I:= 34. 1 mo. 3 mos. a mon. Ivi One Square. . I. LEO' .L 75 350 0.134 10. Two Elquares . 3.0) 3(0 5.50 10.03 10. Throe I:lguana . . 5,00. 8.03 15.00 20. Six Bquarea. . . • 8.0) '12.03 213.03 31. Quarter Column . . • 1 10.00 310) 35.31 50. Half Column ... . . 5300 M. One Column . ;;111/C/3-1.•: . ,,AM nil.oo 150. • . ProtraaloslON3ll4cll.ll.l Ono per year. • Admlnletrator'e ill4.lol4ltor'ii•NOUroa, 310 0 . City Noll com, 20 cenhiieBlliplsE (boort lon, 15 contr. I luo each aubncqueut lncerllo3.. , ' Ton linos agate coustltnto neonate. , • • WILLS & fRIn ELL,Pt7niminEits, ALLENTOWEI, PA.• ' ftl rgi c(OpO• eg--.AfiX6il-t41041 V -...... , WILL LOW PRICES INAirENtE YOU AGrA iN.! IMMENSE REDUCTION IN PRICES I THE OLD CORNER Just opened anenortnous • STOCK OF SPRING GOODS, I=l I'ARLETY, AND LOWXEII OF PRIOR nyall aud cauuot be tturrasnetl rir Competition (idled 'Nth any other Establishment outside of the larger dike._( • SPACE WILL NOT PERMIT OF NAMING such nu Ir monsotetock of goods, but let It suffice to sa y that we have rho must COMPLETE assortment of Ladles Dross floods Dress Silks, Poplins, Shawls, Italmerals House Furnish!. ing Goods Ladlds' Cleaking Cloth, ' Mo tt o Wear In Cloth, Camilmerels, &e., and everything that kept In aFL lIST- C LASS DRY UOO DS STORE In endless variety. Ido not " IUOTE PRICES" 110 some 11011 NON do, but wilt guarantee ASTONISHING FIGURES. „ The difference In prices of goods today and a mouth tig. Is really painful for those who have been caught with rarge e w Plito h d. e o n I h sahnadl l a t u high e p t r o ic fo e r s e b in u a t k u e tthhu t O IL D CO h ß e NER I'HE GREAT PLACE OF INTEREST AND HEADQUARTERS =I LOW EST M A RI: ET PR WES I fully realise that no peruntuent success rim be achieved unless the promises held out by advertisements are found to be fully sustained on in visit to the store. Nor can It be it large stirrers wltitont ecruptliously reliable and lair dealing at all titans and uniform courtesy to every custo mer, and tine endeavor to make every buyer a constant dealer. All I ask Is simply to decide by actota trial whether or, not it In to your advantage to become a custo mer. I= M..T. KRAMER, . OLD CORNER," OPPOSITE THE EAGLE HOTEL MEE GREAT REDECTION OF PRICES WOOLEN GOODS. =1 FANCY SPRING CASSIMERES, FLANNELS, JEANS, CARPETS, &C In cone...teen, of the abutidance uud over stork of the above floods in the City Marketa, they cannot ut proseut Lo dispomed of except at it lona to the tnanufacturerand many Woolen are either closed or working on half flute. 'Under there clreuniidancen, wishiug to keep hie mill ritunhig,„ HENRY GA BRIM A LLENT WN WOOLEN MILL, 1M13113 END DE,EIDETII gEVII<rn DTIMET Iluvlug a large nod flue stork of the best styles of Faury CMllotheerex for men's nod boy's wear, no also a variety of other Woolen floods and Curpeta suitable for the Xelivell and desired lu every hensehold,.has rourlnthul to RETAIL =1 WHOLESALE PRICES Ills entire stork of Woolen Mid other Good., auto which lyre several hundred pieces of . ALL WOOL . DOUBLE AND TWIST CASSMEREs, PLANNELB, JEANS, h •f Of all grades, and at Vricn• gnarly r e d,, r nd. Al, .ninotild II .rtment of INGRAIN, LIST, RAG, MEIMEEEM CARPETS, = BA.EstoRAL SKIRTS, MEM! WOOLEN CARPET YARN, all color.. Beat quality reduced to DO centa BED COVERLETS All kinds, White or Fancy, at greatly reduced prices. 048/f 11 jr 17;,Vjor those having Wool to egchagge, will certainly a.l it to their Intermit. in examining the Uooda rooms for Law factory, whore he has fitted up reYeral for Almelo a the name, and respecti till y Invites the Public In call and judge for themselves. HENRY GABRIEL, ALLENTOWN WOOLEN MILL, South End of Seventh Street, Allentown, .I.n 1=11!I • FOUR HUNDRED FARMS FOR SALE, ran hi In price from litS to Piper acre, accord. to Improvements, location Ac. Good roll, genial climate, and near markets. These forms aro situated lu Virginia and Maryland, some In the immediato vicinity of Wash. Ington and others from At to 30 miles distant from the Cap ital. Address or call on J. P. 0A NO WEIIE.MS Massaeltu aeite Avenue, near Sixth street, Wnallington, 0, C. MACeNGIE SAVINGS BANK. The Macungie Barium. Bank (nearly opposite the Allen town National Bank] receive. money on Deposit in any RUM, on Interest Orli per rent. per mum,. Deposita may be withdrawn partly or wholly at nay time during the year for which interest will Ink allowed according to the time the same may have relnnined. - ooverument Bonds aro taken, (or which the Itighe.l pre minute mad accrued interest will be allowed. Money, Loaned out at dealrable rate. al all times. • • • TRII.I7BIIeI : el. • !: Geo. B. Shall, John 11. Dog I l ler i kit ; M. I). ithn It. Echo WM. C. LICICIEDIWILNEIi th Coattr BENJAMIN FOGEL. Progadont. 'VINE CUSTOM MADE HOOTS AND 8110E8 FOR GENTLEMEN. All the lending styles on hand or made to mean Prices fixed LOW FIGITItES on Illustrated Price Lid with Itudructious for nelf•mrnpuremeut pout ou reeolut of I I= = nag IS-iy -r WATERMAN 4 IfitiMit,l4.ll,tMJlMAii,"ToWirriN . . et Philadelphia. Tho tool° properties of theso Bitters have been certified to by some of our most eminent practleing phyeician% as the boat tonic now lu use, and tho Cocktail Bitters Is the universal favorite among,Judges of a good gin or whisky cocktail. . L. ,, It .00 .00 I , .1 • •;• ii ~ ' ' . • 1 • .00 i r , ,: •. ,00 ..„ ,!,.I I', • . ..... ,I• , ! , : ' I - + • CIIIIV per 1 I 0 ...: 0 I . _,/ • . , t , . VOL. XXIII. NU.,TAIt WILL EVER . 111.'I4AR lIERE A great many advertising Iles are told now-a-Jaya. Bo wide.spread has this evil become, that the public are be ginning to luso confidence in the sultrertisententa of; even• upright, honorable merchnnts. We pledge °unwires that no Ile shollareep Inhere. 'Whatever wo propose to xell, that wilt toe sea. Whatever we propOmo th do, Mid will credo. We wnut, ma intend to deserve, and we Intend to hare the entire confidence of this cull., community. Unlit. briefly, we make our bow to the good people of Lehigh nod Northampton countle, Now for businem BUY CHEAP! SELL CHEAP.! AND DON'T DE AFRAID TO LET TIIE PEOPLE KNOW IT, 1;4ottoof our mattocks. , We Aral offek bi If: lure•utant war mum tub ROTTEN CREDIT SYSTEM, that make.. lionotit Toupin nay for the Dry °nods that rogues wear, Is another principle upon which wo do bust nom We iphatpsfick Mal, tot, Itentethher, 'then, Wer buy tar rash and MO 11111 de sell for rash. DOWN WITH 111311 PRICES ! TUE NEW :YORK FOSTERS ARE COMING. YEW YORK DRY GOODS ARE COMING. ' • NEW YORK PRICES ARE COMING. MAKE NAY FOR TERIII Our prices here aro tube as low as at our three New York City stores—as low as at our store In Troy. N. I%—as low no at our store In Newark, N. low an at our store in Fort Wayne, Indiana. We retail nearly a million dollars worth of Dry Goode yearly. We can boy on this account immense lots, and no are often enabled to sell .r goods less than other merchants buy theirs. We promsso to re volutionise tho Allentown Dry Goods trade—to crush out high prices—to do away with the rotten credit system,and to volt you many goods for about half the prices now be ing charged by " slow shilling" merchants. Unless stormy, we shall open MONDAY, L 12th. Look out foi a'amial.ritsh. Look out Dir the cheapest goods ever seen in your city. Special bargains will be offered 4,1; that day. Many goods will 1M Sold at cost. Among other bargains; these: Splendid yard wide muslin. 12.5 cents; Net Merrimack Prints, 12Ii cents; handsome Fringed Towels, 12 , .i cents; Largo Linen Napkins,µ 50 Per dozen; Wide Table Lin., MI cents, sold In town at SO cents; Cowles' Beat Spool Cotton 7 cent., sold In town at 10 cents; Double Width Alpacas fait cents, sold In town at 83 cents.: e• 11, .. • . I ••' . 1 , i NO. 19 EAST HAMILTON STREET, . Opposite the Reformed Lutheran Church. ONE PRICE NEW YORK CITY STORE pr FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! 0! HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS! 0, NO ! 0, NO ! NOT SO ! =I SCHREIBER BROS NO. 10 EAST HAMILTON S7'. GOOD GOODS & CHEAP PRICES Let us Imre Pence, Li other reds go to Schreiber Brie's foe • DRY GOODS. tear yo ! Take notice old and young, mule and female, and poor, blab and low, bond and free, all pre ma ned to appear to render a good and ralld reason why mhould not ',archon° their FOREIGN &. DOMESTIC DRESS GOODS SCHREIBER BROS A failure to appear and ;mower la a forfeit of •in to your . pocket. But we cell your attention to our •asorlmoat of BLACK DRESS SILKS, all qualities. • PLAN SILKS, All color.; I RISAI POPLINS, ' FRENCH POPLINS, ALPACCAS, PLAIN AND STRIPED MOIIAIRS. Tile very largest assortment of show la that we Inty opened—all the new styles. Lodi.' Simkins of all kinds, both plain and figured, at all prices. Dahnoral Skirts the cheapest ever brought to Allentown. DOMESTIC (100DS, such as bleached mil unbleached sheeting mull., bleached and unbleached sheeting tick ing cotton and linen table diaper, gingham,, checks and calicoes, as low as the lowest. Marseille]. quilts and cotton coven of all descriptions. Our stock of Mounting Ooods In such endless variety that it would be Impossible to enumerate. We Wind respkiffill undersold tent to the cheaper aro determined nut to he, and will moll Chun any establishment In Allentown.' Ladles of Allen town and adjoining counties you are pitying too much for your goods. Study your lutcrest.aud make up your mind, and go to Schreiber Brit's for bargains In dry goods. We have marked our goods down and propose to do a rash business. line motto in "A nimble penny Is belt.' than a slow shilling." A call is all wo ask—you will Mays satisfied.. lours respectfully. mar 17;'W SCHREIBER BROTHERS. IMPORTANT TO BUYERS OF THE `-` BEE HIVE," TAE POPULAR DRY GOODS STORE, 920 CHESTNUT STREET, I=l PARIS CLOAK AND MANTILLA EMPORIUM'. Will ogee tho COrnit,j oNtaon at POPULAR PRIMLY FOR CASIL au entirely Now Stook of FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC DRY - GOODS Including Spring and Summer Droo• flood., In the largent variety. Black and Colored Silica, Laces and Embrolderiea, Linen., While Goods, and Domestics, lloa Moury. le nin r Glove.g Dro o f n a ll o laud*. ;LOANS. BACQUE9, thla department ■o unrivalled aneortineul, at price.. from Id upward*. IAWLS OF ALL KINDS, Including Lamn Lace Cloaks daeyuee and Polota, and rill6ecoldat ECONOMicAL .. PRICES: • We respectfully aolielt nu examinatiou. Our priced aru marked In plain figured—nu der Wins J. w. PROCTOR & CO., THE " BEE HIVE," EMEEI2I A LLENTOWN RAVINGS INSTITU TION, • "- Money recelved . ott Deposit, and 6 per . cent. latoirstst lowed fur one year. For shorter periods mycelia rates will! be paid. MUMKT LOANAD OUT UN PAVO Tsgais.' " I= Banking lloure—llailliLTON BTU ET, mid-way be tween Oa Court holies Owl American Hotel, OPPOsile ride. Allonawn. Pa. Philadelphia lJru 60011.5 FOSTER'S = DRY GOODS PHILADELPHIA, J. W. PROCTOR & CO., NO. 020 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA (organized under Mato Winder In IWO.) WILLIAM 4, AI MEY,PesldeaL JACOU S. LLINOER, Cwhleir. John D qtlles M=l ===2! ti=ttl=lll (leorgo l'robst. H{muel S.D. Ben} J Ilasenbaol4 - Nathan refer William U Alney. mar 11 ALLENTOWN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 21, 1869 THE OLD PENNSYLVANIA FARMER Well—well I thin Ica comfort, now—the air In mild. May, And yet 'tin March the twentieth, or twenty-Orel, to.dny, And Reuben plows the 1,111 for carat I tholight It-would he OM But now I 141,0 the furrow,. turned. I Inner It'• dry enough I don't half live, penned up ill clout.; n •tave'x not Ilku tho nom. • When I cant see how thing,. go on, I (one they'ro badly dune; I might have fanned 1111 now, I illlnk—amex family ill 1,0 12=ZI An Ira man retell cirersee who's is his eightieth year ! Father, I mind, wan lgighty-Ilve Wore he gave up Ida; But he dim o' night, and crippled wlth . the rhoumotir I followed In tho old, steady way, no ho won autlaned, But Bonbon liken now-tangled things awl ways I can't abide. 19n glad I Wit thin southern porch; my chair aerma easier hero; I hsvu•t sees an fine a spring thin Ave sud twonty year! And how the time goes round so quick !—R week, I would kayo sworn, Since (hay were hooking on the fist, and now they plough for rout! • Whets I was young, than had fur non lazy ox's pace, But nowlts like a blooded horse, that means to win tho Aud yet I can't till uut my days 1 lieu wy,Mf wills naught I'd rather une my leg. and hands num plague my head with thought. Thercda Mundial% too, I on. (ruin here: he and Ids WI . . • begin. Why don't they take the low er quid flint one to poor and thin. A coat or lime it ought to have, but they're it dbleau set: They think awaiiir•aaull'm no good, but We shalt see what corn they get! Ael . ume the level • Ilrown'N new Place beglna to make a nho4 I thought he'd, hure - to - wult for tre's, hut, totem, sue, how they grow! They ogy It'o (1111—two acre., filled Ivlth evettgreeux and thlttg% t But at 1111.11 !NMI It wordee sue, fur got a rut It bring. VIII. 110 ban the right, I duu't douy, to pleanehintaelf that way. Ilut 'no a bad example sot, and leads young folks loamy; Honk•learuing gebithe upper-band and work grin xlow and slack, Aud they that come long after un will find thing+ gone to wrack. Nuw ItenbetCn an the hither stile, his team comes back again; I know how deep ho solo the alum., I sea the horses strain: I had that field so clean of ateueo, hot Ito nnwt plough so deer. He'll have It like a turnpike. soot, and scarcely At for sheep. It father lived, I'd Ilk, to kuuw what he would say to ti Now"noTl ' o e us atilt. younger men, who farm by chemistries: There's dltrereut stock and other grass; there's, putout plough and cart— Five hundred dollars for n bull ! It would have broke his hoarl. Tim maples must be putting out: 1 con something red Down yonder where the clearing hips acress the ttenduvr s Swomp•enbbage grown beelde therun; the groin Io good CCM E=lll=l They think I have an envy thee, no need to worry now— SR In the porch all day and watch them mow, end mow and plough: Sleep In the muleteer In the shade, In winter In the Hua— rd rather do the thing myself, and knew just how Wm done ettPtnme I'm old, and yet 'tin not no long ago When Reuben nprend the math to dry. and Jogne learned to mow. Awl William raked. and ',mod hued, told Joneph pitched with mo: But such 0 man as 1 wax then my hops will 11,11.114,! I atoll mind William's hankering fur lectured and fo Works; Ile never had a farming hunch—you'd see it lu his looks Ilut handsome Is that handsome does, and he Is well to do "(would ease my mind if I could any the same of Jesse, too There'n one black cheep In every dna, no there sting( be I mine, But I was wrong that second time his bond to undersign: It's less than what Ids share will he—but there's th Interest' teu ye'arr. 11101 T I might 11101 e bait tWO tLuu.uld to invest XVI. There' x uu um, thinking of It now, and yet It makes mu sure The way I've slaved and saved, I ought to Count a Ilttl more. I never loot a foot of land, and !hare a comfort, sam, And if they do nut cull me rich, they rennet all me poor 11393 Oh, blessed transition front grief to joy The setting sun goes down in ti great sea of blood ; the room is filled with a glorious radi ance ; the great log rolls over on the brass new— and irons, and the flames laugh and leap for Dot this Is all I've noon and k now ; so what's a loan to do? I joy. Well, well! ton thoueund Um. I've thought the thing I'm thinking now; too thought them In the liorvek-Ileld and in the clover mow: And nomellmon I get tired of them, and wish PA something XVIII. 'Tie like toy time I. nearly out, of that not afraid; I never cheated any man, and all toy debts are paid. They call it root that wo shall bare. but work would do n harm; There can't be aeon. there, nail field+, without nome cur o' farm! NOTHING BUT A BABY. I= " She's nothing but a baby, Widow Smith, and will never be anything else. Now, Just look at her, dancing along, swinging her hat in her hand, as though that was what it was madO for, and as though the world was formed for her to...dance through, and for nothing else." And the speaker closed her thin lips deter minedly, and shook her head with an energy that seemed to impart itself to a cluster of cork-screw curls, causing them to tremble with a silent eloquence. Every village has its maiden ladies: some, with their hard, dry faces that have never been kept soft and tender by a baby's kisses ; and others, grown old with care, but bearing in every wrinkle the smile of their younger days, and greeting the village chrildren alway lov ingly, that come to hear Annt .Debble's" stories. But tifese who seem cold and hard We must not judge harshly, forgetting how the frosts of many a winter have fallen upon their lives: we know not how these scenes of sorrow have changed the merry girl into a saddened wo man ; so let us think gently of every loveless life, and pray-for those who are thus alone. " Well, Miss Flint, I suppose you're right ; them gals ought to be hum, every one on em, this afternoon, Instead of tramping out to the woods, tearin' their frocks and splittin' their throats a holierin'. Now, when I was a gal, we didn't cut up any such fandangoes ; well, well, this is a world of change I Surely I sure ly I" " Widow Smith," as she was generally called, had "dropped in to tea" with Miss Sophronia Flint ; and as they sat with their sewing by the front windows, three merry girls went laughing by, toward the grove just beyond. It was a lovely day, and the song of birds and gentle breezes would woo almost any one from their dwellings to revel In the beauties of nature, The petite figure of Nellie Alders seemed to • float as she moved. No care dwelled upon her brow, and her song was as sweet as the birds around. Swinging her hat in her band, the breezes tossed her curly hair In wild confusion; and tinged the round cheeks with the hue of roses. , " I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower," sang her sweet voice, as they entered the lovely grove, and wandering down a narrow path, came to a great tree whose branches shaded a massive rock, half covered with moss. Here they seated themselves, and Maud, the eldest of the three, gathered the little form of Nellie in her arms and said, laughingly : " Here, little one, you've got to keep still a moment and talk ; what a little bit of a thing you are, any way I Did you hear old Miss Flint's speech when we came by there ? Well, I don't wonder the old lady thinks you're nothing but, a baby." " Old Miss Flint Do you hear the girl talk I old I old I I should like to see those curls shake if she heard you. But, oh, girls, I couldn't help laughing the other Sunday when she tripped Into church m that pink silk bon- net with white feathers. Why can't people learn how to grow old gracefully I" "Yes, Misa Nellie, L saw you laughing— and Parson Grey saw you, too. That man laughs as easy as you, Nellie Aldeni; I do be lieve; for he actually could hardly get through the hymn he was reading. " Well, it puzzles me to know how a body can keep from laughing when anything conies up comical.— I thought I should die the other day in church, when old Tommie Warner fell asleep and lost off his wig ; and when lie start ed out of his nap and found it oir, did you see him clap it on ? but what made it worse, he had got it on ' hind side before,' as the' boys say. Well, now, who wouldn't have laughed at that ?" " Yes—l acknowledge that was as much as I could endure ; but Carrie didn't laugh,—did you, Carrie ?" " No,—l didn't see it; poor old man I how lie must have felt !" " Oh, you dear, good soul I I wish I was just like you ; but every one says I'm nothing but a baby, and they expect such things from me. But, may be, one (lay, I'll be good for some thing. Oh, I'll tell you, girls, let's say what we'd like to be in the future. You commence Maud ; but I know what you would be,. for I heard Mr. Pierce say that Brae you took the character in that play at school so perfectly, , What an actress that girl would make I' "Yes, Nellie, if I could lade my choice, I would study for the stage Immediately ; but father never will consent to it, and you know I am all be has now, and so i shall devote my life to him." " Oh, Maud," said Carrie, " I wish that I might have some work of love like that I In a few days I must go back to my city home with my cousins. I shall educate myself for a teacher, for you know I am poor ; but if I only had some one to work for, then the task would not seem so bard. I don't think I would care for riches, but I do long for Some one to love me." " And what says our doll, what would you be in.the future, baby Nell ?" "I ? let me see. I guess I shall have to marry some rich man, who would let me do as I'd a mind to, and give me everything I want, because, you see, as Fin nothing but a baby, 1 should have to have some one to take care of me." The supreme hours mooted come, Unfelt the turning tides of doom, And so the maids laughed on, Nor dreamed what Fate had done. Even then, Destiny was marking out paths in life, tar different from their anticipations. The Hummer leaves have faded, and in the grove where the young girls sat that warm, bright day, the snow now lies thick and un trodden. The three friends are at school in Now York, but Nellie le_ expected home to night, and there all is in readiness. The warns tire blazes in the wide fire-place, and as her father puts on his great-coat and prepares to go to the boat to meet her, he says, " How nice it will be, wife, to have our baby home again !" But the night wears away and brings no Nellie. For many hours the anxious father has been waiting at the pier for the steamer which was to bear his darling to his heart. The waves plashed coldly against the wharf, but tell no tales of the missing boat ; the lights twinkle and ilaAh from the surrounding hills, but no approaching light comes over the waters. A crowd gathers round and excitedly they talk of " shipwrecks," "burning steam ers," etc., till every heart is fluttering with nervous agitation. " Hurrah hurrah I here she comes !" and proudly a stately vessel sails up to the pier,— a stranger vessel,—what does it mean ? "The • Ocean Breetio' has gone down with all on board !" shouted a voice from the deck. Silence in that dreary home : the fire has died out in the yawning fire-place, and alone In the tomb-like room sit the unhappy Parents, dead to all outward objects save the one terri ble thought—" Nellie is drowned." Now and then a twig or leaf taps against the window, and they start nervously. The morning dawns—the neighbors conic in with acts of love and pity. "Poor little baby!" sighed old Widow Smith. '‘ To think o' that curly head a lyin' at the bottom of the river. Well, well ! this is a world of change. Surely I surely I" The long day approaches to Its close ; the departing sunbeams look cold and pale. " Father, mother, here's your baby, spared a little longer to tease and bother you. Why,. if they aint both crying I Sorry I've been saved, I'll warrant. Here, mother, father, look up and thank this gentleman for saving nie ; for if it had not been for hint, your little Nell would indeed be lying nt the botton of the river " Again the summer has copie and gone, and another winter weaves its wealth of frost-work. There is to be a wedding in the village. lie who, one year ago, saved a precious life from death, now takes that life into his keeping, and in the village church this morning Nellie Al: tiers unites her fate with that of Harry Wells ford, "for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death shall part." Miss Flint, in her gay bonnet, Is there, and as she comes down the aisle after the ceremony, Widow Smith accosts her with, " Well, the baby is married I" " Married ? yes, and I consider it a perfect Child's play. 'Why, site's nothing but a baby ; just as gay as she ever was ; a pretty wife she'll make for that young fellow I" " Yes,—l s'pose you're right, Miss Flint,— but they love each other ; and how pretty they did look, standin' there, side by side," whis pered the widow, while a tear shone in the faded eye, it may be, brought thereby a vision of her own bridal day, and the loved one who now sleeps in yonder church-yard. 0, the strange, unfathomable future 1 How often do we fall in our judgment of another ! how often do we pass carelessly by some tree in the vineyard of life, saying, "It is worth less, it will never bloom !" and lo 1 we come again, and the tree is laden with its fruit. The sweet face of Nellie was long missed in the little village. Site had been petted and loved by all; growing . up like some tender flower that would die if touched by chilly wind. No striking trait of character had ever manifested itself in her ; and, child as she scented, it is no wonder that a few should trem ble for her future and her inexperienced hus band. = go, through a tender Joy, Nellie was led into the thronging crowd which ever swells and throbs in the streets of our great city, and no where in its vast recesses was there a happier heart than that of Nellie, the little child-wife. While she became a dweller hero through joy, an overwhelming sorrow brought her friend Maud into the same busy streets. How different must have seemed the city to these two girls ! One,. clothed In gay, wedding robes, leaning on a beloved arm, the echo of her marriage bells yet ringing in her ear. The other, robed in mourning .garments, with no earthly arm to lean upon ,• the funeral bell still echoing in her soul, while evermore her father's grave seemed opening before her, as if it fain would receive her therein. O Maud, Maud, come not into these busy haunts 0 come not with your beautiful face and talents The stage is Otani place for you. Do you still persist ? Then may Heaven guide you, oh, poor orphan girl! May the angels screen you and keep your heart pure, though all around Its boldness anti corruption I And Carrie, where are you ? Teaching, that you may earn your daily Dread? or has some ono gathered you in his arms and shielded you from the rough intercourse with the world ? Yes, such has been your happy fate ; and never was there a better minister's wife than you have made—so unselfish, thoughtful, and ten der, a blessing to your husband and the com munity. I knoW not which accomplishes the most good—your husband's sermons, or his Wife's sweet face, Christian life, and winning ways. Four years have come and gone since Nettle left her village home, a bride. Iler good, hon est parents have passed away, happy in the thought that their darling Is safe from care and trouble. ' In Nellie's home beautiful child is seen and the patter of little feet la beard in thehall " Tick, tick," goes the little French clock on the mantle-piece, and darker and darker grow the shadows in the room. Little :Willie leaves his play, and says, "Sing, mamma," then looks up wistfully, and says, ". Why don't my papa come I" Then Nellie sings : " Oh, our life Is as happy and free As the duueing waves on the bright blue sea." Sing on, poor Nellie. The waves of your life have Indeed been happy and free, but does not forshadon•ing of the future creep over you to-night? Do you see not the clouds in the far-oft sky ? Soon, too soon, shall the sea roar and be troubled 1 • "Tick, tick, tick," beats the monotonous thne ; it seems to make her nervous she goes to the window, pulls the curtain aside, then turns, lights the gas, and again takes up her sewing, while Willie goes back to his toys. " I:wonder what can keep him," she says, half aloud ;" he never was so late before. Ah, hero he comes now ; I know his step." Run to the door, Willie—papa is coining. And .her thee lights up ; the clock ticks merrily ; the lights seem to burn more brightly ; the old Carlo wags his tall and gives a quint of satis faction. " 0, my wife, my. poor little baby-wife, how can I tell you ?" ho moans, as he staggers into the pleasant room. "0, child, child I" he groans, great sobs shaking his whble.frame. It is terrible.to see'estrong man weep. We look for team from the weak and helpless, but when a man thus sinks down crushed and heart broken, it Is terrible. " Nellie, oh, •why did I save you from the waters that night Lift to bring you into the waves of trouble and poverty I" "Ile is insane 1" she thinks, and a pallor overspreads • her face. "0, Harry, don't, don't ; we are not in trouble ; we are not poor. See our little boy ; and see how well and hap py I am—don't frighten me 80.'• "Darling, do I frighten you Y coins here— hide your lace on my shoulder, and I will try to tell you all. But oh, do not turn away from me when You know the worst; for I were to lose you, Nellie, then earth would indeed be a dreary place. Suppose I were to tell you, Nellie, that I had lost all my properly ; could you comprehend it ? I have. I am a poor man to-night, and heavily in debt." The poor child passed her hand slowly over her face. "0, but we have this house, you know, and—and—" ' "No, Nellie, not even this house ;we must leave this pleasant place for •a smaller one. Can you bear it, darling ? I care not for my self, but for you and my boy. I can not bear that you should suffer, And now the true woman's soul speaks. " Never fear for us, Harry ; I have health and strength, and while you are near I shall not be unhappy. We will work together, toy hus band. Come, our teals waiting ; you are faint and weak, and must eat something. Don't look so sad ; you know I married you • Air bet ter or worse.' Ido not fear. God will lead Is he dreaming Y Is this the child he mar ried four years ago ? are these noble, womanly words front those lips that seemed formed only to sing and laugh? All, Harry Wellsford, you have yet to learn what a grand soul and noble nature dwells within your little girl wife. Four years ago you thought you took a baby to your heart. Only God knew what an angel lie had given you, and the trials which now lie in your path way will but tend to develops in her those traits of character which no one ever dreamed she possessed. Days creep away, and in a humble home Nellie again awaits her husband. There is a look of meagreness about the apartment, though she has tried, poor child, to make it look pleasant. The little French clock ticks as steadily as before, and old Carlo sleeps as sweetly on the coarse carpet as he did on the velvet. Out of work! Day after day Harry had been seeking some employment—seeking with thousands of others for labor to buy bread for his fandls_; = still no success. This morning he had gone forth with a heavier look of care on his broad brow, his whole face the picture of despair. Nellie sits to-night waiting for his coming, and trying to plan some way by which she could help hint. "'Perhaps I can write," she thought ; for she knew there were many who thus supported themselves ; but visions of hours of toil came before her—hours which, to bring success, must be spent alone, and she knew her house hold duties and little baby would claim her presence. Slowly she thought of the long cat alogue of women's employments. What could she do I Oh. how many women in this great city are even now asking that same question ; looking Down at their small hands and black dresses f woe, gazing away out over their humble surroundings to some far off grave where lies sonic darling loved one ! And what is there that ninny of them can do ?—shrinking, with their sensitive natures, from applying to strangers for work. God pity them all, end open to each one a way of deliverance! And does He not ? Have there not been records of noble lives that inspire us as we live ? lives that never would have thus shone forth if there had not been the fire and the sword. to develop them 1 And when Ills children reach forth their hands to help them• selves, does not the Infinite Father behold, and pity, and aid them. Nellie has decided ; she remembers the fine embroidery she used to love to do, and deter mines to make her needle add to their scanty RITBC. How care-worn that little face looks •when alone Ah,- there is his step on the stair ; she smiles—her eyes light up, and hurrying to the door, " Welcome, harry," she begins: but the smile dies away ; the light fades out of the blue eye, and, retreating slowly, she allows her husband to pass in, staggering not now with a mind harassed by fears, but under the weight of as • fearful a woe as ever cursed a broad humanity ! "G God, must my husband be a drunkard ? Heaven help me to do my duty and not to hate him i" Let us pass over that night of shame and morning of repentance and new resolutions. 'Would that never again might come such a night to Nellie WellstbrO ; but when a man once yields to the tempter that looks out from the wine-cup, it needs a powerful will never to approach it again ; and so that once noble man fell lower and lower, day after day, bringing wretchedness to his wife's soul. "0 God !" she cries, "turn this great sor row away, if it be Thy will: Father, help me to reclaim him." It seemed as If this was meant to be the one object of her life, for one night God took to himself the little boy that had been to her so great a care, and yet so precious a treasure. Arid now all her thoughts and attention must be given to that erring man wh msi had married for "better or worse." Oh, woman's love.! How it man s through scorn, and peril, and misery, and degradation I Heaven pity that man who has no gentle face to smile upon him, no tender voice to encour age him, no sister's affection or mother's coup ssl, 'no wife's devotion and unselfish prayers. For such, the world extends a cold aspect, and life must be aimless and selfish, and oft-times sad. Oh, Harry Wellsford, throw not so carelessly by this wealth of woman's love which hi yours ! Can you not see you are killing her you prom ised to' love and cherish? When you revel with base companions in low grog-shops, does no vision of a pale-faced wife come before you ? Can you not see the sweet face of your little dead boy, and hear his dying words: "Papa, you'll come too, by-and-by, and bring mamma, won't you, into that beautiful world ?" Reader, you may. have seen a pale-browed woman In the streets, hurrying to dispose of her labored work. You may have seen her nil you passed her window, bending to catch the fading light of day over her embroidery. Oh, dreary hours! No little baby voice to comfort her, no little soft hands to twine around her neck with the lisping words, "Willie loves mamma." "My God," she cries, over and over again,. "help me to reclaim him." This became her prayer night'and day*. For this she put on that patient, happy smile When with Min, trying, with many a loving device, to keep him at home evenings. Oh, man,- is the tempter stronger than that angel-wife? Are you indeed past redemption Night after night that devoted Wife went forth and led her husband away from Scenes of debauchery and ruin, seeking him among the vile and degraded ; seeing none, caring for none but him ; loving him through it all, making excuses, ever, in her heart, for him ; never upbraiding him, when, in his sober moods, he wept like a child before her. One night, on returning from some low drinking saloon, he passed by a threatre which had just closed; the crowd had passed away ; but aa.ho went by the doorl woman came out, and seizing hint by the arm, hissed In his car: " Murderer,'villain I go home to your pale wife and be a man. Was it for this you saved her from the floods, only to be plunged in a more terrible sea of griefs? Go home, and look how that childish thee has become worn and ivrinklied with the care you have brought upon her. See how those little hands are pricked and blackened by the Work that you have forced her to do. Go home, I say, and behold the work of your hand." The figure vanished in the darkness, and only the night-winds caught the moan. " 0 Nellie, my poor little baby friend—friend ! friend I Who would call me, the desolate out cast, a friend ! Wretch that lam ! still, night alter night I lona deck myself in gaudy robes, and, With paint and forced smiles, go lora' be- fore the multitude a living lie. Alas I who would recognize in this faded, haggard woman the once bright and beautiful Maud ?" Away in the darkness Of night the poor wo man rushes. Heaven be, merciful to the sinning—pitiful with the poor.. And does this warning check him in his mad career ? No, no ; and still goes up that wailing prayerweaker and more feeble than at first—" Oh God helpme to reclaim my hug. band I" Itarry Wellston], can you not behold the nisery you are causing Y Can you not foresee he shadow approaching " Know you not hat the angel you took •into your home is go ng to a Letter country l'—even now the wings we forming; soon they will bear her from all rouble and care. ‘• Let me live to see my husband reform." One night he comes home earlier than usual • but as he approaches the door the unusua silence chills him—he enters—all is darkness the clock has ceased its voice, for there were no little hands to, seta on its daily way—no figure sits by the window stitching the fine embroidery ; the faithful dog has crept in, and now whines upon the fluor. "Harry, is It you ?" whispered a faint voice. "I have had to lie down to-day; somehow I feel strangely weak and tired. Harry, get a light, please." "There, now ; come and sit by me. I think lam dying. Nay, do not sob so. I shall never rise again from this bed, but gradually grow weaker and weaker, till my breath ceases forever. Hush, be calm. It may be weeks before I leave you, Harry, and during that time I want to see you the man you was when we were married. Will you promise, dear, to be a true man again ? Promise, for I know a vow made to your dying 'wife will never be broken. Do you ? will you, Harry? "Heaven helping me, I never will touch another drop of liquor as long as I live I" He spoke solemnly, on beaded knees, his eyes up turned to that hewn from which he invoked aid. sweet smile stole over her face. "I be lieve you, dear ; and now, while I can talk, there are some things I want to say'to you. .1)0 you remember the two friends I used to kink Bo mock of? I want to see them before I die. Does the word pain you so ?—then I will try and not say it again ; but I have thought of it so Ion• that it has grown familiar to me. " You will find Maud In the city somewhere ; perhaps you had better advertise. Say, ' Maud, little Nell is dying. Come to see her, and hold her in your arms, just as you uses! to do when she was nothing but a baby.' " Carrie is in the little village where I used to live. Tell her to ask her husband to conic too ; I should like to sue a minister. " You will take me there when it is all over, Harry ; and I should like, If you are willing, to wear the bridal dress you thought I looked so pretty in. "I am tired now, Sit just as you are, all the evening, with your hand In mine. Take the Bible first, and read awhile. Harry, I'm sorry I haven't been a better wife to you. You will find the embroidery I have been making half finished, in the stand-drawer, between the windows. I have a fancy that I would like you to keep it. The thimble is there, too —the little gold one that mother gave me ; and the needle is in the work, just as 1 left it. You didn't know what a little seamstress you had for a wife, did you ? Yes, I have done a good deal of that kind of work. I knew it was hard for you to find work now that there are so many looking. But I would like you to keep this little piece, and thlnk, when you look at it, how with every stitch is woven thoughts of you. Oh, don't sob so. Don't condemn yourself so bitterly. Ido not ; I never have. I know you did not mean to make me unhappy and I don't know as you have. I have loved you all the time, and if I could only have made you happier, I should have been more content .ed. But I was young and inexperienced, you know, and I suppose not very strong. No, no ; do not say you have killed me. It must be I never was strong and able to endure much, end I missed little Willie so, you know. I suppose that wore on me. But now, read, and I will sleep." Day after day Nellie lingered. Maud came end watched constantly by her. They had written to Carrie, but received no answer. Paler and more wan grew the little, sweet thee ; and the patient hands seemed smaller each day. Her husband was ever near, ever attentive to her wants. God had answered Nellie's prayer. She had indeed reclaimed him. . Slowly the hour approaches when 'lli° last good-bye must be spoken. Maud sits near, while in his arms Harry Wellsford holds his little girl-wife for the last time. The old clock ticks on as before ; the old house-dog keeps his faithful watch. There is a rustle in the hall. A beautiful lady enters, followed by a gentleman, and Car rie kneels by her . dying friend, while the min ister prays for the preplous soul about to cross the river. "I am glad you have come, Carrie. Dear girls, do you remember how we used to sit to gether in the grove at home ? We shall never wander thus again ; but I hope, one day, we shall roam over the meadows of the Better Land. harry, good-bye. When lam gone, try to live so that you may meet Willie end your little child-wife above., "Are you near me, harry 4—l don't seem te feel your arms attund. me. I think lam going now. Why, how light it is getting ! the morning dawns—mother, father, Willie— yes—coming—home " Silence, how dead ! "Tick, tick, tick," goes the clock on the wall. Carlo looks wist fully up ; a stray sunbeam falls across the bed and nestles in the golden curls ; a little bird peeps mournfully outside ; some one is sing ing in .the street; a child goes by, crying; an 1 organ-grinder plays some simple tune. But the sweet face is gone from the window forever! The little hands are folded, never to be unclasped. 0, Harry Welisford, In vain that beseeching voice ! She will never speak to you again ; no patient child-wife will over nestle in yourarms again. Weep on ; well may you weep, for you have lost a priceless blessing. Away to her childhood's home they bear her—home to her father and mother. Once again Harry Welisford comes down from the eourch altar with his wife ; but. oh, how different the two scenes! A poor old woman sobs by the door, speak ing in whispers to her who sits near her of the life now gone ; and as the bells toll solemnly. they seem to hear the bridal bells that had chimed foi her ; while mingling with the words, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," there seemed to echo, " For better or worse, in sick ness and in health, till death shall part," "So little Nelly's,, gone, Sophronia ; oh, what.a world of change! Surely ! surely I" "She never ought to- have been married,. Widow Smith, and gone to that great city. What was she good for, poor little darling She was nothing but a baby." Nothing but a baby? Little did the old maid know of Nellie's life, that womanly, de viued, self-sacrificing life. Was her work the work of a baby—seeking to reclaim the tempi ed ono through scoffs and jeers of brutal men —laboring day by day for the bread which he provided not? Nothing but a baby? 0, let us not judge a character hastily., for in the web of many a life a golden thread twineth, unseen by mortal eye, but which In the upper world, shall be woven into a crown of glory. • The stage has lost one of Itsapplauded stars, • WILLS .435 IREDELL, 1131ttin antt ffancp Slob likinteuf, No. 47 EAST HAMILTON STREET, ELEGANT PRINTING NEW LESIONS LATEST STY LDS Stamped Cheeks, Cards, Circulars. Paper Books, Condi lotions and Ily-LewP School Catalogues, Bill Heads Envlopes, Letter Reads Dills of Lading Way Dills, Tags and Shipping Cards, Posters at any edge, etc., eto., Printed at Short Notice. NO. 16 and with rouge and falsehood washed away, and her heart made pure by the blood which cleanseth from all sin, Maud sits in the midst of the village children, an earnest teacher. Each night, as the sun sinks behind the west ern hills, with gentle step she wends her way to the church-yard, and, kneeling by a little grave, scatters flowers on the still mound. Thus there conies a silent influence from that departed life that elevates a fallen woman, and, 1.144, , on wings of heavenly wettings, breathes around the pathway of Ithn who treads "life's dim labyrinth" alone. From the midst of his sins Harry Wellsford has come forth a reclaimed man, honored by his fellow-creatures, loved and blessed by many a needy one, and, may we not believe, smiled upon by her who dwelleth in "n house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens ?" Faithful to his wife's memory he remains ; no other will ever take her place in his home or heart •; and sometimes, as he sits alone, the words of Gerald Massey fall from his lips— , "In this dim world of clouding cares, We rarely know till 'wildered eyes See white wings lessening up the skies, The angels with us unawares." FOOD FOR PORK MAKING The economy of feeding animals for meat is better understood in England than with us. One kind of food will cost much more, than another to produce the same results. But while the selection of food in' regard to its market value is a consideration which should . not be overlooked, another important question should be studied—that is the kind of food which will make the best finality of meat. That some-meats are better than others to the taste, although no apparent difference may be, detected by the eye, is a well known fact. It may be an exceedingly cheap way of fatten ing hogs upon snakes and shack, but we doubt whether the quality of the pork is excellent, br it would be so cheap after all, if the consu mer knew what he was purchasing. We do not suppose that snakes are employed to any great extent for feeding hogs, and yet a cor respondent of one of the papers, recently claimed that western hogs, often are allowed to feed upon this and other unwholesonie diet, and in consequence were subject to disease and the meat liable to be infected with trichi na. This doubtless was nothing but a good Joke on our western friends, but it is a fact that hog cholera and other diseases exist to a greater extent West than at the East. The idea generally prevails in the United States that Indian corn, or corn meal is the best food for swine, and from which the best pork is made.. It fattens the animal rapidly and has the merit of making what the house keepers call solid pork, that ,is pork that in cooking is not liable to waste away, or have its fatty particles separated from the meat. In this respect, the different kinds of food upon which swine are fattened, have a remarkable influence. Distillers slops make very fat pork, but when it comes to be cooked, a large part of the original bulk passes off into oil or lard and hence, such pork is not considered eco nomical to purchase. Corn, as is well known, contains a consid erable percentage of oil, which in feeding, is largely appropriated by the animal, and hence as might be expected, takes from it a rand and disagreeable flavor. Doubtless this'may nev er have been observed by , many who have al ivays been ascustomed to the use of" corn tech pork," but that its flavor is disliked and re jected on flint account, is of too frequent oc currence to admit of doubt. In the large dairy district, a cheap pork making material is at hand—a material almost valueless for ally other purpose, except as food for domestic an imals. We refer to whey resulting from the manufacture of cheese. There is great differ ence of opinion among dairymen as to wheth er whey is most profitable when employed for pigs, or fed to COWS giving milk. Tlie ques tion has not been settled to the satisfaction of dairymen ,but however this may be, careful ly considered experiments have shown that whey possesses considerable value as a feed ing material. We might refer to analyses that have been made from time to time, to substan tiate this statement, but so patent is the tact that it might seem almost unnecessary to make mention of it here. We do so, however, he cause the ground is being taken at minty facto ries, that whey from carefully manufactured cheese is of no account as feeding material, and therefore is allowed to go to waste. Such practice cannot be otherwise than condemned as bad economy, and should be at once .aban doned, since we are persuaded that the pat rons at no factory would allow it to he so wasted, with a knowledge of its real value. Whey when mingled with barley meal, and fed to swine, will make a better and more del icately flavored meat than can be obtained from any other food. By feeding barley meal with whey, the dairy farmers of England make fie it whey, pay them in pork from $7 to $lO per cow—an important item, it will lie seen, in any dairy. The practice with many of our factories is to feed nothing but whey. This, as we have often remarked heretofore, is very objectiona ble, since the solid constituents in whey are not in the right proportion to be used as a sole feed for swine. Good whey conta i ns only about seven parts of solid matter. in an hun dred parts ; all the rest is water. About five of the seven parts above mentioned are milk, angel : and lactic acid, a substance very desira ble, it is true, as food, when properly mingled with other flesh-forming material. , That great experimenter, Mr. Limes, states that 500 pounds of barley meal, where it is made a sole feed for swine, will increase the weight of a pig from 100 to 200 pounds. We have no statistics at hand showing the quanti ty of local front other grains, or from wheat bran, that would produce the same result. What we need, and it could be determined easily at our factories, is a series of experi ments with the meal of different grains to be fed with the whey, to determine which would I increase the weight of. pigs most. That ' having been determined, the relative cost of the different kinds of feed would deed. \V which was most profitable to be used. The market value of barley may at times be I too high to make it profitable to be used with whey as feed for swine; but the fact that such feed makes a superior quality of pork, is the question which we should undersbuid. Many people are willing to pay an extra price Mr an .extra article, and especially is this the case with pork to be used in the home markets. Among private dairymen, who fatten pigs for their own family use or for that of their neighbors, who desire an extra article, this question is one of considerable huportauce, and we have alluded to it that experiments might be made, with the hope that it may prove of some practical value.—Andri•icon Stork Journal. I —The criminal I'oineet, who was lately ex cuted for murder, in France, sent for the doc tor, on the evening preceeding, his exeoution "Doctor I feel very unwell." How is that, let me see your tongue ? Alt, yea ; a little agi tated, pulse quick and irregular, but that is nothing. A little repose and 1401110 cooling medicine will put that all right." The cool ing drink was taken regularly, anti the next morning ho walked coolly to the scaffold. —We bad related to us the other day an an ecdote of an old lady who formerly entertained travelers in a neighboring county, before her guests commenced a meal it was her custom to ask a blessing. Site always delivered herself in this wise :• " 0 Lord I make us truly thank ful for the ihod before us. Nancy,. hand around the corn bread first, and then the his - cult afterward. Amen." —A miser who had been sent to purgatory for his avarice heaved a deep sigh as he crossed the threshold. , " What, repenting already ?" cried one of the imps In attendance. "Oh, .1 was only thinking of what a prodigious waste of fuel you have here," answered Saveall ; " I would engage to heat the place thoroughly ..with two-thirds of the fuel." —The claim of a New England loan to be the " champion" sufferer by accidents is dis-. puted. Putnam, Ohio, puts forth a man who has broken both collar bones, his jaw- bone, both armsefour ribs on one side and two on the other, and one leg ; he had also both ankles dislocated; and has lost his sight all by acci dents, "and is still able to be about. —" You've destroyed my peace. of mind, Betsey,' said a desponding lover, to a truant lass. It can't do you much harm, John, for' 'twas an amazing small piece you had any way" was the quick reply. OPATAIRP. ALLENTOWN. PA
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