Raftsman's journal. (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, June 04, 1862, Image 1

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    SI S. J. KOW.
VOL. 8.--NO. 40.
1 i
B. WOODS, Attorney at Law, Indiana, l'
Professional basiness promptly attendeu to.
DO. CKOl'CII, Physician, Curwensville, Clear
field county, Penn'a. May 14.
1- J. CRANS, Attorney at Law and Heal Estate
J, Agent, Clearfield, Pa. Office adjoining his
" rcideDce, on Second str6et. May 16.
TIT M. M'CULLOUGll, Attorney at Law, Clear
) . field, Pa. Office, with L. J. Crans, Esq.,
'' on Second Street. July 3, 1861.
WILLIAM A. WALLACE, Attorney at Law.
Clearfield, Pa. Offioe, adjoining bis resi
dence on Second street. Sept. 1.
ROBERT J. WALLACE. Attorney at Law. Clear
field, Pa Office in Shaw's new row, Market
arreet, opposite Naugle's jewolry store. May 26.
HF. NAUOLE, Watch and Clock Maker, and
. dealer in Watches, Jewelry, Ac. Room in
Graham s row, Market street. . Nov. 10.
BUCIIER SWOOPE. Attorney at Law.Clear
. field, Pa. Office inOraham's Row, fourdoo s
west of Graham &. Boynton's store. Nov. 10.
J P. KRATZER Merchant, and dealer in
. Boards and Shingles, Grain and Produce
Front St, above the Academy, Clearfield, Pa. jl2
A J. PATTERSON. Attornej at Law, Curwens-
ville, Pa., will attend to all business en
trusted to his care. Office opposite the New
Methodist Church. Jan. 15, 1862.
WILLIAM F. IRWIN, Marketstreet, Clearfield,
Pa., Dealer in Foreign and Domestic Mer
chandise, Hard ware, Queensware, Groceries, and
family articles generally. Nov. 10.
TVR. WM. CAMPBELL, offers his professional
1 J services to the citizens of Morris and adjoin
ing townships. Residence with J. D. Denning in
Kylertown, Clearfield county. May U,l8o9
T B M'ENALLY, Attorney at Law, Clearfield,
el - Pa. Practices in Clearfield and adjoining
counties. Office in new brick addition, adjoining
the residence of James B. Graham. JSov. 10.
JOHN QUELICII, Manufacturer of all kinds of
Cabinet-ware, Market street, Clearfield, Pa.
He also makes to order Coffins, on short notice, and
attends funerals with a hearse. Aprl0,'59.
RICHARD MOSSOP, Dealer in Foreign and Do
mestic Dry Goods, Groceries, Flour, Bacon,
Liquors, Ac. Room, on Market street, a few doors
west of Journal Office, Clearfield, Pa. Apr27.
LARRIMER A TEST, Attorneys at Law, Clear
field, Pa. Will attend promptly to all legal
and other business entrusted to their care in Clear
field and adjoining counties. August 6, 1856.
DR. M. WOODS, tenders his professional servi
ces to the citizens of Clearfield and vicinity.
Residence on Second street, opposite the office of
L.J. Crans. Esq. Office, the same that wo recent
ly occupied by Hon. G R Barrett, where he can
be found unless absenton piofessional business.
fpUOMAS J. M'CULLOUGll, Attorney at Law,
L Clearfield. Pa. Office, over the "Clearfield
co. Bank. Deeds and other legal instruments pre
pared with promptness and accuracy. July 3.
d. a. Bcsn. :::::::: t.j.m'ccllolgh
Collection Office, Clearfield, Penn'a.
SALT! SALT!! SALT !!! A prime arti
cle of ground alum salt, put up in patent
. sacKS. at $3.25 per sacK, at tho cheap cnsh store of
November 27. R. MOSSOP.
to the moutn or tbe Moshannon. An eugaoie
property; on reasonable terms. Inquire of
Decl9-tf. Attorney at Law, Clearfield, P
I PROPOSALS, Proposals for the building of
a Privey at the new Court House in the bor--nugh
of Clearfield , will be received at the com
ruisnioners' office, until the 27th day of May next.
Plans and specifications can be seen at the com
missioners' office. By order of the board of Com
missioners. WM S. BRADLEY, Clerk.
missioners of Clearfield county, will offer at
Public Salr, at the court house, on Tuesday the
27th day of May next, at 2 o'clock, p. m.. one hun
dred and thirty (130) shares of stock in the bridge
acroeg tbe Susquehanna at Clearfield. By order
ot the board, WM. S. BRADLEY, Clerk.
ply of these invaluable Family Medicines
are for sale by M. A. Frank. Clearfield, consisting
of Pain Curer ; Rrxtorative, greatcure for colds
and cough ; And Anti-Bilious Physic. They have
been thoroughly tested in this community, and
are highly approved. Trv them.
TVOTlCE Daniel Faust of Curwensville has
ll charge of my business in my absence. He is
authorized to receive and receipt for money due
me. and is the only peison authorized to do so.
Persons having business with me will please call
, on him. JOHN PATTON.
Curwensville, April 2, 1862.
ed having taken the Morrisdale House, sit
uate in tbe town of Morrisdale, Clearfield county,
respectfully solicits a share of the public patron
age. No pains or expense will be spared to ren
der guests comfortable. Charges moderate.
April 2, '62. GEORGE RICHaRDS.
PLASTERING The subscriber having lo
cated himself in the Borough of Clearfield,
would inform the publictbat he is prepared to do
work in tbe above line, from plain to ornamental
of ar.y description, in a workmanlike style. Also
I . . 1 J - .
wuuewasniDg ana repairing uune in a iieav uiau
uer, and on reasonable terms.
April 7. 1858. EDWIN COOPER.
Tm antiqued toeps eonstantl on hand
-at inshore room iu Philipcburg, Contreycounty, a
fall 6to6k4f PJeur, Hams. Shoulder, Sides, Cf
ifee, Tea, Sugar, Riee, Molasses, Ac. Also, Li
quors of all kinds, Tobacco. Segari, Snuff, Ae.; all
,-of which he offers to purchasers on the most ad
vantageous terms. Give him a call, and try his
.-articles. tmar21 ROBERT LLOYD.
-Attention 13 especially called to this article, as a
ubstitute for gold in inserting teeth. Many per
sons who have tr'rd all kinds of raetalic bases pre
fer this, and in thofo cases where it is applicable,
't will in a great measure become a substitute for
ffold, silver or platina. Its chief advantages are,
baapness, lightness and perfect adoption to the
Aouth ; it having a soft fleshy feel to the parts of
tbe mouth with which it comes in contact.
A. It. Hills is prepared to pat np teeth on tho
' ValamftA Bam, with Goodyear't Patent Gum.
which is the only reliable preperation, and can
n'y be had through their regular agents.
Ir. Hills will always be found in his office on
triday and Saturday, unless notice appears to the
fntrary, jn the town papers, the previous week.
"Traitor touch not that flag !
Touch not a single star;
Its shelt'ring glory now
Still blazes near and far;
'Twa8 our forefathers' hand
That placed it o'er his head,
And thou shalt let it stand,
Or perish with the dead.
That dear old precious flag,
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea.
And wouldst thou tear it down?
Trnitor ! forbear thy touch ;
Rend not its heart bound ties ;
Oh. spare that glorious flag,
Still streaming through the skies.
When I was yet a boy .'
1 gloried in the sight.
And raised my voice in joy
To greet its fold of light
For it my hours is dear;
Dear is my native land ;
Forgive this foolish tear,
But let that old fiag stand.
My heart strings round thee cling
Close as the stripes, old friend ;
Thy praises men shall sing,
Till time itself shall end,
Old flag, the storm still brave,
And traitor, leave the spot;
While I've a hand to save,
Thy touch shall harm it not."
On a distant prairio at nightfall, a wayworn
and weary traveler was overtaken by a snow
storm. When the first lew flakes came softly
dropping down, bo looked eagerly around in
bope of discerning a place of shelter, but none
was to be seen only tho reckless waste ol
rolling lands and far off hills in the direction
whither he was going so far ofT ho feared he
never could reach them. With the departure
of light the snow began falling, the wind blew
keener, the road soon hidded from view, the
traveler felt that he was lost on a trackless
waste, without a star to guide him across the
dangeious country.
"This is terrible !" said he aloud. "I fear
much I shall never come to my destination.
If I had but a compass and a light I should
not fear, for I could resist the effects of the
cold long enough to reach trie hills, there I
could find humaii habitations, or at least the
shelter of a rock. Now I may go in a circle
till I freeze, and be no nearer help. What a
fool I was to leave the river side and cross the
prairie just for the sake of a few miles more
or less of journey. No matter ; I must even
battle it out now Heaven helping."
And battle it out ho did, most manfully.
He drew his cap down over his ears and brow,
and his fur collar up over his mouth, and
thrusting his hands deeper in his pockets,
pressed on through the yielding snow. The
gloom increased, the wind sharper and through
his heavy cloths tbe traveler began to feel the
effects of the cold. His feet grew numb, his
arms chilled, and after an hour's rapid walk
ing he suddenly paused.
And do I know whither I am going?" he
exclaimed. "Perhaps I have already turned
aside from the straight line, ami am wauder-
'ing on the verge of destruction. O ! that I
could shake otf this drowsy feeling that is
steeling over me ! I know what it is the
precurser of a resr in this cold winding sheet
of ,snow. Great Heaven, I am freezing to
death !" shrieked he, bounding forward with
renewed energy. "Action action is life, and
life is too sweet to lose yet !"
He hurried along with a springing motion,
stamping his feet vigoiously at every step,
and swinging his arms to keep the blood in
circulation. Yet with all his efforts, he knew
the angel ol death was folding his white wiugs
silently but surely around him.
'Despair no 1" he cried, "not while the
memory of my loved wife and dear children is
lelt.me. I will struggle on for your sakes,
and fight the storm fiend to the last extremity.
O, just Heaven, for the sike of the innocent
ones whoso only stay is my right arm, help
me to resist help me to triumph I"
At this moment he plunged into a hollow,
his feet strode over ice, and he heard the voice
of a streamlet singing of life and action be
neath its. icy crust. At the same time tbe
smell of wood smoke saluted bis nostiils.
"O, Thou who reignest above," he ejaculat
ed, "I thank Thee that Thoa hast heard my
prayer. Help is near mo."
He reeled heavily onward through the blind
ing show, aud saw just before him a low shed,
one more struggle and he fell against it. In an
instant he divined Us character. With a last
desperate effort he found the door, threw it
opeu, and rushed in, flung himself at full
length upon the floor, knowing only that he
was in an atmosphere reeking with fumes of
bacon, and warm with the smoke which rose
from a pan of smothered coals in the centre of
the place. It was a settler's rude smokehouse
left to care for itself during the long winter's
night, and the traveler's grateful heart sent
up a tribute to Heaven for this place of ref uge
in tbe desert of snow.
In the large log cabin in the valley of the
streamlet, M illy Dean sat alone. Her husband
had gone to a distant town, and the young
wife was left with her baby. Accustomed to
the solitude, she felt safe, and sat in content
ment before the blazing fire ; the flames leap
ed right joyfully up the chimney, and the
green logs sizzled and cracked in the heat like
things of life. Out doors, the wind was howl
ing drearily, and the snow falling heavily ;
but Mary cared not, for it only made the fire
more cheerful. : -
There came a rapping at the door.
"How strange ! What can that be at onr
door in this wild night ?" she said to herself,
as she arose and went into the little entry.
Who is there ?" she asked.
"For Heaven's sake, let me in ; I am freez
ing to death !" was the reply.
Who are yoa 7 and how came yon in this
lonely place on such an evening as this?"
"I am a traveler from below ; I lost my way
and I am dying with cold. For pity's sake let
rue in, or I shall perish !"
Milly hesitated. She was alone, and it was
three miles to the nearest neighbor's. What
should she do ? She paused in perplexity.
"O, Save me save me! I am dying !" were
the words that met her hearing. There was a
heavy fall against tbe sill, and then low moans.
Her woman's nature could stand no more; "true
to the Instinct of her being, she untarred the
door and threw it open. A closely muffled
figure reeled by her into the room, and shutt
ing the door she followed. On reaching the
fire place, tbe stranger threw of! Ws disguise,
and stood erect and strong, without a sign of
inconvenience from the effect of tbe wheather.
Milly retreated from him in amazemennt; but
lecovering herself, and putting the best face
on the matter, she tremulously addressed the
iuan :
"J am sorry, sir, yon are cold. It is a bitter
night to be abroad. Wiliyou sit by the fire f "
ana sne pusnea a chair forward.
xnemau made no response, but stooping
over, ran nis angers through the blaze. Then
lie turned and stared at her with a look which
made her blood run cold. She would pretend
mere were otners in the house, for she already
felt afraid of the man, and bitterly regretted
navmg admitted mm.
"Would you like to see
folks, sir ?" she inquired,
them from their beds."
some of the men
"If so, 1 will call
The manIaughed hoarselv and replied
"Milly Dean, for that I believe is you.- name,
you cannot deceive me. You are alone in this
house. I took particular care to ascertain
that before I came. So you can make your
self easy on that score, and do as I bid von."
"Do as you bid me !" exclaimed Milly, in
terror ; "what do you want of me f"
"I wau't the twelve hundred dollars in gold
your husband received for his produce two
days ago. 1 ou probably know where it is."
Milly sprang into the entry and would hav
fled, but the stranger caught her by the wrist
and drugged her roughly back.
"You cannot escape me, young woman," he
said. "You will find it mojt convenient to
make a clear breast of it at once. It will bo
belter for you." .
Milly stro7o to release her arm.. The rough
treatment she received aroused her temper,and
indignation overcome ail other feelings.
"Let me go, you scoundrel, let me go, or I
will call tor help,". she cued
'Call you fnol," said tho ruffian, "and much
good may it do you. Keep yourself still and
tell me where the money is."
"I will not!" she exclaimed, her eyes flash
ing hro.
"You will not," be then replied, "we shall
He released her wrist so violently that she
reeled half across the room. Then he seized
her sleeping infant from its cradle, and held
it at arm's length almost into the blazing fire.
so that the terrified mother expected to see
us light gaiments catch the flame.
"Now then where' the money ? Speak
out quick or hear your baby ahriek with pain.
win burn it to death before your eves if you
do not tell me where the money is."
"Monster give me my child." shrieked Mil
ly, endeavoring to reach the little one. "Let
me have my baby."
But every effort was frustrated, for again and
again the strong hand of the robber thrust her
"See, its clothes will be on Arc in a minnte,"
said the man, pattii g . the helpless innocent
closer to the flames. The mother looked Into
his eyes. She saw there tbe look ot heartless
determination. She became aware that the
cotton garments of the child were smoking
wiin neat.
"How shall it he?" asked the ruffin. Hur-
ry, or the child dies. I have no time to waste
"Anything anything, only give me my
child!" she cried. The next instant it was
handed to her, and she sank upon tbe floor
and folded it to her bosom.
"Come," exclaimed the man, touching her
rudely with his loot, "you have not told me
where the money is."
"In the box on the upper shelf." she re
plied, pointing to the closet.
'So far so well. It is nearly all gold. I will
po'eket it with your leave or without your
leave, just as you please." He tilled his
pockets with the golden coin, and threw the
empty box in tbe fire. Then he came and
stood beside her. . .
"Put your baby in the cradle,' he said, "if
you wish to save its life. I have other busi-
"What do you mean ?"
tbe man with suspicion.
"Let me have him,"
take it.
cried Milly, eyeing
said he, trying to
"No, no, I will put the baby in the cradle
myself. You shall not touch the poor little
thing. Now, sir, what is it?" she continued
almost choaking with excitement, after hav
ing laid the pretty infant on its downy place
ot rest ; she stood erect and waited the reply.
"I am going to kill you !" said tbe man.
"Kill me !" she exclaimed, her face grow
ing pale with terror. "Kill me ! What have
I ever done to you that you should kill me ?"
"Nothing, nothing, my dear, only you know
you have seen me, and you will know me
again." And he advanced upon her.
"O, sir, let me live. Have you not done
enough to take my husband's money, without
depriving him of his wife too ? I will never
say a word against you if you will only spare
me only spare me!"
As she spoke she clasped. her hands and
looked imploringly at him. . . . . ;
"I am sorry that I cannot safely grant your
request," he responded. "There is uo help
for it, so come along oift doors."
He reached out his band to grasp Milly, but
the instinct of self-preservation was strong up
on her. She evaded him, flew to the chimney
piece, snatctieder husband's loaded rifle from
the hooks on which it bung, cocked and pre
sented it at the breast of the robber. . Her
motions were so . rapid that before he could
prevent it, her finger had pressed the trigger
and there was an explosion. But with equal
readiness the man stepped aside, the ball
passed over bis bead, aud tbe next instant the
grip was on her throat. . ; .
"I will 'each you bow to handle arms," he
said. "You would have killed me,would you?
I will show you a trick worth two of that."
"Mercy, mercy," cried the terrified woman.
"There's no mercy for you,", he ejaculated.
He dragged her into tbe entry, and flung open
the door. "Out with you into the snow"
"Hold! what is this ?" exclaimed a deep
toned voice. "Unhand that woman, . you
scoundrel" i
A powerful man stood in tbe doorway. He
dealt the robber a blow between the eyes which
struck him. back into the entry. His grasp
of Milly was relinquished, and she fell to the
floor. . '
"O, sir," she cried to the new comer, "save
me.. This man has robbed us, and would mur
der me that I would not tell it."
"Fear not, madam, he shall not harm yon,"
responded the stranger, "fellow, surrender
yourself." '
"Get out of my way," cried tha robber
. making a rush for the door, and striking at the
stranger with a bowie knife. Giving back a
few steps, the stranger seized the robber by
the collar, whirled him around, and threw
him on his face in tbe snow. The robber
struggled, but the stranger knelt heavily on
tbe small ot his back, and grasped bis hair.
"Lie still," said the stranger, "or I will
send a bullet through your brain." ,
The robber felt the cold barrel of a pistol at
his ear, and obeyed. Milly quickly brought
ropes, at her rescuer's request, and the robber
was bound hand and foot. '
"It was a strange Providence," the new
comer said, that overtook me with a snow
storm on tbe prairie, and forced me an hour
ago to take refuge in your smoke-house, near
ly dead with cold." r
Milly acknowledged the truth of the remark
and she kneltard thanked ber Father in Heav
en for her deliverence. ,
The next day Milly 's husband came borne
and when he had be -n told all, he remarked .
"This fellow was in tho tavern at the vil
lage, the day I sold my produce. It will
learn me a lesson never to let strangers know
when money is plenty , with me, lest they
should be tempted to crime and bring ruin on
me and mine."
That day some sixty or seventy men gather
ed at the bouse of Mr. Dean. The robber was
recognized as a notorious horse thief, who had
long infested the neighborhood. There was a
summary trial, and then in dogged silence,
tbe wretch who would have burned a harmless
infant and luurdeied a faithful and gentie wo
man, submitted to his inevitable fate.- A
rudely constructed gallows, and a stout rope
ended his existence. So on the thinly settled
frontiers ot tbe west do they meet out justice
to offenders against property and life.
About seventeen hundred dollars in bills
were found on the person of the robber, be
sides the gold he had taken from Mrs. Dean.
As there were no claimants for the hi lis, at the
suggestion of ths stranger, whose life had been
saved from the anger of the winter storm by
the shelter he had found in the smoke-bouse,
a thousand dollars of the seventeen hundred
were presented to Milly in consideration of
what she had passed through, and the remain
der was divided around.
On that very spot there is now a thriving
town, and one of the finest residences In the
place is that where dwells Milly Dean and ber
Air, Sunshine aud Health. A New York
merchant noticed, in the progress of years,
that each successive book-keeper gradually
lost his health, and . finally died of consump
tion, however vigorous and robust he was on
entering his services. At length it occured to
him that the little rear room where the books
were kept opened in a back yard, and was so
surrounded by high walls that no sunshine
came into it trom one years end to another.
An upper room, well lighted, was immediate
ly prepared, and bis clerks had uniform good
health ever after. A familiar case to general
readers is derived from medical works, where
an entire English family became ill, and all
remedies seemed to fail of their usual results,
when, accidentally, a window glass of the fam
ily room was broken in cold weather. It was
not tepaired,and loi thwi'h there was a marked
improvement in the health of the inmates.
The physician at once traced the. connections,
discontinued his medicines, and ordered that
the window pane should not be replaced. A
French lady became ill. The most eminent
physicians of her time were called in, but fail
ed to restore her. At length Dupeytren, the
Napoleon of phj-sic, was consulted. He no
ticed that she lived in a dim room, into which
the sun never shone ; the house being situated
in one of the narrow streets, or rather lanes,
of Paris. He at once ordered more airy or
cheerful apartments, and all ber complaints
vanished. 1 he lungs of a dog become tuber-
culated (consumptive) in a few weeks, if kept
confined in a dark cellar. Tbe most common
plant grows spindly, pale, and scraggling, if i
no sunlight falls upon it. The greatest names
in France of the last century ; regarded sun
shine and pure air as equal agents in restoring
and maintaining health, r roni these facts,
whigb cannot be disputed, the most common
mind should conclude that cellars, and rooms
on the northern side of buildings, or apart
ments into which tbe sun does not immedi
ately shine, should never be occupied as fam
ily rooms or chambers, or as libraries or stud
ies. Such apartments are only fit for stowage,
or purposes which never require persons to
remain in them but a f:w minutes at a time.
And every intelligent and humane parent will
arrange that tbe family room and tbe cham
bers shall bo tho most commodious, lightest
and brightest apartments In the dwelling.
As Incident is Nashville. Over the large
gate at the Provost Marshal's splendid head
quarters Elliott's female school waves a
Union flag. Avery ardent secosh lady, who
wished to see Colonel Matthews, was about to
pass through the gate, when looking np she
beheld the proud flag flapping like an eagle's
wing over his eyrie, starting back horror
struck she held up her hands and exclaimed
to the guard: "Doarme! I can't go under
that dreadful Lincoln flag! Is there no other
way for me to euter 1" "Yes. madame,"
promptly replied the soldier, and turning to
bis comrade he said,"Here, orderly, bring out
that rebel flag and lay it on the ground at the
little gate, and let this lady walk over it!
The lady looked bewildered, and after hesita
ting a moment, concluded to bow ber head
to the invincible Goddess of Freedom, whose
immaculate shrine is the folds of the "Star
Spangled Banner." The rebels may all just
as well conclude to follow her example.
Mr. Crittenden, ofJCentucky, in a recent
peech in the House, said of the President:
There is a niche in the temple of fame a
niche near to Washington which should be
occupied by tbe statue of him who shall save
bis country. Mr. Lincoln has a mighty des
tiny. It is for him to be but a President of
the people of the United States, and there
will bis statue be. Jt is in his power to occu
py a place next to Washington tne founder
and preserver, side by side. .
A lady asked a pupil at a public examination
of the Sunday School : "What was the sin of
the Pharasees ?" "Eating camels, marm,"
quickly replied the child. She had read the
Pharasees "Strained at gnats and swallowed
camels." ' ' '" . '
,i. i -i i " 1 i
Poetry is tbe attempt which man makes to
render bis existence harmonious.
Gold, next, to Iron, is the most widely dif
fused metal upon tbe surface, of our globe. It
occurs in granite, the oldest rock known to
us, and in all tbe rocks derived from it ; it is
also found in tbe vein-stones which traverse
other geological formations, but has never
been found in any secondary formation. It
is, however, much more common in alluvial
grounds than among primitive and pjroge
nous rocks. It is found disseminated under
tbe forms of spangles, in the sillicious, argil
laceous, and ferruginous sands of certain
plains and riv-ers, especially in their junction,
at the season of low water, and after storms
and temporary floods. It is the only metal
of a yellow color; it is readily crystalizable,
and always assumes one or other of the sym
metrical shapes, such us the cube or regular
octahedron. It affords a resplendent polish,
and may be exposed to the atmosphere for
any length of time without suffering change;
it is remarkable for its beauty; it is nineteen
times heavier that water, and, ntxt to plati
num, the heviest known substance ; its malea
bility is such that a cubic inch will cover
twenty-five hundred square feet ; its ductility
is such that a lump of tbe value ot four hun
dred dollars could be drawn into a wire which
would extend around Che globe. It is first
mentioned in Gen. ii., 11. It was found in
the country of Havillah, where the rivers Eu
phiates and Tigris unite and discharge their
waters into the Persian Gult.
From the commencement of the Christian
era to the discovery of America, the amount
of gold obtained from the surface and bowels
of the earth is estimated to be thirty-eight
hundred millions of dollars. From the date
of the latter event to the close of 1842, an ad
dition of twenty-eight hundred millions was
obtained. The discovery and extensive work
ing of the Russian mines added, to the c!se
of 18o2, six hundred millions more. The
double discovery of the California mines in
1818, and the Australian in 1851, has added,
to the present time, two thousand millions;
making a grand total, to the present time, of
ninety-two hundred millions of dollars. The
average loss by wear and tear ot coia is esti
mated to be a tenth of one per cent, per an
num ; and the loss by consumption in the arts,
and by fire and shipwreck, at from one to
three millious per annum.
A cubic inch of gold is worth (at jC3 lis,
10d., or $18.69, per oUnce) one hundred and
forty-six dollars; a cubic foot, two hundred
and flity-two thousand two bundled and
eighty eight dollars; a cubic yard, six
millions eight hundred and eleven thousand
seven hundred and seventy-six dollars. The
amount of gold in existence at the commence
ment of the Christian era is estimated to be
four hundred and twenty seven millions of
dollars; at the period of tbe discovery of A
merica it had diminished to fifty seven mil
lions. After the occurrence of that event it
gradually increased, and 1600 it attained to
one hundred and five millions; in 1700, to
three hundred and fifty-one millions"; In 1800,
to eleven hundred and twenty. five millions;
in 1813, to two thousand millions; in 1853, to
three thousand millions ; and at the present
time the amount of gold in exigence is esti
mated to be forty-six hundred millions of
dollars; which, welded in one mass, could be
contained in a cube of twenty-seven feet.
Ot the amount now in existence three thou
sand millions is estimated to be in coin aud
bullion, and the remainder in watches, jewel
ry, plate, &c, &c.
Since 1792, to the clo?e of 1860, the gold
coinage of the United States mint has amount
ed to six hundred and ten millions of dollars,
of which five hundred and twenty five millions
have been issued since 1850. The gold coin
age of the French mint, since 1726, has a
mounted to seventy-seven hundred millions
of fiancs, of which forty -two hundred and fifty
millions have been issued since 1850. The
gold coinage of the British mint, since 1603,
has amounted to two hundred and fifty-nine
millions of pounds sterling, of which filty-four
millions have been issued since 1850. The
The gold coinage of the Kussian mint, since
1664, has amounted to four hundred and
eighty-six millions of rabies, of which two
hundred and twenty millions have ben issued
since 1850. The sovereign of England con
tains one hundred and twelve grains of pure
metal;- the new doubloon of .Spain, one hun
dred and fifteen; the half eagle of the United
States, one hundred and sixeen ; tho gold
lion ot the N therlands, and the double ounce
t Sicily, one hundred and seventeen grains
each ; the ducat of Austria, one hundred and
six ; the twenty-lranc piece of France, niuety ;
and the half imperial of Russia, ninety-one
grains. A commissioner has been despatch
ed by the United States government to Eng
laud, Fiance, and other countries of Europe,
to confer with their respective governments,
upon tne expediency of a uniform system of
coinage throughout the world, so that the
coins of one country may circulate . in any
other without tbe expense of re-coinage a
consumation most devoutly to be wished.
Good Puck. Mrs. JJrownult, wife of order
ly Sergeant R. D. Brownell, of the Rhode
Island Volunteers, and cousin to the avenger
of Ellsworth, accompanied her husband to
Newbern, and was in the midst of the battle
at that place. On account of the suddenness
of engagement, the regiment had not brought
out .their, colors. In this emergency Capt.
Urant drew foitb a small American flag from
his bosom and gave it to Mrs. Brownell who
held it tip and cheered the men as they ral
lied about it. , Fifteen minntes afterward,
that her husband had been wounded, she has
tened to bis side, and assisted in carrying him
off tbe field to the hospital, where she nursed
him, with all tbe other wounded men brought
in. On one occasion she was insulted by a
rebel officer, when she drew a revolver and
shot him, wounding him badly. The fellow
succeeded, however, in escaping. Mrs. Brow
nell is only twenty years of age.
"I Shall Trt it On." Captain Boggs telTs
a good atoty ot Farragut. It seems that be
fore the bombardment of the forts tbe com
manders of tbe English and French vessels-of-war
near at band had desired to communi
cate with the forts. This was agreed to. Af
ter the foreign captains returned, they inform
ed Captain Farragut that it was useless for
him to attempt to take the forts that no
wooden vessels afloat could reduce them or
pass them. Farragut replied 'I was sent
here to make the attempt. - You may be right,
but I came - here to take' New Orleans ; to
paaa tbe forts ; and laks.ll try it o!"
When a mother looks upon her babe in the
cradle, sb-j regards him in his present loveli
ness, and is lupnj and satisfied. As be erowi
! older, and tbe latent human passions begin to
Do developed, she becomes anxious for tne
future ; but still hope predominates over fear.
She believes that her son will be a good and
noble man. If she is a faUhful 'hrttaia
mother, she has good' ground for ber faith and
hope. There may be Instances when such
parents have been disappointed, but we trnk
such cases are very rare. The conscience
must oe cultivated, and the fear of God con
stantly enjoined , or the youth will go astray
at every turn. An amiable, loving spirit alone
will not keep him from fall.ng into sin.
Joseph Dean was what everybody called a
good boy. He did all he could for his wid
owed mother, aud being an only child, h
could do much. Mrs. Dean was poor. She
owned a small house and a few acres of land,
and that was all. Her son was her great
treasure, aud in him she felt rich.
As Joseph was approaching manhood, be
bad a desire to see more of the world than he
could do in the place of bis birth; and to do
something more remunerative than tilling- bis
mother's little farm. He went to tbe city,
aud was so fortunate as to get into business
which satisfied bis desires. His mother beard
from bim often, ana whenever he could leave,
he went to see ber, carrying some little com
fort or luxury. She missed him sadly; but
yet she was reconciled to his absence, because
6he believed it was best for him; and' would
in the end be the best for ber; be might be
come a rich man, ana come home and repair
the house, and put the farm in good order,
and take care of her in her old age.-
Joseph remained in the business- ho' had
chosen for some year, and was prosperons,
laying up money until he counted by thou
sands. Then the spirit of change revinsd a
gain, and be resolved to go to a distant part
of the country to improve his worldly condi
tion. The proposition almost broke bis moth
er's heart. How could she part with ber son ;
so handsome,, so kind and noble, what could
she do without him ? Her pleadings wen all
in vain. He4iad made up his mind, and most
go. He went; and we fear he went in bis
own strength and not with the fear and love
of God. Did his mother pray in faith for him ?
She did not profess faith in Christ, and per
haps did not pray at all.
The months wore away wearily, and no tid
ings came of Joseph. It was very strange be
d:d not write. A year went by, and his moth
er tieard not a word from him. Had be died
among strangers;- or had he sailed for some
foreign land, and bis letters failed to reach
her? The days grew very long to her, and
the nights wearisome. Tbe winds reminded
ber ot the penis of the sea, and the scorching
sun ot sickly climates. Where, Ob where
was her son ?
The little keepsakes ho had given her wero
looked over and over, and the history cf each
recalled with a new heartache. Tho farm was
neglected and the house needed repairs ; but
widow Dean seemed' to care for nothing but
tidings from her darling son. Her bair be
came bleeched' by sorrow, and ber eyes dim
with weeping. Her neighbors tried to com
fort ber ; but what did they know ot the deep
sorrow of her heart ?
Alter years had gone by, one day the doer
of the cottage opened, and a stranger present
ed himself before Mrs. Dean. II was shabby
and haggard, a?id had'a wild and an anxious
look. Who was this ? Could he be ber son T
"Are you Joseph Dean ?" said- the mother.
"No, tbat is not my name ; my name is John
son." The voice was Joseph's; but the per
son, Oli, it was but the wreck of her noble
son. All that he couM ever say of himself
was, that in a distant city he was taken to a'
place where something was given him to'
drink, and after that he did not know anything
for a long time. Wherr;lfe awoke his money
was all gne. Poor Joseph ; In an evil hour
be had fallen into sin, and that one act proved
his destruction. Of bis subseqnent life be
Could give no account ; but that his mind bad
been disordered there was every reason to
suppose. He remained with his mother; but
Could never be induced to mingle at all with
men, and would not answer if addressed by
any other name than that ot Johnson. Tbe
farm and tbe cottage were never improved;
but fell from year to year into a state of great
er decay. Mrs. Dean died; and Joseph was
left alone. There he lived a hermit life till'
bis locks were white. One day it was observ
ed by a neighbor that his door had not been'
opened for some time, and on going in Joseph
was found lying-on his bed dead. H had er
idently died suddenly, probably fron dlseae
of the heart.
How miny.like poor Joseph, fall tc ffclSl
the promise of childhood and youth. They
fail because they are not armed for life a con
flict. Nothing bat divine grace can give them
the victory ; and not seekiug this aid, when
the-evil hour comes they fail.
Love roa the Dead. The love which sur
vives the tomb, says Irving, is one cf tbe no
blest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes,
it has likewise its delights; and when the
overwhelming burst of grief Is calmed into
the gentle tear of recolSecton; when the sud
den anguish and the convulsed agony over the
present ruins ol all tbat wo most loved, is sof
tened away, into pensive meditation on all
that it was in the days of its lovlfness wbo
would root out such sorrow from the heart ?
Though it may sometimes throw a pasaiog
cloud over tbe bright hour of gaiety, or spread
a deep sadness over the hour of gloom; who
would exshange it even for the song ot pleas
ure, or the bursts of revelry No; there la
a voice from the tomb sweeter than song;'
there is a remembrance of the dead to which
we turn eve i from the charms of the living.
A Strange Stort. A strange story (not
by Bulwer,) is going the rounds of tbe English
press. A lately married Irish eat!, wishing
to improve his old mansion, set architects at
work, who discovered a room hermetically
bricked up. It was fitted up in the richest
style of one hundred and fifty years ago, and
on the couch lay tbe skeleton of a female,
while on tbe . floor was the skeleton of s man,
presenting evident traces of violence. Jew
els and dresses lay scattered about the room,
but the fearful secret had been so well kept
that no tradition could be remembered which
would give any clue to the affajr.i The aurri
vors an, injured husband probably among
them walled up the apartment, which has
kept Ite dread secret over a eentury and t half.
f ;