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tittehig imitat---glettotat In olitio, Agriculture, Niteraturt, lore*, pomestic antt Otani #ntelligetta,
ESTABLISHED IN 1813.
E IikYNESBMG MESSENGER,
PDBLISRED BY
' fis W. JONES AND JAS. S. JENNINGS.
Waynesburg, Greene County, Pa.
rOFFICE NEARLY OPPOSITE THE
PUBLIC squ ARE. _Ea
12 3 )2 Ea M Et
'BoascairrioN.-92.00 in advance; WM at the ex
crtratlou of six months; 62.50 after the expiration of
the year.
ADVEIRTISISIIIENTS inserted at $1.2.5 per square for
three insertions, and 37 cts. a square for each addition
al insertion; (ten lines or less counted a square.)
pa" h libetal deduction made to yearly advertisers.
I la"
Joe PRI Nairm, of all kinds, executed in the best
owls, and on reasonable terms, at the "Messenger"
Job °Ace.
quesburg Yiusintss ifia6s.
JILTTORNEYS
J. A. J. BUCHANAN, D. B. P. HUBS
Oft. b. WTLV
WYLY; BITCHANAN & HUSS,
A t toriney, Ar. Counsellors at Laing
'WAYNESBURG, PA.
v'fil prartke in the Courts of Greene and adjoining
si ost rit ii es . c o lle c tions and other legal business wilt re
ceive prompt attention.
' Office on the South side of Main street, in the Old
' , nk Huihttilit. . Jan. 28, 1868.-13,
4. A . PIS'RT4A7I
PURMAN & RITCHIE.
irTTODRNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT L W
Waynesburg, Pa.
Offir•OFFirs—Main Street, one door east of
111 e old Btnk Building.
tErAtl ,usiness di Greene, Washington, and Fay
Otte Counties, entrusted to them, will receive promp
attention.
N. b —Particular attention will he given to the col
*fiction of Penelope. Bounty Money , Back Pay, and
48iher claims against, the Government.
dept. 11, letil—lv.
it. A. I'CONMELL. J. J. HUFFMAN.
3MINDONNLIMI & $Q N,
4TrO&WE]s AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW
• Waynesburg, Pa.
Flollnee In the "Wright Ikt.se," East Door.
eeMons, Arc., will receive prompt attention.
synneburg, April 23, 1562-Iy.
DAVID CRA WFORD,
csyn- ey and Counsellor at Law. Office in the
House. Will attend promptly to alLbusiness
railed to his care.
' eshurg. Pa.,Jitly 30, 1883.—1 y.
i. SLANE
SLACK & PHELAN,
irTTORNEY4 AND COUNDELLoRS AT LAW
°thee in the Court House, Waynesburg.
'Sept. 11,1861—1 v. •
iOLXII.IIIIAP WAR CLAIMII
D. R. t ---- . HUSS ,
•
AVTONINBY A? LAW, WAVNESBURG, PIENNAt..,
"Ur Ltd received front the War Department at Wash-
JIM ingron city, D. C., official copies of the several
firms passed by Congress, and all the necessary Forms
,ltd Jturtructionslur the prosecution and collection of
,pICJVTIONS, BOUNTY, BACK PAY, due dis
roil and disabled soldiers, their widows, orphan
then, widowed mothers, fathers, sisters and broth
which
' . business, [upon due notice] will be attend.
itraptly and accnratclyif entrusted to his care.
ir in the old Bank Butliling.—April 8, 1863.
U. W. U. WADDELL,
* d
TTORNEY & COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
FFIGE in the REGISTER'S OFFICE, Court
House, Waynesburg, Penna. Business of all
i solicited. Has received official copies of all the
I'l4
s passed by Congrees, and other necessary instruc
ens for the collection of .
ENSIONS, BOUNTIES, BACK PAY,
discharged and disabled soldiers, widows, Orphan
reo, &c., which butioess if intrusted to his care
1
I. promptly attended to. May 13, '63.
PELYSICIANS
Dr. T. W. Ross,
Zsrla.Vaile,litari. slb Nitaiarse•cort,
Waynesburg, Greene Co., Pa.
gni-FMB AND RESIDENCE ON MAIN STREET,
east, and nearly opposite the Wright house.
nartiteg, Sept. 23, 1823.
DR. A. G. CROSS
WWILD very respectfully tender his services as a,
PaYSICIAN AND BURGEON, to the people or
nosburg and vicinity lie hopes by a due appre
anionl of human life and health, and strict attention to
lanirAness. to merit a share of public patronage.
Waynesburg. January 8, 1862.
ZWCROILANTS
WM. A. PORTER,
mid Retail Dealer in Foreign and Domes
y Goode. Groceries, Notions, &c., Main west.
6pt. 11, 186r-ly.
R.. CLARK ,
•
ihjafor In Dry Goads, Onliceties, Hardy:fare, Queens
am, and notions,iii that Hamilton Ifouse, opposite
. oOnn Ilittuau, Main street, Sept. 11, 18151-Iy.
-
MINOR & CO.,
ititsileri in Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods, Gro
Queenews.ie, Hardware and Notions, opposite
ithe Green lionnlt. Main street.
Sept. 11,
beim AND SHOE DEALERS
J. D. COSGRAY,
gisssail Shoe maker, Main street, nearly opposite
tberrater's and Drover's Hank." Every style of
Y ad Ilivoes constantly on band or made to order.
JUL, teel—ly.
• • • .
AxAgßuass & vibitizrnms.
...________,.
JOSEPH YATER,
aster ei In GtOraties acrd Confectioneries, Notions,
i l l co . r ow giimarfos, Liverpool Ware, &e., Glass of
aft . Mid Gilt Moulding and Looking Glass Plates.
paid Oor good eathig A pp!es.
i p iati
11, ill—ly.
_ .. -
JOHN MUNNELL,
Dealer in Groceries and Confectionaries, and V ar i e ty
", 4 1. Gesmay.4l l lfileck'd New Building, Main street.
Sepetr: Ider—dy.
vpfjkercntCS AND JEWELRY
S. Di. BAILY,
.street, opposite the Wright House keeps
j o i repilub hand a large and gasket •ftasortusent of
Wier and Jewelry.
Pairing of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry wit
att•PAI1011. Mee. 15. 1861-1 y
_ _
• BOOKS. &c.
LEW IS DAY,
. m iler In Sciionl and Mivellenenua Books, Station-
Mitilkanea and Paiient; One door east of
ran/lei More. Main Mtreet. gem. 11. 1116 i 11/ •
suLDZWIRS AND KARNES&
Att,IFUEL M'ALLISTER,
fiddlea;Hamm and Traak Mann-. aid Bask Build-
VANE RIP &DRO VERS' RANK,
• i5“14411, agskiari t
Cv4l,lo4s'Mmilt 1611.
w •
a. ow -64 ,
.70 iutMum.
It is -the morning after the news of a
great battle. Yesterday, flying rumors—
ethereal escapements from
• the telegraph
wire caught the ear of now and then one,
but the morning's paper spreads out upon
its inside—`A Great Battle going on V—Fed
erals victorious !—Loss on both sides very
severe !"
We clutch the damp, folded sheet from
the nearest news buy, and glance down the
column headed "Last night's telegraph."—
It is true—another of those desperate col
lisions between men of the same language,
and blood, has come. But here is no official
signature—we doubt the story—we want an
excuse to disbelieve it.
We have grown familiar with a style of
newspaper filling called sensation rumors.—
Thrice have we been two days in terror for
the safety of the National Capitol, and twice
have we, with incredible simplicity, illumina
ted for the taking of Richmond. No more
of that ! We re-peruse the telegram—it
must be true, and our souls are filled with a
sudden and awful sense of the mighty inter
ests that are being decided in so fearful a
manner. For two days the fight has been
going on—it is raging still ; God only
knows what the end will be !
J. U. TRITCHIZ
It is a glorious morning of September—a
summer day, with the last perceptible haze
of autumn over its ripe lovliness. The full
eastern light whitens the statue among the
trees of the Park, and makes glistering sil
very plumes of the jets of the fountain. The
very curb stones have looked cheerful as
we stepped along, and' the new spring and
freshness of morning activity has given the
streets a pleasant air of busy life, and seem
ed to reanimate the very dray horses in their
heavy harness.
But a change has come over it all now.—
A gloom is between us and the sun; there
is a taint of blood in the autumnal air—the
bustle of business and hum of trade grate
on our ears. Can they not cease for a mo-•
ment, while the weal
. or woe of millions is
trembling in the balance ? We are trans
ported in fancy to the distant field, and
stand amid its battle smoke. We see the
long, surging lines of living men within it.
The yell of onset, the thunder of artillery,
the screams of mortal agony—we hear them
all.
1213:1=1213
In the foremost column, passing under a
cloud that will hide the sun forever to many
who are entering it, there are faces and
forms familiar to us, hands that we clasped,
bidding God speed, are grasping those bay
onets, brows that have beamed in the light
of our fire-sides are under those soldier
caps, blackened with powder—and Oh, there
is ONIL somewhere there, dearer to us than
anything else the earth contains. Where
is he? It is of 11131 we have been think
ing from the first moment. He must be in
the fight.
There is a picture store on the street
where we are passing, and the engravings
in its windows have never failed to arrest
our steps. There is a landscape in South
America, where the rugged outlines of in
accessible peaks under a glowing tropical
sky, make a strange mingling of Patagonia
and Italy. Near it is placed, 'the 'Huguenot
Lovers.' You see they are parting on the
Eve of St. Bartholomew. Mechanically we
turn towards the window and stand gazing
for the hundreth time. But the vine
oovercd wall, with the sad, tender figures
in its shadow—the peaks of the Andes, and
the wonders between their crimson-lighted
recesses, are as though we saw them not.—
We are saying to ourselves continually,
Shall we be victorious ? Is ho living or
dead ?
Turning abruptly away, we are aware
that a group of men near by are reading a
large placard just placed upon a board.—
"Latest News" it reads, in large, disjointed,
blue . letters. "A Battery Captured! Our
loss ten thousand ! The Seventh made a
gallant charge—The most bloody battle of
the %far !" One and another stops to read,
and passes silently on. We do not know
how many with these staring announce
ments take up a burden as heavy as our own.
It all may or may not be true.
Two ladies are near us, pleasantly chat
ting over the morning shopping. How can
they think of that now ? Are any of all
this throng, intent on their, pleasure or their
gain—thinking what it is to rush up to the
mouths of blazing cannot', to march stead
ily at the word of command thrbrigh a rain
whose drops pierce flesh, and beam, and
brain—to see in the distance a heap of the
dead, and the Star-Spangled Banner clutch
ed from their stiffening bands by the inso
lent foe. And this is going on now—it is
being done for us, who walk this pavement
in safety, while they are struggling and dy
ing there. Ten thousand lost!, Can it,. *I
possible that he will escape ? Is his dela
body lying there essegled, tratopleil , tbat
heat whose boyish curls lay on osr ,kiseenfit
We talked of him at our Inernikqieta-Ae
had received our last htter and figi
piOne..:was it , of our dead son we
s p e sid4l - Ot t Wlifindisil,
lidly
so that he can nver be
From the Journal and Messenger
Our Soldier Son.
WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 23, 1864.
whole again ? Yesterday we were looking
through a photagraph album, and a dear,
noble face caught our attention. "He was
shot at Gettysburg," they said, " and the
last we knew of him he was lying in an out
house, with his mutilated companions, beg
ging for water." Oh, God ;—to think our
boy may be lying just so now, and the re
freshing streams of this fountain playing
here, and running to waste !
But these forebodings are unmanly and
wicked. He may be safe. We shall know
soon. The first news is always disrorted.—
We are &fon absorbed in the prospects of the
impending election, and are only conscious
of an undefined something that would mar
our peace if we should think of it. As we
enter the door of our home, we see his hat
hanging just where he placed it when it was
exchanged for the soldier's cap. We have
never moved it. There is a sharp pang as we
see it.
Days go by. The papers have long details
of the battle. We read them every one.—
We follow his Division through all. If
"fought bravely" we read with pride, and
then, with another feelin —it "suffered.ter
ribly." Searching—we eel rather than see
—one day, casualties in the ----th 0. V. I.
that was his regiment—many names
strange names—on; on to the end—not his
name, thank God! Ile must be safe, then.
We are glad this anxiety is over. Yet it
would be better if there was a letter from
him—he always writes—but the mails are
irregular at . such a time. We are at the
Post Office morning and evening, among all
the letters looking only for the one directed
in his hand. It does not come. One even
ing a friend silently hands in a paper con
taining full returns. We read it, and know
that one boy is wounded and missing. The
'great cloud that has been lowering over the
horizon, of our home rolls up over it. There
is silenoe at the_ household board, and pale
faces and tearful eyes gather around the ev
ening lamp. 'Wounded and missing' seems
written on every hand. A prisoner, likely—.
that is a dreadful word to us. Was ho
slightly wounded, perhaps, and will soon be
exchanged? Was hand or foot shot away,
and did the rebel surgeons handle him ten
derly ? Is there no way we can reach him,
and send him something from Lome ? Ev
ery household comfort and luxury—the clean
bed at night and the refreshing bath in the
morning—the snow-white table, the fresh
butter, and many a favorite dish of his—we
take them with the bitter thought that he is
deprived of all. But we will not think him
dead. Our boy will come again, and we will
nurse him so tenderly in that room of his
that he will forget the pain of his wounds,
and with all the home circle clasped around
him, he shall tell us the story of his captivi
ty, as if it were a legend of long ago. His
mother and the old doctor will soon have
him up again.
A week ago, we said thus to ourselves as
we went np the Post Office steps half ex
pecting to find the long looked for letter.—
A strange voice accosted us---Ure you Mr.
7"Yes sir,' You had a son in the
87th Ohio ?"Yes."l was on my way to
to your office. I was taken prisoner at the
same time, and was with him when he died.'
There was a pause unbroken, and the voice
went on : 'He was shot in the side and in
the face, but he lived two days. We were
all in an old shd, and didn't have anything
to eat but some corn meal, and that isn't
the stuff for a wounded man. When I found
who he was I did everything I could for
him, but the rascals took everything from•us.
He could not speak much, being so wound
ed, but he made out to ask me to cut off a piece
of his hair, and if ever I got back to bring it
to you, and he said tell you that he wasn't
sorry to die for his country.'
What more was said of the last hours we
scarcely knew then. A half hour afterward
we were walking alocg the lake shore, the
autumn winds breaking over its angry wa
ters, and a folded piece of soiled paper held
tightly in our hands. How shall his moth
er be told of this ? `lf it is possible, let this
cnp pass from, me nevertheless,'—we could
not finish the prayer then.
And now the hat that hung so long in the
ball, and the boots drew off last—all the fa
miliar things that were his are laid away in
the darkened and silent room we were going
to make so pleasant for him Ivhen he came
Home.
In a secret drawer in the library is a lock
of dark brown hair—we have but just glanc
ed at it, but we know it is matted and stif
fened at the end. It is all we shall ever see
of our cherished son.
Voltaire's last Words.
Voltaire was fertile and elegant, his ob
servations are very acute, yet he often be
trays great ignorance when he treats on
subjects of ancient learning. Madame de
Talmotad once said to him; "I think, air,
that a philosopher should never write but
with the endeavor to render mankind less
wicked and unhappy than they are. Now
you ao rite the •contrary; you are always
writing against that religion which alone is
able to restrain. wickedness, and to afford us
consolation under misfortunes." Voltaire
was stanch etre*, and excused himself by
gulfs that he only wrote for those who
were o f the Bathe *Mon as himself. Tron
chin armiatilds Metals that Voltaire died in
great agonies of mind. "I die forsaken b
if t/4 4. 4. • elcif#l 4 4l',lle tAttiP
lamen t". truth will for its war. "I
lithat those vhp had'
• ifiroandi—br. witiv : hed , beeir
mhipitafogt walla*
004airigt f rOV aIP *M i t .
Philosophy of Exercise.
All know that the less we exercise
the less health we have, and the more
certain are we to die before our time.—
But comparatively few persons are able
to explain how exercise does ! promote
health. Both beast and bird, in a state
of nature, are exempt froW disease, ex
cept in rare eases ; it is because the un
appearable instinct of searching for their
necessary food impels them to ceasless
activities. Children, when left to them
selves, eat a great deal and have excel
lent health, because they will be doing
something all the time, till they become
so tired they fall asleep ; and as soon as
they wake they begin right away to
run about again ; thus their whole ex
istence is interesting and pleasur
able. The health of childhood would
be enjoyed by those of maturer years,
if, like children, they would eat only
when they are hungry, stop when they
have done, take rest in sleep as soon as
they are tired, and - when not eating or
resting, would spend their time diligent
ly in such muscular activities as . would
be interesting, agreeable, and profitable.
Exercise without mental elasticity, with
out an enlivenment of the feelings and
the mind, is of comparatively little val
ue.
1. Exercise is health producing, be
cause it works of and out of the sys
tem its waste, dead, and effect matters ;
these are all converted into a liquid
form, called by some "humors," which
have exit from the body through the
"pores" of the skin, in the shape of
prespiration, which all have seen, and
all know is the result of exercise, when
the body is in a state of health. Thus
it is, that persons who do not perspire,
who have a dry skin, are always either
feverish or chilly and are never well,
and never can be as long as that condi
tion exists. So exercise, by working
out of the system its waste, decayed,
and useless matters, keeps the human
machine "free ;" otherwise it would
soon clog up, and the wheels of life
would stop forever'.
2. Exercise improves the. health, be
cause every step a man takes tends to
impart motion to the bowels ; a proper
amount of exercise keeps them acting
once in every twenty-four hours; if
they have not motion enough, there. is
constipation, which brings on very
many fatal diseases, hence exercise, es
pecially that of walking, wards off in
numerable diseases, when it is kept up
to an extent equal to inducing one ac
tion of the bowels daily.
3. Exercise is healthful, because the
more we exercise the faster we breath.
If we breathe faster, we take that much
more air into the lungs ; but it is the air
we breathe which purifies the blood, and
the more air we take in, the more per
fectly is that process performed ; the
purer the blood is, as everybody konws,
the better the health must be. Hence,
when a person's lungs are impaired, he
does not take in enough air for the
wants of the system ; that being the
case, the .air he does breathe should be
the purest possible, which is outdoor
air. Hence, the more a consumptive
stays in house, the more certain and
more speedy is his death.
Rules for Winter.
Never go to bed with cold or damp
feet. In going into a colder air, keep
the mouth resolutely closed, that by
compelling the air to pass circuitously
through the nose and head, it nay be
come warmed before reaching the lungs,
and thus prevent the shocks and sudden
chills which frequently end in pleurisy,
pneumonia, and other serious forms of
disease. Never sleep with the head in
the draft of an open door or window.—
Let more cover be on the lower limbs
than on the body. Have an extra cov
er within easy reach in ease of a sudden
and great change in the weather during
the night. Never stand still a moment
out of doors, especially at street corners,
after having walked even a short dis
tance. Never ride near an open window
of a vehicle for a single half minute, es
pecially if it has been preceded by a
walk ; valuable lives have thus been lost
or good health permanently destroyed.
Never put on a new boot or shoe in the
beginning of a journey. Never wear
India rubber in cold, dry weather. If
compelled to face a bitter cold wind,
throw a silk handkerchief over the face;
its agency is wonderful in modifying the
cold. Those who are easily chilled on
going out of doors, should have some
cotten batten attached to the vest or
other garment, so as to protect the
space between the shoulder-blades be
hind, the lungs being attached to the
body at that point ; a little there is worth
five times the amount over the chest iu
front. Never sit more than five minutes
at a time with the back against the,fire
or stove. Avoid sitting against cushion
in the back of pews in churches ; if the
uncovered board feels cold, sit erect
Without touching it. Never begin a
journey until breakfast has been eaten.
Mier speaking, singing, or preaching in
a warm room in winter, do Dot leave•it
for at tenet ten taiautek . and even thou
close your mouth, put on the gkixo„
wrap up the neck, sad put on cloak or
overcoat before passing out of the d.
the neglect oftlteitehmtidd many a
and useful maw in Intothatttre
Never •a antbyr lkosonnif, ea
pada, ititeempliew alma*, •
• inirtineateket falafel /pa* foe
live-long asslidieuu.
it
toiliteigAsjaitinwnwenttleatel•
Wortre.
"Blessed are the Pure in Heart."
BY WM. H. BUM/C[OEL
They who have kept their spirits' virgin
whiteness
Undimmed by folly and unstained by sin,
And made their foreheads radiant with the
brightness
Of the pure truth whose temple is within—
• - They shall see God.
Freed from the thrall of every sinful passion,
Iround their pathway beams celestial light;
They drink with joy the waters of salvation,
A.ml:in His love whose love is infinitel .
They shall see God..
Though clouds may darken Into storms
around them,
The Promise pours through all ita steady
rays ;
Nor hate can daunt, nor obliquy confound
them.
15or earth's temptations lure them from
the way
That t leads to Goa.
They duel see God ! Oh, glorious fruition
Of all thett hopes and longings here below
They shell see God in beatific vision,
And evermore Into his likeness grow—
Children of God.
So when the measure of their faith Is meted,
And angels: beckon from the courts on
high--
Filled with all grace, the work divine com
pleted,
They shall put on their Immortality,
And dwell with God.
Truth is Stranger than Fiction
The Chicago Journal gives the. fol
lowing sketch from the Police Court in.
that city :
The name of Ellen Welch is called
by the clerk, and forth from the prison
ers' pen walks a disheveled, dirty, halt
drunken woman, led by a policeman,
who escorts her to the box allotted-for
such as she is, between the desks of
the Justice and the Clerk. She is not
old, but she has outlived her discretion
and her virtue.
"You're charged with vagrancy—
guilty or not guilty ?" says the Clerk,
abruptly.
The woman answers sullenly, not
with a pang of conscience, but to save
costs, "Guilty."
The policeman who brought her in is
sworn, and testifies that he found her
upon the street, partially intoxicated, at
au unreasonable lam lie has seen
her so frequently, of late,
and she seem
ed to have no regular home, occupa
tion, nor habits, save those of the Abas
ing kinds.
"Five dollars, and ninety days in
Bridewell. Call the next ;" and, under
this sentence, the poor, depraved Ellen
Welch is removed to make her way for
another "one more unfortunate," and
she is forgotten by the spectators and
the newspaper reporterg within 5 min
utes afterwards_
Were this all that we knew of poor
Ellen Welch, we should never have
cumbered our note-book with the in
cident ; in fact, our left hand neighbor,
who "does" the police sensations for
our street cotemporary utters an
audible
"Pshaw no item there:"
—and runs his pencil savagely through
the unfortunate vagrant's name, which
he had previously noted down.
• 1 4- 4 o item there! Isn't there, indeed?
Listen :* Ellen Welch was the niece of
Daniel O'Connell, the great Irish orator
and agitator, the daughter of his sister
Mary O'Connell :- and Ellen - Welch
could claim as her father the Lord of
Kearney Castle—a man of opulence and
influence in his section of the country.
Ellen had enjoyed all the advantages
that such a tither and his position
could bestow in her youth, but, alas!
in unfortunate hour She bestowed her
young affections upon a man to whom
her father would not give her hand.
He was an officer, but he gave up his
position and persuaded her to elope
with him. Leaving Ireland, they
reached Philadelphia, where they resi
ded one year, when death removed the
husband. His widow subsequently
came to Chicago, where she again mar
ried, but her second husband, too, was
soon taken from her, by drowning.
Thrown upon her own resources, she
maintained herself for a time by her
needle, bat ere long she fell into disrep
utable company, .who defrauded her not
only of her clothing, but also of a quar
terly stipend of $3O which was bestow
ed upon her by her father, through the
agency of the parish priest. Grad
ually she acquired a taste for spirituous
liquors, and then sank deeper
_and
deeper until her degedation became
eomplote• .
We have been in the habit of seem - g
Ellen' at the Police . Court during the
past sixliars, and - what she is to-day
die was when . we int 0* her. Poo- . :
sewing a orotaititntion as tOngh as iron;
it would seem that , naisbaw :diaipaticar
. nor the mast sinonelawringies of de
lassikery, ' Awe ODY::-1111614 Ariiiiir t *
- '; . COUrt :':. ' 1; 7
'...'..„„-:
Alp
now as she .d six yank igk it 4
- - .
=!
cares as little about her distinguished
ancestors as she did three years ago,
when she told us her history, a sketch
of which we then published. Her
statements were substantiated by relia
ble parties, and fully corroborated by a
Catholic priest, to whom her quarterly
allowance was entrusted.
We think it a safe estimate to say
that during the past 8 years she has
spent three-fourths of her time in con
finement. Good natured, jovinl, witty,
and smart, it cannot be that she is wed
ded to such a life, and low as she has
sunk in the social scale, we doubt not
that she might be reformed and unclaim
ed if a helping hand were extended.—
Where are the managers of the Erring
Woman's Refuge
Duration of Life.
With the inheritance of a good con
stitution, and with a rational mode of
life from first to last, undoubtedly the
human race would reach the age of one
hundred years and upwards, in health
and cheerfulness. The natural life of
man appears to be four times as long as
the period of growth, or in other wotds,
growth occupies one quarter of the nat
ural life. The human race, in general,
reach maturity in twenty-five years,
taking males and females together—
males at the age of twenty-eight, fe
males at twenty-two. Bad constitu
tions come to maturity sooner than that,
and remarkably good ones later. Per
sons who live to the age of one hun
dred years and upwards, without at
tention to the rules of health, were no
doubt more than thirty years in grow
ing. The same proportion of life to
growth undoubtedly prevails with all
animals and vegetables, from the endu
ring elephant to the transient butterfly,
and from a spear of grass to.. the big.
trees of California, which are known to
have grown thousands of years, but
whose ages are unknown. By a great
many persons health is ignorantly and
carelessly destroyed. Almost every one
commits slow suicide. Life is short
ened at the rate of about twenty-five
years. Those who die at seventy-five
might have lived twenty-five years
longer.
In the first place, the constitution de
pends on that of the parents. in the
next place, injury to health begins be
fore birth. Whatever injures the moth
er, has the same effects on her unborn
child, as errors in diet, hard work, de
ficient
exercise, care, anxiety, grief, on
governed passions, etc., etc. It is ob
vious
that great prudence on the part of
the prospective mother is doubly im
portant.
After birth, the greatest cause of
sickness, and a short life, especially in
this country, is wrong eating, which in
cludes three faults : too much food, un
wholesome cooking; and an unwhole
some way of eatinc , after it is cooked.—
It is doubtful which of the three faults
does most harm.
Only a little too much food, or that
which is irrationally eaten, deranges the
digestion of the meal, which makes it
self known by unpleasant feelings.—
Overloading the stomach is begun in in
fancy. . Too much food checks the
trrowt3a of the body, and lays the foun
dation of nearly all diseases. Partly
from this cause a great part of the
young men are slender and round
shouldered. A rational abstemiousness
preserves health, cheerfulness, and life,
to a great age. "Eating to live," makes
living to eat, as temperance is a pl',as
ure. In old age the stomach loses in a
great measure its - power _of digestion,
and the food should be lessened accord
ingly. Ardent spirits, by calling forth
all the powers of digestion, wear out
the stomach, and unfit it for food.—
Paregoric, from the opium it contains,
when given freely to infants to quiet
them, dwarfs the body and mind, and
destroys the health.—lnvestigator.
What Judge Edgerton Says at - Idaho.
The Akron (Ohio) Beacon publishes
the substance of a conversation with
Hon. Sidney Edgerton, formerly mem
ber of Congress from this State and now
U. S. Judge in the Territory of Idaho.
He says the population of the Territory
is now about 17,000, brit will probably
reachloo,ooo.by next Dec. For ag
ricultural purposes the valleys are ex
tremely fertile, equaling, if not surpass
ing, any portion of the world for raising
stock. Cattle require no "foddering,"
but run out all winter and become fat
upon the bunch of buffalo grass, which
is very abundant and nutritious. There
are no rains there at all, and in the val
leys comfiaratively but little snow, but
abundant facilities for irrigation, as
mountain streams are very numerous and
never-failing. Large preparations are
being made for agricultural- cultivation
in the valleys of Jefferson, Madison and
Gallatin, and in Bitter Root large herds
of cattle are being raised, and flouring
mills are already in operation.
Of the mineral resources of the Ter
ritory, Judge Edgerton speaks in the
most glowing terms, the country being
hin quartz lodes, bar and gulch dig
.
*nos. There are already two quartz
tndis .
olieratiott p that camein ate in
. the seasim ) both takine out large quan
tities oftowt - two' more on the
:411sy: Tte=barand - ore
aloe y th (mob volio work
tent,- Sabwalliuraniviftetlimmdidir
,vArsviesviislithisabi 3. •ter
E ms
4 qr. die. lookißg calk balm
4
NEW SERIES.---VOL 5, NO. 41.
offered the proceeds of a pan of dirt, if
he would wash it out Minaelf, the
"shake" yielding him the snug little
"pile" of $30,05. A Mr. Hacklay also
invited him to take a "shake" m)t of
his claims, which yielded just s4o.
The Judge exhibited some fine samples
of quartz, nuggets and fine gold, as well
as . some solid bars, the produet,„ ~ef the
quartz, all of which were certainly very
rich specimens of the precious metal.
Want, of cheery Kitchens.
A farmer's wife writes as follows on
this subject in the New England Far
mer. She utters some truths that may
be applicable to more than one house
keeper who reads this.
Very much is written and said-about
pleasant and tastefully furnished parlors,
but the kitchen is left quite in the back
ground, except as it .is described in
stories of the olden times Iwith.ponder
ous beams overhead, from • which hung
festoons of dried pumpkins, apples," &c.
It is too important a part of hometo be
neglected. The parlor must ber a
and airy, and sunshiny ; but the kit
may be everywhere there is room for it,
with a view from curtainless wicilows
of barnyard or the wood pile---no paint
or carpets on the floor, no paper on the
walls, furnished with chairs and tables,
and also with clothes frames and wash
tubs, and a line of dish towels over the
stove, and a row of old hats, coats and
frocks for ornaments. This is a pio
' ture of too many of farmer's kitchinas.—
of the place where we housekeepeTs tx
pect to spend a considerable portion of
our time. No wonder that mothers
look careworn, and that farther's whres•
and daughters complain of their. field
of labor. No wonder that soiled field
morning dress are seen ; for clean call
co, white. collars and smoothe hair,
could never feel at home in a dingy,
cheerless kitchen, and a man who will
not provide a pleasant one, deserves to
take his breakfast every morning oppo
site a slovenly looking wife.
I think now of one cheerful kitclip,
a simple one, to be sure—but the morn
ing sun looks in through woodbine and
roses, and never goes behind the west
ern hills without giving us a good night
glance—and the morning glories love
to peep in and throw their dancing
shadows on the shining floor. The dis
tant views of hills and wood lands rusks
many a weary burden light by its silent
teachings. We sing in such a. kitchen
just because we cannot help singing)
and a sail, heart has no plaCe there.
And now as we, shivering, wrap our
shawls about us, vainly endeavoring
to convince ourselves that wintiti is'not
almost here, yet gladly bring our books
and knitting work around the big cook
stove for the evening, do husbands and
fathers bear my humble plea in behalf,
of the 'suffering sisterhood,' and give
us a Cheery Kitchen.
Sir Wm. Hamilton tells seine marvel
lous stories in his lecture on "Memory."
Ben Jonson could not only repeat at
had written, but whole books he bad
read. Neibuhr in his youth was ein
ployed in one of the public olliett of
Denmark, where part of a book of ac
counts having been lost he restorial it
from his recollection. Seneca coniPhains
of old age, because he cannot- as he
once did, repeat two thousand names
in the order they were read to him;
and avers that on one occasion, when
at his studies, two hundred unconneot
ed verses having been -pronounces by
different pupils of hi 4 preceptor, he re
peated them in a reversed order, pro
ceeding from the last to the first utter
ed; I A. quick and retentive memory,
both of words and things, is 'an inval
uable treasure, and may be had by any
one who will take the pains. Theo
dere Parker, when in the divinity
school, had a notion that his memory
was detective, and needed Jeeking aC
ter, and he had an immense chronoitig
ical chart hung up in his room, and`
tasked himself to commit the contents, •
all the names and dates fromr Adam
and the year one down to' Nimrod,
Ptolemy Soter, Heliogmbulus, sad the
rest.
Our verbal memory soonest fails its
unless we attend to it and keep it froth
and in order. A child will stabs*,
and recite verbatim easier than 'so eclat,
and girls than boys. To keepthe Vett—
bal memory fresh, it is capital exercise.
to study and recite new languages, or
commit and treasure up choice passa
ges, making them a part of our mental
wealth.
A PILL FOR YOUNG LOWNRS.-A gen
tleman of this city, who is a devout
Christian, and the happy fathef, 9f an°
half-a-dozen buxim daughters, Ise ac -
opted a novel expedient for 'bitialtiint
up the practice certain young men lurid
of coming "sparking Sunday night.
He makes each of the young ladies iu
turn read a chapter in the Bible, and
closes the meeting with prayer.—Chica
go Journal.
THE HEIGHT OR NIAGARA Sui
—A detachment of troops reesPilki
scouting in the valley of theillatalee , fork
of the Columbia river, ms's '
waterfall which is perhaps the real*
itt the world. The entire ireittees r;e4 -
eke Bunke river pows erne Refill Ili*
shear pets ipke. Lee fi1t41164 cet -
k than Nimm.,
Memory.
ME
F'