Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, August 10, 1859, Image 1
„ lilt, 1 l'''',z r tin Oslo” )011'n101 WII. BREWSTER, YOL. XXIV. TERMS OF THE JOURNAL. If paid in advance $1,30 If paid within Si. months after the time of subscribing 1,75 If paid before the expiration of the year, 2,00 And two dollars and fifty cents if not paid after the expiration of the year No paper dis continued until the end of the ye ty subscribed for. 1. All subscriptions are continued until oth erwise ordered, and nopaper will be discontinu ed until arrearages are paid except at the option of the publisher. 2. Returned numbers are never received by us. All numbers sent us in that way are lost, and never accomplish the purpose of the sender. 3. Persons wishing to stop their subscriptions, must pay up arrearages. and send a written or verbal order to that effect, to the office of pub lication in Huntingdon. 4. Giving notice to a postmaster is neither a legal or a proper notice. 5. After ono or morn numbers of a now year have been forwarded, a now year has commenc ed, and the paper will not be discontinued until orrearages are paid. See No. 1. epThe above terms will be rigidly adhered to in all cases. ADVERTISEMENTS Will be charged at the following rates 1 insertion. 2 do. 3 do. Six lines or less, $ 25 $ 371 $ 50 One square, (16 lines,) 50 75 1 00 Two " (32 " ) 100 150 -2 00 3 Mo. 6 mo. 12 mo. $3 00 $4 00 $3 00 4 00 6 00 10 00 6 00 10 00 14 00 18 00 22 00 25 00 18 00 27 00 40 00 Ono square, Two squares, column, do., do., do., 22 00 35 00 45 00 Business Cards of six lin es, or less, $4.00. 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 AYER'S 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]: and SKIN DISEASES, Sr. ANTHONY'S FIRE, RASE, or ERYSIPELAS, PIMPLES, PUSTULES. DLOTCRES, Blume and Hems, TUMORS, TErraa and SALT RHEUM, SCOLD READ. RINOWORIB, RHEUMATISM, SYPHILITIC and MERCURIAL DIS USES, DROPSY, DYSPEPSIA. DEBILITY, and, indeed, ALL COMPLAINTS ARISING FROM VITLA. 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, FOR ALL THE PURPOSES OF A FAMILY PHYSIO, 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, FOR THB RAPID CURB OP Coughs, Colds, Influenza, Hoarseness, Croup, Bronchitis, Incipient Consump. tion, and for the relief of Consumptive Patients in advanced stages of the disease. 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. LOWELL, MASS. JoUN READ, Agent Huntingdon, Pc Nov. 16, 185n.-Iv. SELEgT FGETRY: The Beggar and the Christian. BY DAYID PAUL BROWN, '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, Unless thou LOY'FIT THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSE!e. SE2GT STORY?: 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 requiems. 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. Bence. 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 “ LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND POREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE. ” HLNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 10, 1859. 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— 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 child.' 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 eyes. .1.5 she an orphan? Where is her moth. t. f The Judge heard her, and lilted up hi head • 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. oily. MIS G.F2LL3NIIIUS? Reminiscence of School Life• We were rt precious set of fellows at old Pri,nd Ralph's school some ten years since. 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 Sucker. 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 Randolph.' 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 orator. 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!' FORMATION OF COAL. 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 ,t 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. WOMEN AND STREET SWEEPING. 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"