Newspaper Page Text
w..-71-7(11/44,1ssn Ei boi
BY Ei,S. CLARK.
CLOCKS! CLOCKS I CLOCKS I
iN any quantity, and of all the various patterns
the market affords, may be obtained at No.
05 North 3d Street, six doors north of the City
Hotel, at the Manufacturers lowest cash prices.
Clocks purchased at the above establishment
may be depended upon as being good and dura
ble time keepers, or the money refunded in case
of the failure of any Clock to perform according
to the recommendation. Purchasers, now is
the time, and here is the place for bargains, and
although I do not pretend to sell Clocks for less
than cost, I can sell them at a figure which does
not admit of complaint on the part of the closest
buyer, and for the simple reason that I sell er
alutit•ely fur cask.
THOS. READ, Jr.
No. 55, North Third Strut, Philadelphia .
Sept. 10, 1850.—tf.
GLASGOW Is STEEL,
Saddle, Harness & Trunk Manufacturers.
rrHE undersigned are now associated in the
1 above business ia the old stand heretofore '
occupied by Wm. G lasgow, in Main street, near.
ly opposite the store of T. Read & Son. Every
thing in their line will be furnished on the
shortest notice, and on terms that cannot fail to
suit all. They manufacture the most of their
work themselves, and can therefore assure the
public that every article will be made in the beat
and must durable manner.
Q7' A large assortment of superior SAD
DLES, READY MADE, always on hand.
117" Hides, and country produce, generally,
taken in exchange for work.
Wm. GLASGOW returns thanks (or the liberal
patronage heretofore extended to him, and hopes
that his old patrons will continue to patronize
the new firm. WM. GLASGOW,
Auzust 27, 1950. WM. J. STEEL.
IMPOSITION STOPPED !
NEW LIVERY I—lt is a well known fact
that the public have been imposed upon by
Liveries in this place; therefore I would res
pectfully announce to the citizens of Huntingdon
and vicinity, that I have the BEST SADDLE,
CARRIAGE Ann BUGGY HORSES ever kept
iu a Livery in this place and will accommodate
all who may favor me with their custom, at the
most reasonable rates.
I hope by strict attention to my business, and
an endeavor to please all, to merit and receive a
liberal share of public patronage.
JOSEPH 0. STEWART.
Sept. 17, 18.10.—tf,
Another Arrival at the ••Elephant.'
rrms DAY RECEIVED, Splendid EIGHT
I CENT SUGAR, beautiful Full style of
Calicoes, Muslim, Flannels, Trimmings, Boots
and Shoes, Cups, &c., which will be disposed of
at the same rates which have rendered the
"Elephant" proverbial as being, by fur, the
cheapest store in town.
October 1, 1850.
LETTERS of Administration have been grant
ed to the undersigned, upon the estate of
JOHN RUTTER, late of Cromwell town.
ship, Huntingdon county, dee'd. All persons
knowing themselves indebted, are requested to
make immediate payment, and those having
claims, will present them, properly anthenttca
ted, for settlement.
Oct. 1, 1850.—St. Adminut rators,
Paornosoraay's Orrice, t
Huntingdon, September 17, 1870. r
vroTicE is hereby given that the Laws of the
1 , 11 late session or the Penn'a. Legielatiire have
been received at this office, and are ready to be
delivered to those who are by law entitled to
THEO. H. CHEWER, Prothonotary.
WATCHES AND JEWELRY'
JT. SCOTT has this morning, (Aug. 12,)
• received front Philadelphia an additional as
sortment of Gold and Silver Watches, Jewelry,
&c. Ile is enabled to sell this stock at much
reduced prices. Call at his new establishment
3 doors west of T. Read & Son's Drug Store,
and satisfy yourselves. lAug. 13, 1850.
rpu undersigned respectfully infotms the cit
izmis of Huntingdon that he has opened an
Auction Room in the brick building next door to
the Huntingdon Book Store, in which will be
held sales on WEDNESDAY and.SATURDAY
evenings of each week, and also on SATUR
DAY AFTERNOONS. Sales to commence at
2 o'clock. HORACE W. SMITH.
October 1, 1820.-If.
Millinery and Fancy Store.
Mns. SARAH KULP, from Philadelphia,
respectfully inlurms the Ladies, that she
has opened a store in the Borough of Hunting
don, nearly opposite Costs' Hotel, for the sale
of Bonnets, Trimmings and Fancy articles.—
She invites the Ladies to call at her establishs
ment, and examine her stock. Her Bonnets are
of the latest fashion. Also, bleaching and pre
sing done on reasonable terms and at short no
se. [June lb, Ibso.—tf.
M. & J. M. ROWE,
MANUFACTURERS and wholesale dealers
in Brooms, Baskets, and Wood Ware, have
removed to the large store formerly occupied
by Messrs. Seller & Davis, where they have
opened an extensive stock of Eastern and city
made BROOMS and WOOL) WARE, which
they are now selling at the lowest manufactur
er. p. ices.
A:full assortment of Bristol Brushes, Mate,
Cordege, &c., constantly on hand.
No. 111, North Third street, 3 doors below
Race, Phila. [July 23, 1830.-3 m.
DR. J. D. STONEROAD,
HAVING located permanently at Mill Creek,
oilers his processional services to that com
munity. All calls trusted to his cars will receive
his utmost attention.
Mill Creek, Sept. 24, 1820.
Alexandria Foundry and Tin Shop,
HERE Ploughs, Castings, Spout
ing, &v., can be bought cheaper than at
any other place,
July 9, 1890.
'IISTICE OF THE PEACE.—Ollies in Main
street, Huntingdou, Pa.
QARSAP.ARILLA, a Boa attide, for sale at
1) Marko' cgaleilieDary. play fl.
THE INDIAN SUMMER.
DT CLARA MORSTON.
There's scarce a leaf on the forest trees,
There is scarce a flower in bloom;
But the days are soft and sunny.
As the balmy days in June.
Ah, the Autumn is a gloriotta time,
When the skies are clear and blue,
When the mellow rays of the noon-day sun
Stream down with a golden hue.
But sorrowthi, sorrowful, when the mist
Enshroudeth the upland and vale,
And the sad wind moaneth thro' desolate trees,
A sorrowful, desolate tale.
The sere leaves rustle and sigh 'neath our feet,
And the dark clouds weep all the day;
And at night the pale stars from the leaden skies
Gleam out with a tremulous ray.
Ah, then it is that our thoughts are sad;
We number the days that are gone,
We weep for the friends that are with the dead,
And we sigh for the hours flown.
For once there were stars on the earth so bright,
We heeded not those above;
And once there were flowers as sweet and pure
As those which the wild bees lure.
The stars grow pale, and vanished away,
And early the fair flowers died;
And our hearts were wrung with grief and gloom,
As we missed them from our side.
Though now when the Autumn skies are bright,
And the autumn winds at rest,
We recall those days with tearful smiles,
For we know that they are blest.
But when the earth is gloomy and drear,
And the heavens look dark and cold,
We only think of our own great loss,
And we weep for tho days of old.
A. THANKSGIVING SCENE.
Adelaide Talbot was beaullovely in her
youth, dearly loved by all, bWthersehof her
own fire-side circle. When the long lashes were
lifted from her ever-changing cheek, you could
look into the very soul of the high-minded, sunny
hearted girl. Six years before, she had stood in
her father's low parlor, on Thanksgiving eve—she
had stood between her father and mother to whose
faces she lifted her soul-speaking eyes, the bride
of an hour. And as the good mother's raspberry
wine, carefully bottled for the occasion, went
round, she dreamed not that in that cup lurked a
demon that should yet overthrow the altar just
erected. Caleb Reynolds was now a drunkard and
a deserter front his home. lie had enlisted, it was
thought, in an hour of intoxication—but his young
wife was left to learn it from other lips. He went,
without one word of farewell, to the plains of Mex
ico—and never since had she heard of him. Poor
Adelaide carried her crushed heart back to her
father's house, longing only to lay in the grave.
have you ever seen a tree in our Western for
ests, blighted by "girdling," as the woodsmen cull
it —cut oil from its connection with the life-giving
earth, and lett to wither for years? I never pass
such a tree without thinking of the slow death of
the heart, to which some writer has strikingly com
pared it. It was thus that Adelaide stood among
the other plants of her father's nurture. Have you
ever seen from such a girdled tree, a young shoot
spring out, and striking down its fibres form a fee
ble connection with the earth below, and sustain a
sure though sickly life in the tree? It was thus
that little Robert came, to bind a few broken fibres
from her early hopes and dreams on earth.
