• Wm. 0 Clitomo; E. B. HAWLEY & .t. PUBLISHERS OP E. B. Hawley, THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT, AND GENERAL JOB PRINTERS, Hon! ruse, Susquehanna eouNly, PO, Orrice—Meet Side of Public Avenue Business OEuds BURNS & NICHOLS, in Drugs, Stedietnes. Chemical!, Dyr‘' .3.„•sints,..tits, Varnish. Liquor.. Spices Pane) r .cle.s.enteut Sedlcieee. Perfumer) and Tolletdr c,es. Irereecription. carob:illy enzaposinded.— lines 'flock, Sloatrose.Pa. fiUll,ll5. Amos Nionora. 21. 1372 E. P. EINES, M. D. tirAt ate of the Co!varsity of Michigan. Ann Arbor. and sleo or Jarersoo Medical CoHope of PhILL• delphla. 1874, has retneord to Prlondstiltee. wham xdi stood to all call• to his profession a. asual..- 11,..druer lu Jessie Llostorers house. Office the same a• Fr 3e ode•ille, Pa., Apeti /Mb., 1874.—Gm. S1;0411,4. TURBELL COCI.E.LI.OII s 7 Lsw No. 120 Broadway, Now York City. Attend. to all kinds of Attorney 'knitter's, add-itoow duet. wares to all the Court. of both the Standard - a i'et Ire Slate*. Fa .1. 1874 -1. DR. h IV: SMITE, dezereir. Rooms at hla dwelling , nextdoornorth Of Dr oir Old Foundry street. where he Would bo happy Its are all thole to want of Dental - t1 oft. - lie (yelp torsodent that he can plesseall. both In quality of wort pod zn price. Odic° boars from 9 A. k. to 4 T.* NI era rm.,. Feb. 11, 1814—lf VALLEY HOUSE. atRAT iIEMD, PA. Situated near the Erie Railway De pot. Is • large IWO commodious hutise, has andetree ni a tnorouUb ps.. Newly Ihruisneil Comas and • cep. .4...tuseuta.sp len did ta tries.n Ild all thugs commis lug a diet einem lintel. HENRY ACKERT. Proutletur. R. T. t E. IL CASE, HARNESS-MAKERS. Oak Herness,lighi and heavy st ...rest cash price's. Also, Blankets, Brant Blau Sets, Whips and everything pertaining to the line es...per 'Sun the cheapen. Repairing done prompt. iv Au,/ it. good tityln. ilout.oer, Ps.. uct. R 9.18.73. THE PEOPLE'S dIABEA T. l'un.ur Hams, Proprietor. nod Nailed Meats, name, Pork, Bologna Ban of :ay beet quality, constantly ma Winn, at yriue to BUIL atonic-se, Pa,, Jan, 14, 1879.-la BILLINGS STRO UL. kli AND LII h 1.:(3,14ANC:k ACENT. Al ga,,lne”attandeo to promptly,ou fair terms. Office Area door cast of Mr Leak o' WOl. ❑. Cooper A Co. Yusllr Avenue, Montrose, Pa. Atg.t.lBo. sly IT. IS:1.1 .311.1.150 e JSUOVD. CHARLET MORRIS TUE HAYTI BAmtlElt, has moved hls shop to the ne Utl °pont by K. McKenzie d Co., muere be le pr, pared to d.. e,I kluos of work In ble line...Lich as ma ll et. ital.. pulls. etc. All work done on short noL.cc and pen.... Pi... coil and see me. ATTORNEYS AT LAW, hare r.ruoved tutbeß I.4..yustte Um Label/ limo.. R. B. Lrrms, Ulm. P. Lrrn.t., U. L. BLAK.r...Lcs. I=E! PEn LER In Poole. Platitalnl, Hall Paper. Near./ pert, Pocket lull. ry. htere..te.plc Clem, lault.ok N.. uns. tic, Neil Ctuut to the Poet °Mee, 510ntr..... Pa. K . N. IitkANIS. 119211511 EXCHANGE HOTEL M. J. lIARRLNOTOII ertetto. to Inform tbepobllettat Having rented the Ittx.clutuge Uwe tu hloulpure, hi it is.• pritkiAred We traveling publli to tiro:claw...4) , W .tt.tatrott. Aug. b, IL BUI:RTTI Dealer .n Staple and Fancy Vu Glooxls,CrOckery, Third- Mei, Iron, SttIVES, Drage. One, and Paiute. Daub and Shoe-, Hate and Cap., Fare, BOW° Rah.. °ro t. rice, Pririalmi, 6c. i a., Nov, 6, '72—tf. DR D. A. LATHROP, A tqatulaters 6ttorao Tligati.t. darns. a tSfo Foot of Cheetuut Street. Can gull cofteol in a-I Chroutc heeas.. Montrose. Jan. 17. '72.—no3—.L DR. S. W. .DAYTO.N, LITSICIAN & 81:111GICON, tenders his services to toe citizens of Great Bend and vicinity. °Menet nit. residecce. opposite Barnum florae, CA Bend stance. Sept. Ist. tf LEWIS KNOLL, SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSMG. hop to the new Poen:dice halldlne, - where be will ne found n*dy to attend all who they want anythlnB n his !leo. Montrose Pa. Oct. 13 NM CHARLES N. STODDARD, leaier In Boots and Shout, Hata and Caps. Leatberano nodloge, Stain street, tat door below Boyd's Rune. Wort made to.l order, and repelling done neatly. ol.truse Jan. 1 1870. DR. W. L. RJOIL4ILD8011", f•dYSICIAN & 14LTICGEON, tenders Me 'professions •<rrrce,, to the citizens of Montrose end vicinity.— ti dice at hlerwilder is, on the corner east of tiayr. & troy. Foundry. (An¢• 1. 1869. BCO FILL d DEWITT. Attorney, at Law• and Solicitors In Bankruptcy. Office do i 9 Court ntrcct, orcr Lau National hank. Bing hamton, N. 1. ' w■. 11.8coviLL, MZMMI I E= 2 lonler In Drags Medicines, Chemicals, Paints, ODs, Up: etude, Tests, :vices, Fancy Goods, Jewelry . Per- Ninety, Brick Block, Sioncr,es, Pa. Established (Feb. 1, 1/3711._ LAW OFFICE. ITCH St WATSON. Attorneys at lan, at the old office of Bewley a Pitch, al.:sucrose. Pa. L 1. race. Pg.. IL, 'LL.L A. 0. WARREN, rruILNEY A LAW. Bonnty, back Pay: PCOIIOII nod warm on Claims attended to. °MC! , Or .00r Boyd'a Store. 34 nbtrort.Po. (An. 1.'69 W. A. CROSSMON, lltorury at Law, °bar at the Coati House, 1r the t omotivalutkee• °Mee. W A. Caossaos. NI untrue, Soot. .187 L—ti. I=9 ClviL ENGEM= /Inn • F. U. address. Prim]kilo Forte, tinsgovhanno Co., Pa. JOHN GROVES, •,:floN ABLE Tnt4JK, A U.ontroae. Pa. Stipp over ,:haudler's store. MI 4dere filled In tlraterateatyla. • 4 c lone on snort notice. and warranted to fit. W. W. SMITH, A BIN CT AND CHAIR MANUFACTURERS.—You of Moto •treet. Montrose, Pa. jaug. 1. 1869. M. C. SUTTON, AUCTIONEER, and lasea►sez AGENT, .al 621.1 Peleudevllle. Pa D. W. SEARLE, A TTORNEY AT LAW, office toyer the store of M. Jesuuer.l la the Brick Block. Montrose Xt. 1.&11/69 J. B. it A. 11. MeCOLLUM, ATTORIGITI AT Law Office over the Bank, Montrose Pa. Montrose, May 10, 1071. tr AMI EL Y, Ad&ess,;Brooklyn,Pa AUCTIONEER J4.ne I. lel4. XPENEL JOB PRINTING Mar.oosztect A - e"ris IS OFFICE. CHEAP. Try XIV. IA 0 NTROSE DEMOCRAT. £WO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE. .VOLUME" 31. —o— Ont from the blinding glare. Away from the reckless crowd, Where the wine flowed free, and the ribald Jest And the songs were wild and loud. Away from them all she fled, For a flame consumed her soul, And she hurried on as the clock struck twelve, With a slow and solemn toll. Yes, twelve. 'Twas the midnight hour, And the glimmering stars looked down, And the gloomy night with its shadows dark, On theoutcast seemed to frown. "Oh! where shall Illy I" she moaned, Then came on the night's chid breath, In a voice that seemee like a serpent's hiss: "Fly Into the arms of death." "My beart,ob I my breaking heart, Can it never again know rest? Oh, God I for en hour of the time gone by, When It throbbed on a mother's breast. "Too guilty, ala.s! to die. When it seems such a crime to live, With none to utter a word of hope, Or my harrowing sins forgive. "Down 'nth the very dust I kneel, but 1 pray in vain, And something says to my pleading soul : 'Crushed, never to rise again."' No, "never to rise again," Floats past like a dying moan, And the outcast stood by the river's brink In the gloomy nlght'alone. Away in the far off South, The clouds began to rise, And a mist that told of the coming storm, Spread over the starry skies. And the river looked dark and cold, And the wandering night winds sighed, And a voice that murmured, "Here is rest," Came up from the foamy tide. And there on the brink she paused, And sh• gazed with a frenzied eye ; To her it was only a curse to live, And a terrible thing to die. Mid her thoughts were as lightning swift, As she stood by the rushing stream, Eor a vision fair of her childhood's home, Came back like a fleeting dream. Fes, there on the verge of death, • She thought of her happy youth, Btu, oh; what pangs and sorrows since Those days of her love and truth, Had tortured her aching heart, And troubled her burning brain And she thought of the crimes that on her soul .`; - Had fixed such a damning stain. ~ltd she thought of the broken vow, Ckf•OnesheAnsd Invert tocrweilr. , - But he Was one of the happy world, What mattered it it she Jell. Yes, what was it all to hint If she slept in a pauper's grave Y He lived ; and his triends and neighbors said : "He is pure, and just, and brave." But a breath of the chilling wind, With a moaning sound swept by, And it seemed to say to her troubled soul "'Tis time, 'tis time to die. You are lingering much too long, Plunge Into the wintry wave, The flood shall turnish a winding sheet, And rtst In a quiet grave, "The sneers of the mocking crowd, And the pangs of a tortured soul, You shall not feel when you rest with me, And the waves above you roll." Then ahe uttered a frantic cry, And she muttered a feeble prayer, And trembling stood oa the verge of death, But a friendly hand was there. "Stay, sister, stay !" she heard, In a voice at. low and sweet, She thought that an sagel pure bad come Her poor lost soul to greet. To meet it, and bear ft far From the sorrows of earth, away, So like to an angel's yotce it seemed, As it murmured, "Sister, stay." === " `Sister v Who calls me so 'TM years, yes, yes, 'tis Vara, Since that endearing woritwas mine." Then the fountain of her tears Was stirred. and Hui walnan wept, Wept tears that tempted to hear Her guilt and her sone - ea - from her soul, And wash away her care. And a worn= held tier hand, And SIM plead with a tearful eye, And She spoke of hope and a world to come As the Ode went rushing by. `.'Come back to-the world and life, There U . .nrk, good work to do, Yes, mant*Mroken heart to bind, Yes, mithirho fell like.you. "Who lured by a promise false. Have learned, and sisal too late That the wtiriti is cold, and that men betray Oh, 436 a Cwhat a cruel fate. Once home and its hopes were Wein, Yes, love and a mother's kiss ; But step by step they have wandered far, To come to a scene like this. "Came; come to a quiet home, You shall find forgiveness there; To drive from your memory every thought, Of to-nig'it and your dark despair. You say that you long to die, That•the past like a withering flame, Consumes your heart; that your very soul Is crashed by a load of shame. "But here by your side I pray, Oh, God! for's soul I plead, • Yes, I ant sent by the power above To you in your, hour of need. You will follow Me? Oh, my prayer Is beard, and the world seems bright You will go with me, and sin no more ? 1 have saved a soul to-night. "A star in the heavenly crown, That I sttiva for and hope to win, Behold, for theweeplig woman's son!, Was blackened with guilt and sin. I followed bey step by step, I knew by her mien and eye, . And Iterdttrki 'despair and her muttered words, 'flat etie sought fors place to die. POETRY. TILE OUTCAST. MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1874 "I followed her step by step. In spite or the Midnight gloom. On, on, and dortt to the water dark, Intent on.a fearful doom. She la saved and the fool may scoff, And the cultiAnd proud may sneer, I have seed bet kneel, and have heard her PraS. And I knew that her God was near "Even life is a transient dream, An hour or a fleeting breath. We breathe, we rive, we hope, we fear, And then we yield to death. And time with a Current swill, Sweeps on like a rushing tide, Then why should the penitent he spurned, Or her tearful prayer denied." On from the blinding glare, Away front the revel loud, The outcast fled with a whirling brain, Away from the realess crowd. Tea, wicked and wild with wine, By guilt and sin-enslaved, She lett them nil at the midnight hour, And the Magdalen was saved. STORY TELLER "NO CARDS." -o "My dear Countess," I said, "I assure you I never gamble bemild my means, and loos• neither bead or temper which ever way luck gos, I play fur amuse ment in a town where all play—men and women—" "Nut all, sir," broke in my companion, curling ner pretty lips with disdain, not unnungled a ith hit/Ilion, "I and many here never do so simply to kill time.— You seem to forget a hat is pleasure to you may be death to others." Curds were alwaya a source of conten tion between the charming Countess Col lini mail myself. Trave ing through Italy, I made her acquainirtic , at N—, a small town the in ',shush ts of which were much given to games of chance, I liha foulid the Conn tens so cl arming that 1 instantly pitched my tent hcrt• to enjoy her society, and, as I hav d l said,tor annisi-inent offer drop ped into the Casino for an hour ur so duriag, the evening. Being at Rome. I did as Romans d,d. that was all ; but it brought down upon me the Countess's wrath. She had Fved ranch in England, spoke our language p,-rfecily, and had so am otir tnenn , r6 that she appeared but half !tali .n. She was very beauti• lid, but looked more no when she aus most excited. The subject of gambling always rendered her u, and I own to indwging my admiration by fie gnently bringing it n; , on the lapis. •'I really must give it up.'' I repentant ly said, one esening, after a Entire than astially hot passage of arms. '-I don't care about it. Arid she is evidently more annoyed than she even Coll 18 , 44,8, and I wunlan't vex h-r for worlds." The game was just commencing. I carelessly put down my stakes. I won.— I left the liar and what it had gained on the color and won again and again. In deed a tide of luck had set in my favor. People crowded round ; but my atten lion was most attracted by a man, shah. bill attired, opposite m e . He w a s an It black haired, black !Wa; tached, thin and Laggard. He staked small amon tits, but invariably lost. Ill lurk pursued him. I noticed him from the avidity with which he watcned the heap of gold and notes ever increasing before me. Indifferent to snevess,l put down more r cklesidy. Still I won, until the game stopped. I had broke❑ the bank. I was placing my heavy gains safely away in my breast coat pocki.t, when a voice addressed me. "You have been lucky to-night, signor. Englishmen always are." 1 turn , d, it was the lialint). A ghast ly smile was on his brow and a strange wddoess in his countenance. "Yes, signor " I answered. "Yen should have backed my play, then I might have ri-turm-d the compliment." "i'mck such plttr !" he muttered ; "it was the•mil one's hick ?" ‘Sigaor, yon played recklessly !" A fro tid coming up. the Italian moved away ; hot I saw, with some anxiety, he kept hig glance furtively fixed on me. "This man is dangerous:" I thought, "Ft's hardly safe, I fancy, for me to carry this money." But I kept a sharp look out oh my, way home, and reached my apartment in satety. It was late in the afternoon, when next day. I called on the Count 's& Sivunr M .Iville," she said im mediately accosting me. "So you broke the hank lag night ?" "Then the news has reached you : 0 " "It always travels fast,' she responded drily. I began self-extentudion as usual when she stopped me. "Stay I Let us say no more on that satij , ei just now. I have a visit to make. Will y. it net as cavalier ?" I accepted the (ART, anu the Countess retired. She soon came hack, dressed for walk ing, when u•e set forth. As we went. I perceived something had evidently goge wrong with my compan• mn. She was grave and talked but lit tle. I was at last about to comment up on it, when she stopped before a high, wretched honse in a poor street. "Ic le here T have to call. A wretched abode, Mr. Melville; but will you come with me ?" "II it. were the unmentionable region itself, dear Countess.l would follow you," I rej - dited, bowing gallunt!y.,-; Whereupon we went into the dark. close-smellinz passage. and mounted up the stairs unlil nearly under the tiles. Here she knncked at the door. I heard snbs within ; but no answer coming, the Countess entered. Never had I beheld a scene of such misery. The wretched ro.im was almost hare of furniture, and on a chair by the table, on which her arms and Thee rested, was a woman, with d ahevelled I air,weep ing passionately ; write t‘vo petty. bot ill•clwl children clinging her dress, lit , ed their tiny voices with their moth. er's. Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County The Countess approached and address ed her in soothing tones, which calmed her grief. Then, she asked, "Line, may I go into the next room with this gentleman ?" The weeping women bowed usseni,and niy acetone beckoned me to follow. It was a miserable bedchamber ; , while on the heal, evidently lay the cause of the woman's tears—a body covered by a sheet "Her husbaod," I exclaimed, mterrog. at rely. "Yes. a suicide I lie made way with himself last night. Mr. Melville,' pro. ceeded the Countess, solemnly, "yester day you broke the bank, and depnved wife of a husband, and her children of a father. His few coins increased your gum. Do you know the face ?" She drew the sheet aside. I shrank back with self reproach. it. was the Italian—the man whom I suspected in tended to raise his baud againi.f: to". It had been lifted against himself. "This is my own woak," I ejaculated. “Not altogether. It was the reward of play !" she answered. "Linn Decarni ono. nay lady's maid ,and as petty as she was good. She married this man, who ev. well to do. They settled here. Gaming attracted. him. All else was neglected ; he sold everything he could for the he ides. You see the result. Lest night he returned penniless. Ho forced from his wife cents she had kept to get bread for the children, and bought the poison which hats caused his death !" "Cover that gliastiv; accusing face, I said with loathing : "it will haunt me to my grave. Let us go from here ; the air is stilling !" She obeyed. We returned to the ot ti er room. There I hud my purse, con taining fifty pounds, in the widow's lap, and withdrew. I was not, yet I felt my self the indirect cause of her husband's ruin. "Poor wretch ! when I saw him at the tables, suicide was in his mind ?" I said, when the Countess joined me. "Yes," she remarked, slowly ; "von placed for amusement, he for hfe. The stakes were widely different. Ah, it is your easy, rich people who are criminal. These wretehtd hou,es would nut be kept open for such as he. Stint up, the weak would not be fascinated, and such ae Decaen , driven to evil deeds." •Countess, your lesson has been a se rious Jut effectual one:" "I believe it. Mr. Melville. I knew I had not misunderstood you ; so let me ease the pain you now suffer. Lina has not lost much in her limiband's death.— Living. he would ever have kept her poor, She is gOOO and tutinstrious, sod wilh your kind munificence and my help will soon have once again a comfortabli home. I dined with the Countess that day : and this year we are both in Loudon.— She is married—so am 1 ; that is, &he is my wife. Linu is also married. When we go to Italy we make it a point to call on her, and when I see her bright smiles and rosy, laughing, children, I cannot but contrast them with those other tacos I had first beheld in that wretched attic. I think, too of the ghastly face of her first husband, I stick more firmly to my motto, which is—store in a quiet social rubber—"No Cards." REPSY HARROWS RETICULE After mother had gone to bed I went up stairs and brought down my writing elet.k. There were some sheets of papt.r and delicate envelopes, which had been for months stored within,a.id a silver pen and pen handle, which had been a birth. day present in my school days. I took them out, and the ink•bottle also. The ink was thick, for we did not write much, either of us. and I brought the vinegar cruet from the closet and thinned it to my liking. Then I tat down and looked at the paper. Then I went to the stairs and listened to see it mother was not coming. Then I ac tually seated myself, squared toy elbows and began to write. This is what I wrote : DEAR Miss H ARROW :— I am a cow ard. Not, I hope, in one sense, but eel.- Itunly as regards von. Fora year I hare loved you. Yet., I would, had you been a queen. Perhaps I am a coward be.- cause I do not cherish a hope that you hke me. To-morrow you and I will tide togeth er. To-morrow I had made np my mind to try my fate, but I know I shall not dare to speak, so I write. I will give you this letter to read at home. If the an swer be "No," it will be easier for both of tie. Will you try and think enough of me to be my wife one day ? I love you better than I love my life, and all do all I can to make life happy for you. With a little hope I can make my way in the world as other men do ; I am your.g and strong, and not utterly Ignorant. If .1 am to have that hope, give me some sign—give me a line, your name only, anything to show me what you mean. If lam to be misnrahle —well then make me no answer. Si lence shall mean "no." I could not bear to see you or speak to you alter that. ALMON' CRAIG. I sealed the note in the daintiest en velope I possessed.and wrote Hepsy liar eow's name oil the buck and hid it in the desk from mother's Pyes—sharp eves,t hat looked after me anxiously as I drove away with old Dobbin the following eve ning. It was a pleasant drive, and a merry dunce and supper, and as time went on felt glad that I had written the letter.— For I could not have said what it said for me. It was at that moment when we were driving homeward that I mustered courage to ask for the little reticule that she carried, as the other girls did, with a brush and some flowers in it, for they bud to touch up the curls and braids of ter the windy ride before the dance. "Why do you want it ?" she asked cu riously. "To put something in it which you must not look at till you reach home," I said. "You axons? my curiosit, I .shull look the instant I have a lamp,' ehe answer ed. And as she spoke I had dropped thy letter and snapped - the clasp. Not a word more could I speak, but at the door I tried for the first time to kiss her. Her lips eluded mine, and I dared not repent the attempt. I drone home and waited, waited hope fully, ItA I knew afterwards, for an an. .wer. None came—a day, a week, a month,. She laid piirti the u little.cold , mileiess bow. lum certainly rejected. "Mother," said I that night, "we must, hate some one to (arm the place. I urn going to some city." "Why ?" said she. "To make nip fortune," I said. "For that girl, the schoutma'am ?" ask ed moth, r, bitterly. " Na, never for her," I said. Mother knelt down beside me as I sat on a ow stool. She put her hand on my snoulder and looked straight into my face. "She did not accept me," I rand coolly. "The haughty minx !" said my moth, r. "I—" then sne buret into tears. "And that to part as ?" she said. "Not if you will go with me," I un -8%, Bred. But she would not leave her home, so I went alone. in the fros y morning. as turned to look hack at the little village front the top of the old stage, I saw the children filing in at the school. house door, and caucht a glimpse of Hepsey's dress beyond—only u fold of her dress, but I knew it. The school bell rang; but it did not say •tarn again turn again." to me, as it should have done, had I been such a prophet as Whittington. I made my fortune. I Laid a cousin in Philadelphia who was deep in the nys teries of Third Street. He helped me so did Luck or Fate. In five years I wars a modi web 9 rich man. My mother wantrd nothing but my Ires , nee. She would riot come to me, but the urged me to cum, buck to her. At first my heart was too weak to be trusted among those old familiar scenes. To hay • met Hepiv would Inane been too much to b.-ar. But time helps all. At the end of five years during which time I had not visittd home, I wrote to my mot tier : I am canning home again, since you will not live with me. Expect me to morrow. And on the [mirror I went. Sly mother had not chanced much. But I had grown a long light b .ard, and was a youth no huger—a fact which troubled her. There were changes in the place, ton. Girls were married—ol•l -people dead. The tallest, hamornest man I remember, had met wall an accident, and crawled about a wretch. tt cripple. The church was rebuilt. and tile lin L 4 in the hollow had been burot. A factory had risen and the factory people's houses were about it. Instead of the old franc sch“ol house was a brick building with many windows. Who was the teacher rum ? Was she there—Hepsey H rru w ? I dared not Ask: Idly I sanntered about the IltlnSP. painted and refurnished now: and idly in the evening of my second day at home I went out to the shed where the little, old carriage stoodthe old shabby thing, with a green latch on the cushions. '•it ain't been ton •he, since you left, Aheo• !," said my mother. "Poor old Dfd,bitt ! flow smart he used to take it round! I fdr al if I'd :us t a finend when he di.d. Reiner - 04er ins palchiu . the cuslino. ?" She lifted it as she epoke. Fora be fined it dropped something. What ? Of let ther.blite with mold, crushed by its long ltittg under the co.ho n , but a r•ti cule for all that. Hepsey Harrow's reti cule! I opened it. There lay a comb and a brash ; all artificial rose—how well I remember it in her hair!—aid my let- ter, that she bad never read, never seen, never known of. ••What's the mat ter,Almoti ?" asked my mother. For a few moments I did not know.— At last I spoke. "It is Miss Harrow's reticule.' "She must have lost it when yOll took her a riding ." said my mother. "Jto4 like her, to lose it and not Know it• ex travagant critter. She's teaching yet, likely to—she ain't married no doubt she'll be an old maid, and serve her right." The res' my mother said to herself for I waited for no more I took the r• ticule in my hand and went over the long-forgotten path toward the schoolhouse. School was over. A figure skim: alone in the gate. I did not know it at first. But on a narrow*. r tiew I found it was it mature sdit.ion of Hep sey Harrow's slender frame—not so slen- der now, but pretty. just as pretty in the face, and fresh and buxom. I walked up to her. She mice me a puzzled look. Then her cheek flushed. "Mr. Craig," she said. "Yes, Miss Harrow." I answer. d. "I um here to restore your property. You lost a reticule five years :Igo. Toglay I find it. There's something in it which I asked von lo look at when alone. I make the same request now. May I see von this evening?" She bowed. I walked away. T , night I went once more to see her. She had been weeping ;the letter lay on her knee. "Such an old relic of those foolish md times," said she. I took her hand. "You never answer ed it, Hepsey," I said. "Will you un. ewer it now ?" "After all this time ?" she said. "Yes," I said. She said nothing. and I ki;sed her.— She did not resist nie this time as she had hi fore. Our wedding day was a quiet one, and our lives h ye been quietly !nippy Iron) that very day to the present h,iur. A fellow who bid under the sofa at an informal Boston missionary meeting,says that the thirty five ladies spoke twice of the down trodden heathen and more than hundr'd times of a new kind of hair dye. Teacher—" Peter, you are such a bad boy that yon are not fit to sit in the cm• patty of good boys on the benca. Ounte up here and ant by me, air." FIFTY CTS. EXTRA IF NOT IN ADVANCE MISCELLANEOUS READING (For We Drauczat,j A PICTURE. How gladly I turn titan my couch or pain, %Yidle wearily tossing this aching brain, Where the cheering sunlight is stemming through My half-curtained wiadtm, a lovely view Of heaven and earth is pictured to me ; Shall I write of the beauty my soul can see ? For a while I forget all Material things, This heavenly light seems of balmy wings That waft me afar front this sick close air, Away from life's weakness, its sorrow, and care, Up, up, through the blue and the golden so near, Till it seems heaven's gate to me will appear. 'Tis Indian Bummer, a cairn soft glow Encircles the earth, and nwuntain'a brow, And nature at rest--while she basks In the sun— &ems to dram of a glorious future begun. All hazy and peaceful, soft, dreamy, and still, Is the impress of beauty, oa each purple hill. Nearer my vision, but wttened In Imo, Are moss-grow., rocks, or is grayish blue; Reaching tar out and above all these Are branches of grind old forest trees; Eminaeing the whale, is a pear:y sky, And the smiling earth yields a sweet reply. Down on one side of my window frame, Are maple leaves—red and yellow—like flame, The other has branches, gracefully hung, Of small pretty elm leaves, tastefully strung And part of the searu'd, dark, trunk can be seen, With delicate mosses strewn between. This elegant tracery, brown and gray, Of tiny moss cups, and emerald spray, Can ararcely he seen wlitve I recline, But the beauty is there in every line. So if I have failed to reveal it to thee, 'Tis a lovely picture mine eyes can aee. [For the DZIOCRAT.I SPECULATION. B Y D. H. 0 In cold or warm weather, men are ac eusiumPd to inform each other of the fact, when they meet; us it the very speaking of their suffering would bring some measure of relief. So, in three hard times, conversation among all classes. turns upon business, as if talking of the dullness would make business any better. There w.oild hr a great deal more sense in such p.t.lk if business men would go a little beneath the surface, and discuss the terrible cause of this dullness, and more pod sense still, if. when searchaig for the causes they did not rest with false and inad q tate 0.144. sine* because it has I,come a habit. It is all well enough to talk of patience and to advise met/ to practice it. Pro bably none of us will guilt too much of this excellent virtue ; but it would be much more to the point to tell us how to avoid the r-currence of such occastods, for its exercise iu the future. The railroads, which happen to be so unfortunate. as to hear so much of the blame. have proved unproStahle, not half su touch because they are premature,a.s that the money to build them has cost spa high rates of interest, and the towns and cities overburdened with debt fur their sakes, would not feel the heavy burden if it were not for such high rates. Even as it is, the r ilroads have advanced t .e value of properly all along their lin.•s to such an extent, that the towns and cities, are by no metals the loosens. What the railroad and the awl cultural i..terest, as well as thr nn reantilt, manufacturing, and all other honest interests, in this country needs is lower interest, and a currency of nhvaryine value ; and if all would eom bine their eff irts to secure this,we should hay, a great deal less occasion to talk of hnsiae+s hung dull as well as all otoe, business men. Abel at the present time the miners. coal operators, merchants, all manatee curers. and the farmers have a bard time to m !heir husmess and themselves. They have a struggling tight on their hands, as,e,iiiist the evils growing out ot shines of credit and sPeculations. This find the danger of being overcome by de. moralization begotten by the past was and I he dishonest currency, by debts and tuxes. Now, what do they gain ? They are in the enemy's hands, 101 l it is their business to know the strength o f their enemy. The policy of puffery and false hood, which answered so well a few years ago, will not do in such times us these In its day it was a curse, and now it is an insult. The truth is always salutary, and never more so than when the land is coven d, as with snow, with the wreck of once successful frauds. To tell the truth is not to croak. Truth is the very article wanted now. Tile progress to wards better times is none the less rea because it is not instant and on the ear face• Consider only the magnitude of Ih evil of investing. in the course of two or three years, milli-ins of dollars in rail roads which are paying nothing on the cordial expended on them. Look at thn next link in 'lie chain I The iron works constructed and the coal mines •opened to supply the material for railtoudii—all now prostrate together. Consider the towns and cities over-loaded with debt incurred to build railroads. The stock jobbers who formerly held the seats of honor, where the voice of the "croaker" etas not heard. But why go on in this manner? Is it not plain enough that such a waste of productive l ower, such a wide departure from the true course of industry, such demoralization in all class es of society. cannot be recovered from in a single day ? Are we going to let things go in this way, feeling certain that we shall recover from our long d.bauch,? Are they rli 'croakers" who refuse to be• liege this? We judge not. It is not stifficiont that we are praised by the good : we have failtd in our duty somewhere if we are not cursed by the bad. Unbelief is the eniifidenee.of all sins, and binds thew all dein upon-ns. THE MONTHOBE: DE3IOCBIT Coogan. all be Lorillard GtorMlDee v.l of .t tn eho. Anecdote.. Hboellam unr Itt divx.( ctn., s , •nce,und a nibble clam uf aura rt striur..th. , , • One square.(X °fon limb spa raja watt,. or !ego .$3 1 MOM b. $1.13; mouths , $2.50; 6 41km/tr.. 84 SO; I year. Kau. A librral a Irroont on adrertl.amenta o s yrester length. Butner,. Locals. tO tta. a tine tor AM I tsurti on, andb eta. a liar cacti et/banyan( inrartlan.—. Itarttava maid deaths, I tea ; übltaatire,lLl ti.. a Hay. NUMBER 46. Reading without purpose is sauntering not exercise. More is got Irom one book on which the thought settled for a Zell iiite end in knowledge, than from libra ries skinuned over by a wandering eye. A cottage flower gives honey to the bee, a kung's garden none to the buttertly.- - -- Youths who are destined , for active ca reers, or anibttious of ditaitcrion in such. forms of literature as requires freshness of invention or originality of thought, should avoid the :taint of intense study for many hours ut u stretch. There is p in all tension .4 the Intellect be. eanal which effort is only wasteof arena' . Fresh ideas do not modal spring up within a weary brain ; and whatever ez !moats the mind nor Only enkelded its l amer, but narrows its scope. We Often see men a h i have over-read at college, d, ri tg upon life languidly us if they were about to leave it. They have not he vigor to cope with their own getera tion. Mr their own generation is young, and they have wasted the nervous energy .v Inn supplies the sinews of war to veuth an its consist fi.r fume or fortune. i;turfy with regularity, at settled hunt... Those the ("amino are the best, it they :iii be secured. The Man who has acqnir d the habit of study, though for only one every day in the year, and keeps to . the one thing studied till it is mastered, will he startled to see the way he has made at the end of the twelvemonth. lie is seldom o‘erweirked alto can centrive, to be ui advance 'of his ivork. If yolf= .tave three weeks betorr yitti to learn .ontetiting widen a matt of average quick - oess could learn in a week. learn it the first week not the third. Business atched is buainess well done, hat bud aro; hurried is business ill dime. In learning what others have thought, et is Well to keep in practice the potter to lank for one's sell When an author has . added to your know! dg., putt.e and Con ..idet if you can add nothing to his. Be aot contented to have Learned a problem by heart; try and deduce from it a rollary nut in the book. Spare no pains .n collecting details before you generalize sit it is only when details are generaliz ed that a truth is grasped. The tendency to generalize is universal with all Men evi o achieve great success, whether in art, nteruturt or action. I.!he habit of gen eralizing, though at iirst gained with rare and caution, secures, by practice, a com prehensiveness of judgment and a promptitude of deeteittn;which seem t 3 the crowd like intuitioite of genius THE LENGTHENING YEARS OF MAN. In an interesting paper by Dr. Edward Jarvis, in'the filth aniutul repori of the Nlassachusetts Board of Health, the fol lowing vital statistics, past and present, of various countries, strikingly show how tine advantage of civilization has pro. hinged life: In ancient Rome in the pe riod of 200 to 500 years utter the Christ ian era, the avenig , duration of life in the most favored class wilt tiiirty years.— In tip• present ceotury the average lon evity of the same class is tifiy year& In the sixteenth century the average longer. ity in Geneva was 21.21 years ; ii merit 1814 mid 1833. it tilts 4060, and as large it portion now live 70 as lived to 33, 300 years ago. In 1693 the BrittO Govern !nen!, borrowed money by selling annui ty/3 oil limes :rum infancy upward, hito d o•i the basis of aver a ge linigevity. The treasury received the price. and paid he annul ies regularly as long as the annui tants lived. The contrict was nnitually 4stis'aLtory and teolitable. Nicety seven ins later Mr. Pitt issues. allot! er ton tine or scale of annuities, on the busts of the same exp clarion of life as in the pre emits o 11[11r9. These latter uniiiiietti.ts, however, liyed so much longer:than tlr.ir predecessors that it proved a very eisily loan to the Government. It •W . Of rani d chat while t0,000.0f each ri-x in the first too tine died under the age of 28, wilt 5,- 772 males and 6.416 females in the sec ond tontine died at. the same age 100 years later. Th.• average lire of the tua attilauts of 1693 was 20.5 years while those of 1790 lived 33 years and 9 months after they were 90 years old. From these 6tets. asks Dr. Jarvis, it tot life. in mummy forms and manif stations, 'lnd probably in a I, van, be expended in vig or, intensity and- duration under &vont hle circumstances. For this purpose it onlv nea-scary that the circumstances amid which, any form of life is p aced; should be linnight in . = harmony with the law appointed for its being. The days of Summ-r grow longer as w e go Northward,und the days of What r shorter. At Hamburgh, iu Germany, tha shortest day has seven hours and the longest seeentern. 'At Stockholm, the longest day has eighteen' and a half hours and the shortest tke and a half. At St. Petersborgh,the longest day hasitineteen hours, and the shortest fivei, At Finland the longt , St has twenty one and a half hours. At Wandorbus, in Norway, the day lasts from May 22d to July let, the sun not getting beh.w the horizon during the whole time, but skimming very close tr it in the north. At Spltzbergen the longest day lasts for three months and a half. To preve.it choking, break an egg In to a cap, nod give it to the choking per. son to swallow. If the white of one egg does not answer the purpose, try another. The white is all that is , necessary. Greatneea stands upon a precipice. and if prosperity carries a man nem. so little beyond Os pita, it nrerbears and dashes him to pieces.—Seneca. . Itls not miserable to be•blind he on. ly is.miserable who cannot. ,uequiesee. in hit blindness wick fortitude. When a noble life has prepared old age it is not the decline it reveals bat the first days of immortality.. The thr , e things most difficult ttre to keel, a secret, to foiLmt an injury, and make good use of leisure. ' II rCISLIBUZD ETIIIT VINDSVIDAT gONTLICI Advents:ha Rates: READERS AND WRITERS.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers