THE " JEFFERSQMTAW;7" " m - " - 1 i.i --. - - Qcuotci to politics, literature, Agriculture, Science, iJTorolitn, ait encral 'Sntclligcncc. VOL. 2G. STROUDSBURG, MONROE COUNTY, PA., AUGUST 8, 1867. NO. 20, Published by Theodore Schocb. TERMS Two dollars 11 year in advance and if not pU bfif.ire ti'.e end of t he year, two uoljars and filfy ets. will be charged. No papertliscoiUinued until all arrearages nre paid, except at the option of the Editor. , 1D-V Heriiseinents of one squareof (eightlines)or less, one or three insertions $ I 50. Each additional lsertion, 50 cents. Longer ones in proportion. JfOK PIHXTIXG, OF ALL KIND8, Executed in the highest style of the Arl.andontbe most leasonible terms. GEOKGE 1j. WALKER, A larce number of Farms wanted. Residence at John Kern's, Main street, Stroudsburg, Pa C. 15. KELLE!:, DEALER IN Boots, Shoes, Leather, AND FINDINGS, STROUDSBURG, Pa. March 23, 1967. J. L. WYCKOFP, HUSZ & WULF, COMMISSION DEALERS IN Sutter, Esss, and Country Produce, No. 250 Washington Street, Between Robinson &, Slurry streets. March 21. 1867-ly. New-York. S. HOLMES, Jr. ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, AND GENERAL CLAIM AGENT. STROUDSBURG, PA. Office Kith S. S. Dreher, Esq. All claims against the Government prose cuted with dispatch at reduced rates. An additional bounty of S100 and of $50 procured for Soldiers in the late War, TREE OF EXTRA CHARGE. -JQ August 2, 1866. Furniture ! Furniture ! McCarty's flew Furniture Stoie, DREHER'S NEW BUILDING, two doors below the Post-office, Strouds liurg, Pa. He is selling his Furniture 10 percent. less than Easton or Washington prices, to say nothing about freight or break age. . May 17, 1566.-tf. IF YOU WANT A GOOD MELODEON, from one of the best makers in the Uni ted States, olid Rosewood Case, warranted 5 years, call at McCARTY'S, he would es pecially invite all who are good judges ot Music to come and test them. lie will sell jou from any maker you wish, 810 less than Those who sell on commission. The reason is he buys for cash and sells for the same, -with less thin one-half the usual per centae that agents want. J. 11. McCARTV. May 17, ISCC.-tf. UNDERTAKING IN ALL ITS BRAN ches. Particular attention will be given to this tranch of the subscriber's business. He will Always study to please and consult the wants and wishes of those who i rnploy him. From the number of years experience lie has iad in this Lranc of business he cannot and -will not not be excelled either in city or country. Prices one-third Jess than is usual ly charged, from 50 to 75. finished Coffins al ways on hand. Trimmings to suit the best Hearse in the country. Funerals attended at one hour's notice. J. 11. McCARTY. May 17, 15GG.-tf. MT. VERNON HOTEL, M. &. T. P. WATSON, Proprietors. No.'s 117 & 119 North SECOND Street, (Between Arch and Itce,) PHILADELPHIA, PA. Close proximity to the business center of the city, excellent accommodation, a nd care ful attentien to the comfort and wants of guests are characteristics of the Mount V er- mon. The House has been thoroughly ren Tated and new-furnished. Tha patronage of the public is respectfully solicited. October 11, 16GG.-lf. Saddle and Harness Manufactory. The undersigned respectfully informs the citizens of Stroudsburg, and surroun ding country, that be Las commenced the above business in Fowler's building, on Elizabeth street, and is fully prepared to furnish any article in bis line of business, at short notice, On band at all times, a large stock of Harness, Whips, Trun7csf Valices, Car pet Bags, Horse-Blankets, Bells, Skates, Oil Cloths, Ac. Carriage Trimming promptly attended to. JOHN O. SAYLOR. Stroudsburg, Dec. 14, 18G5. Gothic Hull Dm" Store. William fIo!Iiulicncl, Wholesale and Retail Druggist. KTimnnsiimtr, Pa. V W JL J V " ) Constantly on band and for sale cheap for cash, a fresh sup ply of Drugs, Medicines, Paints, Oil. Glass. Pnitv Vornul. K fr. oseue Oil, Perfumery and Fancy Goods; also Sash, !!iml and Doors. Pure Wines and Liquors for Medicinal purpose. P- S. Physicians Prescriptions care fully compounded. Stroudsburg, July 7, 18CL nt Drs. JACKSON & BIDLACK, PUISUIAXS AM) SURGEONS. IRS. JACKKOV Jt, irrrr a rxr ' b uiiyjjnvii., use i JL " DrenarpH tn tinj .1 -11 -n ! f f e . ""lu promptly w an cans ' 01 a lrofessionul character. Office Op- I April Z), lb07.