But we are forgetting the Thanksgiving—none
of the aunties forget it, however, nor the cousins—
and by the time farmer Talbot's "big sleigh" had
emptied twice upon the old salt-sprinkled stone
steps, all were brought home from church, and all
were there. All, except two unaccountable strag
glers, "the boys," as two striplings nearly six feet
high continued to be called, who were cultivating
the sciences in a college not many miles away.—
And why were they not there? So questioned
1 every one. But Grandmamma did not answer--
only wiped her spectacles on her apron, and look
ed out of the south-west window.
Meanwhile, the new corners were all clustered
in the "sitting-room," making a merry use of the
interlude between service and dinner. There was
Robert, the eldest son, with his romping family,
and anxious looking wife. There was Charlotte—
no, nobody knew her by that name—Lottie, bloom
ing in her prime, and managing her little ones to a
charm. There was Philip, "the old bachelor,"
though by no means a crusty one. Next to him
sat a pule, stiff-looking cousin, from the nearest
factory village. Last, but not least, though in
truth she was a little one—was the school ma'am
—the youngest of her father's dock, the fun loving
Susie. She was not beautiful as Adie had been,
but there was such a world of good nature in her
low, broad forehead, and dimpling cheeks, that
you loved her at first sight,. I will not attempt
her portrait, for I do not know that she ever sat
still long enough to have it taken, except in church.
This day she was here, and everywhere among the
children, kissing one, romping with another, and
then tossing up Robert's baby, to the terror of its
mamma, and the delight of all others.
"You must let me go and help Grandma take
up the turkey, indeed you must," cried Susan,
laughing, as she pushed through the doorway, fol
lowed by the whole Hampering troop. One had
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1850.
sprung from the top of the arm-chair to hershoul
dor, and at crowing like a parrot on his perch.
As she advanced towards the kitchen, the outer
door wee thrown open, and "A merry Thanksgiv
ing to you!" burst from the lips of the intruders,
amid the shouts of the boisterous brood.
"Why, brothers, we never heard your sleigh
bells," exclaimed Susan, throwing off her enottm
brume, and welcoming the young collegians.
"I dare say not," cried Edward, as he knocked
the snow from his boots. "We chartered other
sort of vehicles, hey, Willi"
"The fact is," exclaimed Will, "that we started
with the sun-rise, this morning, but met with a
moat provoking "break-down" by the way. So,
not to be cheated of our Thanksgiving, we footed
it through the drifts. We've lost Parson Woods'
sermon, but wo are in time for mother's dinner;
and I assure you, a walk of eight miles has given
us a pair of appetites."
So they sat down to dinner at last, all the lov
ing and merry ones. Grandfather hushed them
for a moment, while he lifted his bronzed hands
over the huge platter, and invoked bountiful Hea
ven, in a fervent "blessing." Then followed the
usual clattering, and-but I need not describe it
all, you see it as well as I do.
The "wish-bone" (a great prize that) fell iodic
share of the shyest one, little blue-eyed Nelly, who
carefully wrapped it in her white apron, as a sa
"Con, may I break it with you?" screamed her
cousin Harry, from the other end of the table.
"No, I am going to break-"
"With whom, I should like to know?"
"With aunt Susie, then," said the little dove,
nestling close to her side.
Aunt Susie—ha! ha! aunt Susie would look
fine breaking a wish-bone."
"And why not, Master Harry?" said Susan,
merrily. "I assure you I have broken more than
one wish-hone at this very table."
"And did your wish ever come to pass—did it
ever, aunt Susie?" cried three voices at once.
"Yes, did it ever, aunt Susie?" chimed in Ed
ward, casting up from his plate a side-long glance,
that brought blushes and dimples to her cheeks.
Susie had seen some quiet little flirtations even
under her father's argus eye. Suddenly her face
grew serious. She caught - Adelaide's expression
of countenance, as the latter tjuietly arose from the
table, and made some
. 2xcus2 fur withdrawing.
Tho wish-boner/its 'broken to a charm—snap
ping exactly in the middle, to the infinite amuse
ment of the juveniles, who had been making bets
on the result. The "babies" went to sleep at the
right hour precisely, and were packed into their
snug cradles with blankets and pillows. The eld
ers of the juvenile company were ensconced in a
corner to play "button ;" and the brothers and
sisters clustered in quiet little knots. William and
Susan sat by the window, not to sentimentalize
over the moonlight that carne flickering through
the fleecy clouds, but to gather up the threads of
the confidential tele-a-fetes—to chat of college
scrapes—and "school-mam's" rogueries.
Grandma had her knitting of coarse—bless the
dear old fingers that had kept so many feet warm
—and Susie a crotchet purse to net.
"William," said Susie, lowering her voice, at a
pause in the conversation, and glancing up furtive
ly, "what do you think of Addie, to-day?"
William stole a glance around. "Much as usual,
is she not, poor thing?"
"See how she sits there with her fingers moving
thro' Bobby's curls, and her eyes fixed on vacancy."
"This was her wedding night, you know."
"I tell you, Willie, Addie loves Reynolds with
her whole heart yet, as truly as she did on that
evening. She has never spoken his name, events
me, since the day when father ibrbade it ever to be
mentioned in his presence; but there is something
terrible in this statue-like grief of hers.
A sharp, quick bark, under the window ; arrest
ed the conversation.
"Be quiet, Growler, old fellow, what are you
about 2" shouted William, and he was still.
Dear silent Adelaide now brought around the
tray of nuts and apples, and everyone tried to make
her smile, as they took a share, but her smile was
as faint as moonlight on an icy lake.
Barry and Nelly had called aunt Susie over to
the corner to name their apples, and all were quite
silent for a few moments.
The quick bark came again from the dog, fol
lowed by a low protracted growl. Edward jump
ed up to investigate matters, but before he reached
the doom it was opened, slowly but firmly, and a
tall figure stepped within it, and stood—silently.
The sudden paralysis of surprise bound every voice.
A moment more, and with a thrilling scream Ad
elaide dropped her boy from her lap, and sprang
across the room to—nun HUSBAND
As his arms closed around her, and her head
sank like a broken lily on his shoulder, old fanner
Talbot started, as if stung by a bitter memory.—
His arm was raised, his white hair floated back—
" Father!" It was Susan's voice, choked with
beseeching agony, us she sprung to catch the band
of the old man.
The uplifted hand fell, and for a moment all was
silent as the grave.
"Come you as a reformed man, Caleb Reynolds?"
and farmer Talbot's tone was firm, though quiet.
"I do, by the help of God, my father," was the
Farmer Taloot threw the glare of the candle on
his features. "Caleb Reynolds never spoke like
that," and the old man modulated each word, as
if to steady his trembling voice. "Have you sign
ed the Temperance Pledge 7"
"I have, and kept it for one year."
"Then, my 8011"—the old luau's hand was ex
tended, but his voice was choked. He bowed his
head and wept like a child.
Bat hie um bung lamely arogad Caleb Rep.
olds' neck; the surprise had been too sudden, and
gentle Addle had fainted. Not till they bad won
back the life tide to her cheek, and seen her again
in the arms of her husband, turning to him that
look of soul-full earnestness that her early years
had worn—not till then did the others approach to
welcome their long-lost brother.
"And is this our boy, Addle, whom Inver sawl"
murmured Caleb, pressing his lips to the round
forehead of the little sleeper. She only replied
by her tears.
No question further was. asked; but Caleb soon
spoke of his wanderings. Wounded in battle, and
brought to the point of death, he had listened to
the angel Reflection. But with reflection and good
resolution carne also remorse and despair. Who
should win back to him the forfeited affections of
his deserted wife? It was then that the lesson
learned at his mother's knee, came beaming up
through the gloom of years squandered in dissipa
tion. He went to the fountain of peace, and drank
of the "living water." Having fixed and finished
his term of probation, he sought again his home.
"I knew," said he, "you would all be assem
bled here, to-night; and I lingered in the cold,
shivering, long before I could man my heart to
come in among you."
"Brother!" simultaneously exclaimed a dozen
voices at once.
The clock in the corner struck nine—it was the
hour of prayer. Farmer Talbot laid Lis hand on
the fismily bible, and wiped his glasses.
"Come, my children, let us give thanks with the
angels to-night, "for this my son was dead and is
alive again—was lost and is found."
.'HONOR THY PARENTS:9
What can be more beautiful than the following
simple and touching narrative:—
As a stranger went into the church yard of a
pretty village, be beheld three children at a newly
made grave. A boy about ten years of ago was
busily engaged in placing plants of turf about it,
whilst a girl, who appeared a year or two younger,
held in her apron a few roots of wild flowers. The
third child, still younger, was sitting on the grass,
watching, with thoughtful looks, the movements
of the other two. They wore pieces of crape on
their straw hats, and a few other signs of mourn
ing, such as are sometimes worn by the pour who
struggle between poverty and affli.,
'rho girl soon began planNnlr wild
flowers around the head of the grave, when the
stranger thus addressed them
"Whose grave is this, children, about which you
are so busily engaged ?"
"Mother's grave, sir," said the boy.
"And did your father send you to place these
flowers round your mother's grave?"
"Ito,, sir, father lies hero too, and little Willie,
and sister Jane."
"When did they die?"
"Mother was buried a fortnight yesterday, sir,
but father died last winter—they all lie here."
"Then who told you to do this?"
"Nobody, sir," replied the girl.
"Why, then, do you do it t"
They appeared at a loss for an answer ; but the
stranger looked so kindly at them, that at length
the eldest replied, as the tears started in his eyes:
"0 wo did love them, sir."
What can be more beautiful than such an exhi
bition of children honoring the memory of depart
ed parents ! Reader are you an orphan ! Never
forget the dear parents who loved and cherished
you in your Milan days. Ever remember their
parental kindness. Honor their memory by doing
those things which you know would please them
were they now alive; by a particular regard to
their dying commands; and by currying on their
plans of usefulness. Are your parents still spared
to you? Ever treat them us you will wish you
had done, when you stand a lonely orphan at their
graves. How will a remembrance of kind and af
fectionate conduct towards those departed friends,
then help to soothe your grief and heal your woun
ded hearts. Honor toy parents
The Charms of---Money.
" Heigh ho ! I must have u husband !" said Miss
Crooks, ••what shall Ido 1 Here lam hard upon
twenty-filth year, and they say that 1 am homely
as a hedged fence, to boot ! what shall I do 1"
Woman's wit is not to be sneezed at by those
who do not take snuff; and being beat on getting
a husband, she would leave no stone unturned.—
She bought a ticket in the lotery. It drew a hand
" My dear Miss Crooks, is that you !" cried a
lawyer of the village one evening. "Bow dare
you gu home alone, this dark night I"
"Oh I ant used to it," said she, slyly.
The young man never let her go home alone af
terward. lle married the gold, with Miss Crooks
(kr A good story is told of a rough sea captain
in a storm, who, when the terrified puseugers per
suaded him to petition heaven fur a cessation of
the tempest, preferred the following request: "Oh
Lord I've nut been in the habit of culling upon
Thee often; and if you'll shift the wind Irvin sou'
west to a little more sou' I won't trouble you again."
gr a y. The transient nature of the sorrows of chil
dren has been often remarked on by writers; but
by none so beautifully as iu the following lines by
Sir Walter Scutt:
"The tour down childhood's cheek that flows,
Is like the dew-drup uu the ruse;
When use next summer breeze mules by
And waves the bush, the flower is dry."
igigr " More trouble rowing," slid Mrs. Parting
tou, laying down the paper, "there's the State of
Atha.; I suppose it'll soon be applying fur ad
-11.51011 into the Union," told the yid lady resumed
her darning with a look of patriotic anxiety.
eio,_ ^4 A
AN AMUSLNO STORY.
The Effect of Punch Drinking.
:One particular dark, drizzly, damp, dull and dis
agreeable day in the latter part of November, A.
D. 1842, a tall, guant, queer looking customer,
dressed in a blue coat with metal buttons, a brim
stone colored vest, and plaid pantaloons with calf
skin terminations, sat solemnly and alone, in a
little room, situated itt...---street, city of Phila
delphia. Before him was a little round table, on
whose marble top was nut u halls pitcher of smo
king punch "screeching hot," and a wine glass.—
The solitary individual was "b en," nothing else,
deur child—and that was his second pitcher emp
ty. One minute after, and you couldn't squeeze a
drop out of either pitcher or glass, by a forty-two
pound hydraulick press.
York rang the bell. The waiter poked his head
in at the door.
" Ring, sal"
"Of course I did. Is it clearing off'?"
" No sa; damp, sag fog so thick sa; you could
ladle it up with a spoon, sa; have anything, sa!"
",More punch and strong!"
" Yes, sa—immediately, at."
The wait. withdrew, and in a few seconds the
third pitcher of punch stood before our hero, who
attacked it zealously. York bad just drained the
last glass from the pitcher, and was beginning to
feel glorious, when on raising his eyes, he saw his
own figure in a large pier glass directly opposite.
He rubbed his eyes, winked, started, coughed, and
rubbed his eyes again.
" By------," said he, "there is some fellow sit
ting right before me. This is a private room, sir,
for my sole accommodation." 13e waited a mom
ent, expecting an answer, but the reflection only
stared at him, and held its peace. "I was saying
sir, that this is Ty private room. Alm, sir," cried
York, fetching Itis voice an octave higher than be
fore. No answer was made, and Ile rang the bell
furiously. The waiter made his appearance again.
" Ring, sa
" Yes, I did ring. Ditent I ask for a private
" Yes, sa, this is a private room."
" It is! why there's a fellow sitting right before
me now, on the other side of the table—rot his
" Table, sa,--fellow, sa."
"Yes, thare.is.--well, never mind. Bring me
some more punch and two glasses."
" Yes, sa—inumuhately, sa."
In a very short time the fourth pitcher, with the
two glasses, made its appearance. York filled one
of the glasses and shoved it over the table.
• " Will you drink sir'?" said he addressing the
figure in the glass. "Oh, you won't drink, old fel
low" continued he. "Your liquor is getting cold
and you look as if you are fond of the thing."
No answer being returned, York finished the
pitcher and rang the bell again. In popped the
" Ring, sat"
"To be sure I did. Didn't you hear the b-bell 1"
" I did."
" Didn't I order a p-private room, eh 1"
" Yes, sa—this is a private room, sa."
" A pretty private room this is, with a f-f-f-fbl
sitting opposite there, who wont take a glass of
punch when its offered to him—and a red nose at
that ! Oh, well never mind—Pll try hint again."
Presently a pitcher No. V., with tumblers to
match, was borne in with due state.
" B-b-better t-try some, old chap," said York
coaxingly, to his double. The reflex merely look
ed good . natured but said nothing. "Well," eon- j
tinned York, "if that isn't the m-most infamous—
well, never mind, I'll drink the punch," and so he
did, every drop of it. About five minutes sufficed
to end the pitcher. York rung the bell superflu
ously. The waiter came again.
" Ring, sal"
" Why, certain ! why shouldn't ll—Where's
the man that k-k-keeps this house 1"
"Below sa—l'll send lin in."
Shortly after mine host, a quiet looking man,
with a mottled calico patterned face and shining
bald head, made his appearance.
" W-w-what's to pay 7" demanded York, ari
sing and assuming an air of dignity.
" Five punches—five levies sir."
" There's the mony, sir," said York forking over
the coin. And now I want to know why when I
call for a p-p-private room, you should put me
here with somebody else 7
"There's nobody here but you and I."
" Nobody ! do you s-s-suppose I can't see ?
—Do you th-di-think I'm drunk? There—look
there—two of them by jingo 7"
" Well, sir I must confess I don't see any but
" Yon can't, eh'?" and York dragged the land
lord to the table. "Look there," continued he,
pointing to the glass. "Th-th-there's the rascals
now. One of 'em's enough like you to be your
brother, and the other's the d-dent Lord-for
saken, meanest looking white man I ever saw I"
11W A priest was once called upon to pray over
the barren fields of his parishioners. He passed
from one enclosure to another, and pronounced a
benediction, until he came to a most unpromising
case. Ile surveyed its sterile acres in despair.—
"Ali," said he, "brethren, no use to pray here—
this land needs manure !"
ikr "Pomp, was you ever drunk r
".N., 1 was intoxicated on ardent spirits once,
and chit's 'miff fur die darkey. Dc Lord bress you
ewsar, my head felt as if it war au out house, and
all du niggars in de world appeared to be sawiu'
and splittue wood in it."
tir Children pick up words us pigeons peas—
be careful therefore with whet you feri tlit*
VOL. XV.---NO. 42,
Putnam's earliest days wore spent as those of
most boys placed in his situation in the. One of
his favorite amusements was "'oiM netting," a cru
el and useless custom, felh,wcd in &di country pla
t= with a ferwthy perie.div atrocious. These
hunts for nests were followed in company; Put
nam was iduuys the tastier of the hand
On one occasion he and his c
across a fine nest winch brit e
branch of a very high tree. TI
from the others, and was ditli
nt oa a frail
tree t a xi apart
sides this, it was evident that nu puic
•ronce would answer the purpose of getting the
nest—there was no way of obtaining it, save by
venturing upon the branch, which nine chances
ten would break under the weihit of tie
No one would venture.
Pumam regarded the nest and limL,
for some ;foments, and. at length saw—
" That birth has all the qualities 0.
It has completely fortified his home. I'll
that there is not a boy for ten miles rum,
could get the nest."
All agreed with him,
" I'll try it," said he, deliberately taking Mr his
,jacket, and rolling his pantaloons up to his knees.
Tbc little knot of boys attempted to dissuade,
but to no purpose. Go he would.
I'll fancy that its one of the king's stronghold,"
said Putnam, "and may I be shot if I don't come
The tree ascended—the limb gained, Putnam
placed his foot on it, and it cracked, and the old
bird flew of with a sharp cry and remained descri
bing circles around the tree and uttering touching
"Bob !" said Putnam, "do you not prey on our
fieldcl Do you not tax usfor your support ? Do
you not take our goods against our will, just like
He ventured a fbot farther on the limb. It bent
low, and a warning murmcr arose from the buys
below. Putnatn put his knee to the brunch :111d
reached towards the nest. The limb broke parti
ally—a shout from below and Putnam persevered.
His fingers touched the wished for prize, and just
as he cried "I've got it," the limb broke clear off
and he fell, but not to the ground. His pantaloons
caught in one of the lower branches, and his head
" Putman, are you hurt," asked ono of the boys.
" Not hurt," answered the undaunted heart;
"but sorely puzzled how to get down."
" We can't cut away the limb, because we have
" I can't stay here till you get one."
" We'll strike a light and burn the tree down."
" Aye ; and smother me in the smoke. That
There was a boy named Randall in the group,
who was noted for being a crack marks-man, and
who afterwards fought very bravely at Putnams
side. Him Putnam addressed:
Jim Randall, is there a bull in your rifle?"
" Do you see that a very little limb holds me
,4 I d 0.,,
" Fire at it !"
"What, to cut you down?"
" Of course."
" But I might strike your head."
" Shoot. Better blow out my brains, than see
me die here, whirls I shall in fifteen minutes.—
" But you will full."
"Jim Randall, will you fire?"
The sharp creek of the rifle rang through the
forest—the splinters flew—and Putnam fell upon
the ground. He was severely bruised ; hut laugh
ed the matter of, and nothing more was thought
Three days after, Putnam met Randall and the
rest, and taking the nest front his pocket said t
" Here is the nest. I said I would have It or
perish ; but I went alone because I determided that
no one 'bould see me foil, and aid me to escape the
The same indomitable spirit was displayed in
that instance as in the perilous leap, and many oth.
other dangerous and daring exploits performed by
that gallant man in his efforts for the ascendency
of the cause of lihorty.
An Editor's Retort.
At a lute festival, a pretty Miss waited upon an
editor, with a pieplate of antique manufacture, in
the centre of which was the following couplet
"One sweet kiss
Is the price of this,"
This excited the editorls natural amorous dis
position, and as soon as an opportunity presented,
he motioned the young lady to his side, and point
ing with his knife to the lines, said—" Miss, your
pay is ready whenever you present your bill."
SOARING VP, SAME.—The Reading, re„ cor
respondent of the Tribune, reheves himself of the
" Yesterday it rallied all day, but to-day Au
rora stretched out her rosy fingers and pulled the
gray, gauzy, misty night-cap, from the head of
Mount Penn, washed her rosy face and snowy
breast, in trembling dew, and bathed her feet in
Whet did she wipe them with ?
Cir The greatest trial of married life is to have
your wife go out to eat '•oysters" with anothet
man, And leave you to take care of the baby l
Ire Our Imp has struck. He insists on being
Addressed us "your Satanic Majesty," instead al'
or Be at peace with all =Wand. but at war
WWI ;kV Tiets, Q/194 'Arlo..