3! stw $yr i THE BLESSINGS OF GOVERNMENT, LIKE THE DEWS OF HEAVEN, SHOULD BE DISTRIBUTED ALIKE UPON THE HIGH AND THE LOW, THE BICH AND TUB POOR. xew SERIES. EBENSBURC, PA. WEDNESDAY, SEPT. i 1861. VOL. 8 XO. A-r IF w m w is m u iii T E R 31 S: DEMOCRAT & SENTINEL' IS PUB- lf lislied every Wednesday Morning- at s5 nrii visNTs per annum ,.i'-".c iu .i woi.l,ak AND OEVKNTY iitLt.ws ii ii'ji ;iiu wunin six months, and xi 1) 'Li.R3 if not paid until the termination t!is your. X s'i! soription will be taken for a shortei -: . 1 t ' i 111 ;iv mrtntka .1 . - V CI Mil. Mii-rrtv to discontinue his naner until all nr- 1:. J I . Any prson subscribing for six months will be u iMLLAK. unless me money is paiu Advertising Rates. One insert'n. Tiro do. Three do s pare, 12 lines .juarcs, 21 lines J squares, 36 lines $ $ 75 $1 00 1 00 1 00 2 Oo 1 50 2 00 3 00 3 months. 6 do. 12 do 41 50 $3 00 45 00 2 50 4 5n 9 00 4 00 7 00 12 00 6 00 9 00 14 00 10 00 12 00 20 00 15 00 22 00 35 0o line or less, square. 12 lines squares, 21 lin'sj -quires, 36 lines -f a column, r All a Ivertisements must Iks marked with - nhcr -f insertions desired, or they will be -: . if 1 until forbid, and charged accordingly THE YOUNG WIDOW. BT THE YOCXa CN. l.c is modest, but not bashful ; Free and easy, but not bold ; Like an apple ripe and mellow ; Not t-o young, and not too old ; Hah" inviting, half repu'sive, New advancing and now shy ; Tl.ere is mis-.hicf ia her dimple, "Ii. ere is dar.gvr in her eye. Sle l as studied l.r.mr.n nature; She is schooled in all her arts ; "jhe has taken her diploma As the mistress of ail hearts. Si.e can tell the very moment When to sigh" and when to smile; O, a maiden is sometimes charming, T'.:t the widow all the while. Arc- you sad ? how very serious Will her handsome free become ; Ar- you angry ? she is wretched, I. -noly, friendless, tearful, dumb j. Arc you mirthful ? hew her hir.ghter, Silver sounding, will ring out; y.c ran lure a:.d catch and phy you As the angler does the trout. You old bachelors of forty. Who have grown so l.ld and wise, Young Americans of twenty With the love locks in your ees, Yoti may practice all your less- ns Taught by Cupid since the fall, Hut I know a little widow Who could win and fool you all. BEECHNUT FARM; OR THE DEEP DARK SHADOW. By Emma Egleson. CHAPTER I CONTINUED " It may be wrong," she murmured as she kt down the winoow shades, lighted her lamp, ?n 1 drew lier chair and workstand near the Ere. ' It mu.-t be wrong for me io cherish these rnf jutia.ents, and yet, oh, Herbert, I tvIs'j that you were here." 11-2 Liable fingers flew swiftly over her !-ewiu2, aud no sound was heard save the faint ticking of the great clock in the corner, and tie nioaLinz of the wiua tLo t:r trees, as the i'.orui beat aaiist the windows with soft ra- p ility. Yet amidst thh outward stiilotss, tmul: raged wildly within her heart Slowly snd distinctly the thoughts of Ellen Car.tlie went back into the recoids of the i if. tra:herins un scenes and events that had -r.g ago transpired and were indelibly stamp el on her memory. She thought of herself & a lauglitg child, a gay mailrn. and a hap fylrile. Six years before, when Ileibtrt ' hap lie Lad Lcstowed on her his Lert and lizl. t. .t EnglaniV queen coull have felt her 1 irt mc.ll with a rri u ler and barrier cmo- " . I t ti than the But a scrt-etit had crtpt into e Ljmr of res- her fancy I. l created. !n -a ul'.wCj hour her husband rented the vil- !;c? L! A near h'; father' Lon tfteal, ao, -a the Jay it then lionrst rocsr transfer- T.l claim to Mr. Wi'.larJ, Herbert Cha- j. M.c temptation conmcneed Mr. Willard ws a a.in of unsettled princi I1 s, covl, calculiticg, a J with sordid pas t.oLs, over which he enforced no restraint or '.f-governnicnt. His love of gain induced Liiu to throw out a bait for his young and un-t-uspecling tenant, which he did by introduc ing, at Crfct, a friendly game of cards, just for the amusement it afTirdod. In a short time they began to play for cigars, beer, or cider ; th;.n s nail stakes of uionev were rut ud, Mr '.. Willard taking care that his victim should be the winner, with but few exceptions, and thus, step by step, Herbert Chapelle was drawn in to the vortex and embarrassment, almost un coustiously becoming what he would once Lave despised a gambler. Not until it was too late did his wife find out the true state of affairs, and then, wiih niaiiy .promises of reform, her husband plead ed forgiveness. But Ellen Cbanelle felt that those pledges were weak and frail, and trem- -- bled for the future of the being whom she ar- dently loved. And she was right. Noyes Willard possessed a powerful influence over his weak-minded tenant, and he wielded it with despotic hand The snare that he had woven for the feet of Herbert Chapelle was subtle and firm, and all effort3 to escape seem ed unavailing. But at last, to the glad surprise of Ellen, her husband yielded to her urgent solicitations and started for Boston, to accept an offer held oat to him by an uncle of his, who was resid ing there, of a situation in the mercantile es tablishment of which he was senior partner. Noyes Willard had ever disliked Mrs. Cha pelle. There was something in her undaunt ed bearing that seemed to imply a firm defi ance of bis power, and i: aroused the pride of his revengeful nature. Thus it was. that, when her kind and lov ing husband left her alone, he refused to ac cede to any terms of settlement that would release her from the contract, obliging her to remain at the hotel; and, by a thousand petty annoyances, contrived to render her stay as unpleasant as1 possible. But. although Ellen Chapelle felt that she was in need of her husband's presence and proieeuou. sue uuerea no complaint to mm. Her letters were penned with a careful avoid- ance of anything that might disturb him, and were filled with cheerfulness and confidence in the happiness of the future, sentiments tbat were growing to be almost a mockery of her eelings. Often, when some new evidence of the evil character of her persecutor was re vealed to her, she would ehudder at the tho't oi tnreats uuerea oy ;ir. v iuara in a mo- nient ol passion ; and, to-nigbt her tears and anxiety returned wun iwoioia lorce. i "I will rum Herbert Chapelle for time and eternity." 1 Lese words seemed to be echoed by every moan t.f the increasing blast, and again Mrs. Chapelle sifted, ' Oh. Herbert, I wish you were here. And for what?" she exclaimed, with sudden impetuosity. Wo'd J his return ada to his safety ? He is farther irom .oye3 v iuara man i, ana no vam. tlm att-mng woros can injure im- it is tolly to indulge tue wtnuis ot an overwrought una- gmation till such preternatural visions ot dreau and e.'il are pictured before the mind ; I will ' . do so no more." And, resolutely turning to wards the table, she toek a magazine, and, inserting a penknife in the uncut leaves, open ed them, selected an interesting tale, and be gan its perusal. Yet, still the storm howled fiercely through the caverns of the black and starless sky, waking a dim foreboding in the heart of Ellen Chapelle that it was an omen of a tempest to come that was more bitter and relentless than the siiroon of the desert, with ering all before its blast. CHAPTER II. About a mile distant from the village of Holly, on a winding mountain road, lay the broad acres of Beechnut Farm. The estate had for . years been in the possession of the Southwick family, and received its name from the border of beech trees that extended en tirely around it. The house was built of grey stone, and a tall, square edifice, fiauked by a Ions wing on either side, and ornamented in front by an upper and lower balcony, eur rounded by carved iron railings, lhe win dows " were arched, and shaded by blinds r.air.ted a datk crev. and ruatchinff in color , - with the walls of the house, while the cnclos- mg yard was letced witu a m higb wall of stone, on which hung thick, heavy masses of wild ivy. From a child James South wick had known no home but liecchnut Farm. There he bro't Lis youthful bride when their wedding was over, and there his fiur children were born William, the eldest, wa twcnty-turo years cf age, and a true type of noble manhood. With the same frankness and generosity that char n.-T-.. Vj B inh ftirnllir bo rtrwsrcsfil & f 1, . 1 . k 1 n comrletc Dower of self-control, to which all other emotions were subjected. Unlike him, Frederic, who was three vears his junior, eov- crncd his conduct by tbe impulses of his quick, impetuous nature, yet with one fault, he urited a playful and affectionate spirit, that rendered him a favorite among his friends and ...nn.intanees. Towards his sister Camerone ha manifested an attachment that assumed the form of idolatry, aud in hi3 angry moois it wa the touch of her soft hand, and the re- proof from her tender lips that reached his heart, and checked the tide of passion that was throbbing there. Onlv seventeen vears had flitted over the . . . . bead of Camerone Southwick. yet, m the re- j cord of the soul's life, she was numbered far older, aud this was half revealed in the grave sweetness of her beautiful face, in the depth of her far-reaching eyes, and the conscious firmness of Jier step. To know, to do, and to suffer these, the elements of true heroism, were written upon her brow. To know the path of duty, to walk therein with unflinching tread, performing its requirements with cheer- i fulness ; and to suffer the consequences that 1 might follow, let them ccroe as they wouW all this seemed stamped in the lineaments of her countenance to be brought out more fully in the developments of time. Carrie, the youngest, was an invalid, a pale, sweet-voiced girl of fourteen, but S3 delicate and fragile that she appeared several years younger. There was something mysterious la the illness of this child, that indicated dis ease of mind as well as body. Strange fits of fright and agony would seize her at times, succeeded by unconsciousness, and then fol lowed by hours of delirium, in which she wo'd talk incesscntly of deep shadows and the dark ness of a night that hung over her with dread ful blackness. Moaning and shivering with terror, she would continue to rave until na ture became exhausted, and then she would sink into a sleep which, influenced by power ful opiates, would continue for a number of hours. When she awoke she was calm and rational, and would remain quiet, though weak and nervous, until some sudden excite ment was brought to bear upon her mind, when the same scene would be enacted ugain. All the night following the day on which Mr. Willard had so frightened her, the poor ei,Ud lav tossing on her couch, and calling in wiid tonfcS for each mcmber of the household, that she might be assured of their presence and safety. Frederic and Camerone watched over her pillow, anticipating her wants, and poothing and sufferings, until the grey winter morning gleamed over the hill-tops, when she became more nuiet. For some time she lay in silence, and then raised ber little white hand Io an 1Qstant Camerone was bending oyer er .. u-i,. : : a. ii uai ir ii, jai t tt;, uauiug 4 auu auc pressed her soft lips compassionately to the forehead of her sister. Carrie smiled feebly, anJ whispered. The shadow, the deep, dark shadow ; its almost gone, and soon it will be quite passed aWay. Sit ty me, sister, and put your hand 0n my head. I am going to sleep now, She closed her eves, but in a moment start- ed aQ(j ra;sed thc w lidg . t " t Wi3 ft ft !y a few moments, and then the shadow will be all hidden by the sun. Tell Fred to be careful, oh, so caieful, and keep in the sun shine " Camerone nodded in token cf assent, and, overcome by fatigue, Carrie scon fell into a sound slumber. The door softly opened, and Mrs. South wick stole in, a look of anxiety resting on her features. Frederic arose to meet her, and, as he stood by her side, replying to ber in quiries cencerning Carrie, their similarity in face and gesture was striking aod remarkable. The young man's face was but a ccpy of his mother's; the same fair complexion, straight cose, and arched brows : the same dark wav ing hair, save that where the mother's was streaked with bands of silver, that of her son was glossy and brown, and the same expres sion that dwelt io Mrs. Southwick's deep blue I eyes were faithfully mirrored in the counte nance of Frederic. " She is sleeping at lat," she sighed, as she arrroached the bed. Oh. after" such a night of torture, rest must be doubly sweet to her overtaxed nature " a Camerone glanced up at the tiny clock that ticked upon the mantle shelf, and said, in a low voice. The fever and deliiium have lasted elev en hour longer than usual and I have in creased the strength of tbe opiates, as the doctor directed. She has never had but two attacks before this, that were so violent, and nothing but a long, undisturbed sleep can re ftore her to perfect consciousness." Let me sit by your side, while you en deavor to get some rest, my dear child," said Mrs. Southwick, affectionately. "Your pale 1 face shows plainly that you need it --'-" v J J " Thank you. mother." replied Camerone, with a faint attempt to smile. " I will most gladly relinquish my place to one who can so well supply it, but I shall insist that Frederic accompanies me. for he is as tired as I. He baa not allowed himself to take one moment of rest, or a mouthful of refreshment, and a strong cup. of coffee is just what h needs to bleep on Very well, my love," 6aid Mrs. South- wick. " You should both go at once, as I told Sabrina to get you a hot breakfist, and it is no doubt ready by this time. Frederic, put some more coal on the grate before you a: go. nu gve me me ruuo u..vu. eu op j the doctor last night, so that I can ad- minister v,arne s medicine bue tuouiu wae hefore you return." Noiselessly obeying her requests, Frederic left the room, followed by Camerone, and, drawing her hand within his arm, he conduc- ted her to the sitting-room, where a small ta- I ble, spread for two, awaited them. Taking I her place at the bead, Cameroce poured out the fragrant coffee, and flavored it, saying, as I t -1 sue dpi so "I tec that Sabrina has exerted her skill to prepare a tempting breakfast for us, Fred, I and we shall be ungrateful if we fail to par take of it with hearty appetites." I know it," returned Frederic, "but I have no inclination to taste even a morsel To tell the truth, Camerone, the effect pro duced on Carrie by meeting Mr. Willard has quite astonished me. Do you know she says she Las met the shadow face to face, and it is a breathing reality V ' Yen," replied Camerone, "and in her de lirium twice she repeated correctly the mes sage he sent to father." it is strange," said Frederic, thought fully, " that, yesterday, Mrs. Chapelle sho'd have been so fearful of the power of this man. It is very much unl ke her, and I doubt if she would feel so to-day upon sober, second tho't. She questioned me closely of tbe past life of our parents, inquiring if Noyes Willard had not received some deep and lasting injury at the Lands of my father." "And what did you say ?" asked Camerone, earnestly. " What should I say but that I had no knowledge of any acquaintance existing be tweeu either of my paients and this revenge ful piece of fury who goes about the country venting his rage in mouthfulla of spiteful threats, until his removal to tbe village ? I had cever thought of the possibility of such a thing before, nor do I now entertain serious suspicions of it! and yet it may be that he has met father before his marriage, and seeks to wreak veDgeauce upon him for some trifling altercation in school boy days." " Frederic," Camerone spoke, in a low, firm voice, do not, I entreat you, mention the supposition of Mrs. Chapelle to either of our parcuts, for it is a subject that would give them pain. That there has been cause for enmity between this Willard and cur family I do not doubt. 2say, I know that there has been,' from what my mother has said t me ; but farther than this, 1 have not questioned, nor has she told me ; and so perfect is my faith in her that I know it is best for us all that be kept a secret between thc parties concerned." You are right, Camerone. If our father and mother choose to withhold anything from our knowledge we have no right to question their conduct or motives ; and I pledge my word that I will not presume to doubt their wisdom by seeking to become acquainted with that which they would hold secret from their children." ' That is speken like my own impulsive brother," said Camerone, smiang, as they arose from the table. Are you going to Dr. ' Lawson's, Fred?" The young man shook his head. " Not to-day, Camerone. The storm will be an excuse for my non-appearance at the effice, and I can afford to spend one day from books and medicine for your own and mother's sake, as I know you will esteem it a rare treat to enjoy my good society." Camerone joined in the low, musical laugh that followed his last words, aod calling Sa brina to clear away the table, she bade her brother good morning, and the two separated to retire to their rooms and court repose. Overcome by fatigua and anxiety, Came- rone dept long at. J ncavily, a-.4 it was near the middle of thc afternoon when the awike. Hastily dressing hersvlf, fhe went immediate- ly to Carrie's chamber, and, upon Gnding that the sick child still slept, proceeded to the diniDg-rooiu to prepare a meal for her mo ther, who was still watching the pale faced deeper. Frederic was standing by the window equip ped in his warm overcoat, fur gloves and cap, and turned quickly around as she entered. Where are you going ? asked Camerone, in surprise. " Head and see," was his brief reply, as he placed a cote in her hand. She unfolded it and read : " Mr Friend Fred : If you can leave home, please come to me at once, as hjnm in trouble. Every one has left the house to-day on account of a ghost who visited us last night, and I am left alone. I suspect the phantom is an inven tion of Noyes Willard's, but cannot fathom his purpose. Ellen Chapelle." Camerone smiled at the abruptness of the epistle, and smoothing out the crump'ed pa per, gave it back to her brother, " You will come back soon, wan't you, Fred r said she, earnestly. "As soon as I can," was his light reply, as he drew his coat collar closer about his neck, and struggled through the snow-drifts that were piled up in the front yard. Tbe gate was shut and barricaded with a huge bank of snow, and, without trying to open it, he scaled the wall aud took the beaten track for the village. liut even here tbe drifts were almost impassible, and when he reached Holly he was thoroughly fatigued by his walk. (to be continued ) A pleasant jest in time of misfoitune is courage to the heart, strength to the arm, and dkestiou to tbe stomach From the Home Journal. MATRIMONIAL INFELICITIES. CY irkitacle man. Jy frife ha a iea'hiche. " What ia the world is the matter with you now my dear ?" I said to my amiable spouse, who, on my return homo from business, I found with a white handkerchief tied about her head, while a fctrorg scent of campnor prevaded the house. I shouldn't think you would have to ask what is the matter, for you know I have one of my terrible headaches," my wife replied. " Well I am very sorry to hear it." I said. Of course you are very sorry to hear it." she answered, " for you think I will not be able now to attend to getting your dinner." " Don't my dear." I said, " worry about din ner. There is no necessity for ycu to go into the kitchen, that I am aware of, for the cook can et dinner just as well as if you were there to direct her." " Cut the cook left me this morning. I would have you understand, because I would not allow her to make fresh coffee for ber breakfast. She said that which we drank was not strong enough for her." Well never mind it," I auwered, ' I am .1 :, ti, :.. . -r..i l travagant.v " OL, it is easy enough for you to say -never mind it. and 'you are glad she is gone.' but you don't have to get the dinners, and think, I sup pose, that I w'l go into the kitchen and prepare the meals, 'till auother cook arrives: but I don't intend to do it." " I am sure I do not wi-Jt you to, my dear," I said. " I had much rather go without both breakfast an 1 dinner than f.T you to go into the kitchen and prepare them." You say so," said ray vife, " but you don't mean it. You would rather have me slave to death, and burn myself up over the range, than go without your dinners. And now, when my head aches so that I can hardly see, I have got to go and get dinner for you." " Lut I tell you, my dear," I replied, that you need not. I am not hungry, and I can do without any dinner to day." " Then you must h-we dined down town Tht is the way you like to serve me. When I am just ready to get a good dinner for yon, and have puzzled my brains all day thinking of what you would like to eat, you come home and tell me that -ou have no appetite, and have been to dinner." " Good gracious!" I exclaimed, " if you want togetadiuner for me, get it, I won't stop y ou ." ' Of course you wouldn't stop me," she an swered. You'd let me get a dozen dinners for ycu in one day, even when you had no appetite to eat any of them." You are certainly, my dear," I said ." the most unreasonable woman I ever met. Now I tdI .vou distinctly, you may get me a umncr or not, as you pk-ase do which ever you think l-t, and I shall besati.-fied ; but if there be one thing I dislike more than another, it L; l'iug obli ged to go without my dinnvr." " Of course," chime 1 iu my wife, "if I failed to t.et dinner f jT you t o-d:iy I shoul 1 never hear the last of it. Y- u pretend not to wih me to g t it, but if I didn't, I think there would be an exciting tin.e in thi hoiie. Thc i:i:.c.-c-nt chil dren woiild ulfer, I know, and I woiil 1 l-e put down w ith all kind c f expre.-i 'lis. I ki.ew yu were vexed ti e m ir.ent you trntcred the room. The ejaculation y..u ma le the moment ytu enter-c-d the r--m, ai.d sce:.tc-d the camphor, convince-1 n. e, that even if the hateful way in whuh you threw your gloves into jour l.at, had not Veca suf.kkr.t. Thn, t v, when yu drew off I jour 1!. yon h-t them fall heavily en the floor. j as if it d -lighted you to make ny poor h.ad ache j ti-ore. Oh ! you men are cruel to your wi.es, j auJ 3 "l,u ue I"1 aUre ia bc,, SJ- til, never nuu-J, 1 sai l, " sayng any thing more about it The fact is. I have devi ded to have my dinner, and if I can't obtain there I will go where 1 can. It teems to me Ve'U make a great fuss ah. .at a headache. In my opinion a headache is the lightest of all mala 1 es. Quiet and col 1 w ater bandages are better than camphor and loud talking, which aretheusud accompaniments of hradaches in this house. Listen ! if you lie dow n on tbe lounge, and won't spek another word to-night I'll get my ow n dinner Instead of following my advice, my wife began to weep. Now, if there be one one thing 1 dis like m?re than another, it is to tee a woman in tears. I essaye.1 to soothe my wife, but she would not be soothed. If you choose," she said, " to make sport of me and my headache, I cannot prevent it ; but you'll he sorry for it by and by. 1 sometimes think we shall not live together much longer." " Now my dear," I said, " don't speak so ; vour health is pretty good, notwithstaudinz thoe trouble some headaches. I think indeed, we may both live many years jet." " Oil I have no doubt, she replied, "but that we shall lth exist a score of years longer only I think it doubtful if we live t tgether. Youi treatment of me is so cruel, that 1 fear we shall separate. Aud I am sure none ef my friends would censure me for it, if they only knew wbat I suffer and endure. Fer nine years I have borne with your irritability, hoping, tlu-t as you grew older, you would overcome it ; but on tbe con trary, it seems to increase upon you, until now there is scarcely an hour parses, when you are in the house, but you are fault-finding and cavil ling at something. You can't endure to know that I am sick, even though I dou't complain, and keej mjr sufferings ft pr;clf. Well, now suppose we separate,' I said, who will take the children ?" I think," said my wife, evincin cont-iderable feclii.g. " that the children ought to go with me; In the first place you do not know how to take care of them. Your idea of domest ic government is very erroneous, and boi les. y:u wot-ld be apt to treat them cruelly." Very well," I don.t think I should care to to le troubled with children. You might l ave them and welcome, I would le freer without them, and would go andceuce as I wished, nor le obliged to consult their comfort in any degree. Why, I should ls quite a bachelor again should I not?" " You seem to enjoy the idea so gTeatiy," raj wife said, that I am not certain wLether it would not be conferring a happiness on you for me to obtain a separation. At all events I won't do it at present." "" " Nor at any other time, in future, my dear," I said. The fact is I am hasty and irritable, but then I ge-t over it in a minute. How .does your head feel now, love ?" " I declare," said my wife smiling, it is en tirely gone. I tkmk you must have magnetised me and drawn itawaj." " I think I frightened it away." I said. " ily tuggestion that we separate evidently liad a g K.J effect on you." " But you did'nt suggest it,' my wile leplied, " it was I w ho spoke cf it.' " Wei. , it is rdl the same," 1 said, 3 ou or I, for we are both one, you know." I really believe,'- t-he added, that yen do not intend to vex n.e as you so eften do; lut you must acknow ledge that you arc pruvLkir.g at times " " Certainly,' I answered, I'd acknowledge anything you may desire," Now that is provoking," she ssid, " and I den't want you to do it." " Very well, then," I said, " 111 n. -t do it ; but I deny that it is provoking." " But I tell you it is, it provokes n-," rr.y wife said. " Well then," I said. "Ill say iK-thing more about it. Hut what about dinner ? Aie we to i have anv to-dav ?" " Well the truth is," my wifj said, -there is a chicken pie in the refrigerator, whh:., with the vegetables Katy has cooke 1, will yerhaps suffice for to-day." " Nothing can be better," I answered ; " and if you will only have a chicken pie for dinnei when you have a headache, why I don't care if you have one every week." " Which do you mean," " aked n.y wife smiling, " the pie or the heal.iche " " Oh, the pie, of course' I sai 1 ; as f r Vie headache, I trust you will never have one agaia as long as yc-u live." And we went to dinner. Popular Errors Corrected. Do not use avocation for vocation ; ;he latter signifies occu pation, employment, Lus-"mes ; the former signi fies whatever withdraws or diverts us frra th.A business. It was imp.js-sil.le to suspect the veTavity f t iis story ; it t-'rcidd 1, truth of this story; e racity is applicable to persons only. I had rther w lk ; should le. I woul rather walk ; had den- tes - s-t rS:. n, not will or I she. I. I sh- "d . I Ml- .vt the I doubt not but I shall I ibh dvul t net I shall be able. He was too ycur.g to have flt hi 1 -ss : le to fc-el bis hv. seld. m ever we him tow ; 1. dom or never w him now. 9 Io net say lather chd hh, rath- s-1: the termination iA aid tLe werd ratli rl. same ; such c x j re.-si us. tLtUh very c n mon. are tautologval. I expected to have f.-und him; slot; l-c. I expected to End him. I intended to have visited l.hn ; should he, I intended to visit him. I hopol yori would have ce Hie ; should l-e, I hel ped you would o me. I rode in a one ru r.-e si. ay ; e-ught to le, one horse chaise ; there ;s 1.-1 such word as shay. He can writs litter than cue ; say better than I. When two thing &r compared, we mut say the elder of the two. net the eldest , the richer of the two not the richest ; my brother is taller than I, not the tallest. Though who is applied to persons, and which to inanimate things, yet to distinguish one of two or more persons, which must I used : Whic h is the happy man ? not who ; which of the.-e ladies. The observation of the Sabbath is a duty - it should be. the observapce of the Sal bath is a duty , reservation means remarking or noticing ; ebservance, keeping or obeying. A child of four years old ; should be, a child fvur years old. Tbe neglig'-nce of-this leaves us cxp-sod; it ought o be, the neglect of this ; negligence im plies habit ; neglect expressie.ns of an act, No man had ever les friends ; should be, few er ; less rvfe-s to quautity. He that as it will ; shcuU be, as it may The alw-ve discourse ; should be, the prccecd ing discourse. The then ministry ; should be, the ministry .-f that time. All over the country ; bheuld Ik, over all tho oountiy. Provisions were plenty ; say plentiful. I propose to visit them ; should be, I purpose to visit them. Why is the union like a crab apple ? cause to be we.rth anything it must l-e jr't:ire 1. A friend can be often found aiid but to old friend can never be fcund h-st
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers