m ..-'-I - ' "--r - " I'"."'" i hi urn p I, n.i. .. n. ii. mi i ii "i r. ii , .. ,., .. , ,i i . mm yi I ! in.rni " ' ' " ' ' "" '" " Kmrn . mn-lT.( . n.n , - ti..iI.Immiitii r mm .-WJiiwirTwWV rWAdiMM.- ' ' " "' "
SflTTClIIXSOX, Editor.
5 E IIUTCIIIXSOX,
I WOULD RATHER EE RIGHT THAN PRESIDENT. Hkset Clay.
TERMS J3-00 PEU
M b- $2.00 1ST ADVAIVCE.
IIUTC'IIIXSOX, Publisher.
EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1807.
NUMBER 35.
TiTlUM KITTELL, Attorney at
21, 1SC7.
. . . T . T ... i T
'OflN rxJiU, .Attorney at law,
Ebensbnrg, Pa.
rrr,n nnrmsite the Bank. fian24
jj-v."-- vn - i-
OKGE M. EEADE, Attorney at
If Law, hbensburg, l a.
A n', a in
Colonnade Row.
i 1. TIERNEY, Attorney at Law,
n,.neVi!iFir f!amVir!. cnnntv. Pa.
ft . ijljtuawui v . j j
S- ... 1 .7 1... ri n nOj
UllNSTON & SCANLAN, Attorneys
at Law, Ebensbnrg, l'a.
Oflico opposite the Court House.
jonxsTOv. jan24 J. e. scanlax.
vMKS C EASL1, Attorney at L.aw
n i ? T
fjiTroiitOwn, tftniuna, cwuaij, x a.
SHOEMAKER, Attorney at
Law, Ebensbnrg, Pa.
Pi'ticular attention paid to collections.
fvjs-1'flice one door east of Lloyd & Co.'s
-king House. jan24
VMUEIi SINGLETON, Attorney at
Law, Ebensbnrg, Ta. Office on High
,t, west of Foster's Hotel.
ill practice in the Courts of Cambria and
inirter counties.
i3 A ttends also to the collection of claims
ijlJiera against the uovernmem. yan-
'KOKGE OATMAN. Attorney at
I Law and Claim Agent, Ebcnsburg,
jria county, Pa.
Tensions, Back Pay and Bounty, and
VV.nUry Claims conecteu. jtc Aawie
. iad scld, and payment of Taxes at-
a. Jioot Accounts, JNotes, uue eii:s,
i'.
fcc, collected. Deeds, Mortga-
.wrents, Letters of Attorney, Bonds,
written, and all legal business
;,"r attended to. Pensions increased,
Ei.u'ized Bounty collected.
jan24
IYEKEAUX, M. D., Physician
suJ burgeon, Summit, Pa.
r-.- Cilice east of Mans;on House, on Rail
,1 street. Night calls promptly attended
hU office. may23
P'TISTRY.
The undersigned, OraJuatc of the B ai
re College of Dental Surgery, respectfully
:? Lis professional services to the citizens
Hiieniburg. lie has spared no means to
roughly acquaint himself with every ici
'".ruent in his art. To many years of per
il experience, he ha3 sought to add the
irted experience of the highest authorities
D.utal Science, lie simply asks that an
aruuiity may Le given for his work, to
4 s A M u e u u;aiui:u, v. u. .
;'Y. R. Handy; A. A. Blaady.P. H. Aua-
of the Baitimore Ccllcge.
fcsrWill beat Ebcnsburg on the fcurth
uday of each month, to stay oae wjek.
.'anuary 24, ISoT.
1.0YD Sc CO., Bankers
JiJ EsEnsnrRG, Pa.
r2T" Gold, Silver, Government Loans and
r Securities bought and sold. Interest
owed on Time Deposits. Collections made
all uccc?sible points in the United States,'
i a (itucral Banking Business traneacted.
J a
' Altooka. Pa.
Prif s or. the principal cities, and Silver
'. Gyil for sale. Collections made. Mon
;sr.;t,TtJ on deposit, payable on demand,
'-Vi.' iuterett, or upon time, with interest
-'rates. jan24
' a. lloyd, rret't. jous lloyd, Cashier.
;illST NATIONAL 13ANK
OF ALTOONA.
GO VERK3IEXT A GKNCY,
AND
jIGNATED DEPOSITORY OF THE UNI
TED STATES,
.'if Corner Virginia and Aunie Et6., XortU
J, Altoona, .
nionizED Capital $500,000 00
h Capital Paid is 150,oOU 00
1 business pertaining to Banking done on
'"it'ule terms.
crnal Revenue Stamps of all denoaiina
; hI ways on hand.
) purchasers of Stamp?, percentage, in
-ps, will be allowed, as follows: $50 to
2 per cent. ; S'.OC to $200, 8 per cent.
') and upwards, 4 per cent. jan24
)kks
LLOYD,
Successor of J?. f. Bunn,
Dealer in
Wires AND MEDICINES, PAINTS,
AND DYE-STUFFS, PEIIFUME-Tl-rvi-Xl)
FANCY ARTICLES, PURE
T V,n BRANDIES FOR MEDI-
lJj I LUVdES, PATENT MEDICINES, tc.
Also:
-er, Cap, and Note Papers,
- I'eas, Pencils, Superior Ink,
And other articles kept
by Druggists generally,
larij' prescriptions curefull; compounded.
'"Ce on .Main btreet. onnositfe tln Mnnn.
- r. ' . . w .-
3 -louse, Ebensburc. Pa.
fjan24
V SUARRETTS DYSERT, House
?- tilazing and Paper Hanging.
fcy1" Work done on short notice, and satia
tion guaranteed. Shop in basement of
vn Hall, Ebensburg, Pa. my9-Cm
AMUEL SINGLETON, Notary Pub-
uensunrg, Pa.
V-ico on High Etreet, west of Foster' IIo
1 an2i
J10AL! COAL! COAL !
- iuc tuoscrioer is now carrying on the
ry of Win. Tiley, Sr., at Lily Station,
ae 1 ennsylvania R&ilroad, Cambria coun
nl will be glad to fill all orders, to an;
unt, of citizens of Ebensbnrg and vicin
;. Satisfaction as to qualitv of Coal guar
d in all cases. WM. TILEY, Jr.
Metnlock P. O., Jan. 24, 18G7.
Tr-ir-.
Ifl AVE YOU SUBSCRIBED
FOR
THE FEELINGS OF THE DEAD.
"In the winter of 1857," said Mr.
II , "there was a great deal of typhus
ferer in Edinburgh. It was a gloomy,
sad winter, changing frequently iroin hard
frost to warm, rainy, oppressive weather;
and never did iny native city better de
serve the name of Avid Reekie than during
nearly four months of that year. The
high winds, to which we are generally
subjected in winter, seemed to have ceased
altogether; the smoke, instead of rising,
beat down upon th city ; and aotwith
standing its elevated situation, and fine
mountain air, th streets and housed were
so murky dark that there was little differ
ence between the short, dim day and the
long and early night. A uort of oppres
sion fell upon all men's spirits, which was
increased by the floating rumors of the
awful ravages of disease in the town,
brought home to us, every now acd then,
by the death of an acquaintance, friend or
relation. Gradually the fever inerea&ed
in virulence, and extended far and wide,
till it became almost a pestilence. It
confined itnerf to no olaas or age. Judges,
lawyers, physicians, wero smitten ae well
as the humbler classes ; old and young
fell alike before it. Many good men in
the ministry were take away. It assum
ed the wort form of all, however, in the
prisons of the city, ana the aecount of its
ravages within tbeir walls was treuienvfoua.
As the niimr ai the Kirk, I was
not absolutely called upon to attend the
prisoers ; bat I beard that two of my
brethren had died, in consequence of their
zealous care of the poor souls within those
heavy valla. It was with difficulty that
a sufficient number of the elergy could bo
found to attend to their spiritual wants,
and I volunteered to viit the prisons daily
myself. For .nearly a fortnight I contin
ued ia the performance of the function
I had undertaken, without suffering in the
let except Oieotay,- from witnessing
the sufferiiug of wlieru. Bat one Satur
day night, as I returned home through
the very gleotuy ttreet, I felt a lassitude
upou me, ao etter prostration of strength,
which forced me to slop twice, in order to
rest, before I reached suy own door. I
attributed it to excessive fatigue ; for I
wixm without th slightest apprehension,
and aever looked forward to the coming
calamity. When I reached home, I eould
not eat ; uy appetite was gone. But that
I attribute aUo to fatigue, and I went
quietly to bed. During the night, how
ever, iateee pain in the back a ad in the
forehead aucoeetkd; a burning heat spread
all over me; my twgtx kna parched
and dry; nay aiiud wandered alightly;
and, instead of riiog to preach as I in
tended, I w&a obliged to lw still, and send
for a physician with the Mrst ray of the
morning light. Hisvif4tia the last thing
I recollect fur several days. I remember
hi ordrig all the windows to be opened,
notwithstanding the coldnewi of the day,
and causing Faucets, filled with some dis
infecting fluid, to be pl4.jd in different
parts of the room, in order to gurd my
wile and children agait6t the infection.
I then, for the first time, discovered that
I had caught tha fever. I reaiember lit
tle more for violent delirium pet in scon
till fcuddetily, after a lapse of several
dav, I regained my ccnteicmsneBS, and
with a conviction that I was dying. My
wile was knwlirg, weeruug, by my bed
eid ; two physiciana and a nurse were
present; and it was strange, alter the dull
state ( perfect insensibility in hich I
had lain during th last twenty-four hours,
how completely all tny sense had returned,
how keen were all my perceptions, how
perleet my power of thought and reason.
In my very healthiest days, I never re
member to havo had so complete command
of all my mental faculties ae at that mo
ment. But I was reduced to iufnnt weak
ness ; and there was a sensation of sinking
faiutuess, uot confined to any ono part, or
organ, but spreading over my whole frame,
which plainly announced to vac that the
great vent was cowing. They gsve me
some brandy in teaspoonfula ; but it had
no other effect than t enable me to utter
a few words of affection and consolation
to my wife, and then the power ;f speech
departed altogether. The sensation that
succeeded I cannot describe Fow have
felt it. But I have conversed with one
or two who have experienced the pame,
and I never found one who, cither by a
figure or by direct language, could convey
any notion of it. The utmost I can say
is, that it was a feeling of extinction.
Fainting is very different. This was dy
ing, aud a single moment of perfect un
consciousness succeeded.
"Every oue believed me dead. My eyes
were closed, and weights put upon them.
The lower jaw, which remained dropped,
was bound up with black ribbon. My
wife was hurried from the room, sobbing
sadly ; and there I Jay, motionless, voice
less, eightless ; growing colder, and more
cold, my limbs benumbed, my heart with
out pulsation, dead, all but in spirit, and
with but one corporal faculty in its orig
inal acuteness. Not only did my hearing
remain pcrlect and entire, but it seemed
to be quickened, and rendered ten times
more sensitive than ever. I could hear
sounds in the house, at a distance from
my chamber, which had never reached
me there before. The convulsive sobbing
of my wife in a distant room ; the mur
mured conversation of the physicians in a
chamber below ; the little feet of my chil
dren treading with timid steps as they
passed the chamber of death ; and the
voice of the nurse saying, 'Hush, my dear,
hush as the eldest wept aloud in ascend
ing the etaira.
"There was an o!d woman left with a
light to watch with the dead body, and I
cannot teli you how painful to me washer
moving about the room, her muttering to
herself, and her heavy snoring when she
fell asleep. But more terrible anguish
was in store. On the following morning,
the undertaker came to measure me for
my coffin. Although, as I have said, I
was all benumbed, yet I had a faint rem
nant of feeling, which mado me know
when anything touched me, and a con
sciousness as perfect as in the highest
days of health. You can fancy, better
than I can tell, what I endured when I
felt the man's measure run over my body
to take the precise size for the awful re
ceptacle that was to carry me to the grave.
Then came the discussion of half an hour
between him and the old crone in the
chamber, in regard to the black gloves
and hat-bands. I am really ashamed of
myself when I remember the sensations I
experienced. I never felt so unchristian
in my life as I did then, when lying, to
all appearance, dead ; and the worst of, it
all I eould not master those sensa
tions. Will seemed to be at an end, even
when consciousness remained entire.
After that, what I most distinctly remem
ber, was a long, dull blank. I fancy the
room was left vacant, for I had no per
ceptions. The ppirit wa3 left to itself.
lis only remaining organ of communica
tion with the material world had nothing
to act upon, and thought was all in all.
But thought was intensely terrible.
True, thought was concentrated altogether
upon one subject. Every man has much
to repent of. Every man who believes,
has much to hope and to fear in the pres
ence of another world. But repentance,
hopo, fear I tell you the plain truth
another world itself, never came into my
mini!. They seemed to have died away
from memory, with that extinction of will
of which I have spoken. All I thought
of then was, that I was lying there living,
and was about to be buried with the dead.
It was like one of those terrible dreams in
which we seem to be grasped by some
monBter, or some assassin, and struggle to
shriek, or to rt-si'3t, but have neither power
to utter a sound nor to move a limb.
"I will not dwell much upon the farther
particulars. The cofSu was brought into
tho room ; I was dressed in my grave
clothes ; I was moved ioto that narrow
bed, stiff, and rigid as a stone, with agony
of mind which I thought must have awa
kened some power in the cold dull mass
which bound up my spirit. One whole
night I lay there in the coffin, hearing the
tick of the clock upon the Btairs filled
with strange and wild impressions doubt
ing whether I were really dead or whether
I were living longing to see and know
if my flesh were actually corrupting
fancying that I felt the worm. The morn
broke; a dim, gray light found its way
through my closed eyelids ; and about an
hour after I heard the step of the under
taker and another man in the room. One
of them dropped something heavily on the
floor, and a minute after, they came close
to the coffin, and the undertaker asked
his awistant for the screw-driver. It was
the last instant of hope, and all was agony.
Suddenly I heard my wife's step quite at
the foot of tho etaira. Oh, God ! ehe
will never let them !' I thought. 'She
who loved me so well, and who was so
dearly loved I
"She came very slowly up the stairp,
and the step paused at the door. I fan
cied I could ree her, pale and trembling,
there. The undertaker asked in a loud
voice, for the coffin-lid. But the door
opened, and Isabella's voice exclaimed,
Oh, not yet not yet I Let mo look at
him once again I
"Love ad sorrow spoke in every tone.
My spirit thanked her, and never had I
felt such ardent Iova for her as then.
But the idsa of living burial was still pre
eminent. If she took that last look and
left mo, all was over. My anguish was
beyond ail description. It seemed . to
rouse my spirit to some great, tremendous
effort. I tried to groan, to speak, to cry,
to move, even to breathe. Suddenly, in
that great agony, a single drop of perspi
ration broke out upon my forehead. It
felt like molten iron pouring through the
skin. But the deadly ppell was broken.
My arms struggled within their covering;
I pertly raised my head, and opened my
eyes wido.
"A loud, long shriek rang through the
room and my wife cast herself upon the
coffin, between me and the hateful cover
ing the man held in his hands.
"I need not teJl you all that followed
for here I am, alive and in perfect health.
But I have never recovered my original
color, and have ever remained as you see
me now. The event, however, has been
a warning to me. In many cases, previ
ously, I had calmly seen people hurried
very early to the grave ; but ever since,
wherever I had influence, I. have preven
ted the dead from being buried before
somo signs of corruption presented them
selves ; for I am perfectly convinced that
those signs are the only real tests of death."
-Tenderness is th repose of passion.
Uttcoln'8 llome and Grave.
A . Springfield correspondent writes as
follows: From the square's - southeast
corner, following Sixth street southward,
to the third cross street, and then turning
east two block", on the northeast corner
of Eighth and Jackson streets, wc find
the house which Abraham Llbcolu occu
pied from the spring following his mar
riage up to tho time of his departure for
Washington. .
At first of. a single stocy, the second
was added in 1857. It stands above the
street, on ground embraced by al)rick
wall, surmounted j by a wooden paling,'
corresponding to the color of the house,
light, drab, and . so near the street that
steps'of stone beneath the gate climb
nearly to the door. A weather-board
house, tall and slim, the front facing west,
showing five windows above and four
below, all with green shades ; a pair on
each side the door, which is in the cen
ter and has side-lights of plain glass.
Over the door climbs a rose-bush, and
nearly opposite the southern corner, at
the pavement's outer edge, stands an elm,
planted by Mr. Lincoln's own hand.
Between the house and fence, round the
front and south, runs a strip of turf, worn
by a footpath in the center.
.Tbe south presents to view the end, of
the fronts with its four Bimilar windows,
a pair above and below, and a back ; also,
double-storied, but its roof at right angles
coming just beneath the jutting eaves of
the other both plain shingled.
This extension comes to the lino of this
side of the first story only, and with a
latticed porch, from which climbing roses
exclude the noon, to which at the same
distance from the house-line at the front
a similar gate opens. Over the porch
roof, rimmed with its iron baluster, face
a pair of retired windows from the second
story. Near the rear corner nestle a pair
of apple trees ; and from the corner to the
alley, the fence changes from paling t
upright boards, of uniform color, above
which, near by, from the alley, peep a
little barn and wood-shed, smouldering
mats of verdure.
On the north, front and back are to
gether on the line that bounds the neigh
bors' sward, over which eight windows,
four to each part, swing open, disclosing
to view green blinds. To a front gaze,
the house seems do prick up its ears.
The property is now the children's, a
pro3ent from their mother. It is occupied
by a tenant, admitted to possession upon
the departure of the familyMr. Tilton,
president of the Toledo, Wrabash and
orreat Western Railroad. Ringing the
bell, we crrter the hall bisecting the front,
from which on the right opens Mrs. Lin
coln's parlor, now a bed-room, in which a
plain low black walnut bedstead remains
from former furnishment. Here Mr.
Lincoln received the wondering wire
pullers, who, after the nomination up to
the removal, besieged in a tide the "honest
man." They entered tho drawing-room
opposite, which, through folding doors,
extends back thirty feet, whence, after
touching the hand of the tall spirit, loosed
from their convention bottle, they return
ed through the dining-room, which opens
back from the right wall of the drawing
room, and thence, re-enterieg the hall,
passed out. From this hall, a winding
staircase leads to two front bed-rooms, of
which the south one still shows a marble
top bureau and wash stand and a walnut
wardrobe, relics of the former possessors.
The other is hallowed by night thoughts
of "Lincoln at homo."
In tho front drawing-room remain a
what-not and marble top stand, and, back
in the right hand corner, in its old posi
tion, is the identical book-case, with
its writing leaf, over which Lincoln leaned
to study, and on which was inscribed the
first inaugural. Here were received the
Chicago delegation, with their momentous
tribute of nomination. Upon the writing
leaf of the book-case lies a register, where
visitors leave their names. Many of the
signatures are those of soldiers. A bish
op of tha African Methodist Episcopal
Church to his sign manual has added :
"One of tho mourners among the millions
of the samo class who mourn the loss of
the most righteous ruler that has ruled a
nation in modern times. The best of all
was, God was with him, and he died a
martyr to the cause of God and bleeding
humanity."
Another visitor, a lady rrora Iowa, left
the following acrostic :
"Ages to come, and men shall cry,
Behold a name divine and b'est ;
Robed in light that cannot die,
And in immortal honor drest.
Henceforts, secure from blight or blame,
A growing fame shall crown thy head ;
Martyred in freedom's holy name ;
Living to freedom's cause though dead.
Intrusted with a nation's weal,
None ever ruled with wiser away;
Champion of right, we deeply leel M
Our loss in thee ; thy form we lay
Low in the dark ; yet from thy tomb
New hope3 and joys and blessings bloom."
In a plain black frame lies a small piece
of blood-stained cloth, and beneath, on
the paper upon which it rests, is written
tho name of Laura Keene. This blood
stain is from Lincoln's death wound, and
is part of the dress worn by the actress
ioto whose lap, on that fatal night, was
laid the poor, pierced head of the martyr.
The relio was left by Miss Keene herself.
Barnum has in vain tried to buy it.
Oakridge, the city cemetery, distant
three miles north, is where Lincoln's body
lies. . iiorso cars carry visitors to the
tomb twice an hour. At the end of tho
track, near the cemetery, is a small park,
with winding walks, seats, swings, and a
little - pagoda. From the park, a path,
down a ravine and through a gate io the
left, across a foot-bridge and over a high
way, coming into the city, leads to the
gate of the cemetery. By this ravine the
cemetery is traversed ; into i: the gate
opens ; upon the right hand abovo spreads
the common burial ground, and upon the
left, on the brow of the hill, surrounded
by a few acres lately devoted and made
sacred to a single memory, stands a plain,
low vault of brick, roofed ovnr with turf
the martyr's temporary resting-place
till the lingering "Lioeoln Monument"
shall be completed.
The cemetery is a lovely spot, well
interlaced with walks and drives, and,
alter a ramble among marbles, foliage and
flowers, a little brown frame lodge on the
edge of the hill, near the gate, invites one
in, and opens its unpretending register
for pilgrims to study and sign.. All kinds
of autographs may hero be found male
and femaie, skilled and rude, some right
clerkly, others mere scrawls. Here is the
name of an old neighbor, there one from
over the sea : now names with a little
distinction of their own, then more to be
read aJone by the lustre of another ; this
a tribute of high breeding, that of a poor
ploughman, whose pen's straggling fur
row, more eloquent, proves the force of a
spirit, that, though from earth lifted,
from heaven still quickens clods of the
valley.
Thus : "Twenty-eight years a friend
and neighbor of A. Lincoln, whose fame
is unrivalled in America."
Some one, with Burns imbued, from
Jackson; La., writes :
"An honest man now lies at rest,
As ever God with courage blest ;
Few hearts like his with virtue warmed,
Few heads with knowledge so informed'
Another, from Sussex, England :
"Came two thousand mile3 to pay tribute
to the world's greatest; son."
Schuyler Colfax leaves this motto :
"God buries his workman, but his work
goes on."
James Redpath, too : "How most fitly
shall a hero be worshiped ? By leaving
his tomb to carry out his work. Whom
he emancipated, let us enfranchise."
This is in the humblest character :
"Blessed are those the poor man's case
consider.''
And this : "I have seen thy tomb,
dear friend. May thou rest in peace."
About Literary Men.
All the friends of Sierne knew him to
be a most selfish man, yet, as a writer he
excelled in pathos and charity. At one
timo 'beating his wife, at another wasting
his sympathies over a dead donkey. So
Seneca wrote in praise of poverty, on a
table formed of solid gold, with millions
let out at usury.
It is a remarkable fact that the mass of
poetry which gavo Burns his principal
fame burst from him in a very short space
of time, not exceeding fifteen minute.
It was a sudden, impetuous flow, which
soon seemed to exhaust itself.
Balzac, the finest writer in French
prose, who gives vast majesty and harmo
ny to his period?, has been known to be
stow a week upon a sioglo pago of com
position, and was never satisfied with the
best productions of his pen.
Martin Luther's literary labors were
enormous. During an interval of less
than thirty years, he published seven hun
dred and filteen volumes; some were
pamphlets, but the mo3t of them were
large and elaborate treatises. He was
very foad of his dog, which wa3 ever by
his side.
Calvin studied in his bed. Every
morning at five or six o'clock, he had book,
manuscript and piper brought to him
there, and he worked on for hours togeth
er. If he had occasion to go out, on his
return ho undressed and went to bed again,
there to resume his studies.
Byron was an exceedingly rapid writer
and composer. lie produced the whole
of the "Bride of Abydos" in a single
night ; and it i said without even mend
ing his pen. The pen is preserved in the
British Museum.
Pope never could compose well without
first declaiming for some time at the top of
his voice, and thus rousing his nervous
system to the fullest activity. He says :
"The things I have written the quickest
have always pleased me the best."
Dr. Johnson preferred conversation to
books, and owned that he had hardly
read a single book through, declaring that
the perpetual task of reading was as bad
as lavery in the mine, or labor at the oar.
An exchange, in speaking of the
magical strains of a hand organ, says :
"When he played Old Dog Tray, we no
ticed eleven pups sitting in front of the
machine on their -haunches, brushing
away the tears from their eyes with their
foro paws."
Theodore Parker apily compared
some who grew suddenly rich to cabbages
growing in a bed. They smother the
violets, but are after all nothing but cab-
Va riA hAarla
A Turkish L.csrcud
BT T. B. ALDBICH.
A certain Tacha, dead five thousand yearf,
Once from hia harem fled in sudden tears,
And had this sentence on the city'a gate
Deeply engraven, "Only God is great."
So these four words above the city's noise
Hung like the accents of an angel's Toice ;
And evermora-, from the high barbacan,
Salutad aach returning caravan.
Lot in that ity'g glory. Every guat
Lifts, with Crisp leaves, the tinknown Pacha's
du3t.
And all in ruin save one wrinkled gate,
Whereon is written, "Only God is great 1"
TIio Harper Brothers.
Not far from whero the present estab
lishment of the Harpers stands, in New
York city, James Harper began his work,
lie held the lowest position in the print
ing office. All mean and servile work;
was put upon him. Tho sons of judges,
aldermen, lawyers, and men of money
were in trade and merchandize around the
office. These pert, well dressed, and
proud striplings often crossed the pathway
of tho rustic lad. His shoes were heavy,
coarse, and ungainly. His clothes, made
from cloth manufactured in the old home
stead, were rough in material and slovenly
in make. The young bucks delighted to
ridicule J ames. They would shout to him
across the street "Did your boots coma
from Paris ?" and "Jim, give us a card to
your tailor I" and "What did your mother
give a yard for your broadcloth ?" Some
times the rude. fellows would come near,
and under the pretense of feeling of the
fineness of the cloth, would grab the fltsh.
Insulting and taunting as all thi? was, ha
bore it for a while with meekness. This
was con3trued as cowardice.
The young -printer saw that he musfc
end this treatment, and that he could only
do it by taking a firm and manly stand.
He had no idea of wealth or position. It
was his purpose to do right to so con
duct himself that his mother would not ba
ashamed of him. All the success and
position that could attend fidelity to duty,
he meant to secure, but he resolved not to
be imposed upon. One day, while doing
somo menial work, he was assaulted by
vitc of his tormeutors. lie deliberately
set down a pail that he was carrying,
turned on hi3 assailant, booted him. se
verely, and then sail : "Take that; thai
my card ; take good caro of it ; when I
am out of my timo and set up for myself,
and you need employment, as you will,
come to me and bring that card, and I'll
give you work." Strange to say, forty
one years after, that same person came to
James Harper's establishment and asked
employment, claiming it on the ground
that the "card" he had given him forty
one years ago, he had kept to that day.
When James was free, having served
out his time, his msster said to him, "You
have been faithful, and shall always have
a good place in my office." Tho master
was not a little surprised to hear tho
young mau announce his intention of set
ting up for himself. Already ho said ha
could have the printing of a book if he
could get a certificate that he was worthy
of it. If his master would give him the
certificate, ho could get the job. This
was readily given, and the work began.
In 1817, James and John Harper opened
a small book and job printing office in Do
ver street. Evert Duyckiuck, the leading
publisher of that day, was the first to em
ploy the Harpers.- The first book pub
lished by the firm was Seneca's Morals,
2,000 copies of which were delivered on
the 5th day of August, 1817. The sec
ond job was of more consequence. Tha
book to be printed was the Episcopal
Prayer Book. It was to bo stereotyped.
That part of the craft in those days was
in a crude state and the work rudely done.
They hail contracted to do the work for
fifty cents a token. They found that they
would have to pay the full sum to have is
stereotyped, and no profit would be left to
themselves. They resolved to stercotypo
the work. It was difficult and slow ; but
it wa3 done, and gave great satisfaction.
It was p'ronounced the best piece of stere
otyping ever seen in New Yrork. Tho
character of the work coming from this
firm, its industry, probity, promptness
and enterprise, placed it at once at tho
head of tho business in New York. In
six years, the establishment became tho
largest in the city. To the original firm,
in 1823, the name of Joseph Westley
Harper. In 182G, Fletcher Harper join
ed the firm. These four make the firm of
Harper Brothers. The houso has now a
world wide fame. The great establish
ments of Europe do not combine, a3 do
the Harpers, all the departments of labor
needful-for tho production of a perfect
book. European books are mainly sold
in sheets. The binding is carried on as
a separate bus.ine?s. It has no connection
with printing. The Harpers do printing,
electrotyping, stereotyping, and binding.
A roll of manuscript is taken from tho
author, types from the founder, aside of
leather from the currier, and paper frora
the manufacturer. These leave the es
tablishment a complete book, printed and
illustrated in the moat ruajoiiicetit stjU
ol art.