Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, August 10, 1859, Image 1

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Scrofula, or King's Evil,
Is a constitutional disease, a corruption of the
blood, by which this fluid becomes vitiated,
weak, and poor. Doing in the circulation, it
pervades the whole body, and may burst out
m disease on any part of it. No organ is free
from its attacks, nor is there one which it may
not destroy. The scrofulous taint is variously
caused by mercurial disease, low living, dis
ordered or unhealthy food, impure air, filth
and filthy habits, the depressing vices, and,
above all, by the venereal infection. What
ever be its origin, it hereditary in the con
stitution, descending "ham parents to children
unto the third and fourth generation ;" indeed,
it seams to be the rod of Rho who says,
will visit the iniquities of the fathers upon
theiv children."
Its effects commence by deposition from the
blood of corrupt or ulcerous matter, which, in
the lungs, liver, end internal organs, in termed
tubercles; in the glands, swellings; and on
the surface, eruptions or sores. This foul cor
ruption, which genders in the blood, depresses
the energies of life, so that scrofulous constitu
tions not only suffer from scrofulous com
plaints, but they have far less power to with
stand the attacks of other diseases ; conse
quently, vast numbers perish by disorders
which, although not serofuloue in their nature,
are still rendered fatal by this taint in the
system. Most of the consumption which de
cimates the human family has its origin directly
in this scrofulous contamination ; and many
destructive diseases of the liver, kidneys, brain,
and, indeed, of all the organs, arise from or
are aggravated by the same cause.
One quarter of all our people are scrofulous;
their persons axe invaded by this lurking in
fection, and their health is undermined by it.
To cleanse it from the system we must renovate
the blood by an alterative medicine, and in.
•igorate it by healthy food and exercise.
Such a medicine we supply in
Compound Extract of Sarsaparilla,
the most effectual remedy which the medical
skill of our times can devise for this every
where prevailing and fatal malady. It i 8 com
bined from the most active remedials that have
been discovered for the expurgation of this foul
disorder from the blood, and the rescue of the
system from its destructive consequences.
Renee it should be employed for the cure of
not only scrofula, but also those other affec
tions which arise from it, each as Bounty]:
DLOTCRES, Blume and Hems, TUMORS, TErraa
ran on lona. IlLoon. The popular belief
In impurity of the blood" is founded in truth,
hr scrofula la a degeneration of the blood. The
particular purpose and virtue of this Sarsapa
rilla is to purify and regenerate this vital fluid,
without which sound health is impossible in
eantaminated constitutions.
Ayer's Cathartic Pills,
are so composed that disease within the range of
their action can rarely mithstand or evade them
Their penetrating properties search, and cleanse,
and invigorate every portion of the human organ
inn, correcting its diseased action, and restoring
Its healthy vitalities. Asa consequence of these
properties, the invslid echo is bowed down with
plan or physical debility is astonished to find hie
health i •
l ug) , restored by a remedy at once as
sing le do
t vit li n cl .
o sure the every-day complaints
of every only
ody, but also many formidable and
dangerous diseases. The agent below named la
pleased to furnish gratis my Americzn Almanac,
containing certificates of their cures and direction.
for their use in the following complaints: Costive
ness, Heartburn, Headache arising from disordered
Stomach, Nausea, Indigestion, Pwn in and Morbid
Inaction of the Bowels, Flatulency, Loss of Appe
tite, Jaundice, and other kindred complaint.,
arising from a low state of tho body or obstruction
ef its function..
Ayer's Cherry Pectoral,
Coughs, Colds, Influenza, Hoarseness,
Croup, Bronchitis, Incipient Consump.
tion, and for the relief of Consumptive
Patients in advanced stages of the
So wide is the field of its usefulness and so nu•
onerous are the cases of its cures, that almost
every section of country abounds in persons pub
licly known, who have been restored from alarming
and oven desperate diseases of the lungs by its
use. When once tried, its superiority over every
other medicine of its kind is too apparent to escape
observation, and where its virtues ore known, the
public no longer hesitate what antidote to employ
for the distressing and dangerous affections of the
pulmonary organs that are incident to our climate.
While many Inferior remedies thrust upon the
community have failed and been discarded, this
has gained friends by every trial, conferred benefits
on the afflicted they can never forget, and pro.
dueed cures too numerous and too remarkable to
be forgot.. , „„
DR. J. C. AYER & CO.
JoUN READ, Agent Huntingdon, Pc
Nov. 16, 185n.-Iv.
The Beggar and the Christian.
'Twas high communion 1 and within the gate
Of a proud temple, dedicate to Ood,
A beggar stood, -•a wretched, wnq•worn loan ;
Aged and sick, ragged and wo•begone,
SCittlied by tho'stoWis of more than eightyyeare
And stretching forth his palsied,shrivell'd hand,
In supplication to the solemn throng
Bound for the altar of the living God,
For charitable alms. There I there he stood,
In the mute eloquence of pining want,
. . -
Appealing to a brother Christian's love,
Within the portals of God's holy house.
And still he stood . and hundreds passed him by
Gorgeously clad, and though devoutly bent,
Flaunting in silks, decked with nodding plumes,
Bedizzen'd out with flowers and rich artily
That mi*lit have put all quarters of the globe
In contribution and rich rivalry I
Not one in that bright throng—alas I not one,
Piously bent in sacrifice to God,
And meek commemoration of the blood
Shed by Almighty and Redeeming Grace,
Bestowed a tenr, a thought, a passing glance,
Ou this poor, feeble, houseleos, squalid wretch.
No liberal hand, moved by a feeling heart,
Administered relief I All seemed to shrink
From this sad remnant of mortality,
And oft, I feared, in the anxiety of devotion,
That some proud pharisee, in fancied virtue,
Might trample down this humble publican,
In eager haute to his master's bidding.
Who that beholds rhouching scene like this
On the Lord's day—a day of sacrifice—
Of Christian hope—of Christian penitence —
But scorns his nature. Twenty thousand prayers
Empty and formal, selfish and constrained,
Could not remove the blur on Christian virtue,
Thus publicly —thus wantonly displayed,
In the Lord's house, the refuge of his flock,
Against the very law that they profess—
Against the example of Redeeming Love,
The sacred bulwark of the Christian tidal.
Whyde you break the bread and drink the wine,
In memory of the Cross and Calvary,
And yet withhold a miserable mite
In your unbounded and supurfluons wealth,
From Lazarus—your kind, your Icin, brother
For such, at least, is your meek Savior's creed,
As will be found in the decrees of God,
Inscribed upon His hook of final judgment
fly a Redeemer's hand, and in his blood I
Your offerings and your sacrifice are vain,
Vain all your faith, unsanctified by forms,
Widle thus you trample o'er an Duteast brother,
And look with apathy on wretchedness
Enough to melt it heitthen into tears.
How many of these Saints that joined the table,
Drank of the symbol wine and broke the bread
In dear remain' , ranee of the Saviour's body,
DiJ U unworthily
Vainly you hope to merit Heaven's blessing
By trampling co its creatures or its laws.
~. • _ _
holi'est W.,rifieo. the richest incense
le that which battles from a contrite heart,
In double duty, both to Earth and Heaven.
Faith without works is dead and prayer itself,
Though you should kneel away the almr stone,
Is poor assurance of celestial hope,
The Proud Heart Humbled.
"But it ye furtive not men their trespasses,
!Hither will your Father forgive your trespasses."
The March night had darkened down
upon the little New England village of
A.shdale. It was a pretty place in the
summer lying between two hills, on whose
summit, the ash trees lifted their mins to
the sky, all the long bright days, as if im
ploring n benediction, or spread them out
lovingly over the white houses nettled
r ,and the one church in the vale below,
Hut tomight it wore a difleront aspect.
A storm won upon the hills, A little snow
and rain were borne upon its wings, but
not much. Chiefly it won the force of the
rushing wind; shaking the leafless ash
trees; hustling against closed windows;
swinging the bell in the old church tower,
till it gave f rth now and then, a dirge like
peal, as if the dead were tolling their own
Melly homes there were where the wild
scene without seemed to heighten, by the
force of contrast, the blessed calm within—
homes where smiling infants slept warm
and still, through the twilight, in the soft
hush of mother's bosoms, and happy chit.
dren gathered round the knee of father or
grand sire, to hear again some simple sto
ry ; or thoughtful ones looked into the fire,
and fashioned from the embers brave cas
tles in which they huo never come to abide,
with ruined windows and blackened walls,
" The twilight of memory over all.
And the silence of death
But in one house no stories wore told to
gladly listening ears—no soft evening
hymn hushed slumbering babes to rest—
no children's eager eyes looked into the
embers. It was the stateliest house, by
far, in the little village—a lofty mansion
gleaming white in the trees, with the roof
supported by massive pillars. No where
did the evening fire burn brighter, but in
to it looked two old people, worn and sor
rowful, with the shadows of grief and time
upon their shrivelled faces—who had for
gotten long ngo their youth's ftir castles;
who look .d back over waste fields of mem
ory, were not even setting sunrays gilded
the monuments built to their dead tepee
They sat silently. They had sat silent.
ly ever since they gathered The lofty,
well furnished room was lighted only by
the woad fire's glow. and in the corners
strange shadows seemed to gather, beck
oning hands. and white brows gleamed
spectrally through the darkness. To•
wards them, now and then, the wife look.
ed with anxious seorchtng gaze; then
turned back towards the fire, and clasped
her hands over the heart that had learned
through many trials the hard lesson of in.
Judge lloward was a stern, self concei•
ted man. In his native town where he hud
parsed all his life, none stood higher in the
public esteem. Towards the poor he was
liberal—towards his neighbors, just and
friendly; yet, for all that, he was a hard
man, whose will wne iron, whose habits
wore granite. His wife had come to know
this, even in her honeymoon. The knowl
edge was endorsed by her sad, waiting
face, restrained manners.
• His daughter Carolina, his on!), child,
hud leitrned it early, and her father became
to her almost as much an object of fear as
of tenderness.
And yet he loved them with a strength
which more yielding natures could not
have fathomed. When his child was first
put into his arms, when her frail, helpless
hands grouped blindly at his own he felt
the strong thrill of father love sweep over
him. For the moment it swelled his soul,
irradiated his face, flooded his heart, but it
did not permanently change or sotten his
nature. As she grew to womanhood, and
her bright head glanced in his path, she
was the fairest sight earth held, her ring
ing voice the sweetest music. He never
gratified her whims, nor always yielded to
her reasonable wishes.
At length love came to her. She gate
her lined to one whose father Judge How
ard hated. James Huntly and he had
been young together, and a few' had aris
en between them which Rufus Howard's
nature allowed him neither to forget nor
forgive. He bad yet te learn the lesson,
holier than philosophy loftier than all the
teachings of seers and sages, the lesson our
Saviour lived, wrought, aye, and died to
teach, of forgiveness even for our enemies
—prayer for those who hove despi.efully
used us and persecuted us. llis former
enemy was dead now oat not so the Judge's
hate. It had been transmitted, like r. al
estate, to the dead man's heir; and so lie
forbade his daughter to 'sorry him,
sternly bade her to choose between pe rows
and Inver. Site inherited her father':
strong will, an , she put her hand in Rich
ercl Hunily's and went forth—she wan id
not have been tier father's child if she had
not—without a tear.
From that time, for ten years. her oasis
had been n forbidden word Letters she
had written at tree during her btunsimit,t.
but they had been sent back unopened
and for years rue voice token lead come
to tell whether she were doted or liris
Therefore the mother looked shudderingly
into the shadow haunted zorners in the
lone twilights, and almost believed Ae
ants there the face for which her mother's
heart hod yearned momently all these
Judge Howard loved Ins wife, ton—Oh,
if she had tut knnwn it! every outline of
that sad %liming face, every threuu of that
silver hair, was dearer to him now than the
bridal roses crowning the girl bride he had
chosen, but his lips nev r soothed away
the sadness of that patient face.
'lt's a terrible night,' he said 41 length,
rousing himself from his long silence. In
the pause alter his words you could hear
how the wind shook the house, groused
among the trees and sighed tilting the gar
den walks.
‘Yes, a terrilde night,' his wife answered
with a shudder. , God grant no poor soul
may be out in it, gi.elterless.'
, Amen. would t.die in my worst en
emy on such a night as this.'
Ms worst enemy; but would he have
taken in his own child; the daughter with
his blond in her veins, fed once at his
board, warmed at his hearth 1 If this
question crossed his wife's .mind, she gave
it no utterance.
I light the candles, Rufus /' she
asked meekly.
Yea, it is almost bed time. I had for-
gotten how long we were sitting in the dark.
I will read now, and then we shall be bet
ter in bed.'
He drew towards him the Bible. which
lay between the candles she had lighted—
it had been his habit, for years, to read
chapter of it nightly. Somehow, to night,
the pages opened at the beautiful, ever
new story of the prodigal son. Judge
Howard rend it through calmly, but his
hand trembled as he shut the Book.
Hannah.' he began, and theta paused
as if his pride were still sou strong to per
mit him to confess himself in the wrong.
But soon he proceeded. Hannah, Ido
suppose that was written for an example
to those who should seek to be numbered
with the children of God. He is our F'a•
Cher, and his arms are ever open to the
wanderer. My heart misgives me sorely
about Caroline. She should not have dis
obeyed me, but—do I never disobey God,
and where should 1 be, tf He measured
out to me such measures OP I have to her ?
Oh, Hannah, I never fel, before how much
I needed to be forgiven.'
The mother's tears were tailing still and
fast—she could not answer. There was
silence for a moment and then agsin the
Judge said, resilessly—. Hannah !' and
she looked up man his white, moved face
Hannah, could we find her 1 Do you
think she lives still—our only child 1 .
God knows, na) I usband. Sometimes
I think that she is dead. I see her ince
on dark nights.and it wears n link of bray
enly peace. In the winds I hear it voice
that sounds like hers, and she seems try
ing to tell me she has found rest, list ne,
no'—her face kindled—t she is not dead.
I feel it in my soul—God will let u. see
her once more—l 1.11 her mother. I shill
not die till my kisses knee tested on her
cheek. rug hind touch.d her hair ; 1 !..e•
lieve I have II promise, Rufus.'
. . . .
• Gnd grant it, Hannah ' and alter those
words they both eat listening—listening—
They had not heard the door open, but
now a step nounded in the hall, and the
door of the rosin where they sat, was soft
ly unclosed. They both started up—per
haps they half expected to see Caroline,
but it was only their next neighbor, hold
ing by the hand a child. She spoke ea
gerly, in a half concealed way, which they
did not seem, apparenl:y, then to notice.
This child came to my house, Judge ;
but I hadn't room to keep her, so I brought
her over here. Will you take her in 1'
• Surely, surely. Coate here, poor
Who had ever heard Judge Howard's
voice so gentler The little girl seemed
somewhat reassured by it. She crept to
his knee and lifted up her face. The
Judge bent over her. Whose were those
blue, deep eyes ? Where had he seen
that peculiar shade of hair, like the shell
of a ripe chesnut ? Did he not know those
small, sweet featdres, that wistful mouth
and delicate chin ? His hands shook.
Whose—whose child areyou ? What
is your name ?'
Grace,' and the child trembled vtsi-
Grace Iluntly,' said the neighbor's
voice, grown somewhat quivering now.—
Grace Huntly. You cannot help ?mow
tng the face, Judge. It is a copy of the
one which belonged once to the brightest
and prettiest girl in Ashdale '
The old man—he looked very old now,
shaken by the temp, st in his strong lit,trt,
as the wind shook the tree outside—drew
the child to his boson) with an cage r, hun
gry loolc. His limns closed around her as
if they would hold her there forever.
'My child, my child ?' burst like a sob
from his lips, and then he bent over her si.
leanly. At first his wife stood by in mute
amazement, her face almost as whitens the
cap border which trembled around it.—
Now it thought pi reed hor quick nod keen
ns the thrust of o sword. She drew near
and looked piteously into the mightier's
.1.5 she an orphan? Where is her moth.
t. f
The Judge heard her, and lilted up hi
• c , hol, • where is ('ate line ?
Have pity rind h•II Mc where is Carolit,e
b.f.!, the wan could answer, an et,
g-r voice ca ie.d—• Here, fanto.r, mother,
and from the hall wiwro she had
been liogcriag. half to fear, Judge How
ard's child earn , in. It tea. , to the
mother's br,ast to which she elti, g first-
di, mother's anus which clasped itcr with
such passintuoe clinging. and , lt , t she
tottered forward, and threw. herself down
at her lather's legit.
' Forgive father,' she tried to say,
but the Judge would not hear her. The
angel had troubled, at length, the deep
water of his soul, nod the wnee 7f healing
overflow. d 1110 heart. Ida saw new, in its
true light, the self will and the unforgiv•
trig spirit which hod been the sin of his
life. Ile sank upon his knees, his arms
enfolding his daughter and her child, and
his old wife crept to his side, and kneh
beside him, while trout his lips Mrs. Marsh
heard, as site cloned the door, nod left the
now united family to themselves, this
Father, lorgive us our trespasses, as
we forgive those that trespas against 113.'
Judge Howard had not uttered it before
for ten years.
After that night the Judge's mansion
was not only the stateliest, bat the happi
est bow ut Ashdale. Caroline Handy
had borne an long as she could, the burden
of weight on her "
heart, and when it bad
grown too heavy to be endured, she started
with her child for home. The stage hnd
set them down that stormy night in her na
tive village. and the forgiveness for which
she had scarcely dared to hope had expand
ed into welcome.
The old people could not again spare
their daughter, and they summoned Rtch•
and Huntley home. A son he proved, of
whom any father might be proud, and in
after years no shadow. brooded over the
peaceful dwelling, where once more chit.
dren's feet danced round the heart hfire and
children's fancies built castles in the em•
bers—ne shadows, trttal that last darkness
came which should be but the night before
which will roe the calm m nming of °ter.
Reminiscence of School Life•
We were rt precious set of fellows at
old Pri,nd Ralph's school some ten years
llalph,our teacher, was n quiet Quaker
gentleman, one who loved his pupil: and
governed them after a manner peculiarly
his own. We till loved hint, yet our yeah],
heads were always filled with mischievous
plans for troubling the good old man.
Ralph was n single gentleman• and old
Peggy. his housekeeper, ruled with un
disputed a may is, door. We all loved on d
Peggy, ton, but her pies we loved still
better ; and when. for an 111,iiint. the li t tle
Cl:p i :ward in the likelier' entry is ss 1•G
iti,,r we tank ttdvnnutge of it insj,,
Our In (went visits were diaeeiu r,•,1
rep art , (I to old Ralph whet ,]
ue•re than, '• Let if,. '•,. • r ti
it pained. ih in' ;1,, , ;•;.
I'vggy hired th.• Carpenter to put it te.,-
10elt on the cuphrnud•door and our feasting
wa• over.
'l'lll., e weeks passed away, and one day ,
tri ,, •• med. , it lint , hutch of pies. W e
rirhad fytney a we winched th e goo d
dame carefully lock the door, that shut us
from the I, not, cou , il not sleep that
night while beneath our room luy shelves
of pumpkin pies.
„ Jim,” said my room mate, " make
haste and dress ; wo will have n feast vet.
An idea has struck me. You know the
flooring of ota room ;s rickety, and the
closet is just beneath us. Now as there is
but a single floor, we can rosily lift the
boards and get into the closet. You are
the lightest—so you mug go down and
pass up the fixings !" With this infor• surface, but the essential charms of life
'nation I prepared to descend into the closet. were wanting. Silence, too, reigned
my chum having lifted, with some trouble, throughout the world, broken only by the
a narrow board in the floor of our chain- hoarse thunders of the earthquake, as the
ber. Down I went, safely at first, but an pent up fires vainly endeavored to burst
unlucky slip caused me to land on a large , through the bonds that confined them.
pudding which besmeared me in an an But this gigantic race of vegetation
cointortnt,le manner. absorbed the carbon from the air. As fast
[lore, 13ill, you thief !" I loudly whirr. I as those plants died and fell to the earth
pored, as I pin-sed up a pie, " take This , they were succeeded by others, which in
0n... and stand by for another." But no' their turn died and fell to the earth;
hand was put out to take the pie, while I and in this manner an unmense mass of
thought the door of our room gated upon vegetable substance was accumulated,
its hinges. Bill, you rascal why don't which, upon subsequent fermentation, was
you take the pie ?" whispered I again.— I changed into a mass of coal. The calling
Soon a hand was thrust into my face, and into existence of this race of plants was
supposing it to be my friend's, I put the the great purifying process of the world.
pie into the band. Soon the hand was They were not of a nature to sustain ani
thrust in:o'my face again. In the highest mel life. but after they had succeeded in
glee 1 cried out: I absorbing the poison in the atmosphere,
"You pig ! how many pies can you and rendering the earth fit for the habits.
eat !" tutu of air breathing creatures, such plants
" All !" wos the low response. 1 were produced.
‘. And you shall have all it they are The vegetatioio of the coal period differ.
getable," was toy ready response: I ed from that of the present d&y, in the fact
• ."Phere is not another one down here,' that nearly all of the plants grew on the
Bill," I softly said. inside; whereas, nine•tenths grow or. the
Then thee moyest come up, James, • outside. They were somewhat analogous
and we will eat them," was the startling to the fern, etc., of our tropics. All the
response that came to my ears. plants found as low as time coal strata,
As I crawl - d out of the cupboard, old were of orders which induced the belief
Ralph stood before me with the last pie in that throughout our planet generally,
his hand Beside him trembling, stood ; even as fa r north as Melville Island, goal
toy chum and I discovered to my shame is to be found , and that in searching for it,
that I had passed up all the pies, not to it may le proper to dig or core; and when
my room-mate, but to my teacher, Ralph. l at last we find the beds of coal, they will
be found to he regularly arranged between
OLD VIRGINIA. a roof and floor of coal slate or shale.
An Illinois Sticker took a great dislike to 1 But it by no means follows that beds of
a foolish young Virginian who was a frl slate and shale necessarily indicate coat,
low•pussenger with him or. one of the 11Iis- ' those of the primary series would scarcely
sissippi steamboats. I was on the bait contain any combustible, unless it were
(said I) •ncon Bonlittle,) and saw the while plumbago, or possibly a little anthracite.
affair. The Virginian was continually The geological laws of coal are very
combing his hair, brushing his clothes, or strict, and a thorough acquaintance with
dusting his boots—to all which movements them it the only safeguard agaii at fruitless
the Sucker took exceptions, ns being what 1 enterprtses.—Pr:/ Minion, in Winter's
lie termed, ' a leetle too darned nice, by lAnthr of Geology,
half.' He finally dr •sr' up his choir beside '
the Virginian and began--
%itas might you t e front stranger 1'
I ain from Virginia, sir,' politely
simmered the gent
From old Virgnny, I s'pose ?' says the
Yes, sir. cid Virginia,' was the reply.
You pooty high up in the pictures
thar, I suppose 1'
41 don't know what you mean by thnt re•
mark, sir.'
Oh, nuthin,' says the Sticker, but
that you ore desperate rich, and have been
brought up right nice.'
If the information will gratify you, in
any n•ay,' says the gent patronizingly,
smoothing down his hair,' I belong to one
of the first families.'
'Oh, in course,' answered the Sucker.
Well stranger, belt,' as you belong to the
forst I'll just give you two of the fattest
ehutits in all Illinois if you 'II only find tie
a feller that belongs to one of the second
Virginian families.'
You want to quarrel with me, air,'
says the Virginian.
' No, stranger, not an atom,' answered
the Sucker, but I never seed one of the
second ctmily, and I'd gin suthin to get a
sight at one of 'em. I know you are one
of the runt, cause you look just like John
This mollified the Virginian—the hint
of n resemblance to the statesman was
flattering to his feelings, and he occur
dingly acknowledged relationship to the
Lle, you know, descended from the
ingin gal, Pocahontas.'
•You are right sir,' answered the other.
Well stranger,' said the Sucker, do
you know thar is another queer thing allys
puzzle's me, and it's this-1 never send a
Virginian that didn't claim to be either
descended from an Injin, John Randolph,
or tanigger.'
IVe need not add that the Sucker rolled
off his chair—suddenly I They were sep.
crated until the Sucker got off at n landing
r.ear his home. As he stepped ashore, he
caught sight of the Virginian on the up.
per deck, and hulled him at once with—
, I say, old Virg.inny, remember—two
fat shouts for tt•e host feller you find be.
longing to the se coot! Virginian family!'
Few people have any conception of the
process by which those immense deposits
of combustible matter were prepared, from
which the fuel of the world in all coming
tune, so 1 ug as feel shall be required, is
to be supplied —nor of the peculiar condi-
Coo of the earth and its surroundings dur
ioi the long period occupied by that migh
ty chemical elaboration. T he thought
th.tin t ing i the slow lapse of these uncoun
ted years, and indeed during the alienist
iineoricoivable ages that had preteeded
no living voice broke upon the still
, • s of eternity, and no moving thing
tt, it had life' existed above the surface of
itter, is one of the peculiar interest
Lrailure. Yet that such was the
• wade evident by the unerring record
thu greet Architect himself upon his
In coal beds, traces of peculiar t °gela
to, have been found, more luxuriant, than
ally which now exist upon the earth.
Phis peculiarity, with the fact that no
tir.b,athing animals existed previous to
the fortnati on of coal beds. led to the be
lief hat carbon existed in the atmosphere
in the fo.m of carbonic acid pis in such
quantities as to prevent the existence of
animals breathing air. How solitary
must have been the earth during the peri
od of coal formation. No birds fluttered
from brooch to branch amid the dense foil.
age, and no living creature traversed its
plains or tread its lonely forests. Verdure
flourished and beauty shown upon th•
A Family Opposed to Newspapers
The. man who didn't take the newspa
pers, w•as in town on the 4th. He brought
his whole family in a two horse wagon.
He still believed that general 'l'aylor was
President. and wanted to know if the
Remskatkians' had taken Cuba, end if
so, where they had takcnit. He had sold
corn for thirty cents— the price being fifty
five—hut on going to deposit the money,
they told him it was mostly counterfeit.
The only hard matey he had will some
three cent pieces ; and these some sharper
had run on him for half clones. One
of the toys went to a blacksmith's shop
to be measured for a pair of shoes, and
another mistook the market house for a
church. Alter hanging his hat on the
meat honk, lie piously took a seat on the
butcher's stall, and listened to an auc.ion
eer, whom he tot k to be the preacher.—
Ile left before. meetin' was out, and had
no great opinion of the sarmin.'
One of the girls took a lot of seed on
ions to the• pest iflice to trade them off for
a letter. The oldest boy had sold two
coon skins, and was on a bust." When
last seen he had called for a glass of soda
and water, and he was hound to gin it a
fair trial.—Some town fellow' came in
and called for a leinonade with a fly in it;
whereupon our sharp friend turned his
back and quietly wipe) several flies into
his drink.
We approached the old gentleman and
tried to get him to subscribe, but he would
not listen to it. Ile was opposed to inter
nal improvements, and he thought • larnin
was a wicked inwention.' None of his
family ever ' hunt to read, but one boy,
and he teached school awile and then went
to studyin dtwinity !'
An Old Tune.
How often, while wending our way'
through the difficult soul harrowing pa +PR
ges of this transitory life, we are assniled
by the music of nn old tune, awakening
instantly within our inner life sweet though
elton painful remembrances of the past
Strange that an old tune should thus effect
the bosom of humanity. But true it is,
that the visible world is so inseparably con
nected with the inwrrd and invisible por
tion of our natore. For we often find,
though slight withal the thing may be"
touching a particular chord within the me
rest trifle, such as an old tune, a look, a
tone of voice curries us back to ',lst times,
may he our childhood's days—those meet
days of hope and love. Oh how will
an old tune bring forth to our view that
golden period of our existence ! How dis
tinctly we behold in our imoginatioe some
familiar spot where we have often met and
parted from those we loved ! How visible
we each the smile of a long lost, but well
remembered end much loved friend I How
audible we hear the voice of tender love
and kindly admonitions ! these and a thou.
sand other by gone scenes and associations
are portrayed to the mind's eye at the vi
brations of an old tune. Aye. and with
whet determined tenacity the soul clir•gs
to Ind revels amid the realitions of the past
—.'dark ns Erebus" must that soul he
which has not some fire kindled within it
nt the sound of ; the pest ;' callous must
be the heart that is not filled with emotions
of joy or regret at the mention of so magic
a sentence as the past. Dried up indeed
must be the rivulets of that heart whose
flood gates will not send forth a glittering
stream at the remembrance of the past,
produced by the soul awakening echoes of
an old tune.
flfr A stranger was found lying in
one of the public streets m Norfolk, one
day last week, whit tombstones at his head
and feet. It was discovered that he was
dead drunk, and some wag had erected
these monuments to the memory of depar
ted manhood.
Editor & Proprietor.
NO. 32.
Heresy in Ohio.
The Democracy of Ohio, says the Cin
cinnati Commercial have suddenly come
to be greatly Interested in slave auctions.
They deplore them with a heartiness that
they may have some difficulty to explain.
ing to their brethren of the cotton States.
The Logan county Gazette has published
a poem on the subject which is very pa
thetic, and it is having a run through the
Democratic press of the State. We quote
a stanza or two :
Ifere is little Laura—
Very (air indeed—
Eyes of liquid azure—
Who will give a bid ?
Start her at a thousand—
Very cheap you see—
Goir-6 I Going 1 Going I
Going I—to Lagreo.
Here's a piekininny—
Susan's only child
Never mind her weeping,
She'll be reconciled
When the brat is taken
Prom her far awaj—
Going l Going l Going!
Must be sold today.
Old Aunt Dinah yonder,
With the tottering walk,
Whip her briskly, overseer !
Make her mount the block,
Suckled all my children—
Very frail and old—
Worn out, weak and worthless—
Let her now be sold.
Dr. Holmes says some hard, but true
things upon this matter, in the July num
ber of the Atlantic Monthly. Thus:
'tit 19 true, that, considering various hab
its of the American people, also the little
aceidents which the best kept sidewalks
are liable, a lady tt ho has swept a mile of
theca is not exactly in such a condition
that one would care to be her neighbor.
But then, there is no need of being so hard
on these slight weaknesses of the poor,
dear women as our little deformed gentle.
man wits the other day.
. .
Confound the mak - a-believe women we
have turned loose to our streets here
do they come from? Not oat of Boston
parlors I trust. Why, there isn't a beast
or bird, that would dreg Its tail through
the dirt in the wu these creatures do their
dresses. Because a queen, or duchess,
wear long robus on great occasions, a
uiaid•ofell work or a' factory girl thinks
she must make herself a nuisance by trail
ing through the streets, picking up and
carrying about with her—pah! that's what
I call getting vulgarity into your bones and
marrow ! Making believe to be what you
are not is the essence of vulgarity. Show
over dirt is the one attribute of vulgar peo
ple. If any man can walk behind one of
these women and see what she rakes up
as site goes, and not feel squeamish, he
has got a tough stomach. I wouldn't let
one of 'em into my room without serving
'em as David served Saul at site cave in
the wilderness—cat off his skirts, sir I cut
off Ais ikirts I"
The “Professor" has hit the nail on the
head. Having no chance at home to dts
pl•ty their skirts, some women tnust needs
use the street for that purpose; and in no
doing they make decent men sick at the
stomach to see what they go through it
order to gratify their vanity.
The Sickles Manifesto,
Dollars and cents have heretofore provided
Sickles with a sufficient, defence; but now,
forsaken by legal advisers and political con
federates, because of the most commendable
act he has performed, he is compelled to resort
t o his pen and the public press in order to secure,
if possible, his own justification. Our readers
cannot have failed to notice in this extraordi
nary document, the spirit of self-assumed inns
come which the writer betrays. Toward his
repentant wife, he is all forgiveness; but lie
forgets to mention the charitable disposition
which that wife must entertain, who could over
look his criminal improprieties and lack of con
jugal fidelity. lie studiously extols hie Own
Christian spirit in declaring " to the wcrld"
that "erring wire and mother may be forgiven
and redeemed," but can " the world," to which
he appeals, forget that " wife and mother" is
not the only one who in in need of forgiveness
and redemption. Does he expect that the
public will be oblivious of the fact that - her life
has been as pure as his, and that if forgiveness
be at all exercised, they both stand in need of
its full benefit?
Another port of the letter deserves especial
reprobation—that In which reference is made
to the "bar of Heaven." 'While there is no
doubt hut that the decision before that solemn
tribunal will be quite as just, and rather more
severe than any which Daniel has yet experi
enced, it would seem the height of presump
tion for him, or any other mortal, to avow a
willingness "to defend what be had done" in
the presence of an omnipotent Creator. What.
over other virtues Sickles may posse., modes.
t.y is certainly not one of them. Comments
on the closing act in this trageilikare unneces
sary, and the chief cause for regret is, that
Sickles did not remember the great law of char
ity on a former occasion, when it was ns much
needed, though its exercise might have been
less commended.
RElVARDED.—President Buchanan evidently
remembers his Lecomptou friends, and knows
how to take care of those who were "killed or
wounded" in the campaign last full. Hon. J.
L. Gillis is a case in point, for we understand
that he has been appointed agent fur the Paw.
nee "Injuns" in Nebraska Territory. If the
Judge manages matters shrewdly, and we hare
uo doubt of his ability and disp citron. to do so,
he can make a much nicer thing out of his ap•
pointmont than he could have made out of his
election to Congress.
Lord Byron beautifully said, "If a
man be gracious to strangers it shows he is a
citizen of the world, and that his heart is no
island cut off from the other lauds, but a conti•
nest that joins therm"
/The lion. Israel Washburn of Maine
gave the following felicitous sentiment at the
late Bangor celebration on the Fourth
"Our 'Country—Our country, right or wrong;
when right, to be kept right when wrong, to
be put right"