u
M
t,
4. B4RRER, Editor and Proprietor.
j.TODO UlITCHIXSO, Publisher.
I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT THAN PRESIDENT. Hxsbt Cut.
TERMS
-U I. AUVAM'L.
4
VOLUME 5.
y RECTORY.
"list of post offices.
. t.i iirr: District.
thel Station Enoch Reese,
Orolltown, Joseph Lehe,
Src,3 Spring..,
Blacklick,
Carroll.
Chest.
Taylor.
Washint'n.
r'burg- John Thompson, Eb.burg
. . V, A 9:1 11. i lSliO Millie.
J. M. Christy,
Gallitzin.
ijeuilock,
Win Tile j, Jr.,
I. E. Chandler,
M. Adlesfcerger,
Wissinger,
4 T4 ii n
Washt'n.
Jolinst'wn.
Loretto.
Conem'gh.
jobastown,
Loretto,
liberal Point,
i!unter,
r.ittivi'.le,
Munster.
Andrew J r crrni, ruisq nan.
O W. Bowman, White.
B,iC.luu r st,m. Wharton. Clearfield.
! level Georp. Berkey . Richland.
?San B- M-Colpan, Washt'n.
S.-naan, Slick, Croyle. .
Saaaierlw J, .m M Connell Washt'n.
Sre, MorrUKeil, S'merbill.
CSirnCHES, M1MSTEUS, &c.
freran-REV. D. TIabbisox, Tastor -freaThiu-
every Sabbath morning at 10 J
I and in the evening at 3 o clock. Sab-
S School aj 1 o'clock, A. M. V
:a.T every Thursday evening at 6 o dock.
preacher -in charge. Rev. J. 0ay, v.
SrTpre'aching every bbath alternately
at lOi.o'clock in the morning, or 7 in the
1 en k Sabbath School at 9 o'clock, A M
prayermeeting every Thnrsday evening, at 7
nick Independent- Ll. R. Powell,
P-Preaching every Sabbath .moving at
10 o'ciock, and in the evening at 6 o clock
tibbath School at 1 o'clock, P. M. 1 rayer
feting on the first Monday evening of each
rlfand on every Tuesday Thursday -and
Friday evening, eicepuug - -
tich month. ir,,.,,,,,
Minnie - evrnc ai
r.tor. rreacning :- j--t; .r vl v
Und 6 o'clock. Sabbath school L at I o clock
A. if. Prayer meeting every mu-j - "";'
t; 7 o'clock. Society every 1 aesuay
i.Z-REv. W,Lotd, Pastor.TPreacb-i-z
every Sabbath morning at 10 o cIocK.
Particular Baptist,-. David Jkh,
t i.: Sabbath evening at
rmor. rri.iiiug wv.. j - t -
J o'clock. Sabbath School at at l.o clock, , 1 . M.
Catholic Rev. M. J. .hitchm-u,
'-vices every Sabbath morning at 10 o clock
ui Tempers at 4 o'clock in the evening.
EREXSBITRSi HIATUS.
MAILS ARRIVE.
Eastern, daily, at H y.cl,oct' A'
Astern, " at 11 J o'clock, A. M.
MAILS CLOSE.
Etcrn, daily, at 8 o'cloclc, P. M.
ftcitern, "at "
:i , c.rv, p.ntlir.Tmliana.Stronrs-
ton, 4c, arrive on Thursday of each week,
i; 5 o clock, 1 . M. , ,
. T-i - , r rl- irpr k.
Leave Lbeasburg on rria.ij 1
t: s A. M.
t!,Tlie mails from Newman 3 .MiU3, car
r.:Ujwn, kc, arrive on Monday, Wednesday
Leave hbcnsonr on xuesua, .,v-
. . . rr J - T!nir;rl!lV!l
ulSdtardavs, at i o cIock, A. i.
RAILROAD SCIICOM.
CRESSON STATION.
rtiif Prn5a lpiirps at 8.-13 A. M.
FfisfLifte
" Piiila. Expre33
9.50 P. M
9.22 A.
8.03 P. M.
8.3S P. M
12.34 A. M-
.Mail Train
Throagh Expre33 "
rast Line
it
Fast Mail
6.58 A. M-
Through Accora. :t
10.3'J A. M-
: COSIXTI OPWCERS..
Jttyt of the Courts President, Hon. Geo.
;:!or, Huntingdon; Associates, George W.
'itj, Henry C. Devine.
Pnihanotary Jo3eph M'DonaM.
R'futrr and Recorder Jarae3 Grif5n.
Sue.-if John Duck.
bu'rlct Attorney. Philip S. Noon.
County Commissioners Pcler J. Little, Jno.
-snrspbell, Edward Glass.
Trtaturer Isaac Wike.
Poor House Directors George M'Cullough,
'"rOrir i ntr Trwin TliitplTft.
r. " J i n
foor .... Trmnurer Georce C. K. Zahm.
M'if.7or William J. William?, George C.
I'-iahm, Francis lierney.
wufy Surveyor. Henry seaman.
Cirr.rttf ...TmnA3 Shannon.
'rtantile Appraiser Patrick Donahoe.
pf. of Common schools J. a. tonaon.
AT LARGE.
W.c'es of the rcacc David II. RobertSt
:-rison Kinkead.
Eurgat A. A. Barker.
Mool Directors A1 Lloyd.Phil S. Neon,
I'Mna D. Parrish, Hugh Jones, E. J. Mills,
"4 j. Jones.
EAST WARD.
Conttallt Tlmmna J. Davis?.
Toicn Council J. Alexander Moore, Daniel
'lEvans, Richard R. Tibbott, Evan E. Evans,
"ijliara Clement. '
y-'x-cforj Alexander Jones. D. 0. Evans,
"tyf o Election Richard Jones, Jr.
Ullor TVinmtro L .Tnnpa.
M'wranf Assessors David E. Evans, Wm.
Cn.
WEST WARD.
at ftliUUJ .1A I it 3 j V As
.Z7 Council John Dougherty, George C.
4om, Isaac Crawford, Francis A. Shoe
"rieri James S. Todd.
yVcor G. W. Oatman. Roberts Evans.
5 cJaionMichael Uasson. "
Vp"i'ant Auetiort William Barnes, Dan-
The rc-:ent terrUble catastrophe in San
tiago recalls" vividly to my tiiind one of
the most extraordinary adventure of my
chequered life. Five-and-t sventy years
ago I was captain of the Nortliern Lljht,a.
large sclioouer trading between Hull and
St. Petersburg. A long acquaintance
with the vicissitudes of the Russian
climate had made me somewhat reckless.'
The consequence was, that on the 3Qth of
October I found my vessel tight locked
in ice. I had stayed a week too long, in
my eagerness to take a lull cargo of timber,
and ! was justly punihed lor my temeri
ty; a prisoner till the middle or end of
April, far away from my friends, and
di'iog what a livery-stable keeper would
call "eating my own head off."
Being, however, of a sanguine temper
ament, and having no wife at home to be
anxious about, I resclved to make the
best of it, and cujoved myself a9 well as I
culd. I saw all the sight3 of St. Peters
burg, from Peter the Great's wooden
horse down to the mammoth. I visited
Moscow. I went bear-hunting. I drove
about in sledges. I fell in love and fell
out again. Nor did I neglect business.
I frequeutly attended the Exchange, and
made myself known to the chief tallow,
hernn, and timber merchants. I studied
Huisiau commerce. I arranged for cargoes
for two vears to come. The Anslo-itus-
sians are very hospitable, and thanks to
the kindness ot xlr. Anuerson, tne og
lish banker, my hotel expenses were "very
small. 3Iy fur coats were my chief
expense ; they cost me a large sum then ;
but I reckoned that they would last me
my life, and so they have at least, I wear
them to this day. - '
Nevertheless, I pined for the hour of
liberty. An idle life did not suit a man
of my temperament one who had been
at sea ever since ho was twelve years old;
Like all sailors, I was always grumbling
against the sea, aud jet I was never
happy away from it. At last the order of
my release came. The ice on the Neva,
opposite the Custom House especially,
began to melt into thin bars an inch or so
wide. Tt became dangerous to venture
on it, ercept where it was piled with snow.
The ice slabs on the quay began to break,
when I pushed them with my stick, into
jrlassv fragments. Here and there some
spaces Degan to open, ana uir?y Drown
snow-water noolcd on the surface. There
1 1- . 1
had been several warm days, but now rain
aud wind came, and they soon melted the
walls of my crystal prison. Sledges still
ventured on .the Neva, though the water
rose up to the horses' knees.
One morning, when I looked out of my
window on the ground floor at Mi.s lieu
sou's, on the English quay, the water had
all gone from'the surface of the ice; thit
was the well-known sign that the ico had
beconi3 too porous and spongy to hold
water, and in a few hours would break
away from the banks and begin to float
teaward. .
T lmrl insfc sat down to breakfast, when
a thunder-peal of cannon broke from the
fortress.
"What is that, Miss Benson V I said
to our hostess at the head of the table.
"That," she replied, "is the signal that
the commander of the citadel, with his
officer?, is crossing the river, to present
the emperor at the winter palacs with a
"oblet of Neva water in token ot the
return of spring. The emperor will give
him the cup back filled with ducats."
"Hurrah !" I cried; "then hey for old
England!"
It took me tome days to get fho ship
off, for it was tedious going backwards
and forwards to Cronstadt. It was the
butter week time; that seven days' feast
which precedes Lent, aud 43 followed by
the rejoicing of Easter. In the intervals
of business, as I went to and fro to my
agent's, I amused myself with observing
the revelry of this great Ttussian festival;
There were thousands of peasants de
vouring plenni (pancakes,) and caviar,
honey-cakes, and nuts. There were
swings, seesaws, and round-abouts.- The
greaf squarjj of the admiralty was the
chief scene of amusements. Close to the
winter palace, the war-office, and the
senate house, there were scores of tempo
rary theatres,, and long lines of "icy
mountains, down which the sledge3 kept
rushing incessantly, amid the shouts and
lauhler of the good natured but wild
looking peasants.
At the doors of the theatres stood the
tea-Kellers, with huge brazen semovars
smoking in the centre of their Cables, and
surrpunded by countless toapots. The
shop keepers themselves, in fur caps and
gloves, stood by their stalls, stamping,
and clapping their hands, and shouting :
"Gentlemen, will you please to take a
glass of warm tea, with lemon or cream f
How will you take tho sugar ?" The
admiralty square was strewn with -nut
EBENSBXJEG, PA., THURSDAY, MAY
shells; here and there drunken bear cf
a peasant, a mere reeling bundle of greasv
sheepskin, jostled against me, and then,
with the simple-hearted politeness of hi3
race, took off his bat and hiccupfd out :
"Pardon me, my little father, but remem
ber it is Butter week."
One day I sallied out into the great
square about uoon, to see the grandees of
the capital drive through the fair, and I
never saw such a sight. The line was
guarded by mounted gendarmes, dressed
like lancers, and wearing light blue- uni
forms with brown epaulettes. There were
Chinese, Turks, Tartars, Germans, Eng
lishmen, Russian princes, priests, soldiers,
bearded soldiers and their portly wives,
Circassian officers, colonels of the body
guard in their eagle-crowned helmets,
and se rfs, in a long procession of carriages,
which, beginning at the rock on which
Peter the Great's statue stands, reached
to the base of the great granite column of
Alexander, facing the enormous pile of
the "Winter Palace.
Tired at last of the proee3sion, I turned
aside to one of the largest woodea thea
tres. A clash of music from within
announced tbe commencement of a new
performance. Joiniug the torrent of peo
ple who wefe jostling for admittance, I at
last made my way to the pay-place, where
a mob of clamorous moujiks were thrusting
out their hands with the admittane fee, in
childish impatience. I drew back to make
way for a respectable old grey-bearded
merchant and his pretty daughter, who,
muffled up in a cloak, clung to his arm,
and shrank back from the rough, gesticu
lating crowd. I thought I had never seen
so charming a girl, so tender in manner,
so gentle and spring-like in beauty. The
merchant and his daughter bowed, and
thanked me in broken English for my
politeness, paid their money, and passed
in. I followed rapidly, but a crowd of
peasants thrust themselves in, before me,
so that when I took my seat I could obtain
no glimpse of the merchant or bisjretty
daughter.
The wooden theatre of the Katsheli was
an enormous building, built, as a peasant
next me said, to hold five thousand per
sons. It had large galleries, balconies,
and Corinthian pillars, hung with cheap,
drapery, and gay with red and blue paint.
A vast chandelier lighted up the tent-like
interior.- The theatre, was already full
when I entered, so I had to content my
self with a back seat in an upper box, not
far from the head of oneot the staircases.
I did not listen much to the overture it
was that brazen mechanical sort of music,"
without color or life, that no one listens
to. By-and-by, it ended with a'joking
crash. There was a moment's pause, and
the curtain drew up. A deep hush pas.cd
over the troubled waves of the pit. The
children clutched their fathers' hands, the
soldiers ceased their practical jokes, the
country-women paused in their gossip,
the boys stopped eatinjr peanuts, and
every eye turned to the stage. An honest
old woman just before nfe, a hou?ekeeper,
as I judged by her dress, amused me
especially by her childlike eagerness ; she
put on her spectacles, and leaned forward
with both hands on her knees, to drink in
every word.
The play wa3 a little operetta, half
French, half Italian. I think they called
it "Hose and Lubin." It was a gay, tri
fling thing. The hero and heroine were
villagers, and an old cross father and a
I malicious fool were the coustant interrup
fter of their stolen meetings. Hose was
dressed in a little tucked up gown of white
silk striped with pink, and wore a gipsy
hat ; Lubin wore a nondescript sort of
blue silk coat and flapped waistcoat, while
the zany tumbled into a thousand scrapes
in a sort of miller's dress, all white, and a
blue broad brimmed liar. There was a
good deal of hiding, and searching about
Avith soldiers, until the lover eulists, aud
finally returns a general, to marry Rose.
It was a pretty bit of nonsense, mixed up
with dances and soDgs, and now and then
a chorus; and it waa all over in half an
hour. '
Silly as it was, it pleased tho audience,
who shouted, laughed, and encored every
thing. A display of - fireworks wai to
follow, and then a. short farce.
Suddenly all the clatter and laughter
died away. The curtain had not risen,
but a faint, crimson light was shiniug
oehind it. It was the commencement of
the pyrotechnic display, and I was curious
to seo what the Russians could do in these
matters. The first ecene was to be the
illumination of the Kremlin at the coron
ation of the Emperor Alexander the
First. Probably that was tmly the prep
aration, for though the red light widened
and glowed, the curtain, strangely enough,
did not rise. The people stamped and
shouted. All at once the bajozzo (the
clown) in his white dress,- ran forward,
pale as death, his eyes staring, his hands
about like thosv of a madman. "Wo are
on fire !" he shouted. "Save yourselves,
you who ean."
"Bravo, Ferrari shouted the peasants,
with roars of laughter. "Excellent !
Viva, Ferrari ! Bravo, Ferrari I"
The clown fled from the stage", as it
seemed, in an agony of feigned fear. The
laughter redoubled. A jnan in evening
dress rushed forward, whispered to -the
opera, and waved his hand to some men
who were not visible to the audience.
The curtain rose swiftly at the ominous
signal, and disclosed, to my horror, a roll
ing ruas3-of fire and crimson smoke.-r-Already
the lies had caught fire . and
were hanging in blazing slljhers. Fire
rose from below, fire gleamed iroin above,
fire darted its quiek tongues from either
side. The theatre was on fire. The
bajozzo had not been
terribly in earnest
feigning, but was
I shall never forget the scream that
bur3t 4rom those four thousand people
when ihe reality broke upon them. I
had tmly an instant to look, but in that
instanv I saw row after row of white faces
turp as by one impulse to the door. Then
came a stamping rush as of a herd of
maddsned animals. Many tore forward
without a thought but of their own safety,
others snatched up their children, others
dragged forward their old mothers or
fathers, or bore their wives or sweethearts
in their arms. Then came the grapple for
life, the trampling, suffocating battle
"for existence, that only served to fasten
death.
" I saw immediately that, though for'the
moment safe, and far from the full torrent
of the struggle, my hopes of escape were
quite as desperate as the hopes of those
who were trampling each other to death
at th entrance below. Unfortunately
one of the great folding doors opened inward.-
In the first rush it had been
closed, and now the pressure was so great
that it could not be moved either way.
The flames were spreading rapidly, the
smolTe polled toward us in blinding clouds,
and rroni these clouds darted and leaped
serpent tongues of fire. The flames seem
ed with cruel greediness to spring from
seat .to seat. The slips were blazing, the
orchestra was a seething pit of fire. The
screams and groans on all sides were
heart-breaking. I hesitated for a moment
whether to remain where I was and meet
death, or to breast the human whirlpool
below. At that moment a surge of flame
ran along the lede of the next box to me,
blackening and blistering as it went.
The heat grew intense. I determined to
make one struggle for life. I ran to the
bead of the stairs and looked down.
There, the herd of screaming aDd shouting
people fought with hands and feet in a
horrible tangle of life and death.
I gave myself up as lost, when a hand
seized my coat. It was the old house
keeper, screaming her entreaties to me to
save her. I told her to cliDg to me, and
I would do what I could. It gave me
- courage to think I was struggling for some
one besides myself. She kneeled and
prayed to God for us both. I had placed
myself at the edge of the crowd, in order
to husband my strength for a last effort.
Onn ncronizinrr thought alone shot thro'
t my heart, and that was a thought for the
I tender irirl I had seen so innocent and
happv half an hour before.
Suddenly, as I stood there, like a-diver,
hesitating before he plunges, a peasant,
scorched and burnt, dashed past me from
the crowd that had trampled upcm him,
and, staggering forward, half stifled with
6moke, fell faco. downward, dead at my
fe-.fc. Ilis.axe, as usual with the peasants,
vras thrust in his belt behind. A thought
of self-preservation, surely sent straight
from Heaven, flashed through my brain.
I stooped and drew out the axe.
"Make way, there, or I'll cut down the
first man who stsps me I'M cried out, in
broken Russian.
I half fought, half persuaded a few to
give way, until I reached the bottom of
the stairs, and had the bare plank wall of
the outer enclosure of the theatre baforc
me. -
"I will save you all," I cried, "if you
will let me free my arm."
The old woman still clung to me, but
as I advanced to strike my first blow at
the plank partition that arose between
life and death, there came a rush which
for a moment separated us. I had no
time or room to turn, but the next
moment I felt her grasp still firmer and
closer. One blow, and- the splinters
flew; a second blow, a plauk gave; a
third blow," and the blessed daylight
poured in on us ; a fourth blow, and a
chasm yawned, wide enough for the pas
sage of myself and my charge. After us,
hundreds passed out rapidly.
.1 found myself among a crowd of
shrieking women, who were calling on an
officer standing in a barouche drawn by six
horses to save their husbands, sons, broth
ers. Suddenly a man with a scorched
5, 18G4.
beard, his eyes, streaming with tears, came
and took from me the woman I had saved.
I was so blinded with smoke and fevered
with excitement, that I had scarcely given
her a thought. All I knew wa3 that I
had saved an old woman, and, by God's
grace, opened a deor of escape to some
hundreds of otherwise doomed creatures.
When I looked around, I found the mer
chant whom I had before seen lie was
the scorched and weeping man shedding
tears of joy over a beautiful girl who had
fainted. The old woman had been divi-
ded from ma in the tumult. The mer
chant's daughter it was who had then
clasped me it was her whom I had saved.
Beautiful she looked as I bent over her
and received her father's blessings.
The tall officer was the Emperor. "My
children," he kept saying to the mob, "I
will Eave all I can. Bring that brave
man to me."
I am not ashamed to repeat these words,
though I did not deserve them.
"Englishman." he said to me in French,
"the Russian nation owes you a debt of
gratitude ; it is for me to repay it ; come
to me to-morrow at the palace."
I bowed ray thanks, and handed my
card to one of the Emperor's staff.
When the fire was subdued; and they
began to dig for the bodies, the scene was
agonizing. . Heaps of charred and tram
pled corpses lay under the smoking beams
some stifled, others trodden or beaten
to'death. Some were charred, others half
roasted, many only burned in the chest
and head, the holiday clothes still bright
and gay.
In the galleries women were found suf
focated and leaning over the front boxes.
In one passage they discovered a crowd of
dead, all erect, like so many shadows
marshaled from the other world. More
than a hundred were found still alive, but
dangerously burned. More of these after
ward died in the hospitals.
One little boy was discovered cowering
unhurt under a bench ; he had crept
there' when the burning roof began to
drop among the struggling multitude.
The beams and dead bodies had so fallen
a3 to form a shelter over his head, aud
there he had remained till we disinterred
him. '
The official returns set down the num
ber of the dead at three hundred; but
my agent told tao that while he himself
stood there, he .counted fifty wagon3 pas3,
each laden with from ten to fifteen corpses,
and many people made a much higher
estimate".
I need not say much aboi4 my visit to
the palace; sufSce it-to mention that the
Emperor rewarded me with an order that
I highly prize. On the same day the
priests offered up -public prayers for the
souls of the sufferers, on the site of the
burned theatre. It was a solemn specta
cle, and as I rose from those prayers, full
of gratitude to God for my deliverance, a
rough hand grasped mine. .
. It was the merchant whose daughter I
had saved. . Tears streamed from his eye3
as he embraced me and kissed my fore
head and my cheek in the Oriental man
ner of his nation.
"My little father," he said, "I would
rather have found thee than have cleared
a thousand red rouble notes. Little Cath
arine, whom you saved, has been praying
for you ever since. Come, you must dine
with U3. I will take no denial, for do I
not owe you more than my life ? - Conic,
a droshky there ; quick, to the Fon
tanka; Catharine will leap for joy when
shet?ees you."
That visit was an eventful one to me,
for on my third voyage from that date
I married Catharine Maslovitch, and a
loving and devoted wife I found her.
She is .kissing my cheek as I pen these
words.
An Irishman cnteted a small vil
lage ale-house somewhere in New Jesey,
and looking around him for a minute, ad
dressed the landlady as follows :
"Missus, sho' me over sixpence worth
of ale and sixpence worth of bread."
The bread aud ah were set before him.
He looks at the one, then at the other,
and as if having satisfied his mindou some
point, drinks tho ale.
"Missus," says he, "I have taken the
ale ; what's to pay ?"
"Sixpence," says she.
"Well, there's the sixpenny loaf," says
he; "that pays for the ale,"
"But the loaf wasn't paid for," said
she.
"Bless your soul," says he, "I didn't
ate the loaf."
The landlady couldn't see through it;
but Pat could, and walked away.
BSi- "Captain, jewel," -said a son of
Erin, as a ship, was coming on the coast
in inclement weather, "have ye an alnie
nick - on , board V "No, I haven't."
"Thin, be jabers, we 6haH'have to take
the weather as it comes," leplicd Pat.
Of)
i:d ideational Kcrjarlnieiit.
fAll communications intended for this column
should be addressed to "The Allrghanian." .
Our School Buildings. It is. in the .
nature of childhood to love what is beau
tiful. The bright, sparkl.'ng eye tho
open, cheerful-countenance of youth, a?
naturally seek to gaze on a thing of. beauty
as to breathe the air of heaven., Unac
quainted with the world, living in tho
realms of innocence and love, full of hope,
aid sheltered by parental affection from
the dark phases of human frailty, child
hood turns to things and places in conso
nance with its. own pure spirt, and drinkaT
therefrom the purest, deepest, ami' most .
hallowed jy known to mortal flash.
WThen not corrupted by 'exposure to folly
and crime, no purpose i3 holier, no lovo
deeper, aud with less dissimulation, than
that of childhood. Jesus gave testimony
in support of this when ho Eaid to hia
disciples that unless they would become
as little' children they should not enter
into the kingdom of heaven. Every one
to whose charge is committed tho care of.
. youth shoud ever keep these thiogs in
lively remembrance, and should make it
his constant endeavor to have the sur
roundings of those over whom he has
control consonant with the wants of youth
ful nature.
. Reader, do you believe what has been
here said 1 If you do, then follow us a '
little further. In what condition is the
school-house in your district ? Is it a
dingy, dirty, uncouth, tumble-down con
cern, -exposed to all the fury of the storm,
without enclosure, without play-ground, or
anything else to make it a harpy) cheer
ful place; oris it what ie oLoM b to
afford comfort and enjoyment to the fifty
immortal images of God that cluster be
neath it3 roof or play around its walls ?
Wrhy is it that so many of our school-
-houscs are defaced with all manner of
obscenity ? Too often the fault lie3 with
the teacher. We do uofsay his willful
fault, but his fault, nevertheless. Often
again, there arc other reasons. To havo
the school-building and grounds respected,
they themselves should be respectable.
How can you hope to have regard phown
to a place that is more gloomy in appear
ance than many a prison ? How cai you
complain of youthful minds, becoming
corrupted at school when the place is
barren of all that is beautiful and innocent
in nature ? We Vnsw a teacher once-ho
gave his life in behalf of his country
who taught in an old and rickety building.
Enlisting the sympathies of his pupils, he
with their aid robbed the building of its
gloom by hanging blinds to the windows,
placing mottoes on tho wall, and by .va
rious other devices ; while on the outside
he planted suitable flowers, and trained
vines, until the appearance of the place was
changed. Well, do you think the'rudeet
boy there ever pulled a vine or trampled
a flower ? No ! The place was as holy
ground, and "our school-house," and "our
school-garden," aud "our teacher," were
the theme of many a conversation. : Yet
this schaol had always been in previous
times rather bard to manage. What was
the mystery cf the change ? Why, the
desert-place had b.ecome as the garden of
the Lord. What was beforo repulsive be
came lovely, "and the .incentive to evil
thoughts aud actions was removed. Now
that is the grand secret of the change.
Surround' mature minds with what is
innocent and beautiful, things that ; in
themselves contain nothing impure, and
the good effect is soon and deeply felt :
how much more then will this be the case
with youth. There should be no happier
spot for a child than the school-room and
the school playground. . Make all school
associations pleasant, make beauty aud
happiness to reign in and about the school,
and then, ia alter years, when contact
with the world has blighted tho hope of
early life, when the spirit is no longer
free and buoyant, and even when the fail
ing sight shall turn its gaze toward the
eternal shore, memory will cling with fond
delight to the schooldays of youth, when
happiness joined hands with innocence in
youthful sports. We draw no fancy pic
ture. Association has much to do with
the character of our thought, for thoughts
we must have, aud they are more than
likely to shane themselves to accord with
surrounding circumstances.
NUMBER
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