-tf. w "DOWN HILL." A LIFE PICTURE. Not long since, I had. occasion to visit one of our courts, and while conversing with a legal friend, I heard the name of John Anderson called. There is a hard case," remarked my friend. . I looked upon the man in the prisoner's dock. lie was standing up, and he plead guilty y) the crime of theft. He was a tall man, but bent and infirm, though not old. His garb was torn, sparse and filthy; bis face all bloated and bloodshot; his hair matted with dirt, and his bowed form quivering with delirium. Certainly I never saw a more pitiable object. Surely that man was not born a villian. I moved my place to obtain a fairer view of his face. He saw my movement and turned bis bead. He gazed upon me a single in stant, and then, covering his face with his hands, he sank powerless into his seat. "Good God!" I involuntarily ejacu lated. Wil " I bad half spoken his name when be quickly raised his bead, and cast upon me a look of such imploring agony that uy tongue was tied at once. Then be cov ered his face again. I asked my legal companion if the prisoner bad counsel. He said no. I then told him to do all in his power for the old fellows's benefit, and I would pay him. lie promised, and I left. I could not remain and see the man tried. Tears came to my eyes as I gazed upon'him, and it was not until I had gained'the street and walked some dis tance that I could breathe freely. John Anderson ! Alas! he was ashamed to be known as his mother's son! That was not his name but you shall know him by no other. 1 shall now call him by the name that now stands upon the records of the court. John Anderson was my school mate; and it was not many years ago not over twenty that we left our academy togeth er, he to return to his home of wealthy parents; I to sit down in the dingy sanc tum of a newspaper office for a few years, and then wander off across the ocean. I was gone some four years, and when I re turned I found John a married man. His father was dead, and had left his only son a princely fortune. " Ah 0 ," he said to me, as he met me at the railway station, ' you shall se"e what a bird I have caged. My Ellen is a lark a robin a very princess of all birds that ever looked beautiful sweetly." or sang lie was enthusiastic, but not mistaken, for I found his wife all that be had said, simply omitting the poetry. She was truly one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. And so good, too so loviDg and so kind. Aye she so loved John that she really loved all his friends. What a lucky fellow to find such a wife. And what a lucky woman to find such a hus band; for John Anderson was as hand some as she. Tall, straight, manly, high browed, with rich chestuut curls, and a face as faultlessly uoble and bcautilul as evtr artist copied. And he was good, too; and kind, generous and true. I spent a week with them, and I was happy all the while. John's mother lived with them, a fine old lady as ever breathed, aud making herself constant joy and pride in doating upon her 14 Darling Boy," as she always called him. I gave her an ac count of my adventures by sea and land in foreign climes, and she kissed me be cause I loved her " darling." v I did not see John again for four years. I reached his borne in tho evening. He was not in, but bis wife and mother were there to receive me, and two curly-headed boys were at play about Ellen's chair. I knew at once that they were my friend's children. Everything seemed pleasant until the little ones were abed and asleep, and then I could see that Ellen became troubled. She tried to hide it, but a face so used to the sunshine of smiles, could ot wear a cloud concealed. At length John came. His face was flushed and his eyes looked inflamed, lis grasped my hand with a happy laugh called me "Old Fellow," " Old Dog," said 1 must come and live with him, and many other extravagant things. His wife tried to hide her tears, while his mother shook her head and said " He'll sow these wild oats soon. My darling never can be a bad man." " God grant it!" I thought to myself; and I know the same prayer was upon Ellen's lips. It was late when we retired, and we might not have done so even then bad not John fallen asleep in the chair. On the following morning I walked out with my friend. I told him Fwas sorry to see him as I saw him the night before. "Oh," said he with a laugh, "that was nothing. Only a little wine party. We had a glorious time. I wish you bad been there." At first I thought I would say no more; but was it not my duty? I knew his na ture better than he knew it himself. His appetites and pleasures blinded his own vision. I knew how kind and generous he was alas! too kind too generous! " John, could you have seen Elleu's face last evening you would have trem bled. Ca you make her unhappy f" He stopped me with 44 Don't be a fool; Why should she be so unhappy?" " Because she fears you are going down hill," I toll him. 3 " Did she say so V be asked with a flushed face. " No I read it in her looks." a reuecuon ot your own thoughts, he suggested. " I surely thought so when you came home," I replied. Never can I forget the look he crave me tlren, so full of reproof, of surprise, and of pain. C , I forgive you, for I know you to be ray friend ; but never speak to me again iiivc ma 1.. x iroiuiruown 1 xou know me better. That can never be. I know my own wants. My mother knows me better than Ellen does." in, naa mat mother been as wise as she was loving, she would have seen that the 44 wild oats which her son was sowing: would grow up and ripen, only to furnish! seed for re sowiDg ? But she loved him loved him almost too well or I should: say too blindly But I could say no more. I only pray ed that God would guard him ; and then we conversed upon other subjects. I could spend but only one day with bim, but we promised to correspond often. I had finished my meal, and was loung ing in front of the hotel, when I saw a funeral possession winding into a distant church yard. I asked the landlord whose funeral it was. 44 Mrs. Anderson's," he said, and as he spoke, I noticed a slight drooping of the head, as though it cut him to say so. i( What John Anderson's wife?" " No," he replied. 44 It is his moth er;" and as he said this he trudged away ; but a gentleman who stood near, and overhead the conversation, at- once took up the theme : 44 Our host don't seem inclined to converse upon the subject" he remarked, with a shrug the shoulders. 44 Did Mrou ever know John Anderson J 44 He was my shool-mate in boyhood, and my bosom friend in youth, 1 told him. He led me to one side, and spoke as follows : Poor John ! lie was the pride of this town six years ago. This man open ed his hotel at that time and sought cus tom by giving wine suppers. John was present at most of them the gayest of the gay, and the most generous of the party. In fact, he paid for nearly every one of then. Then he began to go down hill ! And he has been going down ever since. At times true friends have prevailed upon him to stop ; but his stops were of short duration. A short season of sunshiue would gleam upon his home, and then the night came, more dark and drear than before. He said be would never get drunk again ; yet he would take a glass of wine with a friend ! That glass of wine was but the gate that let in the flood. Six years ago he was worth sixty thousand dollars. Yesterday he borrow ed fifty dollars to pay his mother's fune ral expenses ! The poor mother bore up as long as she could. She saw her son her 44 Darling Boy," she always called him, brought home drunk many times, and she even bore blows from him ! But she's at rest now ! Her " Darling" wore her life away, and brought her gray hairs in sorrow to the grave ! Oh ! 1 hope this may reform him 1" " But his wife f I asked. 44 Her heavenly love has held her up thus far, but she is only a shadow of the wife that blessed his home six years ago." My informant was deeply affected, and so was I, and I asked him no more. During the remainder of the afternoon I debated with myself whether to call upon John at all. But finally I resolved to go, though I waited till after tea. I found John and his wife alone. They had both been weeping, though I could sec at a glance that Elleu's face was beaming with love and hope. But oh ! she was changed sadly, painfully so. They were glad to see me, and my hand was shaken warmly. 44 Dear C , don't say a word of the past," John urged taking my hand a sec ond time. 41 I know you spoke the truth to me five years ago. I was going down hill! But I've gone as far as I can, I stop here at the foot. Every thing is gone but my wife. I have sworn, and my oath shall be kept. Ellen and I are going to be happy now." The poor fellow burst into tears here. His wife followed suit: and I kept them company. I could not help crying like a child. My Cod, what a sight! The once noble, true man so fallen become a mere broken glass, the last fragment only reflecting the image it once bore 1 A poor suppliant at the foot of Hope, begging a grain of warmth for the hearts of himself and wife! And how I had honored and loved that man and how I loved him still! Oh! I hoped aye, more than hoped I believed he would behaved. And as I gared upon that wife so trust ing, so loving, so true, and so hopeful still, even in the midst of living death I prayed more fervently than I ever pray ed before that God would hold him up lead bim back to the top of the hill.. In the morning I saw the children grown to two intelligent boys now and though they looked pale and wan,' yet they smiled and seemed happy when their father kissed them. When I went away John took me by the hand, and the last words he said, were " Trust me. Believe mo now. I will be a man, henceforth while life lasts." A little over two years more had passed when I read in a newspaper the death of Ellen Anderson. I -sorted fcr' ths towp J where tlicj lived, as soon as possible, for IT r r..i x ujiiil uciu some one. i. jenriui pre- sentiment had possessed my mind I stopped at the stately house where - ) w asw wavi-a they had dwelt, but strangers occupied itk with his hair rumpled, his chest collaps 4 Where is John Anderson ?" I asked. ed, and his back rounded out in the shape " Don't know, I am sure. He's been 0f the latter C. "Such a headache !" gone these three months. His wile diejl in the mad-house last week. And the children?" " Oh! thev both died before she did.1 .1 1 I, JLI It .1 staggered back and hurried from the , r 1 1 1 1 . place. I hardly knew which way I went, r.. -' Hut inch nif lArl m A th. K .. . V. ... A 1 found four graves which had been made 1 Jn three years. The mother, wife and two children slept in them. " And what has done this?" I asked myself. And a voice answered from the lowly sleeping places But this was not all the work. No, no. The next I saw 0, God! was far more terrible? I saw in the city court room. But that was not the last not the last! I saw my legal friend on the day fol lowing the trial. He said John Ander son was in prison. I hastened to see him. The turnkey conducted me to his icell the key turned in the huge lock the ponderous door swung with a sharp creak upon its hinges and I saw a dead body suspended by the neck from a grat ing of the window! I looked at the hor rible face I could see nothiog of John Anderson there but the face I had seen in the court-room was sufficient to connect the two; and I knew that this was all that was left on earth of bim whom I had loved so well! And this was the last of the Demon's work, the last act in the terrible drama! Ah from the first sparkle of the red wine it had been down down down until the foot of the hill had been finally reached. When I turned away from the cell, and once more walked amid the flashing sa loons and revel-halls, I wished that my voice had power to thunder the life-story of which I had been a witness into the cars of all living men. Sensible. At a social party one evening I met a fair young friend, scarcely eighteen, from one of the best seminaries in the State. In the course of the evening we chanced to be together with two or three newly married ladies mutual friends, who playfully rallied my friend of the semina ry respecting a 4 beau.' 44 1 have none," she replied. " Honestly ?" asked one. 44 Yes, honestly, and I do not wish or intend to receive particular attention from any gentleman until I leave school." 4 Why notf I asked demurely. I will tell you," she answered, turn- ing to me with great seriousness. 44 1 thick it diverts one's attention from les sons, to be thinking of, and writing to a special friend. The poorest scholars in school, each year, have been those girls who were " engaged." They were all the time thinking apd talking of, and writing to, their gentlemen, and as a con sequeuce their lessons were never learned, and they took very little interest in school exercises. Of course they arc minus of much they ought to know. I cannot help thinking that a girl needs a great deal of knowledge, in oriler to read character correctly, so that she may judge wisely in so important a matter as matrimony." 44 Ah ! I guess she is opposed to mar rying," laughed one. 44 Not at all. I hope to have an excel lent husband some day, and I want to know enough to be an excellent wife, you see. Time enough for mo a year or two hence. My education is the business in hand now." Sensible girl! School days are indeed too precious, too important, to be trifled away in vain thoughts of vain men. E. C. C. Stevens Seasonable Hints. The oil of pennyroyal will keep mos quitoes out of a room, if scattered about even in small quantities, lloaches are exterminated by scattering a handful of fresh cucumber parings about the house. No fly will light on the window which has been washed with water in which a little garlic has been boiled. The great tabernacle of the saints at Salt Lake city is now finished. It is two hundred and fifty feet wide, and fur nishes comfortable sitting room for ten thousand persons. To Remove Paint Marks from Dresses. Solten it with any kind of grease, and then apply spirits of turpentine or ammo nia to remove the mark made with the grease. llev. Henry Ward Bcecher has said that more public men of eminence started from the business of type setting than probably from any other occupation. Twelve old ladies met at a tea-party, in Palmyra, the other day. Their aggregate ago was o'Ja years; the average, i. The oldest was J3. From the assessment rolls of the city of New York for the year 18G7 it appears that the value of the taxable estate for the city and county is 5831,836,513. The centre of tho United States has been fixed at Columbus, Nebraska, nine ty seven inilt:3 west of Omaha. Mr. and Mrs. Smith's Headaches-A Lesson lor bomeDooy. "Such a headache as I have !" croaned Smith bo ntpro.l tlm hrenkfast-rooni ,(PprhnM ;f na tha ,.. vnn nfp fore going to bed," remarked his wife, as vum, . invito UVtllill" UJUII3 HUOIt ' (v 1 r . A , , somethan cake before going to bed, cs ' ,-0ii imif 10 -.i TieCiallV filUm-ClkO nnaworml Smith answered Smith, . dropping into a chair. Mrs. Smith, feeling indisposed at that matitudinal hour for an argument, assent ed. "Try a little tea," suggested she. "Tea ! an old maid's remedy ; no tea for me." "Well, coffee." "I don't think I want anything," groaned Smith. "Oh, dear ! I'm going to have a day of it!" Mrs. Smith bad it on her tongue's end to say : "Well, that is the usual result of a night ofit;"butshe closed her teeth and bit off the exasperating and truthful rejoinder. "Isn't this room awful hot?" asked Smith, opening six doors, without waiting for her reply, which, if uttered, wcAild have been that she was shivering with the draughts. Then seating himself at the table : "I think I will have tea, Mrs. Smith ; it will be sure to upset or cure me , it don't matter which," he adds, with a despair ing groam ; "and I may as well eat a piece of beefsteak, while I'm about it 4in for a pound oh dear !" "I think I'll come and sit in your room, Mary," said Smith to his wife af ter the tea and breakfast had gone down. "It looks nice and pleasant, here, and I like to stay with you when 1 have the headache." Mary turned her back, that he need not see the smile lurking round her mouth at the conclusion of hi3 sentence, and brought a pillow to the sofa for his disor ganized head. "Not that no, not that ; it will only heat my head, oh, dear ! Mary, (solemn ly.) do you know I think I made a mis take in eating that beefsteak ?" Mary, with a heroism which should place her name in "Fox's of Martyrs," did not reply : "I knew it at the time, Smith, and my only chance of preventing you from eat ing was to refrain from asking you to eat; so I didn't say so." "Mary," said Smith, as she seated her self to sewing, "Don't you think I should feel better if I had a jug of boiling water at my feet ?" "Perhaps you would," said Mary, drop- 1 1 i.i- ! 1 . ping uer upoois ana inimoie ana Duttons on the Hoor to hunt up the jug and hot water herself, for foinith had the opinion that a wife should attend pcrsoually to these things, although, three rreat ser- vauts might sit sucking their thumbs in the kitchen and cooking their heels on the range. "Perhaps you would." "Mary," asked Smith, after this ar rangement was carried out, "don t you think this bottle miht be pushed a little closer? I don't .feel it. except on one foot." . "Yes," said Mary, dropping her work once more. "Is that right ?" "Oh, yes," answered Smith, rolling his left eye in ecstacy, as the heat penetrated the soles of his feet ; "how nice it is to have you round when I am sick." The same funny look came again round, the corners of Mary's mouth, but Smith, bless his obtuse soul, didn't see it. "Mary," said Smith, "I think I cbuld go to sleep now if you would close those curtains aud things, and carry that d d bird down stairs, aud shutout the light." "Yes," said Mary, "and I'll take my sewing in the next room." "Do," said Smith. And gathering up her work basket and Smith's pauts, that had several vital but tons missing, and which ho wished re placed, Mary departed. "Mary," said Smith, suddenly appear ing at the door of the room where she had seated herself, with his hair rampaut, and blanket shawl sticking to his back, "it's no use. I don't feel a bit better. I'm sure I don't know what to do. Do you really thiuk it was the cake ?" Mary's patience was waning. "I know it, John it always makes you sick. Don't you recollect I asked you not to eat it at the time ?" "Well, all I can say is," said Smith, "I don't believe it. Oh dear, where arc the morningapers ?" That was another way of asking Mary to read them to him, which she did, aud without saying, as Smith did oa similar occasions : ' 'Oh, there's nothing in the papers this moruiug but the same old tariff discus sions; in fact, they are quite dull here they are perhaps you cau pick out some thing for yourself." Blessed bo the Lord ! At twelve, Smith sank into arms of Morpheus, and slept till three ; but alas ! waking, begged for his wife and a washbowl. Both were forthcoming, as also the expected result. The rest of tho day, till dark, the blinds were opened and shut ; tho bottle of hot water on and off duty, and Mrs. Smith stayed by to see him be sick. About seven in the evening he despairingly siguificd his wish to retire, addin MT "I suppose, of course, you don't fee! sleepy at all ?" "N-o," said Mary, looking from the window at a lovely moon that was just rising, 4'N-o, not very." "Well," said Smith ; "don't como, if you don't want to, but I can't sit up any longer, and I have an idea I shall get to sleep." So Mary went to bed with her bearded taby. A week had elapsed. Smith was in good health and spirits. He could smoke. The world wasn't a charncl house, after all. Mary was flat on her back with a nervous headache. "Sick?" asked Smith. "Shocking pain in my temples," said. Mary.' - "Vhat a pity ?" answered Smith, par-' ing his nails at the window, without turning his head. "It's going to be such: a lovely day quite like spring. Have? you the least idea where my gray pants are ?" "No," said Mary, faintly, feeling for the pillows, "I think in the" closet " ''So strange," paid Smith, "about' those gray pants; I don't think they've worn very well do you ? And do you know, Mary, about the milk bill, whether' it is right or not ? And. bv the wav. did w 1 J - - j w my shoes come home last night ? and haa that man been to fix the front door V "My Head aches so bad," said Maryr "that I can't remember anything. Biddy will tell you." "Well, I'm sorry for you," said Smith, tying his cravat at the glass. The very? best thing for you is to keep quiet, and I'll take myself out the way. Sleep is the thing for you." So Smith put on his heaviest -pair of boots, and went all over the house, and lefthe door bang, and whis tled the "Stars and Stripes," and ate his breakfast, and then came up to her to dis cuss the respective claims of pork and beef and chicken for that day's dinner, clos iug by another recommendation to 'keep quiet and not bother herself about any thing. "No better ?" asked Smith, reproach folly, at six o'clock that evening; wao better? I thought you'd be well, cer tainly, this time, after a day's quiet." Quiet? She had hadlhe whole kitchen retinue after her all day, asking more questions than there are in the assembly's catechism ; and the frout door bell' ring ing as if by order of the fire department j but she had said nothing at all about that ; if she had, Smith would have replied with that lordly wave of his hand with which meu dispose of such matters ; "You shouldn't allow such trifles to trouble you." "No letter, then ?" Smith inquired, a? if in gratitude to him he rally deserved a modification of her former reply "no better ? Well, sleep, after all, is the best thing ; and, as I can't do anything for you, I thiuk it is such a lovely night that I will stroll out awhile. There, there,' patting the end of the blanket "go to sleep now." And close upon his retiring heels she heard the thuudering bang of the front door. After divers and many comparisons be tween male aud female headaches, and the seeming iucongruity iu the male mind, of the same course of treatment for both, Mrs. Smith fell asleep, to be woke about twelve by Smith, who thumped up stairs in his boots, maue a raid after the cork screw iu the cloet, and a paticular tumb ler of a particular shape, he wanted in connection with it; and advised her again as to the efficiency of sleep, in cases of female headache ; then filled the house with the nauseating fumes of tobacco, at an hour when it was impossible to air it. Then Smith went to bed, and slept the sleep of tho just, with not a glimmering of an idea that he was not the unselflshcs and loviugost of husbands. Indeed, had his wife questioned it, he would have pointed her to that column in tho daily papers where accounts are given of hus bauds who make it a practice to crack their wives' skulls once a week ; and plac-. ing his arms akimbo with a stern look,, would have asked her with his nose close to her face : "What if she had such a husband aa that?" This World Cannot Satisfy. Priuce Tailleyrand, who had served fiHy years a great diplomatist, it Frauce, under five different governments, at nearly all the courts of Europe, a few yenrs before he died made this melan choly confession. He wrote it by the lamp on his table in the chamber of hi palace in the city of Paris, and it was read when he expired : "Eighty-three years of life arc now past filled with what anxieties, what agita tions, what vanities, what troubled per plexities ! aud all this with no other re sult than great fatigue, physical and mor al, u profound scntimeat ui discourage ment with regard to the future and ef disgust for the past" thus proving that this world, with it pleasures, its honors, aud its gains, can aeyer fill up the heart id' man. This tho ' life of God iu the soul of uiau" aloue can accomplish. Quite a number of persons out West have lost large sums of money by holding thoir wheat after it had reached very high figures. Ouo mau in Wa&hingtou lost three thousand dollars ou five thous and bushels. There uow remain undisposed of l.fo lfS,0000 acres ef United States publU lands. f 1 . 1 ' i;: , it ; 1 1 1 f
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers