-
BY S. B. ROW.
CLEARFIELD, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1860.
YOL. 6.-JT0. 24.
TSEY TELL ME THAT I'M ALWAYS GAY.
They tell me that I'm always gay,
That iny heart is ever light.
That Bought of sorrow clouds my way,
Or dims life's roses bright.
Eut O, they do not read aright.
The lore of my soul profound.
Whose buried griefs, obscured from sight,
Not even the plummet can sound.
The thoughts which sadly crowd my brain,
Jfo human mind can know ;
This heart shall never more complain,
Though crushed to earth by woe !
"Within the smiles of life I'll bask,
, A slave to joy and mirth,
Till death shall cast aside the mask
I wore while on the earth.
THE PRINCE'S LOOK.
CONTINUED.
X HUNTING PIECE.
Th farther he found himself among the
mountains, the more composed his mind be
came. He thought of his old tutor, Maritius,
and sometimes, too, of his beantiful compani
on. He took out the glove, and examined it
carefully. From the glove his thoughts turn
ed to the bcautitul arm, hand and finger ; from
the arm, he thought of the fair shoulder, and
then of the fine symmetry of her whole lovely
person, and the proud majesty of her inno
cence. He had nothing now to do but indulge
bis fancies, for the country was without varie
ty. He was following a road, on either side
ol which rose mountains and tr?es. Suddenly
he heard a shot, aud a ball whizzed by him.
The colonel stood still. "Halloa !" he cried.
A fox dashed across the road, and soon a
huntsman appeared in pursuit.
"Badly aimed, friend," cried the colonel,
"yon had nearly Lit me instead of the fox."
The stranger turned towards Lini. "How f"
he cried, "is it possible 1" Ho slowly ap
proached, took oil' his hat, saying, with much
respect, "I do not mistake You are the B.iron
von Leinau ?" "And you I recollect you
vre have met somewhere O, yes ! in London.
You are Count Streitenberg !" said the colonel-
"Ah, comrade !" exclaimed the count,
embracing the baron with great cordiality.
Now came question upon question, joy upon
Joy. Come with me," said tho count : "not
far from hence is a sportsman's breakfast, cojd
meat and a glass of vine. We will share it."
' They went. The breakfast was waiting un
der an old oak, and a youth was standing by.
The count bade the young man go home with
the dogs, and order dinner at the hour, lor the
chase was ended for the day, and the stranger
was to be his guest. When the youth had de
parted, the count again fell on the baron's
neck. "Baron," he cried, "I cannot express
my delight. Ah ! If you only knew how many
thousand times I have wanted you here, and
how much I value you. Where are you go
ing 1 What have you to do J Are you mar
ried ? Have you a family ?"
The baron, forgetting tho unpaid debt, and
enlivened partly by the cordiality of the count,
and partly by the good wine, returned the em
braces of bis friend. The count was highly
delighted. "There is a wonderful sympathy
between ws, baron," said he; "I loved you
from the first moment of our acquaintance in
London, and when 3-ou gave me tho bank-note,
and delivered me from the perplexing embar
rassment in which the severity of my uncle
had thrown me really, baron, no man had ev
tt before such an impression made upon him.
I Lave no friend. I have never found one un
til now. I pray you, be my friend." The
baron embraced the count in silence.
"Ah, baron, I am unhappy, very unhappy,"
continued the count, looking sadly at Leinau,
very unhappy. It is doubtful whether you "
"Whether what ?'' interrupted Leinau with
warmth, while the thought of the unpaid bank
note flashed across his mind. "Unhappy T
well! unhappy? I am unhappy also. We
shall suit each other so much the better. I
will not forsake you. We shall share money
and estate, if need be. No, it is not in vain
that I have a hundred times sworn to myself
that such a noble countenance could not de
ceive me. Count, we are friends forever.
We ae brothers, brothers formed for one an
other by Heaven. So be it !"
"So be it baron," said the count, again
embracing him ; "I have found at last tho
man I have sought so long."
"And our treaty is in all due form and or
der, consummated," cried the colonel, filling
both glasses with the remains of the flask.
"I belong to you forever, My blood for you !'
The count, seized with the like enthusiasm,
exclaimed, "You are my friend ; never cease to
be my friend. Yon are my brother. I, too, could
die for you. Now I am unhappy no longer."
"I will put a marble monument," continued
the count, as they both rose, "under this oak.
If you are faithless to me, I will summon you
to this oak and this monument."
"How?" said the baron; "I thought you
were unhappy because yon had no property,
and now you are going to erect marble pil
lars." The count laughed and said, "O my
dear baron, my misfortune is not poverty. Is
it then a misfortune to be without money ?"
"You are right," replied Leinau, "it was a
mistake of mine. I trust that you and I would
not be unhappy even it we were beggars ?"
So the conversation went on. Arm in arm
they sauntered through the forest, and when
they came out into the open country, there
6tood before them, on a hill, which ascended
from a lovely valle3r, several miles long and
wide, a noble chateau. The colonel was rela
ting to tho count his adventures, travels, and
campaigns in Russia and Poland, and how he
had Ipst at last every thing, and he hardly no
ticed the beauty of the garden through which
they were going. But when they emerged
from the shrubbery, and a large, elegant man
sion stood before them, with ample courts,
wauunu iountains and statues, the baron
looked around him with astonishment. "To
whom does this castle belong ?'.' lie asked.
"o my uncle," replied the count; "but
I occupy it. You see now there is room e
nough for yoa."
The baron grew more and more serious as
they approached the edifice, and the ducal
coat of arms appeared over the portal. Two
servants came out, with an air of great respect,
took charge of the count's hunting piece, and
' the baron's also. "Is dinner ready 1" asked
the count. - "If your grace pleases."
The colonel looked first at tho count, and
. then at the building. "What is the fellow
ying V asked he., pointing to the servant as
the latter retired4 Why j asked tho cQunt
' i ... " 8amniered the baron, "it sound-
T.!l Klrf' "Sha,: 1 teU yn now at ,at "bo
' interrupted the count ; "yon would
cot pbrmit m to do it in London." "Certain-
ly. It is quite time," replied the baron. "My
name is Louis.' "Well, but what else?' "How!
you are not afraid" said the count, taking the
baron's hand. "I am the Crown Prince."
The colonel drew back, and would have rais
ed his hand to his hat, but the prince exclaim
ed, "How ! shall I lead you back to the oak,
Leinan, where you swore to be my brother V
"The true foundation of friendship is want
ing, equality," answered the baron. "In the
eye of the world, dear Leinau," replied the
prince, "it is wanting, but not between our
selves. Before tho world you will give me my
title, but when we are alone together, I am
your brother, and you will call me Louis.".
EXPLANATIONS.
In the company of the prince, the colonel
forgot the pastor, Mauritius, whom he had set
out to seek only from-a weariness of his mon
otonous life. The two friends were right in
believing that they were made for each other.
Both loved, hated, honoured, or despised the
same things,although,ottentimes,from very dif
ferent reasons. The prince,aIthough no braver
than the baron, was more enthusiastic. He
possessed very lively sensibilities, while the
colonel was more precise, more quiet, or, at
least, more master of himself. His influence
went to moderate the feelings of the prince, or
to raise them when they sunk. It was exert
ed to keep the good sense of the other clear
and paramount. Each considered the other as
having bound him Ly the greatest obligations.
From this time their studies and pursuits were
alike. The baron consented to remain a guest
at the residence of the prince, and the latter
lived in a very delightful way. Kept at a dis
tance, almost hated by the reigning duke, his
life, hitherto, had been that of a prisoner or
exile. The people generally loved the crown
prince, the more on account of this dislike,
but none ventured to express their affection o
penly. They knew that the duke was still in
his best years, and that it would be some
lime before they could honor the prince as
the rising sun.
Soon after his arrival at Fricdland such
was the name of the prince's residence the
baron had a manifest proof of the severity of
the old duke towards his nephew.
The prince was desirous of making his
friend a present of money, when he ascertain
ed that t!v baron, once accustomed to live in
opulence, had lost nearly the whole ot his
propetfy. In tendering him this gift, he en-
titl.d it the interest of that sum which he had
received from the baron in London. "What
if I did return that sum," he added, "to your
steward, as soon as I got home, yet I must pay
the interest of it all my life long. The duke
left me without help, enjoining it upon me in
the strictest manner neither to contract any
debts, nor to break my incognito. And then
he suddenly recalled me and I knew not what
would have been the consequences had I hes
itated to obey him." Upon further explana
tion, tho prince wa3 astonished to learn that
the baron knew nothing of the payment of the
debt. The receipt of the post-office, through
which the money was transmitted, was produ
ced by the prince. A letter was instantly des
patched to Leinau's steward, and the honest
old man replied, that he had never received
the money. The princeordeied an examina
tion of the post-olBce, and the receipt of the.
money at that place was amply proved ; but a
letter of the duke's came to light, directing
that all the letters of the prince, during tho
first year after his return, should be forwarded
to the capital. Thus the riddle was solved.
But the trouble taken in getting at the solu
tion, had disagreeable consequences. It bro't
the baron under the notice of the old duke,
who probably suspected him to be disaffected,
and that, on this account, he was residing with
the prince. The prince was commanded to
banish Leinau from his estate. Nothing re
mained but silent obedience, unless the two
friends were willing to exasperate the duke.
The colonel returned to his humble dwel
ling, and here received weekly visits from
his princely friend, or, when a visit was not
practicable, there came letters ; or they met
half-way between their respective residences.
CHANGES.
One stormy winter's morning, when the snow
was deep, and it was yet dark, and the colonel
was still in bed, a loud noise was heard at the
door of his little mansion. Some one knock
ed. The door was opened, and steps were
heard. The baron imagined that the prince
had come, whom he had not seen now for some
days, on account of the bad weather.
After a while the old steward entered the
room, and approached the bed, with a candle
and a huge letter. "Who has come so early ?'
asked the baron. "One of the duke's cou
riers, from the palace, with this letter," an
swered lhe steward.
The baron grew alarmed. - His grace, the
duke, whose's prince's look the baron had not
lorgotten, could certainly send nothing good.
"Probably,' thought he, "a gracious command
to show the prince the door when he comes to
visit my little study again." But the address
of the letter ran thus: "To the President of our
Prjyy council, the noble Baron of Leinau."
"What !" cried the colonel, springing from
the bed, "I, the President of the Privy-council!
Are the people crazy, or do they want
to make mo so ?"
lie tore open the letter, and read his nomi
nation to the highest honor in the state,vritten
in all due form, to which was added the gra
cious command to conje to the palace immedi
ately. The paper was signed Louis; and by
way of postcript, were written in the prince's
own hand the lollowing words: "The first act
of my reign, dear Baron, is to call you to me.
Come without delay." It seemed to the baron
as if he had fallen from the clouds. "Is the
duke dead V he inquired of the steward. Tho
old man could give no satisfaction. He was
sent to inquire of the courier, and the answer
was, that the duke had died of apoplexy.
The steward trembled in every limb, for ap
oplexy was a thing he did not at all like. He
hastened to the baron, and said : "His grace
the duko is dead." But the word apoplexy
did not pass his lips.
"Whaf ! how ?" exclaimed the baton.
"His grace was ever sudden in his move
ments." "But how was it ? Was it sickness,or some
accident ?"
"His majesty, it appears, has been pleased
accidentally to to die."
"Bravo!" cried the colonel, and drew on
his traveling clothes, and hastened to the
palace in the steward's carriage.
TO EE COSTIXVED.
Gen. Cass has given to the board of Educa
tion of Detroit, a lot of land rained at $15,
000, for a Union Schoolbouse.
A GROUP 0? PRINTERS.
GREELEY", DOW, JR.. K EXP ALL, OF THE PICAYUNE, AC
Mr. Swain, editor of the Albany Statesman
recounts the subjoined reminiscences :
There are but few. of our readers who have
not read with delight the Patent Sermons, by
Dow, Jr., which originally appeared in the
Xew York Sunday Mercury. His death has
lately been announced, as occurring at San
Francisco, California, from drunkenness and
want. The first accounts prove, however, to
have exaggerated his failing. By the follow
ing extract of a late letter in the A'ew York
Times, over the signature of "Glauccs" (Dr.
F. Tathull, last year member of Assembly from
Kings,) dated from San Francisco, it appears
that he was only subject to an occasional de
bauch, and that he was not always intoxicated,
"By your last advices you were informed of
the miserable death o.f 'Dow, jr.,' who died of
a drunken debauch on the 4th of December.
He was as quiet, inofiensive and modest a man
here as when he was preaching his 'Patent Ser
mons' in New York; but about once in six
mouths ho would have a big spree. He died
almost unattended, in a wretched room, but
not poor. He worked at the case, and con
tributed Heekly,when sober, to the Golden Era,
a sermon. If you have seen his sermons late
ly, you may have thought them but repetitions
of his earlier productions. But this was not
so. He let his reputation suffer this suspicion
by permitting his publishers, when he was out
of sorts, to reprint from the volnmescollected
lrom the Mercury, without any intimation that
the new dram came from an old bottle. Shab
bily as he had treated himself, and dirty as I
found him when lying in his plain red wood
coffin, in front of the stable that is used for a
dead house, you would have recognized the
features as the same once so familiar in Nassau
street. He has buried in Lone Mountain Cem
etery, the brief funeral procession being made
up almost entirely of members of the Press."
The real name of Dow, jr., was "Eldiklge
Gerry Paige. He came to New York, from
New England and sought employment as a
journeyman printer. Twenty-three years ago
we ' stuck tpyc" in the same alley, in the
printing office ot the New Yorker, edited and
published by Horace Greely. Geo. Wilkins
Kendall, (the projector of the New t Orleans
Picayune,) Morgan Bates, (we think since a
partner of Geo. Dawson in the publication of
the Detroit Advertiser,') O. A. Bowe, (who was
a fellow apprentice with Greely, and afterwards
published a paper at Little Falls,) stood at the
case in the same office. Bowo, Batos and
Paige are now dead. Kendall is still living
but has abandoned the chair editorial for sheep
raising on the plains of Texas. He left the
Yorker Office to commence the Picayune, hav
ing acquired the capital for that enterprise, in
a way that would hardly be-considered ortho
dox in a moial community. Before leaving
New York, Kendall had "tramped" the South
as a jonr printer traveled for information, as
he said, through every principal village and
city in the Southern States, sometimes on
steamboats, sometimes in stage coaches, (there
was but one railroad in tho South then from
Charleston to Augusta,) and not unfrequently
on foot, with his baggage on his back, pendant
in a handkerchief, from his walking stick.
Sometimes he was "flush" and well dressed
sometimes "strapped" and seedy but always
witty, genial and gentle'manly. In his ven
tures, he had frequently been boon companion
with many of the most eminent men of the
country.
The Astor House then was but just opened
and extensively visited by Southerners. It was
a lashion with Kendall to patronize that estab
lishment, after working hours. Strolling over
there one evening, after having '-washed up,"
he was agreeably surprised to meet several
gentleman whom he. had known as merchants,
and lawyers and doctors, at Natchez, Missis
sippi. After juleps round, and a sherry cob
bler apiece, some one proposed to "close the
night" with a little game of poker. Kendall
had but about five dollars in his watch fob,
(there was no watch there) but he assented,
among the rest, to the proposition. Excusing
himself for a moment, he made a rush down
Ann Street to the Office, where he hoped to
find some of his fellow-printers with money to
lend. Bates, as foreman of the office, had been
detained making up the forms. He had eight
dollars and "we" (we were helping Bates) had
two hundred and seven cents. Kendall took
the dollars (leaving us the cents) and thus
made a purse of fifteen dollars. With this
fund he sat down to play. The play went on
till daylight. At seven o'clock Kendall came
into the office, paid up the 10 he had borrow
ed, told Greely he would give up his situation
and asked all hands to partake of a "pious
gorge" that afternoon. All the hands were
but too happy to do that same, and still more
happy when their fellow craftsman announced
that he was tho fortunate possessor of about
$700, won at the "little game of poker" afore
said, and that with the $700 he proposed "to
start a paper in New Orleans." In due time
the Picayune appeared was a success win
ning reputation lor Kendall as a polished wri
ter and a brilliant wit, and what was better,
giving him a princely income. He has had
many a hair breadth escape since that: was
among the Sante Fe prisoners, and given up as
dead, but alterwards released; he went through
the Mexican war; has passed years in foreign
travel, until, satiated with enjoyment, and ti
red of the excitement of city life, he retired
to Texas, and is now master of thousands of
acres of land, and reckons more than a hun
dred thousand sheep, cattle and mules as his
individual property.
in time, Paige also left the New Yorker of
fice, and in company with two others, com
menced the publication of the Sunday Mercury,
a paper about tho size of the Albany Times.
The arrangement was that tho partners (they
were all printers) shouid set the type. Paige
was not to perform any editorial duties,(which
his partners were expected to perform,) and
there was no thought that he was capable of
writing. His transfer was the work of chance.
The Sunday Atlas was at that timeas it always
since has been the rival of the Mercury, -the
latter being the younger of the two. Shortly
after the Mercury appeared, the proprietors of
the Atlas enlarged their journal, procuring
new type and a beautiful vignette head, rep
resenting Atlas upholding the World. Of
course the Mercury must follow suit abandon
its plain apparel, and have an embellished
heading. A consultation as to what that head
ing should be was held between the two edi
tors, but neither could make any satisfactory
suggestion.
Finally Paige was invited to co-operate
The want being stated, Paige at once suggest
ed a vignette representing the god Mercury -
flying over the World and Atlas, with this line
ioramotto:
"lie sees the top of Atlas as he flies."
Tlyj hit was palpable the suirsestion adopted.
The partners got another hint that their asso
ciate might have in him the stuff of which a
good editor is made. A little talk Paige shy
ana doubtful, the partners insisting and confi
dent and Paige was induced to trv his hand
In the next number of the Mercury appeared
me urst oi the "JPatent Sermons, by Dew, jr."
These were continued weekly, and gave the
paper such an impetus that the exchequer of
the Mercury grew plethoric, tho partners aban
doned type-setting, and attended only to the
business and editorial departments. Paige
was sought out became very popular was
dined, liquored, feted. From an industrious,
sober, hard-working printer, he became a man
about town, a favorite of the fast men, and in
time so dissipated that he became useless to
the paper, and was bought out by his partners.
He wasted all his money in idleness and drink
ing, and finally went to California.
TEA-DRINKING IN RUSSIA.
A correspondent of the Boston Transcript
gives an interesting account of tea-drinking in
Russia. He savs :
The visiter in St. Petersburg will notice
among the pictorial embellishments of the
shop fronts, which are 30 singular in their ap
pearance, a great many signs whereupon are
represented tho Russian Samoyar, or tea nrn,
and a set of cups and saucers or glasses. These
signify that tho establishment is a tea house,
a place largely patronized by the Russians of
all classes.
The tea of which they are so found is brought
overland from China ; thus preserving, as they
claim, the peculiarly delicate flavor, which a
sea voyage is sure to destroy. It is very dear;
the finer kinds costing from five to fifteen dol
lar3 a pound. As a general rule, the black
teas are preferred, although a delicate green
is in high favor with many, at sixteen silver
rubles,or about twelve dollars a pound. There
is a yellow tea ot about the same price, which
has a frightful effect upon one's nerves green
tea is a sedative compared with it. The bev
erage, black, green or yellow, is drunk with
sugar, but without cream, a slice of lemon be
ing substituted, and the tea sipped by spoon
fuls.
You may find all grades of tea-houses in the
.Russian cities, even to those in which the
poorest classes gather after their day's work
is done, to refresh their wearied frames with
the gentle stimulant. If you enter one of the
better class, you find a large room, or series
of rooms, with little tables, and, invariably,
a picture of the Virgin and Child, or a saint,
covered with a plate of gold, or silver gilt, so
as to leave only the face, hands and feet visi
ble. Then you taue your seat at one of the
windows that look upon the Streets, and order
your "chi." The waiter brings a portion of
tea in a small tea-pot, a plentiful supply of
hot water in another vessel, glasses instead of
cups,some slices of lemon and lumps of sugar,
and then a plate of rolls of paper and tobacco
for cigarettes.
The Russians drink their tea very weak,
and the tea-pot is replenished with hot water
by a native, until a person accustomed to what
is called tea in England or America, begins
to nnd the flavor of the lemon preponderate
in his glaae. Indeed, the drinking of strong
tea, at fifteen dollars a pound is rather an ex
pensive luxury. But the higher grades are
usually reserved for higher occasions. The
kinds in general use among the wealthy citi
zens of St. Petersburg are thoso averaging
about four roubles or three dollars a pound ;
in the tea-houses a still lower quality is used.
THE SCHOOLMASTER'S IN THAT BED.
A correspondent of the New York Weekly
gives the following as one of the manj' inci
dents that befel a "boarding round schoolmas
ter:" I had been teaching in Mason county, in the
Sucker State, and this particular term was
"boarding round." One evening after school,
one of my little scholars stepped up to me and
said :
"Mr. Jones, father said you would come
home with me."
"Very well," I replied, and forthwith set
out for my patron's house, wnich was distant
some two miles. Now, be it known, James
M'Harry for such was his name had two
daughters, tho pride and envy of the whole
commuuity. I had heard so much about them
that I was naturally anxious to see them. It
seemed, however, that I was to be disappoint
ed. AVhen, we arrived, I learned the "gals"
had gone to a party on the other side cf tho
creek; so I went to bed, cursing the luck
which deprived mo of seeing them that night.
The night had far advanced, when I heard one
of the girls come home, and passing into the
adjoining room, was warming before some
coals which were alive on the hearth. It
seems that the old lady and gentleman slept
in the same room, but I was not aware of it
until then. Having warmed herself, she turn
ed to leave the room, when the old man spoke :
"Girls," said he, "tUe schoolmaster's in
your bed."
"Very well," said Sarah, and passing thro'
the room I slept in, went up stairs. About an
hour elapsed, when I heard Judy, the other
one, come. She stood at the door a long
time, talking with her "feller," then entered
softly. Disrobing her feet, she entered the'
room where I lay, carefully undressed herself,
and coming to the side of tho bed, prepared to
get in. ' Now it happened that I lay in the
middle, and turning back the clothes, she
gave me a shake, and said, in a suppressed
whisper:
"Lay over, Sarah !"
I rolled over, and whipped tho corner of the
pillow into rcy mouth to keep from laughing.
In she bounced, but the bed would creak. The
old man heard it, and cried out: "Judy !"
"Sir !" was responded in a faint tone from
the bed beside me.
"The schoolmaster is in that bed !'
With one loud yell, and "oh, heavens!" she.
landed on tho floor, and fled with the rapidity
of a deer up stairs. She never heard the last
of it, I can tell you ; but probably she "learn
ed something" about "stayin out late spark
in' ;" and trying to slip in unbeknown to the
old folks. . - .
Samuel Woodman, near Dayton, Ohio, died
of hydrophobia, recently. He was bitten by
a dog last September. :
The month of December, 1859, is regarded
as one of the coldest Decembers on record. .
LETTER FROM MISSOURI.
Correspondence of the "Raftsman's Journal."
Cheam Ridge, January 23tu, 1800.
S. B. Row, Esq; Dear Sir: As 1 promised
that alter I got out and had time to look around
a little, I would let you hear from me, I take
this occasion to drop you a few Jincs. We
left Pittsburg in a steamboat, bound for Cin
cinnati, there took another boat for St. Louis,
there took steam packet for Hannibal, and at
that place took the Hannibal & St. Joseph
Railroad to Chillicothe, which i3 within1 five
miles of where I live. The water being very
low, it took us fifteen days to make the trip,
which is a much longer time than it would
take if the water were in good order. The
fare for one passenger to Chillicothe, Living
ston county, Missouri, from Clearfield, is,
$ 2,50 to Tyrone, $3,9-3 to Pittsburgh, $12 to
St. Louis, $3 to Hannibal, 5,20 to Chillicothe
total $2G,G5. On tho-cars it will cost more
2,50 to Tyrone, $3,95 to Pittsburgh, $19,50
to St. Louis, and to Chillicothe $8,40, making
$34,35 and on the boat your boarding is in
cluded in the price mentioned ; while on tho
cars j'ou have to pay for your meals. I have
traveled both ways, and much prefer the
steamboat, particularly when a person has a
family along with him. .
We live five miles from the city of Chilli
cothe, and within hearing of the iron horse.
Wo have a good market for all that wc can
raise, and prices are rather on the advance.
The prices cf dry goods in a general way are"
near about the same as they are in Clearfield.
Pork, 4 to 4 for good corn-fed that which
was killed in tho woods, fattened on the mast,
is softer meat and sells foi about 3 ets. ; good
beef 3 to 4 cts. ; wheat from 70 to DO cts. per
bushel; corn 30 to 35 cts.; oats 40 to 50 cts.
My impression is that raising stock is the ni
cest and the best paying business in this part
of the country, as feed is plenty and the win
ter short, and hogs aud cattle are always in de
mand, and can be sold for csh at any time.
We have a better breed of cattle here than you
have in Clearfield. A good milch cow is worth
about $23,00. Butter sells from 15 to 25 cents
per lb. the year round, and some of the citi
zens tell me that fresh butter is sometimes as
high as 40 cts. The reason is, they generally
let the calves run with the cows, and the cous
arc not milked. To give you an idea ol what
kind of calves they raise here, I will give you
the dimensions of one among some that I
purchased. When the boys brought it home,
I took my tape line and measured it. 1 roni
tip to tip ho measured 10 feet and round his
body G feet 4 inches. This is a spring calf.
Rents in this part of the country are double
as mucu as they are in Clearheld. ooa is
worth $2,50 to $3,00 per cord for good hickory
in town. Taxes are lower, and all the school
tax there is to pay is when a school house is to
be built. 1 he schools are kept up by donation
of land, every sixteenth section of the land
being given for school purposes, and all the
expense the citizens incur is to keep up the
school houses.
The weather is much milder here than it 13
with you. I see in tho Journal, (which is a
welcome weekly visitor, keeping us posted in
all the news of the day,) that you have had
snow and fine sleighing, whilst the weather
was very pleasant here. When the winter set
in, it was very rough for two or three davs,
and it was over. We had several little squalls
of snow that-lasted a few days and then dis
appeared. Comparing the winter, so far as it
is past, i ith what we used to have in Clear
field, and it is no winter at a1!. For some time
past it has been warm enough to do without
hre in the house, lo look at the burning
prairie, it does not seem like winter ; and to
see the cattle outdoors pickf ng about makes it
appear like the spring of the year.
Now would" bo a good time for persons to
buy land in this part of the country. Ihero
are a great many wanting to go to Pike's Peak
and to California, who would sell low. Some
fine farms, well improved, can be bought at
$20 to $25 per acre. Prairie land can be
bought for ten to fifteen dollars per acre, in
good locations. If you or any of the Clearfield
folks should coins out this way, I would be
glad to seo them. I hopa they will not pass
by without giving me a call. By inquiring of
Josian W . Baud in Chillicothe, you can learn
where I live. I will give all the information I
can t)f the country. It is a pity to see so
much good land here and no person to woik it,
whilst there are so many in Clearfield working
among the roots and stumps for so small a re
ward. I wish there was a colony of them here.
My familj is all in good health, and have
had no sickness since wo came to Missouri.
For my own part, I have had better health
since i came to tins Mate than i had for ten
years past. I have not been sick one day since
we came here, cor have. I taken on dose of
medicine of any kind, and whilst I was in
Clearfield I had to take medicine almost as
regular as the day came. I have gained fifteen
pounds in weight since I left Clearfield.
Hoping to hear from you weekly through
the Journal, I remain 3-ours truly,
Lewis R. Carter.
My post office address is, Chillicothe, Liv-
ingstoc county, Missouri.
The Ladies op New York have organized a
"hearthstone club" for discussing domestic
matters and bringing about necessary reforms
in housekeeping. They meet once a month,
and at the last meeting, among other impor
tant subjects, a discussion on dolls took place.
One thought a rag-baby as good as a doll ; and
another, that as the doll was the child's idea
of the human, it should be beautiful so as not
to vitiate the child's taste ; while the Presi
dent suggested that it should be aitistic iu
form, and denounced the shapeless monstrosi
ties found in the market. After these impor
tant declarations of opinion, the ladies ad
journed. As advocates of the rights of our
own sex, we insist that they devote some at
tention to masculine as well as feminine toys,
and at the next meeting we hope to hear w hat
they have got to say on hobby-horses, tin
whistles and pop-guns.
rr"Affnsiira nrfi alinnt h!nr fnkon In TCaw
- 0 . . .
Jersey for diminishing the evils of intemper
ance. -Will they be pint, quart, or gallon
measures? -We recommend dry measures.
. : Measures are being passed in the Legisla
ture of Minnesota in order that steps may
be taken to remove the Winnebago Indians
from their present location. The whites want
their land. ; '
I A Fat Office. From statistics published,
'it i inferred that the income of the SheriS of
New York is at least $60,000 year!
HIGH LIFE IN WASHINGTON CITY.
The following bits of gossip, which a cor
respondent furnishes an exchange, will givo
the reader an insight into the way some things
are done in tho Federal capital :
Dinner parties are now tho order of the day,
and will be given in rapid succession by thoso
officials who have "a local habitation and" a
cook, until the matin-chimes ot lent warn th
faitliful to confine themselves to a moigre diet.
Generally speaking, these ceremonious repasts
are like the Democratic, speeches, in which
certain phrases are repeated by each orator ;
for the table ornaments, the edibles and the at
tendant waiters,. are invariably supplied at a
French restaurant. A stranger, who has como
here properly recommended, dines ono day
with a foreign minister the next with a south
ern Senator the third with a northern Repre
sentative, and the fourth with a metropolitan
resident. The dining rooms are of different
sizes, and furnished in'didVreut stj'les; differ
ent gentlemen and ladies occupy tho position
of host and hostess, and very likely there aro
dillereut circles of guests; but the same ser
vants are in attendance, the same epergnes
and table furniture are seen at each house, and
there is a stereotype bill of fare.
The lood wouid have made either Careme,
Vatch, or Soycr, go mad, had it been attribu
ted to their cuisine. A half chilled vegetable
soup ; salmon brought in tin eans from New
Brunswick; and a half dozen courses, rejoic
ing in Apican names, bul very questionable
in appearance, and so flavored as to defy de
tection. A pastry cook's dessert follows, with
a few bon-bons that are greedily pocketed;
and pr beverages there are badly-ieed cham
pagne, a manufactured Bordeaux, and execra
ble Brown Sherry. Everything Is dull, prosy,
stupid, and indigestible.
How different was it in the olden time-.
Then, a gentleman who came here as a mem
ber ol Congress, or of the Cabinet, would bring
his servants and his silver.while Madame would
come provided with table linen, pickles, and
preserves. The magnates of the land would
bo seen early in tho morning at market, and
at their tables they would have the good cheer
always to be found there. The ducks, oysters
and fish from the Potomac and Chesapeako
Bay, with the fine beef and mutton from tho
valley of Virginia, aud a homo-cured ham,
were so prepared as to make banquets uu
equalkd at the TYci's Freres in its palmiest
days. And as for the wines, the simple an
nouncement that the madeiras and clarets
came from Charleston, the sherries from Phil
adelphia, and the champagnes from New York,
was a guarantee of their goodness.
The best repasts given here now mirabilt
dictu are served up near the "witching hour
o' night" by those spoilsmen, the subjects of
King Faro. Well supplied tables, choice
wine?, and agreeable companj, lure many a
pigeon to bo plucked, and well plucked at that.
When the 34th Congress was organized, after
tho protracted contest for the Speakership, tho
proprietor of a noted gambling-heuse held or
ders for the pay of seven members during that
entire session. It is whispered that some of
tho members of the present House have been
equally unfortunate, and their creditor is ot
course anxious for "organization," as by tho
present rule each Representative will have a
good sum at once subject to his oider.
The all-engrossing topic of drawing-room
gossip, however, is the appearance of tho
daughter of the Austrian consul at New York,
at Mrs. Gwin's paaty, a feiv days since, with
out hoops ! This introduction of. a new-fashion,
or rather the discarding of an old one, is
discussed with great earnestness, and the houso
is "divided." Stout dames look with horror
at the fashion plates of scanty skirts, and
those of more slender proportions exult over
the discomfiture of their rivals.
Facts about Milk. Cream cannot riso
through a great depth of milk. If, therefore,
milk is desired to retain its cream for a time,
it should be put into a deep narrow dish ; and
if it be desired to free it most completely of
cream, it should be poured into a broad flat
dish, not much exceeding one inch in depth..
The evolution of cream is faciliated by a risa
and retarded by a depression of temperature.
At the usual temperature of the dury forty
degrees of Fahrenheit all the cream will pro
bably rise in thirtj'-six hours; but at seventy
degrees it will perhaps rise in half that time ;
and when the milk is kept near the freezing
point, the cream will rise very slowly, becaust)
it becomes solidified. In wet and cold weath
er the milk is less rich than in dry and warm,
and on this account more cheese is obtained
in cold than in warm, though not in thundery
weather. The season has its' effects. . Th
milk in spring is supposed to bo-tliq best for
drinking, hence it would be the best for calves;
in summer it is best suited for cheese, and in
autumn the butter keeping is better than that
in summer the cows less frequently milked,
give richer milk and consequently more but
ter. The morning's milk is richer than tho
evening's. The last drawn milk of each milk
ing, at all times and seasons, is richer than
the first drawn, which is the poorest..
The X. E. Farmer truly says that the fat
tening of turkevs and other poultry in dark
cellars, (or in close confinement in any way,
we would add) is cruelty. It is cruelty, wo
say, to the consumers, as well as to the birds ;
because one of the, ordinarily, most healthful
kinds of flesh, is thus made unwholesome.
The Farmer prescribes variety of grain foods,
and boiled potatoes and Indian meal; and
then, perfect freecdom to ramble, which, when
so fed, the animals will not over-use. They
will then fatten rapidly enough, and preservo
a healthful state and fine appearance.
A young lady in Texas, was bitten by a
snake several weeks ago. Since then she has
very enrious fits, and while in this condition
she went twenty-eight days without tasting
ioou. one is aiso partly parauzeu.
A doctor's wife attempted to move him by
her tears. "Ah 1" said he, "tears are useless
I have analysed them. They contain a littla
phosphate of lime, .some chlorate of sodium,
and water."
rYn man ttinfr rtiif? th TlL'ptj far Cnrt aiit
Brown. th h'jidpr of thft Hampr's Ferrv raid.
----- J I F
was proven to be a Democrat, before the in-
?ii a ii . . i r i
vestigating commiuce at tvasuiDgion, sever
al days since.
Rnm is like death it levels all distinctions.
An alderman, with a "brick In his hat," would
jastas soon fraternize with a chimney sweep
as with a foreign eavoy,. . .
r