—Virgtnia City Enterprise. Moses' Wile. —o— A clerical gentleman from whom the Drawer is always pleased to hear, sends the following: As I was paying pastoral visits some years ago in the state of Tennessee a lady said to me: "I am very glad you've come. I was reading in the Bible the other day about Moses marrying a nigger, and I wish you would explain the matter." "It don't read that way in my Bible," I repliad ; it reads that Moses married an Ethiopean woman ." "Well dosen't that mean nigger ?" "I will tell you now it was,' I answered "There was a terrible war waged by Ethiopians against the Egyptians, and two great armies sent from Egypt against them bad been destroyed. The Ethio pians wPxo governed by a magnificent ilueendike Semiramais. who led out her own armies, and knew how to gain a victroy' But when Moses was sent with a third Egyptian army against her, he aked help of God, and managed so wise ly that the queen agreed to surrender all her forces to him and become tributary to Fgypt, provided he would marry her." "Well said the old lady, "I was sure it wasn't any common nigger:'—Harper's Magazine for August. •A Sunday-school teacher wishing his pupils to have a clear idea of faith, illma trated it thus : "Here is an apple—you see it, and therefore know that it is there but when I place it under this tea-cup you have faith that it is there, though you no longer see it." The lads seemed to understand it perfectly.; and the next time the teacher asked them, "What is faith ?" they answered with one accord, "Au apple under a tea-cup." In a Sabbath-school class, in which the lesson touched upon the promise of Her- Od to the daughter of Herodias, the teacher asked whether it was true that Herod was obliged to keep his vow when it would lead to the beheading of John the Baptist. "I guess if she had asked Or his own bead, Herod would not have felt himself obliged to keep it," replied a bright, boy of ten or twelve. The Drat of Jaae—Zi. capital J. FIFTY CTS. EXTRA IF NOT IN ADVANCE. MISCELLANEOUS READING. LOVE'S OITOIOE. Do you remember, dear, my love, . Our parting in the twilight•lane, When brighter than the stars above Your eyes shone through the dewy rain, And made me say good-bye again, And held me, that I could not move ? Too fond to grieve, too sad to smile, I yielded to their silent power ; And was it but a breathing while, Or was it through a spell-bound hour, I kissed your lace, an upturned flower, Whose sweetness did my soul beguile? And then I said, "Farewell, my sweet The hour has come and we must part.; But, through the long years ere we meet, Which will yon bear within your heart To comfort you when I depart— Remembrance, or oblivfon fleet ? "—A memory of all thddiss That made the flying hours so bright, From the first timid, tumbling kiss I dared to give you one dear night, Lost in a vision of delight, Down to the perfect joy of this? "—Forgetllilness of all the pain That happiest lovers learn to know— The doubts that come and come again, The haunting fears that will not go, The vague, faint chill presaginir woe, Unconquered by love's proud disdain ? "—Which would you have, sweet ? Now do cide, Forgotten pain, remembered joy ?" "Ah, dearest I" then you said, and sighed, Love's pain is but a brief annoy, But rich delights that never cloy Are to his msmories allied. Then bid my heart love's joy retain, And sum felicity in this. That all Its treasures still remain ; And till we meet and live again, You shall forget love's passing pain, And I'll remember all Its bliss. THE RESPECTABILITY OF LABOR. A great deal of distinction is made be tween the different trades, arising from a silly prejudice which concedes more res pectability to one trade than another.— Labor is labor all the world over, and the only difference consists in the various modes of its application. The shoemak er plies his awl and hammer, the tailor his needle and shears, the carpenter his jack-plane, the moulder his rammer, and so on, through the whole catalogue of mechanism. - Each and-all give brain and muscle to these several occupations; and, for the life of us, we cannot see the claim to superiority of a single one over anoth er. The grubbing hoe, the hod, or the spade, are equally honorable implements of industry, althou"h, coming under the class of unskilled labor ; but should all receive equal compensation, where shall the higher grade of respectability begin ? If we except the difference justly existing tetween a mechanical trade which takes years of apprenticeship to acquire, and that species of labor which depends more up& physical than-mental capacity, we see nothing at variance with a common interest and a common destiny.. We look upon every kind of labor as respectable, because necessary ; and no man, should he reach the most exalted position in life, could possibly lessen the dignity of himself, or compromise the sphere in which he moved, by resuming the humble occupation from which he sprung, for either pastime or convenience so long as he faithfully discharged the duties of that position. 'Would Abraham Lincoln, while president, have degraded himself or his office,had he "took a turn" at spliting rails, or grasped the helm of a flat-boat? - Could Andrew have done the same by patching his coat, or sewing up a rip in his pantaloons? On the contra ry, the one felt a glow of honnt pride when living, as the other dues now, while alluding to their past occupations. Then, if prom to boast, as Presidents, of the trade they followed in poverty, why should they got, with - equal pride and satisfaction, split a rail or mend a coat,as Presidents? It is evident that neither of these great men recognized a distinction between the labor of the mechanic or workman,-and that of a President, ln fact, while free to boast of their performance as laborers, they were by no means vain-glorious while occupying the highest position in the country. It is the wide difference of compensation which create the distinc• Lion, and not the occupittion. We have often read sneering criticisms of both, whenever they made allusions to their past history ; but while the occupation of either may stink in aristocratic nostrils, one had, and the other has, the moral courage to throw the mantle of respecta bility around the the humblest calling. THE TELEPHONE. - • This is a now inst:ument recently in vented by Mr. Elisha Grey, of Chicago, for the transmission of sounds. Noted electricians say that they believe the time will come whin the operator will trans mit the sounds of their own voices over the wires. The novel instrument called the telephone has been set at work, and has played music ou a piano key board, transmitting it through an unbroken cir cuit of two thousand four hundred miles and reproduced on a violin attached to the receiving end of the wire. Mr. Grey played "Hail Columbia,' "The Star Spangled Banner," God Save the Queen," "Yankee Doodle," and many other well known airs, and they were unmistakably repeated, note for note, on the violin which lay on a table near at hand. Even an accidental false note was immediately detected on the violin. Mr. Grey exhibi ted many other experiments with tin cans, small paper drums, etc, which were attached to the receiving end of the wire in the place of the violin. The paper drum gave to the musical sounds just that peculiar buzzing twang which is produced by boys placing a piece of thin paper over a hair comb an 4 then blow irg on it. What this will lead to, and where it will all end, is one of the most extraordinary problems of the day. Oilcloths, if well rubbed with a wool en cloth and warm water, with the addi tion of a little skimmed milk, if con venient, will look nearly as treat as new, Scrubbing brushes and strong soap are ruinous to them. The wise end prudent conquer difficul ties by daring to attempt them.—Rowe. TAB MoNTROiE DE3IO6IIAT Contains all the Local and 0 cncrallicate, roach Sto. ries, Anecdotes, Iflecallancona llesdlog,Corrcapocd• ence,and o Tellable class of adverthetainta. . Ons square. (X Min inch stmer,)s weeks, or len, $1 I month. $1.25• S months , 05.50; 0 mont hs, 114.50 ; year, UAL A liberal Merolla' On advertisement* of f greater length. Business Locals,lo Ms. le lice for fir Insertion, and 5 eta. aline nett subsequent tatertlonst Marriages and deaths, tree; obituari es t i° els. a line...—. NUMBER 34, OUR DISREGAGD OF GOOD BREEDI2PG This is a grace of which I think Amer ican women are becoming very careless. They are so beautiful as a race, so.accus tomed to conquest, that perhaps they aro getting to believe that. Pope's line, "Look In her face and you forget them applies to manners; but a beautiful wo man without good manners is a flower without:fragrance. She is worse; as sum ing on her beauty and abusing one of God's great gifts. You ,must look at her, but you look to regret, to disapprove ; instead of being chained for life to sweet looks married to graceful action, you grow to despise and hate her. In a coun try like ours we must expect to find a frequent coupling of ignorance with wealth, of official station with awkward ness,' of high social position with bad manners—combinations more rarely re marked in the older and more settled States of the world. Kings and queens must be decently well bred and well edu cated. They cannot well help knowing the proper way to eat a dinner they can not help observing the -proprieties of dress and etiquette, and the people immediate ly about them must follow their exam ple. No such necessity exists here. We have a Governor or a Mayor who is en tirely untrammelled by the laws of gram mar and of spelling. who uses his own sweet will in regard to his knife and fork and who is still the proper person to re ceive the representative of a foreign pow er. In our cities how sickening it is to see the potentiality of some vulgar rich man who can buy the crowd in more senses than one—how mournful to note the ab sence of good manners in some of our prominent literary and religions celebri- ties—men whom yon hesitate to ask to your house, although their talents are exercising so much influence on the world, and their; names are on everybo dy's lips. The trouble lies in a deficien• cy of respect, a lack of training, and ab sence of something to look up to. The best bred men in America are the officers of the regular army and navy.— They have been taught to look up to, to reverence authority, and to be respectful. It never leaves them ; they become the most dignified and the most simple men in the community. When women reach a larger grasp of the subject, and observe this great rule, "that the possession of power is better than the show of it," they *jl have ad vanced far beyond their present status.— The end and aim of the weak and un certain is to appear strong and well pos- Eesed at whateter cost. It has apparently struck some women in the society of our new country, which must be a shifting wale, that they appear to stand well by being Oisagreeable,that au airsif haut eur and rudeness is becoming and aristo cratic. It is the mistake of ignorance, and would soon be cared by a careful study of the best models in Europe. A French lady writes thus of the girls of the period : I was at a reunion the other evening where I saw a young American girl, not more than sixteen years old, who had just arrived in Paris. She had come all the way from San Francisco, accompanied only by a brother two years younger than herself, and seemed quite incapable of understanding the Astonishment of the ladies who questioned her regarding her journey. "What ! you traveled six thousand miles alone with your little brother ?" "Yes, madam.' "And you were not afraid ?" "Afraid I of what ?" And there was that in her manner that showed that she was already quite capable of taking care of herself. Where is the Parisienne who would ven ture to go from Paris to St. Cloud alone ? English women have the same temper ament and the same education as the American. It is not rare to see English girls who have been alone to the Indies and back. I once met in England a young girl, who, when I\ asked her what she went to the Indies tor, replied with the greatest naivete : "I went to find a husband, and did not succeed." These young girls are much better armed against danger from libertines than are ours. While still quite young, they are taught to protect themselves.— British manners allow young girls to have recourse to a thousand little insinuating ways to win a husband; but they know full well that to attain their ends they must make themselves respected, which they find it easy to do by confining their innocent rogueries within the limits pre scribed by true feminine modesty. But, once married, good-by to stolen glances, to gentle but expressive pressures of the hand, and all the rest. All their arrows are immediately quivered, never again to be withdrawn ; the flirt of yes terday is to-day a staid matron.. Her pe riod of romance is passed. She immures herself within her own interior as in a fortress, just at the time when French women begin to throw off restraint, and to feel that they are their own mistresses. In England coquetry ceases at the time when it begins in France,which accounts for its being double the age on one side. of the channel that it is on the other. The more light admitted to apartments the better for those who occupy them.— Light is as necessary to sound, health as it is to vegetable life. Exclude it from plants, and the consequences are disast rous. They cannot be perfect without its vivifying influence: , It is • a fearful mistake to curtain and blind windows so closely for fear of injuring the furniture by exposing to the suns' rays; such rooms postively engender disease. Lot in the light often, and fresh air, too, or suffer the penalty of aches and pains and long doctor's bills which might have been avoided. The love of glory can only create a hero ; the contempt of it creates a wire man.—Tallsyrand. Oilacksmitit is always striking for wages. liPersurazo Enn' Wrosirssay llorxrio Advertising notes: GIRLS OF THE PERIOD
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers