il ~~:; ISI `!..4lPhi r gli t ißl24o •••-• • ••• • . 11. I iree, , Me., 6 moo. 1 yr. 0710 . - 1.30 200 000 1000 ...21/otes .200 .3.60' 10 0 0 1600 TAN*Utres 4 : 60 210 1603 am squ. ad) IEOO 20.10 45.30 r latgolurint lken •20,:0 SAUD 411 X oorCol • 1 M &IS - or .. 42 • Prdturld • Oillticards *LW per lino per year. AdmintstratOrra cud Auditor'', Notices, . air. Volleem p 23 rents per l!ao let Ineertlon, 13 cents per line each untruiritudit Insertion; , • ' Tea lines %Die crotirtituto e'ruunre. WILLS & IREDELL, Panuenens. ALX,EN'4'OWN; PA. t•, " Bu be good, won't we, moder?" An rom off my lap he slid, Digging deep among the gOodies In his crimson stockings Lid ; While I turned me to my table, Where a tempting goblet stood, Brimming high with dainty egg 7 nog,, Bent me by a neighbor good. • But the kitten, there before me, With his whiteraw, nothing loth, fiat, by 'tray of entertainment; Slapping oil tho shining froth ; And In not the gentlest humor, At the loss of such a treat, I confess I rather rudely Thrust him out into the street. Then how Bcnule's blue eyes kindled ! Gathering up the precious store Bo had busily been pouring In his tiny pinafore ; With a generous look that shamed me, Sprang he from the carpet bright, Showing, by his mien indignant, All a baby's sense of right. "Came back, Hanley," called he loudly, As he held Ms apron white; " You shall have my eandy.wabblt !" But the door was fastened tight ; So he stood, abashed and silent, In the centre of the floor, With a defeated look, alternate Benton me and on the door. And while eagerly his bright eyes Watched the flames go higher and higher, Inn, brace, clear key he shouted, Like some lordly little elf, " Banta Kays come down de chimney, Make my moder 'have hereof!" "I will be a good girl, Bennie," Bald I, feeling the reproof, And straightway recalled poor Harney, Mewing on the gallery roof. Boon the anger was forgotten— Laughter chased away the frown, And they played beneath the live oaks Till the dusky night came down. In my dim, tire-lighted chamber, Harney purred beneath And my playwomWlZ:tido Knelt to say his evening prayer : . "God bens fader, God bees moder, God bees slster"—thon a pause, And the sweet young lips devoutly Murmured, "God best Santa Rause." Ho Is sleeping—brown Mul silken Lie the lashes long and meek, Like caressing, clinging shadow' On his pimp and peachy check And I bend above him, weeping Thankful tears—O, undefiled For a woman's crown of glory, For the blessing of a child ! • • WRY AUNT MARY - NEVER MARRIED. Aunt Mary, was what the world called an "old maid ;" but to those whokuew her best, she was l the dearest and best aunt in the world ; and many a time used we to inquire, " Why is Aunt Mary an old maid ?" But some how we could never get a very definite answer ; and we came to consider it a forbidden sub ject yet were certain that there was some cause _for it all. Aunt Mary was our mother's only sister, and she lived alone at the old farm-house, where her parents had lived and died ; and yet hard ly alone, for there was Ellen, " the maid of all work," and Joe who worked the farm, and then we girls and Brother Tons used to visit , there, once in a while, as an especial reward L. for good conduct. She was probably forty years of age; though she did not look so old, still retaining much of her former beauty. Her's was a gentle, quiet manner, and she was one of those kind of people who accomplish so much with so little noise. Her dark brown hair was always brushed smoothly back from her pale forehead and bound In a coil at the back of her exquisitely shaped lMad. Her dress was invariably plain and neat, and without ornaments. 'Yt was nearly a year since I had visited at Aunt Mary's, and it was almost Thanksgiving . day, when my mother received a letter from __._her inviting_us_all _to-spend that day-at - her house. Unfortunately my parents had already accepted a pressing invitationto visit, an uncle on my father's side, and were obliged, though reluctantly, to decline that from Aunt Mary ; but after a great amount of coaxing on our part thiy consented to allow Mille sister Haile and myself to accompany Brother Tom, there, In the carryall. We left home in high glee and after a three hours, pleasant ride through the clear November air, reached aunt's . the day before Thanksgiving, We found her looking for us, though she was considerably disappointed in not seeing onr ' parents, but declared, as she marshaled u 3 into the house and helped to remove our wrappers, that "we would have the happiest Thanksgiv ingof any of them ;" and to increase our plea mire, if that were possible, she informed us that some distant relatives of ours were' also coming to spend the d'hy, and would be there that evening ; so we would have quite a party after all. Just before dark they arrived—two skis a little older than Myself, and it boy of about Tom's age.. . • . _ _ • . ' . • , . „.., - . . • " ~,r •.•-d •; -t, '...-; w,:i . ••:, ; za. :••,: , .. • '.. •': ; • tillhil •.•' - - • ... ;'' - - * -...• ' . • . ' . . - -* ' . . . • • . . . .. . . , ..., . , VOL. XXIII. Aunt Mary hndbeen busy all day in super ntonding.preparations for tho:following (lay ; and such preparations were never made before. Such a time as Joe, the hired man, had killing urkeys and geese ; and then Ellen was up to ter elbows In raisins, preserves and jellies all day while such unheard of puddings and such wonderful pies as came out, from under the dexterous hands of Aunt Mary were a perfect marvel of cookery. We really thought she was making preparations on a scale of such magnitude that she might have furnished a whole neighborhood with a Thanksgiving din We children had gathered In the huge old sitting-room, just after supper, waiting for Aunt ➢Lary to finish the preparations for the morrow still going on in the kitchen, when the conversation, naturally enough, turned on the excellencies of our hostess, and all ugreea that there was never anybody equal to Aunt Mary. " What is the reason ?" said Edith, one of the girls, finally, in a half-whisper, "that she was never married ?" " I think," answered Brother Tom, stoutly, that it's because there was never anybody good enough for her to marry:" "And I guess," piped in little Katie, "that she had to take care of grandpapa and grand mamma, and that's the reason." All of us, in turn, suggested a reason, and still were satisfied with none of them, until some one proposed that we ask her, to which we alj,consented, and I was selected as the one best suited to perform that delicate task. At last the thanksgiving arrandements were all completed; and Aunt Mary came in and seated hersplf with us. As Boon as an oppor tunity presented itself, I ventured to say : " Aunt Mary, will you please tell us a sto ry. ?" • " A story, Susie ! What shall I tell you about 4" "Yes, yes I tell us I tell us I" all exclaimed, QOM In a moment I regretted that I had made such a request, for Aunt Mary's usually pale face,grew suddenly paler, and she turned her .head to conceal her emotion. She sat a few moments struggling to overcome the feelings our thoughtless wards had awakened; then turned toward us and said, in a more solemn tone than I had over heard her use : "Yes, children I will tell you the story of my life, and I trust the recital will prove a lesson to you all." Drawing her chair to one side of the huge brick fire-place, where the fire-light no longer shone in her face, and taking up her knitting work, she began : " It is almost twenty years since the events lam about to relate occurred, and yet they are as fresh in my mind now as they were then, and their memory will go with me all through life. I was then called beautiful, and I knew it, and was very proud. My parents often re proved me for my vanity, but with little effect. I loved admiration, and took every means to win it, I bad a great many suitors, and began to imagine that I had only to say the word to bring any one I wished to my feet; but as yet I had.neyerinet_onfi.that swit.A taste, arid so I continued my unwomanly pm thne of winning hearts only to cast them aside. "One Fourth of July I was invited to at- tend a picnic and celebration some miles from home, and as I never missed the opportunity of going where I should be admired, I, of course, accepted it. " Soon after reaching the grounds a friend ofinind approached me and :laid, In a light tone: . Come, Mary : I wish to introduce you to the orator of the day, Mr. George Turner ;' nud she took my arm and led me toward a dis tant part of the grove. " It was customary, some years ago, to hold picnics for the purpose of listening to public speakers, and the one in question was not only as I afterwards learned to celebrate the anni- versary of our national independence, but also to listen to all address to be delivered by a young graduate from a neighboring college. " Wlo is this hero r I asked, laughingly, as Louisa pulled me along. "'Why he is a young fanner who has edu cated himself, and worked his way through college. Everybody says Via sure to,.distin guish himself, though lie is quite poor now. You will be sure to like him when you Come to hear him speak,' she exclaimed with enthu: siasm ; and then laughingly added, in a lower tone, expect nothing else than love at first sight,. on both sides.' " Don't be foolih,' I said, pretending to be very angry, though in fact I Telt quite elaWl at the -thought that I was to have the chare o make another conquest " By this time we had reached the stand, near which the orator stood, and, while wait- ing for a chance to be presented, I had a good Opportunity of noticing his appearance which was very striking. He was about twenty three years old, tall and symetrically formed ; his dark, curly hair shaded a brow of peculiar breadth and phrenological development ; his countenance was the most expressive one ever beheld, and his calm blue eye seemed a deep and fathomless as the waves of the se Ills face was not really handsome, but it w one of those which once seen is never for ten—ono that almost seems to bear 11 nark of divinity. I heard him speak • .ns voice was clear as a flute, an i,„ a remarkable fullness, and there neve Gas heard, mingled with its utterances, a t cordant sound. " We were Presen •d to each other, and were soon in conv rsation. instead of the foolish nothings that most men address to wo men—as though they were a species of talka tive magpie, incapable ofappreciating anything beyond a lap-dog or the last novel—his words were full of deep and intelligent meaning, and at once charmed and interested the listener. • " Before I went home that evening I knew that I met my destiny. " A--few days after Mr. Turner called at our house, and soon became a frequent visitor. He seemed to be aware of my feelings—to read them intuitively—and instead of the flatteries of my former suitors, he was continually sug gesting impiovements. Thls'plqued me more than I can tell. I had thought •to bring him to my feet, and yet somehow he never Was a suitor in the sense of the word that others had been." • "One day—it was the one before Thanks giving—ho' surprised me by saying, abruptly : ": Mary, will you marry me V " Had a thunderbolt fallen at my feet, it would have taken me no more by surprise,. yet I had long been conscious of Mr. Turner's feelings toward myself ; but none of my for mer lovers had ever addressed me: in such a :matter-of-fact way, and my heart rebelled at being thus taken by storm ; and I exclaimed petulantly . . • " Don'tbe a fool, Mr. Turner and snatch .ed my hand, which ho had taken in his, away, walked to the window and stood looking • out upon the lawn. " I expected ho would follow ALLENTO VN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 13, 1869 me and renew his suit'; buthe I no such thing, though I was consch u le s d look ingv at me a few moments, ho I would no tur i my head. Standing there in my fordish pride, driimming on the pane, I was casting away the happiness of a lifetime. Suddenly he turned from the room, and in a moment Inure I saw him passing down the graveled walk. "At first I was on the point of calling him back, and if he had once loolibid toward the casement at which I stood I should lone done so. But he ilnly walked through the little gate and strode 'rapidly down the road. As lie passed the window, I saw that his face was as pale as death. " I waited the next day expectantly, and a hundred times glanced down the road, in hopes to see him coming ; but he did not come, and Le has never come. I never saw him again. "A few days after I learned he had sailed for Europe. I have not even heard his name for many years." Aunt Mary ceased, and wiped awaY the tears that stood in her eyes. After a few minutes of silence, little Katie asked : "And if he.had come back, Auntie, should you have said `yes?' " Yes, darling,'' Aunt Mary replied, ns she took the little one up and kissed her. " Mary," spoke a deep bass voice behind us, at which we all sprang to our feet, and standing in the doorway was a stranger who MO noise lessly entered as we were listening to Aunt Mary's story. • At the sound of the name she had started to her feet and stood as pale as marble, staring at the apparition. The stranger took a step forward, saying, " I have come to ask you again ; darling, will you say yes ?" • "Yes," faintly answered she, and in an in stant'she was weeping in his arms. In a few moments she gently disengaged herself and presented the stranger as the hero of the story. • The rest is soon told. Mr. Turner, believing he hail been mistaken in thinking his jafrection was returned, had gone to Europe, filially amassed a fortune, and had made his home in England. Alew months before Thanksgiving party,he had met in Lon don an old acquaintance, -from whom he had learned that Mary had never married. Ile guessed the truth and returned. On reaching the old farm-house his repeated knocks had failed to awaken a response : and he entered the house in time to hear the conclusion of Aunt Mary's story, with the result which the reader already knows. He declared that thefliad both lost so much time that they ought to.delay no longer, and the next day before we sat down to dinner, a certain interesting ceremony was performed by which Aunt Mary was no longer an " old maid," and for every one of us, I'll venture to say, it was the happiest Thanksgiving we ever enjoyed. And every year since when the good time approaches. the memory returns of " Aunt Mary's Thanksgiving." • ASA PACKER EIADMa6}I Anthracite coal was first used in the Wyo ming Valley, Pennsylvania, in the year 1708. A blacksmith, whose , name is unfortunately unknown to the writer, was the first man to utilize, in his inconsiderable country smithy, this valuable mineral. It was not until one hundred years afterward, in 1808, that Judge Fell, of Wilkesbarre, first used it in a grate for heating his family mansion. As late as 1820 the mining of anthracite coal may hardly be said to have begun, for the pro duction in that year did not exceed 305 tons, or one ton for each day. Half a century later, in 1860, the annual production had reached 18,000,000 tons, or 84,000 tons per day. A recent writet'ion the coal fields, in summing up the amazing development of this great interest, says : " Little did the toiling wagoner who, over rough and mountainous roads, slowly pushed his way towards Philadelphia, with his heavily-loaded wagon with this new and little-understood Article of fuel, realize that the child that passed him by the roadside would, ere his head was mantled by silvery locks, see a capital of one hundred and fifty million dol lars invested in the transportation routes for carrying this article to market, or that it would - become a necessity in every household. It is probably within bounds to say that in mines developed and undeveloped, idmine improve ments, and in the cost of construction and equipment of water ways and railways, the anthracite trade of Pennsylvania, at tlie pres ent time, represents a property yaluation . of three hundred and fifty million dollars. Great as is this growth, and enormous as are the fig ures, the trade is by thinking men believed to be yet in its infancy." To trace the course of this development : how wagons were supplanted by arks ; arks by canal boats ; canal boats by gravity rail roads, and these by locomotive roads, and nonuments of engineering skill proportionate to the vast operations of the presetit time, is impossible within the limits of this article. It is our purpose .to glance at the• history .of one individual whose life has bee'n mainly spent in pushing forward the great works which have largely contributed to this enormous growth, and indirectly to the prosperity and comfort of millions of the _American people. ' Asa Packer was born in the township of Groton, New London county, Connecticut, in the beginning of the year 1800. His grand father, Elisha Packer, was the most prominent and successful business man of his native town. He was a farmer, tanner, and shoe manufac turer, diligent in business, and not neglectful of those higher responsibilities which he in herited with his puritan blood. He was a staunch member of the Baptist denomination, and worshipped in the church erected on the site of the old Pequot Fort, still in existence. and known as the Fort Hill Church. Ilia father, Engin Packer, Jr., was a man of strong sense, industrious, economical, and of inde pendent character, but never very successful in business. A younger brother of his father, Daniel Packer, however, had a watchful eye to the interests of hie nephew, and as spon as Asa was of an age to do something for himself,' this Bald Packer got him a situation in the tannery of Mr. Elias Smith, of North Stoning ton. Although Asa Packer had enjoyed very limited opportunities of education, these had enabled him to master the rudiments 'of knowl edge, and he made every effort to improve his mind, and increase his store of information. By diligence, faitlifillness and goon} temper, the 'first indications of a manly character, to won the confidence, and ultimately the affec tion of his employer. Despite his youth, ho came to be regarded by . the tanne) , as a confl dential.friend'andtulviser, and if deth had not interposed and broken the connection, Asa .Packer would probably have become a partner in the establishment, and ended hia ;life as a tanner. During Mr. Smith's last illness, Asa MIS his trusted manager, and after the hours EMI After the death of Mr. Smith, Asa engaged himself to a farmer by time name of John Brown. This farmer was a man of strong character, and still stronger convictions. lie }vas hard landed and hard-headed, able either to hoe his own row in the corn-field, or hold hie own ground in debate. lie was a Democrat of the school of Thomas Jefferson, and always ready to maintain his opinions by reasonable argu inent, and never so happy fns when pitted aNinst a worthy antagonist. From this farmer Asa Packer got the bias which. has ever In clined his heart and his Judgment to the party which is now known as the Democratic After passing a year with the old farmer, summering 511(1 wintering with him, talking over hi the long days of labor every subject connected with the business of farming, rind the duties of the citizen, and getting discipline both of body and of mind of the most valuable kind, Asa went back to Mystic, and spent a year at home. During this year he attended school, and having learned the value of knowl edge, he applied himself' to study, and arrived at considergble proficiency in those branches w•hioli are most useful in the practic4l affairs of life. Like all young men of New England, when Asa reached seventeen years •of age, lie felt that it was time for him to make a serious effort to establish himself in the world. At this time Pennsylvania was attracting great numbers of Eastern men. The tide had not yet set for the more distant Western portions of our national domain. Taken up by the current, in the year 1822, when but just seven teen, Atli a knfipsadk which contained his whole wardrobe, and a few dollars in his purse; Aszt Packer set out on foot for Susque hanna county, Pennsylvania. Arrived at the town of Brooklyn, he apprenticed himself, H the trade of carpenter and joiner. e righ y judged that a man In that frontier country was measured by his power to wield the axe, and that the skilled mechanic was the man for whose services there would be the steadiest and most profitable employment. This selec tion of a trade which involved manly work, showed the temper which the young man brought to the task of making his way in a rieWfield and among new friends.. After serving his time as an apprentice, and becoming the toaster of his business, he con tinued to work at it assiduously r several ( 41 years, when he invested his savii s in a lot of wild land on the upper water. of the Sus quehanna, and entered upon th hard nit free and adventurous life of the pion T. le made ' a clearing, and reared with his Ow ads the cabin to which lie soon after brought n bride. The lady whom lie selected to be the mis tress of his home was a daughter of Itopher Blake'slee, a name that will be recognized even now by many in Northern Pennsylvania. -She proved a worthy wife to Asa Packer in his early struggles. While lie was about his work in the fields, or striking sturdy blows in the forest which hemmed in his homestead on every side, Mrs. Packer was equally hard at work atteriding to the dons="--"main or use "liinnfelisl47lTerifinTtile . fingers, with the aid of the spinning -wheel, made all the garments worn by the family thuitim the tint:, ten years of their married life. There was no dispute about the authority or sphere of either ; each found appropriate work close at hand, and was content with doing it, and with recipro cating sympathy and counsel. Here Asa Packer lived eleven years : The circumstance which led to a change in his field of labor; was oceasionet hy a necessitycom mon to the more enter' sing pioneer settlers —that of seeking employment In the thickly populated distrislogirring a portion of the year, in order to obtain ready money for taxes and articles essential to home comfort and en joyment. The nearest point where labor could then command cash in hand was a hundred miles away in the Lehigh valley. The journey had to be made on foot, by paths through rough mountain passes and the. forests which stretched between the upper waters of the Susquehanna and the Lehigh. In the valley of the Lehigh, Josiah White and Erskine Hazard, representatives of asso ciated capital of Philadelphia, had projected and executed improvements which made the wonderful riches of this sectiuh—its coal, iron, timber, lime, cement, and slate—partially available. Hither came Asa Packer, a poor artisan, to labor with his hands, to mix with a crowd of men similarly employed and undis tinguished. What has raised Asa Packer's() far above the throng of which he then was but a unit? OhServing the character of the country, the almost immeasurable extent of the coal and the diversity of the rich productions of the Lehigh valley, he foresaw the esiablish ment of those extensive collieries, of lines of transportation, and all the immense traffic which time loss developed. Here was a field. for the highest intelligence and the most on tiring energy. Accordingly, in the spring of 1833, when he was twenty-seven years of age, Asa Packer left his farm in. Susquehanna county, and permanently. settled himself in the Lehigh valley. Ills advent into a region in which he was destined to accomplish so much made no stir. Ile brought to the new field but a few hundred dollars. His capital lay in his active nand, stout heart, and strong arms, and in industrious and thrifty habits. Ilia first and second sunimers were employed in boating coal from Mauch Chunk to Phila delphia, in which lie acted as master of his own laird. The energy which he displayed in this occupation brought hint to the notice of the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, and he formed a connection with the company, which was maintained for many years, greatly to his advantage. , About,this time Mr. Packer made a visit to his relations at Mystic. _To his brother, Robert_ Packer, and his uncle, Daniel Packer, lie gave such an account of the advantages of the coal region, that they were induced to accompany him on his return. They visited in company the collieries established in the valley, and went over the great field just opening for bud ness. Daniel Packer was so struck with the magnitude of the opportunity, that he declared that ago alone deterred him t closing his business, and selling all his pr merty in Con necticut, and coming to the ehigh galley. He advised the brothers o Unite means and engage in business at , Mauch Chunk, offering to assist them with money and credit, and to stand behind them in every emergency. This advice exactly accorded with the views of Asa Packer, and the two Withers immediately en gaged in business in general morclumdiso in Mauch Chunk; under the 'firm name of A. & H. Packer, with a capital of five thousand dollars. The most of this money had been saved by Asa Packer froM the hard earnings of former years. The now house entered, from the moment of opening, upon an extended and profitable business. It soon became known by its large transactions both on the Lehigh and Schuyl kill rivers- Its operations on the Lehigh dur ing the fifteen years between 1835 and 1850 embraced a large mercantile business at Mauch Chunk ; contracts with the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, which involved the building of dams and locks on the upper nav igation ; working coal mines leased from the company, and afterward Mr. Packer's own mina near Hazleton, and shipping coal to Philadelphia and New York. A similar ship ping business was also done by them on the SClinylkill. They were the first through transporters of coal to the New York market, and it is a fitting return that the business should still continue to he the largest item in the in come of Asa Packer, its projecar. Through his coal mining operations he was brought into close relations With the late Commodore Stock ton, and between them there sprung up a warm friendship—a friendship which proved of great Value to Mr. Packer at a trying mo ment when pushing forward to completion the great enterprise of his life, the Lehigh Val le Railroad. tp to the year 1850, the transportation of lie coal of the Lehigh valley to market hind ,een altogether bY water, but the business had now reached such .a magnitude as, in 'Mr. Packer's judgment, to justify the building of r4kip along the banks of the Lehigh river. Accordin ly he urged upon the Lehigh Coal and Navi ation Company the policy of build ing,. d as a part of their system of trans port ion. But the projict was not favorably rega ded by the company. Experience, it wits answered, had firoved that coal and iron would only pay water freights. The Reading Railroad, which enjoys unusual facilities in grades and water connections, was instanced to clinch the argument. Asa Packer's opin- i however, was not affected by this adverse icism of his proposition, and lie determined take the atter personally in hand. '1 le ground for n railroad in the Lehigh valley was embraced in a charter for a road of much greater extent, projected by that great Pennsylvania financier, Edward 11. Biddle. It was embraced in the charter of the Dela ware, Lehigh, Schuylkill and Susquehanna Railroad Company, incorporated April 21, 1840. The first survey was made the fall of 1850. Not until the 4th of April, 1851, sev enteen days before the charter would have ex pired by its own limitation, did Asa Packer take his place in the board of managers. On the same day the board sanctioned the grading of a mile of railroad near Allentown, and thereby the limitation was avoided. On the 10th of October, 1851, Mr. Packer became owner of a controlling portion of the stock, and subsequently submitted a proposition to a build the road from Mauch Chunk to Easton, distance of forty-six miles, for a consideration, to be paid in the stock and bonds of the com pany, the name of which was nowchanged to the Lehigh Valley Railroad Company, to suit its extent and true field of labor. Mr. Packer's proposition was accepted, and he commenced work in November, 1852. Under his personal supervision it was 'pushed tuublListuAl utne.i.o = and bonds in payment, he hazarded his whole fortune In the enterprise. In its early coin- pletion and profitable working, lie saw every dollar of his Investment quadrupled, and every acre of land in the Lehigh valley enhanced in value. But it was a heavy load, aad