113 no nii n g icmonat. HARVEY SICKLES., Publisher VOL. VIII. illijomiitg fJmiitrat A Democratic weekly _ •voted to Poit - lin New?, the Arts j u j >eienees.te. I'uli- *1 lTT"" r-' / iiiiei -very W e lues- ilogjggt. j it funkhannock HARVEY SICKIER I'crai* -i ""py I y e ar, in adv.inre) >2,00 ; if a paid within six mouths, #2.50 will be charged V 0 paper will be DISCONTINUED, until all are rearajtiwe paid; unless at the option of puldi RATES OF ADVERTISING TEN USES CONSTITUTE A SQUARE. "ue -quare one or three insertions 51.50 livery Mt'osequt nt insertion lew than 9 50 KKAL ESTATE, PERSONAL PBOPKRTV, and GKLEIUL ADVERTISING, as mav he agreed upon. PATENT MEDICINES and other advertisements i>y the column : One column, 1 year, Half column, I year j™ "lhird column, 1 year, Fourth column, I year, 20 ilusilitss Cards of one square or less, per year ith paper, *9 R >F EDITORIAL or LOCAL ITEM advertising—with uYAdvertisement—ls els. per tine. Liberal terms n i.de with permnncnt advertisers. EXECUTORS, ADMINISTRATORS and AUDI TOR'S NOTICES, of the usual length, $2,30 OBITUARIES,-exceeding fen lines, each; RELI GIOUS and LITERARY NOTICES, not of general uteres!, or.e half tne regular rates. * :s?* Advertisements must be banded in BV TUES AY Noes, to insure insertion the same week. J OIL WORK tali kinds netly executed aftd at prices to suit tie time?. \!1 TRANSIENT ADVERTISEMENTS and JOB WORK must he paid fur, when ordered Business Notices. I) lI.A n E LIITLL ATTORNEYS Al I i LAW Office on Tioga Street Tunkhanuoek i'a I j B.COOPBB, PHYSICIAN. A SORGLoN i L. Newton Centre. LuzernoCounty i'a. / \ 1., FAIRHH, ATTORNEY AT LAW. V/• Offi-e at the Court House, in Tunkhauoek b. vt.iuing Co. Fa. i U T >i. Fia'lt, ATTORNEY ATLAW of-1 tec in Stark's Lrie k Block Tioga St., Tunk r. i: nock, I'a. • J CHASb, ATTORNEY AND COUNSEL i ? LOU AT LAW, Nicholson, Wyoming Co-, Pa L-j e rial attention given to settlement of deco ari.i's estates .?, m Pa., Dec.s. ISfi"— v7nl9yl AT J. ITILMI, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Col Al • iecting and Real Lotate Agent. lowa Lands : i . sale. SciunO'U, Pin. 1011. I . SrERIIOCT A DEWITT, Attorneys' at Law—j v> Office, opposite the Bank, Tunkhannock, Pa. I P M. OsTKUIIOUT. G. B, DEWITT : t W, RROAIM,PHYSICIAN A SURGEON, J. will at.end promptly to ail calls in his pro :c. -.on. May he found at his Office at tho Drug .re, or at his residence on l'utmau Sroct, formerly c tipieJ hy A. K. Peckham Esq. DENTISTRY. f| R. L. T. BURNS ' U has pcrmanent — . V lj located in Tunk Hsnock Borough E' • ' "gSp and respectfully ~&t $$ t-'jr tender? hi? profes \ TJi i jj. ~~ir sional services to 0.-flce en second floor of NEW JEWELRY STORE, on TIOGA St. vS-nIS-6ra. PACIFIC HOTEL, 17J, 172, 174 X 170 Greenwich Street Nil lex lit ABOVE CORTLANDT STREET, NEW YORK.) I The unpersigned takes pleasure in annonncing to i - nuincnuts friends and patrons that from this the charge of the Pacific will tie $.2.50 PER DAY. E>-.ne M.le Proprietor of this house, and therefore | fr. ir .ai tiie too common exaction of an inordinate i -••• \ ! i- tit7l > able to meet the downward tenilen- ; -i . i prices without any tailing oft'of service. : It will now. us heretofoie, be his aim to maintain , i.iimished the favorable reputation of the Pacific, *lii< i. it ha? enjoyed tor many years, as one of the b-.-t of travelers' hotels. .Hi: 1 ABLE will be bountifully supplied with n- r. delicacy of the season. nil ATTENDANCE will be found efficient and ; MOHMK. THE LOCATION will be toiin.l convenient for ■l. business calls them in the lower part of " ■ iiy. and of ready access to all Kail Koajl and v- tin boat Line?. JOHN PATTEN. Oct loth 1868. nIS fim. HUFFORD HOUSE. TUNKHANNOCK. WYOMING CO., PA r PHIS ESTABLISHMENT HAS RECENTLY 1 i.een refilled and furnished in the latest style, i icry attention will be given to the comfort and ' Tivenience of those who putronire the House. 11, HUFFORD. Proprietor. ' T U! niioek, I'a., Juue 17, 1368—v7n1l . BOLTON HOUSE. IIAKIIISIIUIiG, PKNNA. Tli? undersigned having lately purchased the BUEHLER HOUSE " property, has already com menced such alterations and improvements as will leader this old and popular House equal, if not supe rior, to any Hotel in the City of Harrisburg. \ continuance of the public patronage is refpeet faiiy solicited. GEO. J. BOLTON WALLS HOTEL, LATE AMERICAN HOUSE, rUN'KII \N'XC)C'K, WYOMING CO., PA. Till- 1 establishment has recently been refitteJ an 4 furnished in tbe latest style Every attention ,( i to the comfort itnd convenience of those patronise the Houe. T 1J \VA LL, Owner anerstition, Sin and suffering would übound. Yea, it is the busy printer Rolls the ear of knowledge on, And a gloomy metal winter Soon would reign if he were gone. Money's useful, yet the winters Fill not half so high a place As tbe busy, toiling printers. Fingering typo before the case. Yet while tho typo they're busy setting, Oft some thankless popinjay, Leaves the country, kindly letting Printers whistle for their lmy. Oh ! ingratitude ungracious ! • Are there on enlightened soil— Men with minds so incapacious As to slight the printer's toll t Sec him ! how extremely busy, Fingering type before the case, Toiling, till he's almost dliiy, To exalt the human race. STRONGER.— After the election of LStH the Democrats had the Governor of but a single State in the Union, Delaware.— Bramlette, of Kentucky, was not then a Democrat, having been elected by what was called the "Union" party. After the election of ISGB, w have the Governors of Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Dela ware, Maryland, Kentucky and California. Me have also recovered the State of Oregon which cast its vote for Seymour, and the States of Georgia and Louisiana, by im mense majorities. These three States will have Democratic Governors in auotlier year, which w ill give us the control of the executive power in ten States. This shows the recuperative energy of the Democracy. Next year we shall defeat Geary, which will bring Pennsylvania once more into line. M'e are growing stronger. Courage, Democrats! Forward in the good cause ! Now is the time for effective work. Your neigbors" heads are cool nt present. Talk with them.— Ex. A FAIR TUBS*. — "I understand, Mr. Jones, that you can turn anytningeater than any other man in tow n. " "Yes, Mr. Smith. 1 think so." "Ahem ! Mr. Jones, I don't like to brag, but there is nobody on earth can turn a thing as well as I can whittle." "Pooh ! nonsense, Mr. Smith ! Talk about whittling—what can you whittle as nice as I can turn ?" "Anything—every tiling, Mr. Jones. You just name the article that I can't whittle that you can turn, and I will give this dol lar if I do not do it to the satisfaction of these gentlemen present. " { Here Mr. Smith tables the dollar.) "Ahem ! Well, then, Mr. Smith, suppose we take two grindstones, just for a trial, you know—you whittle the one while I turn the other." A fair "sell." Mr. Smith started a mo ment, and vamosed. The forfeited dollar was quickly disposed of by those present, with great glee and satisfaction. *aTAt one time a woman coultl Larilly walk through the streets of San Francisco without having every one pause and gaze on her, and a child was so rare, that once in a theatre in that city where a wo man had taken her infant, when it be gan to cry, just as the orchestra commen ced to play, a man ia the pit cried, "Stop those tiddles and let the baby cry. I have not heard such a sound in ten years." The audience applauded the sentiment, the or chestra stopped and the baby continued its performance, amid unbounded enthusiasm. " To Speak his Thoughts is Every Freeman's Right. " MARY MOORE. A PLEASANT LOVE STOEY. All my life-long I had known J{ury Moore. All my life hud loved her. Our mothers were playmates and first cousins. My first recollections of u boy, in a red frock and inorrocco shoes, rocking a cradle in which reposed sunny-haired blue eyed baby, not quite a year old. That boy was myself—Harry Church ; that blessed baby was Mary Moore. Later still, I see myself at the little school house, drawing my little chair up to the door that Mary might ride home. Many a beating have I gained on such occassions for other boys besides me liked her, and she, I fear was something of a flirt, even in her pinafore. How elegantly she came tripping down the steps when I called her name ! How sweetly her blue eyes looked at me ! • How gaily rang out her merry laugh ! No one but Marry could ever bring her heart so soon to her lips. I followed that laugh from the days of my chilhood till I grew an awkward, blushing youth—l followed it though the heated noon of man-, hood—and now, when the frosts of ago are j silvering my hair , and muuy children . climb upon my knee and call me "father," i I tiud that the memories of youth are yet, strong, and that, even in gray hairs, 1 am i following the music still. When I was fifteen the first great sorrow of my life came upon my heart. 1 was sent to school, and was obliged to part with Mary. We were not to see etu-h otln-r for three long years. This, to me, was like a sentence of death, for Mary was like life it self to me. IJtit hearts are tough tilings nfter all. 1 left college in all the flush and vigor of my nineteenth t ear. L had grown into a tall, slender strippling, with a very good opinion of myself, both in general and par ticular. If I thought of Mary Moore it was to image how I could dazzle and bewilder her with my good looks and wouderful mental attainments, and never thinking sin- might dazzle me still more. I was a coxcomb, I knew but as youth and good looks liavc fled, I trust that I i s be be, lieved when 1 say, that self-conceit has left me also. An advantageous proposal was made me at'tliat time, and accepting it, !. gave up all idea of a profession, and prepared to go t>> Imba. In my hurried visit home for two days, I saw nothing of Mary Moore.— She had gone to a boarding-school at some distance, and was not expected home until the following May. 1 uttered out a sigh to the memory of my little blue-eyed play mate, and then called myself a man In a year, I thought, as the vehicle whirled away from our door, iu a year, or three years at the very most, I will return and if Mary is as pretty as she used to be why, then, perhaps, I may marry her. And thus I settled tho future of a young lady whom I had not seen for four years.— I never thought of the possibility of Iter re fusing me—never dreamed that she would not condescend to accept mv offer. But now I know that, had Mary *uot me then site would have dispised me. Perhaps in the scented stud nt she might have found plenty of sport; but as for loving me, I should perhaps have found myself mista ken. India was my salvation, not merely because of my success, but because my la borious industry had counteracted the evil in my nature, and has made me a better man. M'heu at tin- end of three years I prepared to return. I said nothing of the reformation of myself wlTieli I knew had taken place. They loved me as I was, I murmured to myself, and they find out for themselves whether lam better worth loving than for merly. I packed up many a token from that land of romance and gold, for the friends I had hoped to meet; the gift for Mary Moore, I selected with a beating heart; it was a ring of virgin gold, with my name and Iter's engraved inside—that was all, and yet tin sight of the little toy strangely thrilled inc as I balanced it upon the tip of my linger. To the eyes of others it was but a small, plain circlet suggesting some thoughts, perhaps by its elegance, of the beautiful white hand that was to wear it. But not to me—how much was embodied there —all these delights were hidden within that lit tle ring of gold. Tall, bearded and sun-bronzed, I knock ed at the door of my father's house. The lights in the parlor window, and the hum of conversation and clieeful laughter show ed me that company was assembled tnere. I hoped that sister Lizzie would come to the door, and I might greet my family when no strange eye was looking careless ly on. But uo—a servant answered my summons. Tliey were too merry iu the parlor to heed the long absent one who asked for admit tance. A bitter thought like this ran through my mind as I heard the sound from the parlor and saw the half-suppress ed smile on the servant's face. I hesitated a moment before making my self known or asking for any of the family. And while I stood silent a stranger appa rently grew up before me ; from behind ; the servant peered out a small golden head a tiny delicate form followed and a sweet | childish face, with blue eyes was lifted to mine—so like those of one who had bright ened my boyhood, that I started with a sudden feeling of pain. "What is your name, my pretty?" I asked, while the wondering servant held the door. "Mary Moore." "And what else ? " I asked quickly. She lifted her hands to shade her eyes.— ! I had seen that very attitude in another, in my boyhood, many and many a time—and : she answered in a sweet, birdlike voice : "Mary Moore Chester," lisped the child. My heart sunk down like lead. Here | was an end to all the bright hopes of my ; youth and manhood. Frank Chester, my I boyish rival, who often tried in vain to usurp my place beside the girl, had suc ! eeeded at last, and had won her away from me. Tins was the child—his child and Mary's. I sank, body and soul, beneath this blow , and hiding my face in my hands, leaning against the door, while my heart wept tears |or blood. The little one gazed at me, ! grieved and amazed, and put up her pretty lips as if about to cry, while the |>erpleied : servant stepped to the parlor door, and called my sister out to see who it was that ! j conducted himself so strangely. I heard I a slight step and a pleasant voice say- I I I "Did you wish to see my father, sir ?" I looked up. There stood a pretty sweet i ! faced maiden of twenty, and much chang- i oil front the dear little sister I had loved so ! well. T looked at her for a moment, and j then stilling the tempest of my heart, by a mighty effort, I opened mv arms and said : * "Lizzie, don't vou know me ?" "Harry! oh, my brother Harry!"she cried, and threw herself upon my breast. Sin- weft as if her heart would break. I could not weep. I drew her gently in to t lie lighted parlor, and stood with her before them all. There was a rush and cry of joy, and then my father and my mother sprang to ward-? mi-, and welcomed me home with heartfelt tears. Oh. how sweet such a greeting to the way-worn traveler' And as I held my dear old mother to my breast and grasped my father's hand while Lizzie clung beside. 1 felt that all was not yet lost, and although another had secured life's eho'e st blessing many a joy remained for iu" in tic dear sanctuary of home. Tin re were four other inmates of the room, who had risen on my sudden en trance. One was the blue-eyed child whom i had already seen, and who stood beside Frank Chester, clinging to his hand. Near by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary's eldest sister and in a distant corner, to which she had hurriedly retreated, when my name was spoken, stood a tall and slender figure, half hidden by the heavy window curtains that fell to the floor. Mlien the flrst rapturous greeting was over. Lizzie led me forward with a timid grace, and Frank Chester grasped my hand. "M'elcomct home my boy !" he said with loud oheeful tones I remember it well.— "You have changed so that I would have never known you, but no matter about that—your heart is in the right place I know." "How can you say he is changed?" said my mother, gently, "to lie sure, lie looks older, and graver and more like a man than when he went away; but his smiles aitd eyes are the same as ever. It is a heavy heart that changes him. He is mv liov still." Heaven help me ! At that moment I felt like a boy, and it would have been a blessed relief to have wept ou her bosom, tts I had done in infancy. But I kept down the Is-ating of my heart and the tremor of my lip, and answered quietly as I looked full in his handsome face.— "Quit have changed, too, Frank, but I think for the better." "Oh, yes, —thank you for the compli ment," he answered with a hearty laugh.— "My wife tells me I grow handsomer ev ery day." His wife. Could I hear that name and keep silence still V "And have you seen my little girl ?" he added, lifting the infant in his arms, and kissing her crimson cheek. "I tell you, Harry, there is not such another in the world. Don't you think she looks very much like her mother used to ? " "Very much ! " I faltered. "Hallo !" cried Frank with a suddenness which made me start violently. "I have forgotten to introduce you to my wife ;I believe she and you used to be playmates in your younger days—yes Harry !" and he slapped me on the back, "for the sake of old times and because you were not at the wedding, 1 will give you leave to kiss her once—but mind old fellow you are not to repeat tlie ceremony. Come, here she is, and I for one want to see how you will manage the operation." He pushed Lizzie, laughing and blushing towards me. A gleam of light and hope, almost too dazzling to bear, came "over me, and I cried out before I thought. "Not Mary." I must have betrayed my secret to every one in the room. But nothing was said, even Frank, in general so obtuse, was this time silent. I kissed the fair cheek of the young wife, and hurried to the silent figure looking out of the window. "Mary—Mary Moore," I said in a low, eager tone, "have you no welcome to give to a wanderer ? " She turned and laid her hand in mine, and said hurriedly— . | "I am glad to see you here, Harry." Simple words, and yet how blessed they made me. I would not have yielded her | ui) that moment for an emperor's crown.— ! For there was the happy home group and ! the dear fire-side with sweet Mary Moore, i The eyes I had dreamed of by day and night, were fallen beneath the ardent gaze i of mine, and the sweet face I had so long j prayed to see was there beside me. I never - knew the meaning of happiness, until that : moment. Many years have passed since that happy night, and the hair that was dark and glossy then, is fast turning gray. I am now grown to be an old man, and c-an look back to a happy, and I hope well-spent life.— i And yet, sweet as it has been, I would not recall a single day, for the love that made jmy manhood so bright, shines also upon i my white hairs. An old man ? Can this be so? At heart 11 am as young as ever. And Mary, with j her bright hair parted smoothly from a i brow that has a slight furrow upon it. is j still the Mary of other days. To me she t can never grow old or changed. The heart ! that held her infancy, and sheltered her in ! the flush and beauty of womanhood, can j never cast her out until life shall cease to j warm it. Not even then, for love still lives above. A WATCH TRICK. The following adroit trick was recently played upon the frequenters of an English \ illage inn : A genteelly dressed man walked in and professed to be tired. Having taken re freshments, lie said he would like to take a nap for an hour. To sleep he went, and in a very business-like way, in a chair, and a sound nap he seemed to enjoy. Before it expired the usual somke-pipe company be gan to drop in, and, among the rest, two strangers made their appearance. One of the company remarked that it was un pleasant to have a man sleeping in a pu! .li<- room with valuable property about him. such as the sleeper, who had a fine-looking gold chain displayed on his waistcoat, and apparently connected with a watch in one of his pockets. To this remark one of the strangers replied : "Pooh ! that's no gentleman, I'm sure ; he's one ov them ere swell snobs as is al ways a takin' ov the people in. I dare say he has no watch at all ; but I'll soon see." Suiting the action to the word, the stran ger softly drew from the sleeping man's pocket a piece of wood, round and about the size of a watch. "I thought so," said he ; "there's a pret ty watoli for you," holding it up so that the company might see it. and then returned it to the owner's pocket. By-and-by the sleeper awoke, and called briskly for a glass of brandy and water. He assumed a patronizing way with the farmers, which soon raised a desire to put him down. Accordingly one of the seni ors required to lie informed tfce time of day. "MTiv," said the gentleman, "the fact is, I had a drop too much last night, and for got to wind up my watch." "Just so !" ejaculated the senior, "you forgot to wind it up ? You'd lie puzzled to do that. I should say : wouldn't you now ?" "M'ell, sir, you seem to take more no tice of such a trifle than there is any call for ; but the truth is. I have not a watch key about me, and mine is rather a peculi ar watch." Here a burst of Laughter ensued, and a number of jokes were passed nbout the pe culiar style of the watch. At last one ol the company loudly told him that he had no watch at all about him ; whereupon the amazed individual hastily clapped his hand to his waistcoat pocket, declaring that, un less the watch had been stolen since he had been in the room, he had one. Satisfied, apparently, by the external application to his pocket, he said : "It's all right; my watch is here; I thought you had been playing a trick with me." "IU bet you five pounds you have no watch," bawled out one of his tormentors. Another offered to bet liim ten pounds; and one of the strangers said he hadn't five, but there were two sovereigns which he would like to double by betting in the same wav. The awakened looked at them in appar ent surprise, and asked if they were seri- ous. They all stuck to it that he had no watch, and then he took out his purse and pro duced five and ten-pound notes to the amount of bets offered him. The stakes were posti-d, and then the thoroughly awa kened sleeper coolly pulled out the piece of wood, at which a hoarse laugh arose again. The laughter was soon on the other side, when, touching a spring in the bit of wood, it flew open and disclosed a very handsome gold watch enclosed within it. The gentleman gave a very plausible rea son for preferring so odd-looking a ease for lii's watch, with which his dupes might feel satisfied or not. He had received their money to the extent of £4O ; and they had bought their knowledge of the "time of day." TERMS, $2.00 Per. ANNUM, in Advance 10. 21. MATTERS IN WHICH THE LADIES TAKE NO INTEREST P LOVE.—The strongest passion of the hu nian heart, is the one most lightly regard ed and most stoutly denied. How many , thousands of beings are victims of the pow , er of love ! The current of how many lives have been changed for better or for worse by that subtle power, which the whole world pretends to scoff at, to deny, and to j ridicule ! The shallowness, superficiality, and hypocrisy of the age cannot be better . illusted, than by its claim to a sort of stoi . cal indifference on the subject of love. - - Speak of a young gentleman as being prob ably in love with a certain lady, and he re plies with some coarse, unfeeling remark, the effect of which is to impress his hearer with the idea of his contempt for a senti ment wliieh may even then be shaping the course of his future life. He is ashamed, indeed, of being even suppected of enjoy - i ing that dearest feeling of the human heart. | A< soon would he be charged with the 1 -art's summer flowers of the hearth, who is alone, without wife, or child, or is indeed a - tranger in a strange land ; and yet how many such wanderers roam about ov< :• the earth, seeking, but never finding, that rest and sweet peace for which the soul cries aloud in its sadness ! Paine, the author of that beautiful song, "Homo, Sweet Home," was one such. No home's happy door op ued its welcome invitation to receive the sad spirit which pined for its rest, and its loving, and its cares. Ho was a liomch -.s wanderer in the world, and died ultimately in a strange land, unknown and uucarctl for : but his soul cries aloud for "home, sweet home," and thousands of hearts feel the yearning and answer his sad spirit, by intuitive responses, wliero ever his sweet song is sung. YorxHFt i. MAIUUAGE.—There is a great diversity of opinion on the subjeet of youthful or early marriages ; but we think this difference i* attributable to a want of sufficient knowledge' of philosophy, the character of the races, climatic influence, and other matters upon which theubject rests. We d; not believe that in the Uni ted States early marriages are best, partic ularly in the Northern, Eastern, or West ern States : while in tropical countries, there can be no surer moral code invoked than that of youthful or early marriages. In all cold cimates, it is well known that mankind • develop less rapidly but enjoy greater longevity than in tropical climates, where all nature is luxuriant, of rapid de velopment. and where life-time is confined to a briefer period than elsewhere. A girl of sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, or even twelve years (if age, is a ripe woman in the tropic*. In the States, at sixteen young lodic-, are only contemplating mar riage ; while at twelve, tlioy ore but chil dren : in the tropics they arc mothers with one or more ehildrc n. In the States, the woman of thirty is in the prime of life ;in the tropics she is past middle age. or re garded as veil advancing. Yet the climate rule is not absolute; for there are, no doubt, hundreds of girls fully developed in our land, competent to make good mothers at fifteen, but they are rare cases compared with poplation, and may oftenest be found in the Southern portion of the Union. But the question of early marriage is not con fined to this country, but has elicited com ment and critical examination in England and elsewhere. In Scotland marriages of tliis kind are unusually rare, although in that happy kingdom minors are not re quired to obtain the consent of their guar dians before slipping on'the matrimonial noose. The census returns of 1861 show that in Byston -US husbands and 175 wives were married at the age of 15 and under. Bromley 51 husbands and 117 wives of the same precocious age. Stockport, as a local journal wrote, "assorted its proud pre-emi nence" by contributing to the census re turns 59 husbands and 179 wives who were united before birth-day had passed. We believe, however, that it is best for wojaen not to take the responsibil ity of becoming mothers until eighteen uud past, and experience proves that the heal thiest and happiest mothers and grand mothers are those who, as a general tiling, married long past twenty. But we do not believe that girls will approve of this ad vic*.