I ii
. . ' - ;
. --- -- i uiivttz. i nuubu KAiuwicJ!i KiUHipAJi rKESIDENT.-HiHEi Cut. --.,.
r 11 ' ' v . - it .
VOLUME 9.
TYriLLlAM KITTELL, Attorney at
Law, Ebensburg, Pa. j
Aujrust 13, 18C8. :
J" OHX FENLON, Attorucy at Law,
Ebensburg, Ta.
jj-0f5ce on High street. augl3
EORGE M. HEADE, Attorney at
Law, Ebensburg, Pa.
Office in Colonnade Row. aagl3
TtflLLIAM IT. SEOIILER, Attor
Y T ney at Law, Ebensburg, Pa.
OfBce in Colonnad Row. aug20
GEORGE W. OATMAN, Attorney at
Law and Claim Agent, and United
B:ates Commissioner for Cambria county, Eh
eosburg, P. ng!3
J0ttNSTON & SOANL AN, - Attorneys
nt Law, Ebensburg, Pa.
jjgj- Office opposite the Court House.
R. I. JOH.VSTON. ailgl3 J. K. SCASIAX.
JAMKS C. EASLY, Attorney at Law,
Darrolltown, Cambria county, Pa.
gg? Architectural Drawings and Specifi
cation! made. rRUS3
I7 J. WATERS, Justice of the Peace
and Scrivener.
Office adjoining dwelling, on High St.,
Eben3burg, Ta. aug 13-6m.
T? A. SHOEMAKER, Attorney at
JJ Law, Ebensburg, Pa.
Particular attention paid to collections.
Office on High Btreet, west of the Di
amond. aug!3
A. S.0PKLIX,
Johnatoicn.
T. w. DICK,
l!benburg
17 O l 12 UN & DICK, Attorneys at
JLV. Law, fcbensburg, 1'a.
$cr Office in Colonade Kow, with Wra.
Kitteil, Esq. Oct. 22.
JOSEPH S. STRAYER, Justice of
the Pence, Johnstown, Pa.
Eta OGce on Market street, corner of Lo
cust 8trect extended, and one door south of
the late office of V"ra. Jl'Kee. auglS
DEVEREAUX, M. D., Physician
and Surgeon, Summit, Pa.
jEjzjT' Office enst of l!nns;on Iioue, on Rail
road street. Night calla promptly attended
to, at hi3 office. aug!3
TU- DE WITT ZElGLEll
Offers hia profepsional serrices to the
citizn of Ebensburg and vicinity. He will
Tisit Ebensburg the second Tuesday of each
noaih, to remain one week.
Teet!i extracted, without pain, with Xiirous
Otiii, or Laughing Gat.
Rooinj :a the "Mountain House, '
nigh street. aulS
rvENTISTllY.
SLs The undersigned, Graduate of the Bal
timore College of Dental Surgery, respectfully
oilers his profc3sional services to the citizens
oi Ebensburg. He has spared no means to
thoroughly acquaint himself with every im
provement in his art. To many years of per
sonal experience, be has sought to add the
imparted experience of the highest authorities
in Dental Science. He simply asks tuat an
opportunity may be given for his work to
speak its own praise.
SAMUEL BELFORD, D. D. S.
J3""TTill beat Ebensburg on the fourth
Monday of each month, to stay one w;ek.
August 13, 1868.
LOYD & CO., Banker
gy Gold, Silver, Government Loans and
other Securities bought and soli. Interest
allowed on Time Deposits. Collections made
on all accessible points in the United States,
nI a General Banking Business transacted.
August 13, 1868.
T M. LLOYD & Co., Banker
f ? Altoona, Pa.
Drafts or. the principal cities, and Silver
und Gold for sale. Collections made. Mon
eys received on deposit, payable on demand,
without, interest, or upon time, with interest
t fair rates. augl3
THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK
Of Johnstown, Pknna.
Paid up Capital $ 00,000 00
Privilege to incrtatt to 100,000 00
ire buy and sell Inland and Foreign Drafts,
Gold an d Silver, and all classes of Govern
ment Securities ; make collections at home
ai abroad ; receive deposits ; loan money,
mi I do a general Banking business. A!I
t nine's entrusted to us will receive prompt
attention and care, at moderate prices. Give
tu a trial.
Dirtcton :
P. J. Morbf.ll.
John Dibcrt,
Jacob Lkveroood,
James McMillen.
liAAC KAL'rJlAV,
Jcob M. Campbsll,
Ueorge Fritz,
DANIEL J. MORRELL, resident.
fl. J. Roc cuts, Cashier.
sep3ly
m. m. lloyd, rret't. Jons lloyd, CatJ.ier.
I7IRST NATIONAL BANK
: OF ALTOONA.
go rznxxExr a gi:xcy,
and
DESIGNATED DEPOSITORY OF THE UNI
TED STATES.
3? Corner Virginia and Annie sts., North
ard, Altoona, Pa.
Aithohized Capital $300,000 00
rA Capital Paih is 150,000 00
All business pertaining to Banking done on
avoriible terms.
Iti'ernal Revenu? Stamps of all denomina
l'orn always on hand. .
To purchasers of Stamp?, percentace, in
':Anips. will be allowed, as follows : $.r0 to
100. 2 per cent.; $!0C to $200, 3 per cent.;
-'Oa and upwards, 4 per cent. auglS
ABRAHAM BLAINE, Hurler
Ebenbcbo, Pa.
'"having. Shampooing, and Hair-dressing
aa in the most artistic style.
fcr Saloon directly opposite the "Monn
u,nJIo, aug!3
VATIOXAL SOAP AND CANDLE
MANUFACTORY,
IIEXuy SCUXABLE,
M.vmsv.e iUr n ftOApt Candle?, Oroce
t. ! ' ltT ftRd Fih, nt ci'y prvt:
-i-T Majx JOHNSTOWN PA.
Tlie Guest.
ne came unbid : I know not whence,
This wondrou3 guest, unknown before ;
All silent and unseen he came
Within my door.
He gently heals my life-long pain,
He charms the frequent tears away,
And all my grief from me beguiles,
And still will stay.
Sweet thoughts arise and eager climb,
Like birds that sing in upper air,
The song that close to Heaven's high gates
Becomes a prayer.
Yet half I fear his tender wiles;
Oh. tardy Love, too laic dclaj-cd !
My cowaid heart shrinks back in doubt, -
And hides, afraid.
And fain would trust, but questions still :
Too late delayed I too long for orn !
Can night so darksome break so soon
To such fair morn ?
Not for pale brows and faded hair,
Oh, Love, do thy red roses blow ;
Take back thy crown, I weeping cry
He doth not go ;
But lingers still and liDgers yet,
And bears him in such winning wise,
Such holy benedictions shine
In his dear eyes.
1 can but truit, I can but list
The winged hopes that softly sing ;
Cancelled at last mine ancient wrong,
Aud love is kin.
A NIGHT OF YEARS.
BY GHACE GREENWOOD.
Some forty years since, in the interior
of my native fctatc, New York, lived the
father of our heroine, an honest and re
spectable farmer. ' He had but two chil
dren Lucy, a noble girl of nineteen, and
Ellen, a year or two younger. The first
named was willingly rather than strikingly
beautiful. Under a manner observable
i'or its seriousness and nun-like serenity
was concealed an impassioned nature, and
a heart of the deepest capacity for lovino-.
hue was remarkable for a voice of thrill
ing and haunting sweetness.
Ellen Dutton was the brilliant antipode
of her sister, a "born beauty." whose pre
rogative of beauty was to have her own
way. in all things and at all times. An
indulgent father,- a weak mother, and un
idolizing sister all unconsciously contribu
ted to the ruin of a nature not at first re
markable for strength or generosity.
"Where, in all God's creatures, is heart
lessness so seemingly unnatural, is selfish
ness so detestable, as in a beautiful woman ?
Lucy possessed a line intellect, and as her
parents were both real New Englanders,
she and her sister were far better educated
than other girls of her situation in that
then half-settled country.
In those daj-s, many engaged in school
teaching from the honor and pleasure it
afforded, rather than from necessity.
Thus, after a few months previous to the
commencement of our story, Lucy Dutton
left for the first time her fireside circle, to
take charge of a school some twenty miles
from her native town.
For some time her letters home were
expressive only of the contentment which
sprang from the consciousness of active
usefulness of receiving while imparting
good. But anon came a change. Then
were those records home characterized by
fitful gayety, or dreamy sadness j indefina
ble hopes and fears seemed struggling for
supremacy in the writer's troubled heart.
Lucy loved, but scarcely acknowledged it
to herself, while she knew not that she was
loved. So, for a time, that second birth
of woman's nature was like a warm sun
rise struggling with the cold hjists of the
morning.
But one day brought a letter which
cou'd not be forgotten in the home of the
absent one, and a letter traced by a hand
that trembled in sympathy with a heart
tumultuous with happiness. Lucy had
been wooed and won, and she but awaited
her parents' approval of her choice to be
come the betrothed of Edwin V . a man
of excellcnc family and standing in the
town where she had been teaching. The
father and mother accorded their sanction
with many blessings, and Lucy's next let
ter promised a speedy visit from the lovers.
To such natures as Lucy's, whafc-an ab
sorbing, and j'et what a revealing of self,
is a first passion what a prodigality of
rivinir. what an incalculable wealth of re
ceiving what a breaking up is there of
the deep waters cf the soul, and how heav
en descends in sudden star-showers on
life ! If there is a season when an angel
may look with interest upon her mortal
sister, it is when she beholds her heart
pass from its bud-like innocence and girl- j
hood, and taking to its very core the fer
vid light of love, glow and crimson into
perfect womanhood.
At last the plighted lovers ca:nc. and
welcomes and festivities awaited them.
Mr. W gave entire satisfaction to fath
er, mother, and even the exacting "beau
ty." lie was a handsome man, with some
pretensions to fashion, but in manner, and
apparently in character, the opposite of
his betrothed.
1 ti.rio rliii'iihkil liof T.irT clmuld not
again leave home. until nft-r her marriage,
which, fit the request of tLo ardent lover,
EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY: APRIL
was to be celebrated within two monthj,
and on the birthday of the bride. It w$
therefore arranged that Ellen should re
turn with Mr. W , to take charge of he
sister's school for the remainder of th
term. v
The bridal day had come. It had been
ushered in by a May morning of surpass-!
ing loveliness ; tne busy Hours had wor
away, and neither the bridegroom nor El
len, the first bridesmaid, had appeared.
Yet, in her neat little- chuuiber, sa
Lucy, doubting. She was all ready, in a
simple white muslin, and her few bridri, '
ornaments lay on the table by her side
Miss Allen, her second bridesmaid, a
eyed, .affectionate girl, her chosen. irkn
from childhood, was arranging to a m'-A-1 herbs, kc. -graceful-.11
tV "wealth- tUir-Htk; Ptk--"-
which swept her snowy neck. To U., bonnet was
anxious inquiries of her companion, re
specting the absent ones, Lucy smiled and
replied : 1 ;
"Oh, something has happened to detain
them awhile; we heard from them tlic
other day, and all was well. They will t1
here ty and by, never fear."
Eveuing came, the guests were assem
bled, and yet the bridegroom tarried.
There were whispers, surmises and wod
derings. and a shadow of anxiety passed
over the face of the bride elect. At laii
a carriage drove rather slowly to the door.
"They have come!" cried many voices,
and Ellen entered. In reply to the hur
ried and confused inquiries all around
him, Mr. "Y muttered something about
"unavoidable delay," and stepping up to
the side board tossed over a glass of wine,
another and another. The cumpany stood
silent with amazement Finally a rough
old farmer exclaimed, "better late than
never : so lead out the bride."
Vr strode hastily across the room an
placed himself by Elleu and took her hand
in his. Then, without daring to meet the
eye of any about him, he said: "I wish
to take an explanati n I am under the
painful necessity that i, I Invc the
pleasure to announce that I am already
married. The lady whom I now hold by
the hand is my wife."
Then turning in an apologetical manner
to Mr. and Mrs. Dutton, he added : UI
found -that I had never loved until I knew
yonr second daughter."
And Lucy! She heard all with 'a
strange calnmess ; and then walking stead
ily forward, confronted her betrayers.
Terrible, as pale as Nemesis herself, sha
etooil lwif.i-rt fhr.m; nr.fl Kor loni--rrf J.
like a keen cold blade into their false
hearts. As though to assure herself of the
dread reality of the vision, she laid her
hand on Ellen's shoulder, and let it
gline down her arm but she touched not
Edwin. As those cold fingers met hers,
the unhappy wife gazed full into her sis
ter's face j and as she marked the ghastly
color of her cheek, the dilated nostril, the
quivering lip, and the inteuse'y mournful
eyes, she covered her own face with her
hands, and burst into tears, while the
young husband, awed by the terrib'e si
lence of her he had wronged, gasped for
breath and staggered back against the
wall. Then Lucy clasped her hand on
her forehead and first gave voice to her
anguith and despair in one fearful cry,
which could not but forever ring in the
souls of that guilty pair, and fell into a
death-like swoon at their feet.
After the insensible girl had been re
moved to a chamber, a stormy scone ensu
ed in the room beneath. The parents and
guests were alike enraged against V :
but tears and praj-ers of his young wife,
the peltr-d beauty and spoiled child, at last
softened somewhat the anger of the parents,
and an opportunity for explanation was
accorded to the offenders.
A sorry explanation it proved. The
gentleman affirmed that the first sight of
Ellen's lovely face had awakened the em
pire of her plainer sister over his affections.
Frequent interviews had compbted the
conquest of his loyalty; but he had been
held in check by honor, and never told hii
love until when on his way to r?rou;c an
other, in an unguarded moment, he reveal-
cA it. and the avowal had called forth an
answering acknowledgement from Ellen.
They had thought it best, in order to
"save pain to Lucy," and prevent the op
position from her, and to secure their own
happiness, to bo married before their ar
rival at C
Lucy remained insensible for some time.
When she revived and apparently regained
her consciousness, she still maintained her
strange silence. This continued for many
weeks, when it partially passed away, her
friends saw with inexpressible grief that
her reason had fled that she was hope
lessly insane. But her madness was of a
mild and harmless nature. She was gen
tle and peaceable as ever, but frequently
sighed and seemed burdened with some
o-rcat sorrow which she could not herself
comprehend. She had one peculiarity
which all who knew her must recollect ;
this was a wild fear and careful avoidance
of men. She 'seemed possessed of the
spirit of unrest. She could not be confin
ed, but was continually escaping from her
friends, they knew not whither.
While her parents lived, they by their
care and unwearied efforts, in some meas
ure controlled this unfortunate propensity;
but when they died their stricken child
became a wanderer, homeless, friendless
J and forlorn,
1 hrougti
hashing
springs and rosy
summers, tramp, tramp, tramp no rest
for her of the crushed heart and crazed
braic.
I remember her as she was in my early
childhood, toward the last of her weary
pilgrimage. As my father and elder
brothers were frequently -absent, and as
my mother never closed her heart or door
on "crazy Lucy." she often spent an hour
or two by our fireside. Her appearance
was very singular. Her gown was always
patched with many colors, and her shawl
! or mantle was worn or torn, until it wa3
open work or fringe. The remainder of
uer miseraoie wararoDe snc carried in a
bundle on her arm, and sometimes she had
a number of parcels of old rags, dried
l ; 1. i i i i.
cason or her tattered
rrofuseiy. docootea ,1.
which she gathered in the woods or by the
wayside. Her love for these and her
sweet voice were all that were left of the
bloom and music of her existence. Yet, j
no ; her meek and childlike piety still lin- j
gered. Her God had not forsaken her j J
down in the dim chaos of her spirit the
smile of his love yet gleamed faintly in
the waste garden of her heart she still
heard His voice at eventid?, and she was
net afraid. Her bible went with her ev
erywhere a torn and soiled volume, but
as holy still j and it may be, as dearly
cherished, my dear reader, as the gorgeous
copy now lying on your table, bound in
"purple and gold," with gilding untarnish
ed upon its delicate leaves.
Thirty years from the time of the com
mencement of this mournful history, on a
bleak autumnal evening, a rough country
wagon drove into the town of C . It
stopped at the alms house : an attenuated
form was lifted and carried in, aud the
wagon rumbled away, lhis was .Lucy
Dutton, brought to her native town to die.
She had been in decline for some months,
and the miraculous strength which had so
long sustained her in her weary wanderings
at last forsook her utterly. Her sister had
died some time before ; and the widowed
husband had soon after moved to the Far
West ; so Lucy had no friends no home
but the alms house.
One day, about a week from the time of
her arrival, Lucy appeared to suffer great
ly, and those about her looked for her re
lease almost impatiently ; but at night she
was evidently better, aud for the first time
she slept tranquilly till morning. The
matron who was by her bedside when she
proke. was startled bv the clear and earn
est gaze which met her own, but she smil
ed and bid the invalid "Good morning."
Lucy looked bewildered, but the voice
seemed to reassure her, and she exclaimed:
"Where am I ; and who are you ? I do
not know j-ou ? I do not know you."
A wild surmise flashed across the mind
of the matron ; the lonir lost reason of the
wanderer had returned. But the
good
woman replied calmly and soothingly
"Why, you are among your friends and
you will know me presently."
"Then maybe you know Edwin and El
len," rejoined the invalid- "have they
come ? Oh, I had such a terrible dream !
I dreamed that they were married ? Only
think, Ellen married to Ed?. In ! Strange
'tis that I should dream tent."
"My poor Lucy," said the matron, with
a gush of tears j "that was not a dream ;
'twas all true."
"All true !" cried the invalid; "then
Edwin must be untrue, and that cannot be,
for he loves me ; we love each other well,
and Ellen is my sister. Let me see them;
I will go to them."
She endeavored to raisa herself, but fell
back fainting on the pillow.
"What does this mean ?" said she; "what
makes me so weak ?"
Just then her eyes fell on her own hand
that old and withered hand ! She gaz
ed on it in bl.mc amazement.
"Something is the matter with my sight,"
the said, smiling faintly, "for my hands
lock like an old woman's."
"And so it is," eaid the matron, gently,
''and so is mine : yet we hsd fair, plump
hands wht-n we were young. Dear Lucy,
i do vou know me ? I am Maria Allen I
was to have been your bridesmaid."
I cannot say more I will not make the
vain attempt to give in detail all that
mournful revealing to reduce to expres
sive words the dread sublimity of that
hopeless sorrow.
To the wretched Lucy, the last thirty
years were as though they had never been.
Of no scene, or an incident, had she the
slightest remembrance, since the recreant
and traitorous lover stood before her and
madu the terrible announcement.
The kind matron paused frequently in
the sad narrative of her poor friend's mad
ness and wanderings, but the invalid would
say with fearful calmness : "Go on, go
on," though th3 drops of agony stood thick
upon her forehead. When she asked for
her sister, the matron replied :
"She has gone before you, and your fa
ther also."
"And my mother ?" said Lucy, her face
lit up with a sickly ray of hope.
"Your mother has been dead twenty
years."
"Dead ! all gone ! Alone, old, dying !
Oh, God, my cup of bitterness is full," and
she only wept aloud.
Her friend bent over her, and mingled
; her tears with hers, said affectionately :
j "But vnn know wh dnnk that enp befuro
15, 1869.
Lucy looked up with a bewildered ex
pression ; and the matron added : "The
Lord Jesus ; you remember him."
A look of sunlight breaking through a
cloud, a look which only saints uiav wear,
irradiated the tearful face of the dying
woman, as she replied :
"Oh, yes. I know Him, and loved Ilim
before I fell asleep.",
Tho man of God was called. A few
who had known Lucy in her earlier days
came also. There was much reverential
feeling and some weeping around her
death bed. Then rose the voice of prayer.
At first her lips moved as her weak spirit
joined in that fervent appeal. Tien they
grew still, and poor Lucy was dead dead
in her gray-haired youth. Those who
gazed on that placid face, and remember-
1 wat.if.nt suffering,
doubted not that the morn 01 an eternal
day had broken on her "Night of Years."'
Comforting: flic Cockles of llic
Heart.
Sitting in a station the other day, I
had a little sermon preached to me in the
way I like ; and I'll report it for your
benefit, because it taught one of the beau
tiful lessons which we all should learn,
and taught in such a natural, sim
pie way, that no one could forget it.
It was a bleak, snowy day ; the train
was late ; the ladies room dark and
smoky,
and the dozen women, old and
young, who sat waiting impatiently, all
looked cross, low spirited, or stupid. I
felt all three ; and thought, as I looked
round, that my fellow beings were a very
unamiable and uninterestins set.
Just then, a forlorn old woman, shak
ing wilh palsy, came in with a basket of
little wares for sale, and went about
mutely offering them to the sitters. No
nobody bought anything, and the poor
old soul stood blinking at the door a min
ute, as if reluctant to go out in the bitter
etoim again. She turned presently, and
poked about the room, as if trying to find
something ; and then a pale lady in black
who lay as if asleep, on a sofa, opened
her eyes, saw the old woman, and instant
ly asked, in a kind tone, 'Have you lost
anything, ma'am !"
"No, dear. I'm a looking for the heat
in' place, to have a warm 'fore I goes out
again. My eyes is poor, and I don't
seem to find the furna-e nowhere?."
''Here it is and the lady led her to
the steam radiator, placed a cbair, and
snowea tier how to warm ner leei.
"Well, now ; ain't that nice ?" said
the old woman, spreading her ragged
mittens to dry. "Thanky, dear ; this is
proper comfortable, ain't it ? I'm most
froze to-day bein lame and wimbly ; and
not sellin much, makes me sort of down
hearted." The lady smiled, went to the counter
bought a cup of tea and some sort of
food, carried it herself to the old woman.
and said as respectfully and kindly as if
the poor soul had beer, dressed in silk
and fur, "Won't 30U have a cup of hot
tea ? It's very comforting such a dav as
this."
''Sakes alive ! Do they give tea to this
depot ?" cried the old lady, in a tone of
innocent surprise, that made a smile go
round the room, touching the glummest
face like a streak of sunshine. "Welt,
now, this is jest lovely," added the old
lady, sipping away with a relish. "This
does warm the cockles of my heart."
While she refreshed herself, telling her
story meanwhile, the lady looked over the
poor little wares in the basket, bought
soap and pins, shoe-strings and tape, and
cheered the old soul by paying well for
them.
Aa I watched her doing this, I thought
what a sweet face she had though I'd
considered her rather plain before. I felt
drradfully ashamed of myself, that I had
grimly shaken my head when the basket
was offered to me ; and, as I saw a look
of interest, sympathy, and kindliness corns
into the dismal faces all round me, I did
wish I had been the magician to call it
out. It was only a kind word and a
friendly act ; but somehow, it brightened
that dingy room wonderfully. It chang
ed the faces of a dozen women ; and I
think it touched a dozen hearts, for I saw
ni:my eyes follow the plain, pale lady
wilh sudden re?pect ; and when the old
woman, with many thanks, got up to go,
several persons beckoned to her, and
bought something, as if they wanted to
repair their first negligence.
Old beggar women are not rrrmntie ;
neither are cups of tea, boot-lacings, and
colored soap ; there were no gentlemen
present to be impressed by the lady's kind
act ; so, it wasn't done for effect, and n
possible reward could be received for it,
except the ungrammantiral thanks of a
ragged old woman. But that simple lit
tle charity was as good is a Feruion to
those who saw it ; and I think each trav
eler went on her way, better for that half
hour in the dreary station. I can testify
that one of them did ; and nothing but
the emptiness of her purse prevented her
from "comfoiling the cockles of the
heart' of every forlorn old woman she
met for a week after. L- M. At-corr.
Jlfrrry's Museum.
A Hint to Mkkchants
Never run
in public-.
down any other mai s
tood
Let hwo pay for his own adveniin.
VJ.rvo I'EIt A IV HUM.
OO IX ADVASCE.
NUMBER 8G.
A Hoy's Composition on Sheep
A sheep is about as big as a dog,
though they are better than dogs, 'causa
dogs kill sheep, but sheep don't kill dog?,
except once when a man wanted to cure
hia dog of killing sheen, and so held him
and let an old sheep butt hira until ha
broke his bones into little fine piece,
about as big as a tooth ; and eo that was
the way the dog got broke ; and I guess
he wished he had learned some other bus
iness besides butchering don't you.
There are mostly two kinds of sheep,
ewes and rams. There are principally
Heveral kinds of rams also. There is tha
battering ram they had in the olden time
to knock at the gales of cities when they
wanted to come in. Then there's tho
ram that they ram down guns with, (I
UA a ounA and the hydraulic rani
that they ram up water with, cvu.:
when they wanted to knock down folks'
walls in the Bible, they didn't have whola
rams enough to batter them down, and
they had to take rarn,s horns and blow
them down. That they did with the walls
of Jerry Coe. I don't know whether be
was any relation to the phosphate of Unit
man or not. There ia two kinds of sheep,
the South Down, that they have down
South, and the Mfrino, which i tha
Spanish for marine, 'causj they come over
the sea. They keep the sheep for their
mutton, which is good, when they can't
get turkey, though generally they all
jump out and run away, so that they
can't keep them.
Tho way to make them jump is to tie
old barrel staves to their legs as fetters.
The fetters scare them, and they jump to
get away from thcra. Sheep are troubled
with wool growing all over them, so in
the hot weather they cut it off to keep
them cool. I suppose they would have to
cut oil" at any rate to get at the mutton.
They spin up the wool into stockings on
Lamb's knitting machine, though some
times the grandmothers knit them with
needle;?, which, I "think is the best way;
because it keeps them quiet, and they
won't bother us boy9 so much. When
sheep jump and run, one always follows
the rest. I mean the rest always follow
the one. If the leader should jump thro"
a key-hole, or over the moon, the rest
would all follow, which I think is very
bright in the sheep and in other folks who
always follow the leader; of course the
leader is always right. Lambs are kept
for ihir innocence, which I think don't
pay, very much, though they do gambol
all the time, which isn't so innocent.
though I suppose they are the blackleg
lambs. I forgot to mention that there is
another kind of sheep called goat.. which,
when you put up at night, have to bo
kept separate from the real sheep the
sheep on the right and the goats on the
left. I don't know as I know any more
about heep, though Cousin Dod doe"
'causa he keeps 'em, and hr.s got 'em so
they'll jump first rate too.
An Act or IIehoism in the Pres
ENOr ok Two Akmies. At the battle
of New Hope Church, fought late in
May, 18G1, r.n incident occurred that
attracted the attention and elicited the
praise of two gallant armies. This inci
dent is rather obscurely hinted at, in an
otherwise admirable notice of the late
Col. Wm. II. Martin, of the Confederate
army, which appeared recently.
In the battle referred to, the Federals
along one portion of the line had met
with a disastrous repulse. The ground
as is always the case in pine forests
was covered with fallen leaves. These
had been set on fire during the action,
and the repulse of the Federals having
been sudden and decisive, they necessari
ly left their wounded, who lay thick in all
portions of the woods, exposed to a more
terrible ordeal than that of battle merely.
They were abut to die in the flames,
when Col. M.ulin, taking the lead him
self, ordered his men from the fortifica
tion", when with switches they whipped
out the fire. At the time they left tbeir
positions, a heavy thing from the fester
ed Federal line wa going on; but of
course thiR ceased soon as" it became man
ifest that the Confederates were engaged
in a work of humanity tj their fallen en
emies. A "Jrc have p'ntcd, this act upon tLfi
p.utofCoh Mat tin was for awhile the com
mon topic of conversation in two great
nrmies, and there are very many who
will remember it distinctly. One wb
knew all thing" deep an 1 true, and sad
and strange in human !if has aid that
the word "Honor" is made a lying slave
cn m.iny a tomh while it is often dumb
over the resting place of ''honored bonea
indeed." That it may not be thus with
Col Martin, whose unknown gravo is in
the sands of a fair, foreign river, we seek
in simple justice to his memory, to re
call a gentlo and knightly incident of hi
life, which gleamed out like a star from
the dcp murk and gloom of a sangutoary.
war.
MrkTwais, lecturing on the Sand
wich Islands, ofTeied to show how tho
cannibal et their focd if some lady
would lend him a baby. The baby wa
not forthcoming, nnd the lecture bad to
do without lutMTati'.n
ii u