many times did it embarrass Mr. Packer to carry it ; but his high character, and his reputation as a business man, enabled loin to command re sources which would have been at the ser vice of no other. Commodore Stockton, the New - Jersey Central Railroad Company, and other rich corporations to whose business the Lehigh road would contribute, also can, to Mr. Packer's assistance, and made large ad vances on its stock and biinds. The Lehigh Valley Railroad was finished and delivered to the company on the 24th of September, 1855, and was puQuonediately in operation. Its coal .freights, which in 1857 amounted to 500,000 tons, in the year 1800 ex ceeded 2,000,000 tons,• 035,000 of which were delivered along ittpute from Mauch Chunk to Easton, to works which the railroad itself had called into existence. The addition which it brought to Asa Packer's fortune can be stated only in millions. Within three years after the opening of the railroad from Mauch Chunk to Easton, with connections which made a railroad route from the valley to Philadelphia as well as New York, Mr. Packer suggested the extension of a line of railniad into the valley of the Susque hanna„ and up that Valley to• the great table lands of the State of New York, there to con nect with New York and Erie Railroad. This would . bring the anthracite coal region within the system of roads leading north and west to Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and afford a di rect route by connection with the Catawissa and Erie roads to the Great West. Asa Packer has lived to see the whole of Ids stupendous conception realized. It is n ossible td calculate the benefit which it is des tined to confer upon the whole country. I will Het the wheels of machinery in motiol thousands of miles in the interior as well ns it tidewater, anti bring about in a great sectim of country that diversity of employment es sential to the highest development of the pen ‘2, On Ida return from a trip to Europe in 186. Mr. Packer announced his intention to foul in Lehigh valley an educational institution which should, supply to its young ntm the means of obtaining that knowledge of which he had in his early life felt such a profound need. The branches of education to which it was Mr. Packer's design that the institution should be especially devoted were civil, me chanical, and mining •engineering ; general and analytical chemistry ; mineralogy and metallurgy ; analysis of soils and agriculture ; architecture and construction; all branchesof - knoWledge - of exceptional-value in_the Lehigh valley. In carrying into effect his purpose, Mr. Packer gavo a woodland park, sixty acres in extent, situated on the borders of Smith Bethlehem, and $500,000 in money. This institution, known as the Lehigh Uni- versity, was formally opened September 1, 1800, and its success has realized the intelli gent and beneficent purpose of its founder. By its charter it is made a self-sustaining. in stitution ; intended to reach both rich and poor with its advantages ; its free scholarships being offered as prizes to be competed for by all the students. No sectarian bigotry limits its beneficent influence to a single religious de nomination, but those of every creed find a welcome to its halls. On the 23d of. November, 1863,:at a dinner given to Mr., Packer at Bethlehem, as a public acknowledgment of his princely gift, at which many of the most eminent men of the State were present, Col. John W. Forney paid the . following eloquent tribute to the guest of the day : "'Hero is a character and a career for youth and manhood to study. Hero is a les son to the one to move on In the path of provement, and a stimulant to the other never to despair in the darkest hour, of disaster and misfortune. We pick out Asa Packer as the miner picks out a piece of coal to show the value of the precious deposit from which it is taken, we pick him out to show what can be won by personal honesty, industry and kind ness to men ; by courage in the midst of bad luck ; by confidence in the midst of gloomy prtiphecy ; fly modesty in prosperity, and by princely generosity when fortune comes with both hands full to realize a just ambition." Among his intimate friends and associates W. 11. Gatzmer, the president of the Camden and Amboy Railroad, bore high testimony to the energy and ability with which Mr. Packer bad carried out his great mining and railroad en terprises, and acknowledged that although Pennsylvania is only his adopted State, few of her sons have done more to develop her mineral resources. Mr. Packer enjoys to the fullest extent the confidence of the community in which he lives. This it has shown by electing him to public office whenever he could be induced to accept it. He served his neighbors several years in the General Assembly of the State, his services there ending in the yeaf 1843. lle was then elected judge of the county court, which posi tion he held five years, and hence he, is fa miliarly known as Judge Packer. Mr. Packer's whole career exemplifies the ith that imthe United States there is no die ction to which any young man may not as hire, and with energy, diligence, intelligence and virtue, attain. Whe' he set out from Mystic, Connecticut, to make the journey to Pennsylvania on foot, it is not probable that his entire worldly possessions amounted to twenty dollars. These possessions are now estimated at twenty millions, all of which has been accumulated, so far as known, without wronging n single individual. On the con trary, the wealth which he has gathered is but a tithe of that which he has been the means of creating in the Lehigh Va O'FLAIIERTY. DENNIS AT HOME-AN UNPLEASANT RECEPTION -110 W HIS POLITICAL FRIENDS STOOD BY IIIM=" WANTED EMPLOYMENT." LITTLE IRELAND, UNDER TILE HILL, December 20, 1808. \llH•ruml EDDITIIUR, back to inc .shanty an' inc Judy an' the byes I am, but the divil resayve me if it'd mesilf that's delited wid the fact. It's a warrtun recipshatt, r an' cowld wan besides I got. Whin I. put PM head in the cabin wid " Save all here," It was Judy that shtuck her fist& on her hips, an' sex she, "So it's back yez arc ! Faix yer car ner's'AVarrain for yez, ye murdherin' villin. Shure there's never a bit av mate in the pot, or a handful av male in the bag, or a purtaty in the earner, an' is it the munney yez have to get dinner wid for yersilf an' yer family, I'd like to know I" " Judy aga," sex I. " None av yer mulvatherin," sed she ; "have yez the munnei for the mate ?" " Divil a cent," sex I. "'Thin git out; yez dhrunken gommoch," sex sue, never nut yer ugly - phiz inside the•dhure till yez bring in mate or moooy,t! an' wid that she cum afthur me wid the bntm, an' mesilf didn't shtay to see what she want- Md. • Its to the ould place and the earner I find for consolayshun. '" Faix, its a dhrap av the rnal shtuff 'ull go mity comfortin" this cowld muffin'," sez I, whin I intered. " An' have yez the munney fur that same'?" sez me (mid friend as runs the shebeen house. " Divil n cint,'s sez I but we'll take a dhrink on the mild party," sez I. ".That's played out,". sez he. "The mild party isn't in the licker bizness so much as it wuz, an' it's the sphondulieks I'm Lakin' now fur me whishky," see. he. "An' where'll I be gettin' them ?" sez I. " Wurruk see. he. "An' the nirlier ye go at it, my bye, the betthur for yez." The curse UV the (Towson the tight-skinned tilde, to be thratin' me so ondacint whin it's meself had bin dhrinkin' be the wake in his Place at the ixpinse av the party I But it wuz furwurruk I whit, and a weary tramp I had, an' it's not yit I'll be ilndin' it. It's too busy the glillemin all wile. to see me, though it wiz willinta friendly enuff they woe. before il- I wuz powerfully tired and discour aged, whin I seen a gintleman av me ackwin- Wilco sthandin be his dhure. " The tap av the manful' to yer banner !" sez I. " Itnmitey glad Inm to see yer good phis waist more*" " Marnin'," sez he, az cowld an' az sharp az an isikle. " Shure an' its a real comfort to seen friend ly face," set T. " Wat the divil do you want, man ?" sez lie slinappin' like a bull dog. " Shure," sez I, "its wurruk,, yer !tanner, that I may gefnmte nn' purtatles fur the mild wmumen an' the childher." " I've got no wurruk for yez," Bed he. ' "Will I lie :tither movin' ycr 'tape of coal t" see I, fur it wuz shiandin` lukin at the same he wuz. "pWat'll yez fix me ?" Bed lie. "A, dallier," sez I. , " Whoo 1 the divil l" sed he. " Ye're an extortionate raskil," sed lie ; " fur I've hired a naygur to do that same fur slvinty-five chits !" " An' is it a Dinunykrat like yersilfthat'ull hire a bluddy naygur inehtid ay a good Dim mykrat bye ?" eez "AV coorse," sez he, "whin the naygur wurruks the chaplet." " An' wuzn't it yersilf," sez I, " that towid us It wuz fur higliwages fur the poor man ye wuz l" " Maybe it wuz,', sez he ; "but that was before illikshun, an'it was not thin I wanted me coal carried in." " Mud an' nuns I Thin will yez be sillier kiil.l7 - ii - fe - the - price'av a - ditrink ?" sez fur me throat is as (limy as powdhur." " Divil a chit," sed he. " It's dhrinkln' Is the ruin av yez all," sod he, an I'll be advisin yez to rayform au' live sober—now that, the illikshun's over an the timptashun gone." Misthur Eddithur, its Kruk Intldrely me hart iz wid the ingratitude av me purtinded Mae. ItS not a nhtroko av wurruk I can'ght, or 's chit av munney, or a dhrink av the erathurf an' there's Judy waitin` fur nie In the shanty wid a brunishtick an' a tung that's a dale longer an'•harder. Will yez help a poor by printin' tide advertisement that Paddy Mulcathy's bye Owen, wat goes to shkule, rat out fur me ? WANTED EMPLOYMENT—By a man 'accus tomed to dirty work and carrying heavy loads. Can refer for testimonials of his ability and will ingness in these respects to the Democratic party manners, who have no further use for his ser vices, they having gone out of business. Apply to Dennis O'Flaherty, Little Ireland, under the Mil, or by letter to this office. • dec2l a Plato Insirt this fora poor disthressed bye an' send me army letters yez get fur me; an' the blessin AV the sore-harted and sorrowful be upon yez. DIANN O'Fwanzwrz. 3 7 . 11 1- 1 " 4 1 EDBILL t .Main ano jYantg' 30k Vrit*4, No. 47 EAST HAMILTON STREET • • .• ALLENioWN. R 4. ELEGANT PRINTING. • NEW DESIGNS, LA* , • v ~: • Bt rtirni2rt s zl.kVit g ife ir ggliticcf pe ; B oTni • e- Hanlon.. Joetlor .6intlnOo .Laula ' Bills. Tagn and Shipp b el., etc., oto.. Pzin et co, NO. 2: A SONG FROM THE Sin* Queen of my tub, I merrily sing; SVldlo the white foam rises high ; And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring, And fasten the clothes to dry ; Then out In the free fresh air they swing, Under the sunny sky. I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls The stains of the week away, ' And let water and air by their magic make Ourselves as pure as they ; Then on the earth there would ho Indeed A glorious washing-day Along the path of a useful life, Will heart's-ease ever bloom; The busy mind has no time to think Of sorrow, or care, or gloom ; And anxious thoughts may be swept away, As we busily wield a broom. I am glad a task to Me Is given, To labor at day by day ; For It brings me health, and strength, and hope, And I cheerfully learn to say— " Head you may think, Heart you may feel, But hand you shall work alway." BY !LEARY WARD BEECITER The word luck is too firmly. bedded in our language, and belief in the fact expressed by it is too strong to justify an expectation that it will soon become obsolete. Luck is nn event good or bad, which befalls a man independently of his own volition. If a man Work all day for five dollars, his wages is not considered luck But if he finds five dollars in the road, that is luck. If a man aims at an accomodation train, but hits an express train, which has been delayed a little he is in luck. lie has secured what he did not plan for. If the last boat of the sea son leaves Albany for New York a day sooner than the shipper had calculated, and lie loses an opportunity of sending his freight, he ex claims " that is just my luck." Of the fact itself there can be no doubt. Ma ny disappointments befall men which seem to have no relation to their own agency. Many places of good fortune occur which the recipi ent did not plan, or look for. But the cause of luck, thus defined, is anoth er thing. If we could look into men's minds and render clear those obscure and nebulous thoughts that hover there, it would be found probably, that very different notions are enter tained about it. Some believe that there are spirits, or sprites, whose power intercalates these events upon the calendar of Nature. Others seem to believe that in the vast realm of Nature events are floating about like motes in sunbeams, 'find that men accidentally stum ble upon them. Some people believe it to be a crook in the grain of things, some men be-. ing born and destined to fulfill some mischie vous decrees. "Do what they will, they can never escape ill-luck." Were some men's no tions analyzed, I should not wonder if it were found that they still believe Luck to be a per sonal being, as Puck, or Ariel who spent their time in playing tricks upon men, good or bad, according to their peculiar fancy. But dismissing all these notions, there are several pieces of general good or ill luck, which have numb to - do with the special luck, that befalls men, I count it a piece of prime and admirable luck to be born of parents who had sound physical constitutions, ample brains, well proportioned and balanced, living in mod erately prosperous circumstances. Next to this is to be brought up in simplicity, among peo ple kind and just, and under circumstances which require one to exert himself actively, so that he shall never expect to have anything which he does not himself earn. Lastly, and as a consequence of these, it is supreme good luck to have a patient nature, too proud to do evil, and not proud enough to take offense at the common experience of life: as contented as is consistent with enterprise, and above all, with unwasting good nature. This last quality—good nature—is perhaps the most desirable of all, In so far as happiness is concerned. Every one knows that it is su gar in fruit that,gives it its palatableness, and , that converts Its juices into wine. Good na ture Is to human dispositions what sugar is to grapes. A robust and cheerful nature hardly knows the difference between good and bad', luck. Sonic things, which extort piteous complaints of had luck from his neighlers, befall him with out exciting more than a moment's attention —just as a healthy man does not feel n chilly gust which sets an invalid into shivers. 11l luck hi petty affairs Is only another name for want of foresight, unskillfulness, podrJudg ment, clumsy-handedness, lack of spring and enterprize. Few men arc willing to say that their own blunders, negative or positive, return . upon their own heads. Luck is to them a for tunate work. Luck is a word that hides a man's inefficioncy from himself, and saves his pride. Every one of us has lucky and Unlucky dayit. Too much excitement, into hours, late eating, poor sleep, and too little, of it, bring on mornings full of depression—blue days in which everybody and everything seem wrong. Everything our hand touches falls. This is a simple case in which respectable dissipatiOn has put the whole instrument by which man works, his brain and nervous system, out of adjustment. His mistakes are no more surpris lug than would boa mechanic's who worked by a false rule, or a chemist's who measured by incorrect standards. By and by, rest, diet, and good habits restore the equilibrium, and then comes a sparkling day of good luck. Half the labor produces twice the ordinary results. Wo meet the very, person we desire most to see. Everything goes on rightly. The world is propitious. In olden times, when necromancers would till the air with spirits, they had potent spells, cabalistic formula, and various charms by width to evoke and control evil spirits. There is a much shorter and surer way than all that to fill heaven and earth with demons. Put 'your liver out.of order.__That is a _spell that never fails. Dyspepsia will raise more devils in ono day than ever Merlin could in a year. A good man, in good health, engaged In business for which he is fitted, and.contented, g will always be In luck. • . Poor luck goes with slender jud t, with Indolence, with supersensitive pride, Ith in digestion, with torpid livers, With , ' less ness and stupidity. ..A - , As all of us have flecks and'tints of all these .elements, at times, so we all or•us have our share of bad luck, • The height of 11l loci is to be born badly, - to live badly, and to die badly, Let every man blame himulffor all his bad luck, and he will find a, cure for more than half of it. The rest is imaginary.. - ' —" Capital weather,. Mr. Jones ; capital weather. My wife's got such a cold that elle can't speak. , • I like such weather as this." ' —"I dew declare, Sal I If You don't look purty enough tow eat I" , " Wall, Solomon, a'n't I eating as fast tui can I" replied Sal, with her moutlifull: LUCK. n i•.'; '
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers