Raftsman's journal. (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, April 14, 1869, Image 1

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    I pi II w
VOL 15.-JVO. 32.
cUct gcetnt.
With Mwn'nj maiden sitting,
Wai.'esb nimb.'ypliea her knitting,
PLssed T nr epon her beauty,
whi: r fin oij appy Jafy
'Payirg out" til I'pbyr double,
RicMrpiM for p!eaDt trouble.
Jest to wa'ch ber nimble fingers,
AnJ her ruby lip. where linger
Midt a beauty in her smiling.
VI my loving soul bgui!ing;
Just to feel the woniinm thrilling
Of my heirt. with rapture filling.
While beside 'he maiden fitting,
"Paring out" while ahe U Knitting,
I an thinking how oar knitting
Is an illustration fitting
Of the rea! life we're living:
Of the mercies God is g virg
In the I'.mt world around him,
Wbru to woman man had bound him
Then are hire nod labor making
A'A the joys oar souls are t.ikin,;-
His to labor are supplying,
-Hiving outr life" thread, antl tryiuj
Erer to undo its tangling ;
Erer tu proteetfrom wrangling;
lit to give life's thread and bold it;
Hers, in lore to gently cnuM it
Into Tortus of ute and beauty :
Thus they link their love and duty.
I remember it as though it had happened
yesterday. It was the bigsjeet row we ever
Lad in cur family.
It was coid, n.iny evening in the early
part oi Dcreutber. We all sat down to the
su, cr tjlie as u-ual, but not apparently in
our u.-ual good humor.
By "all," I mean our family, which con
iteJ of father, mothe. my two sisters, CI.ua
r-A Lizzie. K ': and myself.
I ib Carver w.s one of our family, as he
sai-J. "by brevet." His mo' her and my
n. itiier h.id lwn friends in girlhood, an.
L ilnev.?r on'-crown their intimacy. Ever
since Bub had lived in the city he had board
ed at our home, and he seemed like one of
!!.' was a jolly fellow, and appeared to
t!:ink a eood d-sl nf tu a'l, especially Clara,
h". by the way, did not seem to care par
ticiiicr'y f-r bi.n, tht'.;!i, rf course, she
likod him '"well enough," as we a!! did.
The rotations between those two had caiis
eluie some painful consideration. I liked
15b very much, and w.mld have been glad
to have him io the family more fully than
by ''brevet." Beside this my regard for
bim made me fed a warm sympathy for his
unreciprocruted affection for Clara. I was
;n love myself, and though' that if Mjgaie
'ranston showed as much indifference to me
i- ' !ara did sometimes toward Boh, that I
-l.caid have been exfressioiy miserable.
B-'side this, Ci'ara seemed to take a good
i -ii if plea-ure in the company of that stu
.i iJiiti Haync, whoMj chief delight seemed
to 1-e in iik;t g al out rt i'kn, polities and
mW -u'.jicts. which bon d me intolerably.
wa nineteen, and poetical.
It always eeenf? ! to me that Lizzie would
live suited D.ib better than Clara, anyhow.
TV-y w;re both f n 1 of mu-ic, and often
r'syod and sang together ; but they never
Milting !U')oth!y together. They did not
!Tr to atrree about anything but ruu.-iie,
vl tlvy o tarrile l about that. Yet they
'"iM rfii! pnetic tn-rether. Thoir voices
taaoniz.;d e!l. and I. supposed they tolera
te each for the site of the music.
IfouM never understand Lizzie's conduct
rj R.)I. It was absurd. Some of his
tbatshe argued against with all her
af,t. hi-n be stated them, she as warmly
irfended in conversation with the rest of us.
I !.,. delighted iu being contrary.
M:h,r ometiiues rebuked her petitionee
'iRb, butfatl.tr said it innde no difTer
' :t w ut,iii:irv for inttieal jieoplo to
':-rrl. JJ . was n'lUk ti:mpered himself,
' hh wa, m.ire I;k'" hitu than any of the
-''f u were.
K'tt to i.tiiirn to that Deeeu.ber evening.
1 hav -a.ii.the weather Tas bad. For that
"Q. I .5, the boy had failed to
lJ the L'vt iiii'jr paper.
rMiii.-r cjuic in. he aked for the
n.l .aid. "Coul'.und the boy."
V'i i?
-::i .. .inniiK? in. he aked for the pa-
"im '.nf up stairs to change his boots.
:in,' !.out banging the boy to the
1 '- t
Ul ! .
Ci't r- 1
ra in a bid humor, because
n uiui ie io eet out shopping
Tin a holliday chopping expe
'' iiidtlier was worries I because
", '-"- A bad not turned out well, and the
'a.-af i-.l .. 1 l - . l V.,.
' -l er said something a out the bread,
' ' 'fit bad been OVer the baking a'l day.
:' " ''"A a though it never would rie.
lid, I iliiut either the flour or the
r"is Ul."
i,her, ju,t to le disagreeable, I suppose,
t A bad wtirkman always complains of
Mnhr SnJ,,., Instantly. She was a good
I-m.-iW, and she knew it. She said,
i.u't apply ,0 nie. We generally
bread as any one. lJon't you
'b who lwkcd as though ho was work
4ut problem in mental arit'.iemetic,
ertd, " don't presume to criticise the
-r: my boarding house."
was improving things rapidly, Bob
oar boa- his boardinj house.
sapper Bob went up to his room
''n'.ked a cigar, and afterward came
"i a more social humor. In accordance
Drevions arrangement he and Lizzie
"W9 to
1 practice aa instrumental duet
in the parlor reading, and, so long
musio ran smoothly oa, I paid no at
tention to it ; but suddenly there wa a dis
cord, and then it ceased.
1 ou made a mistake there," said Bob,
pointing to the music.
"No, it was you," said Lizzie, "and there
is where it was," pointing at one of the
hieroglyphics with which composers disfig
ure paper.
"I beg pardon," said Bob ; "but I could
not have made such a mistake, as I am quite
familiar with the piece. I played with Miss
1 eterson the other evening, and she made
the same mistake you did, only she saw it
when 1 pointed it out."
i'flU 1 tl ., . t , .
)ci, s:ij woma see that black was
-1 I . ;r ...... . . . t . ii'i . , . . .
nU:ic, ii yuu potutcu li out. v nat Das AUS8
Peterson to do with me?"
"I surely thought that you and I bad liv
.l 1 I .
f "'"s t-noiiea in ine same House together,
and were sufficiently intimate if not friend
b" to allow me to differ with you sometimes,
and even to quote authority in suppoitof
my own opinion when it was at variance
with yours."
"Whatever friendly relations there were
need not continue. You have chosen to de
Gd.s vour position in the house as that of a
mere boarder, and. as such, had no right to
flout another young lady in my face, and
claim that because she made a mistake, I
must have done so, too. You talk qneerly
abo.it this music anyhow. If you ar! as
familiar with the piece as you pretend, why
uidyou practice it? I know you are not
riht about the mistake, and I don't believe
you think you are, youself."
If a man had given Bob Carver the lie so
directly, I suppose he would have knocked
him down. As it was he jumped up with
out a word and went to his room.
Lizzie played several very lively airs with
great animation, and was as merry as a bird
until hhe went to bed.
Her apparent triumph over the matter
angered me, and I bluntly told her fche had
been ill natured and unlady-like ; whereupon
she informed me thai "children should be
seen and cot heard."
At breakfast, nest morning, all of us had
oppaietitly recovered our good humor, but
there was somathing forced about Bob's
gayety. I noticed that he and Lizzie said
nothing to each other. When he left, he
would not be back to snpp er. (lie always
i dined down town.) As this was not altogeth
er unusual, no one but myself appeared to
notice it, except Clara'who looked at Lizzie
with a sort of "told you so"' glance.
Bob came home that evening, and we did
not see him till the next morning. At
breakfast Lizzie seemed about to say some
thing to him, once, but did not do so.
Father, mother, and Clara went to church.
Bob and I concluded not to go, and it was
Lizzie's turn to stay at home and superin
tend the preparation for dinner.
We were accustomed to eating good din
ners on Sunday, as it was the only time we
could all eat that good meal together and
take our time at it. We all enjoyed those
Sunday dinners keenly.
J ust before the folks started to church,
Clara and Lizzie were talking earnestly to
K'sher, and Clara said, "Yes, you ought to
do it at once." I gave no heed to the words
then but afterwards knew what they referr
ed to.
Father bad a sort of half library, half of.
flee, up stairs, and there Bob and I went;
he to take a smoke and myself to read.
After we had been there 'a short time,
Lizzie lapped at the door and walked in. I
asked her if she would have a cigar, to which
she made no reply, but walked directly to
ward Bob, who ivoluntarily got op to meet
I saw that they were about to make up
their quarrel ; but as I had been present at
half a dozen make-ups of theirs, I only
thought it necessary to Raze, with sudden
interest, out of the window.
Lizzie commenced : "Mr. Carver, I was
rude ; I was provoked at what you said at
the table, and so forgot myself ;',l'm sorry."
I wished I ha 1 gone out but they were be
tween me and the door, so I did not know
nhat to do.
B.)b maintained an awkward silence for a
few M'couds. I licgan to feel iuterested. I knew
that was pretty mm h of an ap!ogy for Lib
to make to any one, and I mentally said if
he did not accept it as frankly as it was offer
ed, be was a well, not what I thought him.
Liz.ie must have grown tired of hissilence
for she had turned around from the window,
when Bob said "Stop." She turned toward
him and be continued :
"Lizzie, don't think I am sucb a brute as
not to accept your apology. I was only at a
loss to find words to express my regret at
having provoked you into saying what you
did. It was all my fault."
"No, it wasn't curtly returned Lizzie ;
and I mentally concluded that they would
quarrell over this.
But Bob continued seriously, and in a
most Iugubriu9 tone, said, "Well, may be it
isn.t. I guess it is fate. It is the result, I
suppose, of oversensiiiveness to your indif
ference or dislike."
"Bob!" exclaimed Lizzie.
"It's true," he said, "I can't help feel
ing that you don't like mo, and my uneasi
ness leal mc to act so as to increase your
I wished I had gone They seemed to be
settling not enly their last quarrel, but all
they had ever had.
"You had uo right to say that. Bob. You
know I don't dislike you," said Lizzie,
actually breaking down and sobbing.
I guess he must have concluded that he
knew it, for ho took her in his c paoious
arms just as I passed them on a retreat, ter
ribly ashamed of not having gone in the first
I do not know what took place after I left,
but so far as dinner was concerned, Lib
might as well have gone to church.
Bridget got it all right, and I think it was
about the happiest one we ever did eat.
n r - . .
Happiness is contagious, ana there was
enough of it in Lizzie's eyes alone to have
inoculated a whole regiment with jov.
I believe Clara saw the state of affairs at
once and shared Lizzie's joy to the greatest
possible degree.
Father and mother seemed to accept the
era ot good feeling," without explanation
while' Bob was insane.
lie asked father about the sermon, and
on being assured that it was an excellent
one, said he weuld take a little of it.
father asked him. "What?" and hesaid
He helped himself to a spoonful, and then
deliberately took a spoonful of butter.
Mother significantly asked him if he
thought smoking agreed with him, and he
told her yes, he considered it a delightful
ful exercise ; and as be gave her this novel
assurance, ho reached for the molasses and
poured it over his potatoes and butter.
This was too much for Clara and me, and
we burst into an nncontroliable fit of laugh
ter, which recalled Bob to his senses ; and
blushing crimson, he confessed that he was
absent minded, as he had just been able to
see his way clear in a matter which had
troubled him for months.
lie then heartily joined in the general
laugh at his mistakes; Lizzie joining in
and blushing a pink accompaniment to his
deep crimson flush.
Bob and father took a smoke in the office
that afternoon, and mother and the girls
held a conference in the parlor ; I took a
When I came back Clara said, "You're a
gum p."
. Without any idea of what that might be,
I meekly assented, and said, "I had no idea
of what wa.- coming ; I thought Bob want
ed you instead of Lib."
"You're all the worse gump for that,"
saia sue; and tor tear you can t see some
thing else in tune, I'll tell you now that I
am encaged to Mr. Bayne."
I thought the marrying days of the year
had. come, and I went off to my room to in
dulgo in a delightful dream of my own mar
riage, in the lar-oti luture with Aiageie
Five years have passed since thenr Clara
and Lizzie got married, of course, and I
stood up at their weddings. Clara keeps
house. Bob and Lizzie still live at our
house, and father insists that they always
I do not think Jim Bayne so stupid as I
once did. Three years in the fish and oil
business as junior member of fhe. firm of
Martin & Son, have damaged my poetic en
thusiasm, while Bayne's seem somehow or
other on the increase.
I have not married Maggie Cranston. In
fact I do not know her. We did not keep
our acquaintance long after she left the
boarding school where sho was when I so
fully expected to marry her, and thought I
Could not get along without her.
I am still a youthful bachelor, awaiting
an opportunity to quarrel with some young
lady, as Bob Carver did with our Lizzie;
but I don't wan't any nineteen year-old
brothers on hand at the reconciliation.
Beactifcl Swiss Custom. The horn
of the Alps is employed in the mountainous
districts of Switzerland not solely to the
cow call, but for another purpose, solemn
and religious. As soon as the sun has dis
appeared in the valleys, and its last rays are
just glimmering on. the snowy summits of
the mountains, the herdsman who dwells on
the loftiest, takes his horn and trumpets
forth "Praise God the Lord!,' All the
herdsmen in the neighborhood take their
horns and repeat the words. This often
continues a quarter of an hour, while on all
sides of the mountains e'ho the name of
God. A solemn stillness follows ; every in
dividual offers his secret prayer on bended
knees and uncovered head. By this time it
is quite dark. "Good night," is repeated
on all the mountains from the horns of tho
herdsmen and the clefts of the rocks. Then
each lies down to rest.
The following purports to be told by a
husband of his loving little wife and ex;el
lent housekeeper: One day the wife moved
her low rocking chair close to ber husband's
side, lie was reading. She placed her
derr little hand lovingly on his arm, and
moved it along softly toward his coat-collar.
He felt nice all over. He certainly expect
ed a kiss. Sho moved her hand up and down
his coat sleeve. ' "Husband," said she.
"What, my dear?" "I was just thinking
bow nicely this suit of clothes you have on
would work into a rag carpet." The hns
baud felt cross al! day, the disappointment
was so very ereat,
A little Quaker boy sat in a "silent meet
ing" till begot worn J out, and then stood
upon the benfh and folding his arms, said:
"I wish the Lord would make us all gooder,
and gooder, till there is no bad left." This
is better than two-thirds of the prayers of
fered up.
The postmaster at New Lexington, Perry
county, Ohio, is described as a drugeist and
dentist, keeps a grocery, dry goods, boot
and shoe store ; is a silversmith, jeweller,
painter, cabinet maker, and when times get
a little dull, gets out a patent for some in
vention. "Never put off till to morrow what you
can do to-day," said an advising mother to
her little son. "Well, then, mamma, let us
eat the raspberry pie that is in the cupboard,'
was the child's precocious reply.
My husband came tenderly to my side.
"Are you going out this evening, love?"
"Of course I am."
I looked down complacently at my dress of
pink crape, dew-dropped over with cryst
aDd the trails of pink azaleas that caught up
its folds here and there. A diamond brace
let encircled one round white arm, and a lit
tle cross blazoned fitfully at' my throat.
never looked better, and I felt a sort of girl
ish pride as my eyes met the fairy reflection
in the mirror.
"Come, Gerald, make haste. Why. you
haven't begun to dress yet."
Where were my wifely instincts that I did
not see the haggard, down cat look in his
features the fevered light in his eyes.
'I can't go to night, Madeline I am not
well enough."
"You are never well en. .ugh to oblige me,
Gerald. I am tired of being put off with
such exenses."
He made no answer, but droppe'd his head
in hts hands on the 'able before him.
"Oh, come, Gerald," I urged petulently;
"it is so awkward for me to go alone al
He shook his head listlessly.
"I thought, perhaps, you would be willing
to remain at home villi nie, Madeline."
"Men are selfish 1" I said plaintively;
' and 1 am all dressed. Ciaudia took half
an hour to ray hair. I dare say you'll be
great deal quieter without me that is, if
you are determined not to go."
No answer again.
"Well, if you choose to be so sullen, I
don't care," I said lightly, as I turned and
went out of the room, adjusting my loqunt
holder, the tube and beliotripes seeming to
distil incense at every motion.
Was I heartless and cruel? Had I ceased
to love my husband? From i ho bottom of
my heart, I believe that I loved him as truly
and tenderly as ever a wife did ; but I had
been so poiled and petted all my bi ief.solfiidi
life.that the better instincts were, so to speak.
entombed alive.
I went to the party, and had my Ell of
adulation and homage, as usual. The hours
seemed to glide away, shod with roses and
winged with music and perfume, and it was
not until, wearied with dancing. I sought a
momentary refuge in the half-lighted tea
room, that I beard words waking me, as it
were, from a dream.
"Gerald Glenn 1"
I could not well be mistaken in the name
it was scarcely commonplace enough for
that. They were talking two or three bu
siness-like looking gentlemen in the ball
without, and I could catch now and then a
fugitive word or phrase.
"Fine.enterprising young fellow ! " "G reaf
pity 1" "Totally ruined, so Bees & M'Mor
ton say 1" "Reckless extravagance of his
wife 1"
All these vague fragments I heard; and
then some one said, "aud what is he going
to do now?"
"What can he? Poor fellow! I am sorry.
but he should have calculated bis income and
expenses better."
"Or bis wife should. Oh, these women ;
they are at the bottom of all man's troubles."
And they laughed. Oh, how could they?
I had yet to karn how easy it is in this world
to bear other people's troubles.
I rose up hurriedly, wiih my heart beatine
tumultuously beneath the azalias, and went
back to the lighted saloon. Mr. Aibano
Moore was waiting to claim my hand for the
next dance.
"Are you ill, Mrs. Glenn? How pale you
1 I m not very well. I wish you would
have my carriage called, Mr. M;ore. "
For now I felt that home was the proper
place for me.
Hurried by some unaccountable impulse,
sprang out the moment the carriasre
wheels touched the curbstone, and rushed
up to my husband's room. The door was
locked, but I could see a liuht shininn faint
ly under the threshold. I knocked wildly
and persistently.
"Gerald, dear Gerald! For heaven's sake
let me in 1"
Something tell on the marble heart h-stono
within, making a metallic click, and my hus
band opened the door a little way. I had
never seen him look so pale before, or so
rigid, and yet so determined.
"Who are you?" he demanded, wildly.
"Why cannot you leave me in peace?"
"It is I. Gerald your Madeline your
own little wife."
And I caught from his band the pis'ol he
was trying to conceal in his breast its ran to
lav on the marble hearth und-jr the in intle
an 1 flung it out of the wind vv.
"Gerald, would you have left me?"
"I would have escuped !" he cried, still
half delirious, to all appearances. "Debt
disgrace misery her reproaches ! I would
have escaped them all."
His head fell like that of a weary child,
on my shoulder. I drew hitu gently on a
sofa, and soothed him with a thousand mur
mured words a thousand mute caresses,
for had it not been all my fault?
And through all tho long weeks of fear
that followed, I nursed him with unwaver
ing care and devot ion. I had but one tho't,
one desire to redeem myself in his estima
tion, to prove to him that I was something
more and higher than the mere butterfly of
fashion I had hitherto shown myself to him.
Well, the March winds had howled them
selves away into their mountain fastnesses.
The brilliant April rain drops were dried on
bow and spray, and now the apple blossoms
were tossing their fragrant billows of pinky
bloom in the deep blue air of latter May.
Where were we now.
It was a picturesque little villa, not far from
Pittsburg, furnished very much like a mag
nificent baby house. Gerald sat in a cush
ioned easy chair in the garden, where he
could glance through the open window at
me, working busily with my needle.
"What an industrious fairy it is." he said
smiling sadly.
"Well, you see. I like it. It's a great
deal better than those sonatas on the piano."
Who would have ever have thought you
would mak'. so notable a housekeeper?"
I laughed gleefully, as I had all a child's
delight in being so highly praised.
"Are you not going to Mrs. Delancey's
eroquet party?"' he pursued.
"No ; what do I care for eroquet parties;
I'm going to fitiinh your shirt, aud you will
read aloud to me.''
"Madeline, I want you to answer me one
"What U it?'.'
"What have you done with all your dia
Isoldihem long ago; they paid several
heavy bills, besides settling half a year's
rent here.
"But, Madeline, you were so proud of your
"I was once; now they would be the bit
terest reproach my eyes could meet. Oh,
Gerald, bad I been less vain, and thoughtless
and extravagant "
I checked myself, and a robin singing in
the perfumed depths of apple blossoms, took
up the current of my sound.
"That's right, little redbreast," said my
husband, half jokingly, "talk her down 1
She has foreotten that our past is dead and
gone, and that we have turned over a new
pajte in the book of experience! Madeline,
do you know how I feel sometimes when I
sit and look at you?"
"No." .
"Well, I feel like a widower who has mar
ried again."
"Like a widower who has married, again.
Gerald. ' '
"Yes; I can remember my first wi fa a
brilliant, thoughtless child, f ithout any
ideas beyond the gratification of present
whims a spoiled plaything! Well, that
little Madeline has vanished away into the
past somewhere ; sho has goneawnyto re
turn no more, and in her stead, I behold my
second wife, a thoughtful, tender woman,
whose watchful love surrounds me like an
atmosphere, whose character grows more
noble, and developes itself into new depths
and beauty every day 1"
I was kneeling at his side now, with my
cheek upon his arm, and my eyes looking
into his.
"Which do you love best, Gerald the
first or second ?"
"I think the trial and vicissitudes through
which we have assed are weloiue indeed,
since they have brought me.as their harvest
fruits, the priceless treasure of my second
That was what Gerald answered me the
sweetest words that ever fell on my ear.
In Self Defence.
"Halt! Your money or your life. Throw
up your hands," exclaimed a stranger, step
ping out from the shadow, while accompany
ing the words might plainly be heard the
sharp click of a pistol. The person address
ed was a weaiy newspaper man, wending his
lonely way homeward in -the outskirts of the j
city at about three o'clock th . other morning.
'Ob, yes, certainly ; I'm in no hurry.
Only walking for exercise. Just as soon
hoid up my hands as not. I'm not armed.
Please turn that a little to one side. It
makes me nervous."
'Hand ver your cash."
"Haven't na y red with tne. You see
they took that a!! av.iy from tne when they
entered iuv name on the books."
"Where did they take y lur money from
you V"
"Oh. yes; why at the Te-t II u.-e. Yon
sec I'm a sm-ill pox pa'ient. just out for ex
ercise. They wouldn't let me walk about in
daylight with my face in this condition, so I
have tit go it after dark and late at night
when the streets are empty. By the way,
8tranger,the wind is rather in your direction,
and unless you ain't particular about it, it
might be just as well to stand on the other
side. I've got my old silver watch though.
If you watit it come and take it. You're
at liberty to search me if you like, only
don't point that pistol this way, it's uncom
fortable d'ye want the watch?"
"No, thank you," said the robber, back
ing away and around towards the other side.
"I couldn't take nnything from a man as
unfortunate as you are Here is a half dol
lar for you, , or felbr.v. Go get something
to drink." a d he threw the coin towards
him, still hacking off "Now," said he,
"vou turn back and go around the block the
other way. As you are only walking for ex
ercise, it won't incommode you."
"Oh! not a particle I'dj-jsf as as soon
walk with yon, if yon desire it. Either
way, thnueh.it a all the san to me. Think
you for the half. Won't you join me and
drink to my recovery?"
"Well, you eo rojud the block the other
way, and a- T havon'. hurt you. say nothing
about having met me. I etitfs I'll go this
way," and then watchine till the supposed
small pox patient turned the corner, he
started off on a full run in the opposite di
The newspaper man proceeded homeward
undisturbed, and slept the sleep of one who
enjoys the consciousness of having done a
good thing, and fo ar bits better off for hav
ing met a highwayman.
Josh Billings says : "When a man'" dog
deserts him on account of his poverty be
can't get any lower in the world not by
land." Josh oujht to know.
TecumEeVs Honor,
A correspondent of the Detroit Freelex
gives some interesting anecdotes of the great
Indian warriorand prophet, Tecumseh :
While the enemy was in possession of the
country around Monroe and Detroit,Tecum
seh, with a large band of warriors visited
the river Baisin. The inhabitants had been
stripped of nearly every means of subsis
tence. Olil Mr. Rivers, (a Frenchman) who
was lame, and unable to earn a living f. r
himself and family, had contrived to keep
out of sight of the wandering bands of sav
ages a puir of oxen with which his son was
able to procure a scanty support for the fam
ily. It so happened that while at labor
with the oxen, Tecumseh. who had come
over from Maiden, met him in the road,
aud said :
"My friend, I must have those oxen. My
young men are very hungry, and they have
nothing to cat."
Young Rivers remonstrated. He told
the chief that if be took the oxen bis fath
er would starve to death.
"Well," ' said Tecumseh. "we are conquer
ors, and everything we want is ours. I must
have the oxen; but I will not be so mean as
to rob you of them. I will pay you one
hundred dollars for tbcm, and that is tar
more than they are worth, but we must
have them."
He f ot a white man to write an order on
the British Indian agent, Col. Elliot, who
was on the river some distance below. for the
Young Rivers took the order to Col. Elli
ot, the agent, who promptly refused to pay
it, saying :
"We're entitled to support from the coun
try we conquered. I won't pay it."
Tho young man, with a sorroful heart, re
turned with the answer to Tecumseh, who
said :
"To-morrow we will go and ee."
In the mortiine he took young Rivers,
and went to see the colonel. Ou meeting
him he said :
"Do you refuse to pay for the oxen I
"Yes," said the colonel, and he reiterated
the reason for refusal
"I bought them," said the chief, ''"for my
young men, who wete hungry. I promised
to pay for them, and they shall be paid for.
I always heard that white nations go to war
with each other, and not peaceful individu
als ; that they did not rob andjilunder poor
people. I will not."
"Well," said the colonel, "I will not pay
for them."
"You can do as vou please," said the
chief, "but before Tecumseh and his war
riors came to fight the battle of the great
king, thev had enough to eat, for which
they had only to thank the Mast er of 'Life
and their good rifles. Their huntinggrounds
supplied them with food enough ; to them
we can return."
This threat produced a sudden change on
the colonel's mind. The detection of the
great chief, he well knew, would immedi
ately withdraw all the nations of the red
men from the British service ; and without
them they were nearly powerless on the
"Well," said the colonel, "if I must pay
it, I will.
"Give me bard money," said Tecumseh,
"not rag money" army bills.
The colonel then counted out a hundred
dollars in coin, and gave them to him. The
chief banded the money to Rivers, and then
said to the colonel :
"Give me one dollar more."
It was given ; and handing it also to Riv
ers, he said :
"Take that, it will pay you for the time
you have lost in getting your monev."
An Editor's Bed.
In a certain village the editor of a local
newspaper had a room at the hotel. Being
absent one night, and the house being crowd
ed, the landlord put a stranger in his bed.
The next morning the following lines were
found in the room :
I slept in the editor's bed last night.
And others may say what tbey please ;
I say there's one editor in the world
That certainly takes his ease.
When I thought of my humble cot, away,
1 qould not suppress a sigh,
But thought, as I rolled in the feathery
How easily editors lie
The editor, after some inquiries of the
landlord, made the following addition :
The chap whose form has rested here,
And left his copy behind.
For a bad impression should be locked up,
As the cm is most unkind.
Behold a proof of how he lien;
In the morning he went away.
And hke many that use an editor's sheet,
Has forgotten the bill to pay.
'Tis well to walk with cheerful heart,
' Wherever our duties call,
With a I'nendlj glance ad open Laud,
And a eentle word for all.
Siife life is a thorny and difficult path,
Where toil is the portion of man.
We all should endeavor while passing
To make it as smooth as we can.
Don't speak ill of your old maids. They
a"-e the true angels who resolutely refuse to
make men miserable by marrying them.
The plainer the dress, the greater the
beauty. Virtue is the greatest ornament,
and good sense the best equipage.
There was a man who sowed a plat
With Norway oats weU,what of that t
Never expect any assistance from drink
ing companions.
tbb an a ftitfaniES
For all diseases of the Lirer. Stemach, of digas
tire orgaBs.
Hoofland's German Bittera
tl eoOJDosed of tfia (.nr. .
icmal y termed, extract) of Root. Ii.,h..d
n,s",,ng ,preP tr rtion.highly eoneen
m i x i a r e of kino.
U m combination of alt the ingredients of the Bit
ters, with i the purest quality ot .Sow Cru Rum,
Orange. e , making one of the most pleasant and
agreeable remedies ever offered to tho public.
TWe preferrngMedieinefreefroniAloho.
io admixture, will use
Those who hare no objection to the eotcbinatioa
of the Bitters, ai stated, will use
They are both equally good, and contain the
same medicinal virtues, the choice between the
two being a mere matter of taste, the Tooio beina
the most palatable.
The etomnch, from a variety of causes, suoh as
Indigestion. Dyspepsia. Nervous Debility, etc.. is
very apt to hare iu fanctions deranged. The
LiTer, sympathizing as closely ar it does with
the stomach, then be w comes affected. the result
of which is that the patient suffers front several
or more of the following diseases :
Constipation, Flatulence, Inward Piles, FnlnesS
of Bleod to the Head. Acidity of the Stomach,
Kaasea. Heartburn. Dirgn.t for Food, Falaess
or Weight In the Stomach, Soar Eructations,
Sinking or Fluttering at the Pit of theStomaeh,
Swimming or the Head, Hurried or Difficult
Breathing, Flattering at the Heart. Choking or
Suffocating Sensations when In a Lying Posture,
Dimness of Vision.Dots or Webs before the Eight,
Dull Pain in the Head, Deficiency of Perspira
tion. Yellowness of the Skin and Eyes, Pain ia
the Side, Baoa.Chest, Limbs, etc., Sudden flush
es of Heat, Burning in the Flesh , Constant im
aginings of Eril.and great depression of Spinta.
The sufferer from :hese diseases should exerelto
the greatest eaution in the seleetion of a remedy
for his rase, purobas:og only that which he is as
sured from his in res ligations and Inquiries
possesses true merit. O is skilfully compound
ed, is free from injurious insredidenta. mnH h
T I . '
established for itself a reputation fer the core of
these diseases. In this connnection we would
submit those well-known remedies -
Iloofiand' t German Bittera, and HeoflantTt
German Touir, prepared Ay Dr. C. M.
Jaeitvn, Philadelphia, Pa.
Twenty-two years since thev were first Intro
duced into this oountry from Uernaauy, daring
which time tbey hare undoubtedly performed
more curea, and benefitted suffering humanity to
a greater extent, than any oiher remedies fcaowsj
to the public.
These remedies will effectually core Liver Com
plaint, Janndice. Dys ppsia.Chronie,or Ner
vous 'Debility, Chroa le Diarrhoea, Disease of
the Kidneys, and ail Diseaeea arising from a dis
ordered Liver, Stomach, or Intestines.
Resulting from any cause whatever; prostration
or tne syuem. inauoea Dy sever labor,
hardships, exposure, fevers, ete.
There is do medicine extant equal to these rem
edies insnch eases. .A tone and vigor is imparted
to the whole system, the appetite is strongtued,
food is enjoyed, the stomach digests promptly. the
blood is purified, the complexion beeomes sound
and healthy, the yellow tinge is eradicated from
the eyes, a bloom is given to the cheeks, and tba
weik and nervous invalid becomes a strong and
healthy being.
And feeling the hand of time weighing heavily
upon them, with all Its attendant ills. will find in
the use of this BITTEKS, or the TONIC, an elixer
that will instil new ife into their veins, restore
in a measure the energy and ardor of mora youth
ful days, build np their shrunken forms, and giva
health and happiness to their remaining years.
tt is a well established fact that fully one-half
of the female portion of our population are sel
dom in the enjoyment of good health; or, to
nse their own expres sion,"neverfeeI well."
They are languid, devoid of all energy, extreme
ly nervous, and have no appetite. To this class
of persons the BITTEKS, or the TONIC, is aspe
cially recommended.
Are made strong by the nse of either of these
remedies. They will our every ease of MARAS
MUS, without fail.
Thousands of certificates have accumulated ia
the hands of the proprietor, bnt space will ailow
of the publication of but a few. Thoee.it will be
observed, are men of note and of such standing
that they must believed.
Hon. Gerg W. Woodward, Chief Justice ef
th Supreme Court of Penn'a, tcrttee :
Philadelphia. March IS, 1887.
"I find 'Hoofland's German Bitters' is
good tonia, useful in diseases of the diges
tive organs, and of great benefit ia eases of de
bility. and want of nervous action in the system.
Your truly, GEO. W WOODWARP."
Hon Jamej Thompson, Judge of the Supreme
Court of Pennsylvania:
Philadelphia, April S3. 1868.
"I consider 'Hoofland's German Bitters' a train ,
able medicine in case if attacks ot Indigestion or'
Dyspepsia. I can certify this from my experi-
ence of it. Yours, with respect.
From Rev. Joseph H. Kennnrd, D. D., Pastor
of the tenth Baptist Church, Philadelphia.
Dr. Jaeinon Dear Sir: I have been frequent
ly requested to connect my name with recommen
dations ef different kinds of medicines, bnt re
garding the practice as out of my appropriate
sphere, I have in all caws declined; but
with clear proof in --s' various instances and
particularly in my own family, of the usefulness
of Dr. Hoofland's Merman Bitters. I depart for
once from my usual course, to express my fall
conviction that, for general deSility of the syHrm,
and especially for Liver Complaint, tt as a safe
and valuable preparation. In some ease it may
fail, but usually. I doubt not. It will be very ben
eficial to those who suffer from the above causae
Yours, very respectfully,
J. H. KENNARD.8th,bel Coatesst.
FiomRcv. E. D. Fendall, Assistant Editor
Christian Chronicle, Philadelphia.
I have derived decided benefit from the nse of
Hooflands German Bitters, and feel it my privil
ege to recommend tbem as a most valuable tonic,
to all who are suffering from general debility or
from diseases arising from derangemnt ef the
liver. Yours truly, E. 1. FKNDALL-
Hoofland's German Remedies areeounterfeited
Pee that the sign iture of C. M JACKSO.N ie oa
the wrapper of each bottle All others are
counterfeit Princi Plj ?ee " ""S
tory at the flerman Medicine Store.No. J1 ARCH
Street, Philadelphia. Pa.
CHARLES M. EVANS, Proprietor.
Formerly C. M. JACKSON A Co.
Hoofland's German Bitters, rer bottle,
Hoofland's German Bitters, half dosen.
f I SO
Hoofland's German Ton's. pot npia quart bottle
SI 60 per bottle, or half dosen. for 7
(7 Do not forget to examine well the articl
you buy, in order to get the genuine.
For sale by A. I. 6HAW Agent CUarfeld Pa
April 23, 18SS-ly
i t
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