THE TIMES, NEW BLOOMFIELD, PA., JUNE 5, 1877.
3
RAILROADS.
PHILADELPHIA AND READING R, R.
ARRANGEMENT OF PASSENGER TRAINS.
May 21t7, 1877.
TKAINS LEAVE H ARK1SBURG AS FOLLOWS i
For New York, lit 8.20, 8.10 . m. U7 and
7.&5 p. m.
For Philadelphia, at 8.20, 8.10, 8.45 a.m. 2.10
and 8.57 p. tn. .
For Heading, at 8,20, 8.10, 9.45 . m. 2.00
3.67 and 7.5ft p. m. ....
For Fottsvlfle at 8.20. 8.10 a.m.. and 8.87 p.
m.,and via Schuylkill and Susquehanna Branch
at 1.40 p. in.
For Auburn at 8.10 a. in.
For Allentown, at 6.20, 8.10 a. in., 2.00,
3.57 and 7. f5p. in. .
The 6.20, 8.10 a. m.2.00 p.m. and 7.88 p. m.
trains have through car; (or New lork.
The 6.20, 8.10 a. m.. and 2.00 p. m. train bare
through can (or Philadelphia.
SUNDAYS I
For New York, at 6.20 a. in.
For Allentown and War station at 8.20 a.m.
For Heading, Philadelphia and Way Stations at
1.45p. ni.
TRAINS FOK HARKI9BURG, LEAVE AS FOL
LOWS i
Leave New York, at 8.45 a. in., 1.00, 6.30 and
7.4flp. III.
Leave Philadelphia, at 9.15 a. m. 8.40, and
7.20 p. ni.
Leave Heading, at 4.40,7.40, 11.20a. in. 1.30,6.18
and 10.35 p. in. .
Leave Fottsvllle, at A.10, 9.15 a. in. and 4.35
p. m.
And via Schuylkill and Susquehanna Branch at
8.15 a. in.
Leave Auburn at 12 nnnn.
Leave Allentowu, at 2.30, 5,50, 8.66 a. m., 12.15
4.39 and 0.05 p. in. .
The 2.30 a. ni. train from Allentown and the
4.40 a. ni. train (rem Heading do not run on Mon-
dSyS SUNDAYS :
Leave New York. at.VW p. m.
Leave Philadelphia, at 7.20 p. m.
Leave Reading, at 4.40, 7.40a. m. and 10.36 p. m.
Lenve Allentown, 2.30 a. in. and 9.06 p. m.
Via Morris and Essex Hall Road.
J. E. WOOTEN, Gen. Manager.
C. G. Hancock, General Ticket Agent.
Pennsylvania R. R. Time Table.
NEWPORT STATION.
On and after Monday, May. 14th, 1877, Pas
senger trains will run as follows:
EAST.
Mlflllntown Ace. 7.32 a. m., dallv except Sunday.
Johnstown Express 12.22 p. tf., daily " Sunday
Mail 6.54 P. M., dally exceptSunday
Atlaatie Express, 9.54 p.m., flag, daily. ,
WEST.
Way Pass. 9.08 A. M.. dally,
Mall 2.43 p. m. dally exceptSunday.
Mlltllntown Ace. 6.66 P. m . dailyexcept Sunday.
Pittsburgh Express, 11.67P. M.,( Flag) dally, ex
cept Sunday.
Pacific Express, 8.17 a. m.. dally (flag)
Trains are now run by Philadelphia time, which
Is 13 minutes faster than Altoona time, and 4 min
utes slower than New York time.
J. J. BARCLAY. Agent.
DUNCANNON STATION.
On and after Monday, May 14th, 1877, trains
will leave Duncannon as Ifw
Mlflllntown Acc. dally except Sunday at 8.12 a. k.
Johnstown Express 12. 53p.n.,daly excepts jnday.
Mail 7.30 p. h ' " "
AtJantic Express 10.20 p. v., dally (flag)
WESTWARD.
Way Passenger, 8.38 a. k., dally
Mall. 2.09 p. h dallyexceptSunday.
Miffllntown Acc. dallyexceptSunday at 6.16 p.m.
Pittsburg Ex. daily except Sunday (flag) 11.83P. M.
WM. O. KING Agent.
D.
F. QU1GLEY & CO.,
Would respectfully Inform the public that they
have opened a new
Saddlery Shop
In Bloomtleld. on Carlisle Street, two doors North
of the Foundry, where they will manufacture
HARNESS OF ALL KINDS,
Saddles, BrUlles, Collars,
and every thing usually kept In a first-classes,
tabllshment. Give us a call before going else
where. FINE HARNESS a speciality.
REPAIRING done on short notice and at rea
sonable prices.
- HIDES taken In exchange for work.
D. F. QUIGLEY & CO.
Bloomtleld, January 9, 1877.
" VICK'9
Flower and Vegetable Garden
Is the most beautiful work In the world.
It contains nearly 150 pages, hundreds of fine 1
lustrations, and six t'liromo Plates of Flower
beautifully drawn and colored from nature.
Price 60 cents in paper covers : 11.00 in elegan
cloth. Printed in Germau and English.
Vick' Floral Guide, Quarterly, 25 cents a yea
Vlck's Catalogue 300 illustrations, only 2 cent
Address, JAMES VICK, Rochester, N. Y.
VICE'S
Flower and Vegetable Seeds
ARB PLANTED BT A MILLION OP PEOPLI IN AMEKICA.
See Vick's Catalogue 3U0 IllustraUons.only 2
cents. Vick's Floral Guide. Quarterly, 2.i cents a
year. Vick's Flower and Vegetable Garden, 50
cents i with elegant cloth cover S1.00.
All my publications are printed in English and
German.
Address, JAMES VICK, Rochester, N. Y.
fin AGENTS WANTED to canvass for a
grand picture, 22x28 Inches, entitled
"Thb Illustrated Lord's Prayer." Agents
are meeting with great success.
For particulars, address
, H.M.CU1DER, Publisher,
8 IT York, Pa.
REMOVAL.
The undersigned has removed his
Leather and Harness Store
tlom?J9ntto H,n Mreet, near the Penn'a.,
Freight Depot, where he will have on band, and
will sell at
. ... , REDUCED PRICES,
Leather and Harness ef all kinds. Having good
workmen, and by buying at the lowest cath
price. I fear no competition.
Market prices paid In cash for Bark. Hides and
Skins. Thankful for past favors, 1 solicit a con.
tlnuanoe of the same.
P. 8. Blankets, Robes, and Shoe findings made
a speciality,
JOS. M. HAWLEY.
Duncannon, JulylO. 1876.-U
VICK'S FLORAL GUIDE
a beautiful Quarterly Journal, finely Illustrated,
and containing an elegant colored Flower riat
with the first number. Price only 25 cents for
year. Then rst No. for 1877 Just Issued in Ger
Vick's Catalogue UOO lliiist'rotloiis.'iiiily ?cenl
Address, JAMES VICK. Hod. ester. N. y.
for The Times
LIFE'S HISTORY.
BT C. W. BOODA.
Wbea 1 was quite small, I knew nothing at all,
Of the world, and Its bright pleasures many,
But I grew day bj day, and oft they would say,
' Say mamma, and I'll give yon a penny."
Very soon I could walk, and then 1 could talk,
And my prattle could be hoard all day long i
I'd made the house ring, if I could but sing
Or whistle a nice little song.
Next to school I went, where my parents they
sent
Me, to learn to write and to read
But the truth to say, I went there to play,
At which I made very good speed.
One day I remember, 'twas the mouth of De
cember, And the ground was covered with snow
1 wanted to slide, and take a good ride,
But the master forbid me to go.
However I went, and the noon hour spent,
In sliding down hill, which was fun
And when the bell rang,I used the word 'dang
And started off on a brisk run.
I entered the house as sly as a mouse,
Where the master and I of course met
When, It sounded kerwack, the rod on my back,
Which made me walk lively " you bet."
But those days are o'er I attend school no moie,
My boyhood Is now past and gone )
I have turned a new page npon the world's stage
And now to a young man have grown
But as I reflect, It is with regret,
To think that those times they are o'er
I thought they would last,but now they are past
'And I shall enjoy them no more.
But man finds pleasure and often a treasure,
Which is very nice I suppose
A companion for life I mean a good wife,
One to love and to mend his old clothes.
And as I grow older, I am the beholder, v
That life Is fast fleeting by
When once aged and gray.lt warns that the day
Of life's nearly past, and death's drawing
nigh.
I am now grown old as all can behold,
And soon to my " rest" I shall go ;
When my days are past I will sing " home at
last,"
'Twill be pleasant to leave here below.
THE TWO WILLS.
IN THE days when all tbe world was
romantic, and no one was ashamed
of It, two gentlemen of England con
ceived the preposterous, but at the same
time rather fashionable Idea, that, be
cause they were friends, their son and
daughter, then infants in their cradles,
must love each other when they grew
to be man and woman ; and, having
compared notes, and found that they
quite agreed on this point, set to work
with a zeal worthy of a better cause, to
arrange matters so that they must turn
out exactly as they desired.
If they lived, of course their com
mands would be Bufllcient.
Of this they were assured ; but, if
they died, who knew what two mis
guided young people might do.
Consequently, each made a will," and
matters were so arranged that, if either
of the young people declined the hand
of the other, that young person would
be penniless, and his or her estate go the
other young person who was willing.
After some years, the gentleman
whose child was a daughter, left his na
tive England for America, while the
other, who was a widower, his wife hav
ing given her life for thatBon, remain
ed in England ; so that the ocean rolled
between the romantic friends.
The English resident was named Ed
mund Harrington. The American,
Charles Seabrlght.
Both were, as we have said, wealthy,
aHd both brought their children up care
fully.
As they grew older they permitted
them to correspond with each other ,but
each detested the task so, that the let
ters were actually written by the elders
themselves.
Once at the age of fourteen, when
news came that little Harold Harrington
had fallen from a tree and broken his
leg, Elsie Seabright was desired to reply
that she felt great regret, and send her
best wishes for his speedy recovery ; but
the girl, who could never listen to the
boy's name with anything like patience,
refused to write one word of this amia
ble epistle.
" I wish he had broken his neck, so
that I might never hear any more about
him,'' she said, with a stamp of her
slippered foot; "and I won't write
fibs."
So again mamma wrote the letter,
having first locked Elsie up In a dark
pantry by way of punishment
" And I am sorry to find a child of
mine so unfeeling," she said. " A
broken leg causes great pain and may
make one lame for life."
" A nice thing for me that would be
if I am to marry him," said Elsie.
Indeed if she had been as sympa
thetic as her mother desired her to, Elsie
would have had an opportunity enough
to exercise these feelings, for her young
betrothed was always in some pickle,
and had nearly drowned herself and
nearly shot himself a dozen tlmes.to say
nothing of ordinary tumbles.
It was tit for tut, at all events, for
when Elsie had the measles, Master
Harold received the information with a
contemptuous Indifference amounting to
heartlessness, and had indeed said that
he did not care.
He hated girls, and this one the worst
ef theiri all.
Bo, with the ocean between them, the
young people grew to maturity, and the
year approached in which they were to
meet. ',
But meanwhile all sorts of bad things
happened. Elsie lost both her father
and mother, and away in England, Mr.
Harrington died suddenly of apoplexy.
Bo the two men who had looked for
ward for so many years to meeting when
their children were married never met
again.
Mr. Harrington would not bring his
son to America to see the lovely Elsie,
as he had proposed, and but for those
obstinate wills the whole matter would
have been dropped, for the last thing
the young people desired was to meet
each other.
But the young man was of oge, and
the young lady also, and the property
must be settled, and could not be until
the match was either on or off.
The old lawyers in whose hands the
affair rested, knew the feelings of their
wards, but they judged that a meeting
might mend matters. At least, it was
necessary that they should meet.
Bo Harold, as in duty bound, was to
cross the ocean to meet his betrothed,
and give her an opportunity to refuse
him.
The news of his arrival brought into
full activity those feelings of repug
nance that Elsie had conceived for
Harold In her childhood.
She had, for a while resolved to
yield to her dead father's wishes, but
now she felt that It would be impossi
ble. Yet there was enough of worldly wis
dom in her head, to teach her how
much better it was to be rich than to be
poor.
If he refused her, her fortune and
his also would be her own by law.
Bhe would force him to refuse her,
and then she would return him his, and
all would be as it should. But how
could she do this.
The girl sat for a while in deep revery,
and then arose and clapped her hands
together. A thought had struck her.
There was in the house a seamstress
a vulgar girl, as plain as it was pos
sible to tie, and with as much conceit
as any young beauty was ever blessed
with.
Her rough manners and ways of
speech had become proverbial amongst
her own class, the other servants speak
ing of her generally as Crusty Betsy.
And this girl had of late been occupied
in the room of her young mistress over
some new dresses.
Straight to this apartment Elsie flew,
and locking the door, sat down opposite
Betsy, and said :
" I have something for you to do, and
I'll pay you well for it."
" Just name it then," said Betsy.
" When I was a little girl, Betsy,"
said Elsie, " poor papa promised that I
should marry a young gentleman who
lives in England when I was grown, and
that if not I should lose my fortune,
Now the time has come and he is com
ing, and t can't marry him, Betsy, and
I want him to refuse me. Do you un
derstand r"
" I understand," said Betsy, " and if
I were you I'd huff him off quick enough
and make him glad to go, that I would
"And I can't think how to doit,
Betsy," said Elsie, "and if you can you
must do It for me. While he stays you
must pretend that you are Miss Sea
brlght, you must wear my clothes, and
take all the airs you possibly can, and
make him as unhappy as possible, so
that he'll have to refuse you that Is,
me, you know. Be sharp as you can
with him, Betsy never the least bit
kind or nice. You'll try, won't you,
Betsy V"
" I can give any one as good as they
send, miss." Bald Betsy. " I'm no mealy
mouth ; and you will pay me well,
miss ?" . .
"I'll give you a hundred dollars,
Betsy," said the girl, " for you'll save
me my freedom and my fortune; and
you'll not refuse him, you know, else
all will be spoilt."
" I'll manage," said Betsy.
Then the two girls left all other work
to examine Elsie's wardrobe, and soon
Betsy was dressed in the most elegant
attire, her hair powdered, as was the
custom, and white gloves upon her
hands.
" And I," said Elsie, "I will be your
poor companion, and you must call me
Miss Smith, and snub me and order me
about."
Thus all was arranged when the little
letter Elsie had been so long expecting
arrived, and breaking its blue seal, she
read that Mr. Harrington would pay his
respects to Miss Beabrlght in an hour.
How Miss Seabrlght laughed as she
sat waiting in the drawing-room watch
ing Betsy sail up and down with all her
new assumption of dignity, Betsy with
the most amiable Intentions, would
have been sure of offending; but Betsy,
bent on being unpleasant, would be a
grand success.
Just then Betsy herself leaned from
the window.
"Oh, miss!" she cried, "there's a
carriage at the door, and there's a gen
tleman coming out of it. Bless us I if
that's him, I don't wonder you want to
be off your ' match. Deary me I oh,
deary me I"
But before she could explain a ser
vant had brought Elsie a card bearing
the name of Harold Harrington, and as
she arose the most extraordinary figure
entered the room.
It was a very tall young man, between
whose shoulders, nevertheless, grew an
enormous hump. He also, though he
seemed to move actively enough, walked
upon crutches. .
On his head, from which he had re
moved his cap, was a black silk skull
cap, such as entirely bnld old gentlemen
then wore.
Over his ears was a big black bandage,
which also quite covered his chin.
On his right eye was a large, green
patch ; on his left cheek another.
All that was visible of his face was
his nose, which was certainly well
shaped, but which was much the color
of red flannel ; and about his throat was
indeed a flannel muffler.
This was Harold Harrington.
Elsie's surprise was so great that she
sank into a chair, and forgot to prompt
Betsy as she had Intended.
But Betsy needed no prompting. She
was not in the least embarrassed.
She advanced to meet Mr. Harrington
with a grin of supreme insolence on her
face and burst into a loud laugh.
"Well," she said, "so you are my
young man, are you 1 I must say, who
ever picked you out showed no mighty
great taste; twasn't for yourbeauty that
is plain."
"No, madam," said the new arrival,
"it was not for my beauty. Do I ad
dress Miss Seabright V"
" Why who else should I beV" cried
Betsy. " 'Twas not for your cleverness,
neither, you were chosen. But now
you've come, sit down. Been in the
wars, haven't you V"
" My infirmities," sighed the young
man, " are the result of my recklessness
as a boy. I have a most sympathizing
letter from you upon the fall which broke
my limb. You remember It I You also
condoled with me upon the careless shot
which cost me my eye, though you
did not know how serious was the re
sult."
" It was while I was on a trip to
Switzerland that I broke my back, and
while endeavoring to drink some boil
ing tea the housekeeper left carelessly
upon the table, I scalded all the hair
from my head. This scar upon my
cheek is the result of having attempted
to shave myself with my father's razor,
It was injudicious of him not to tell you
the result of my Injuries, but now you
see them for yourself. I will not go into
further particulars. You remember all
my accidents V"
" Yes," said Betsy, " and a fine flgger
of a man they've made you." You'd do
to scare the crows from an orchard, I
must say, and you're sent to me, that I
might have my pick and choice of of
fers to marry. It's enough to make one
die of laughing."
"Then you refuse mei"' said the
young man very eagerly.
" Oh, no," said BetBy, " oh, no,
don't, there's the fortune, you know.
Money Is money, and even an object like
you is better than poverty. I'll have
you. Though how folks will laugh to
see us paired off together 1 One com.
fort, though ; so broken down as you
must be, you can't last long."
" On the contrary, I expect to live to
be eighty," said the young man.
"Expectations don't go for much,'
said Betsy. " Look how the old folks
went."
" We were deprived of their affections
very suddenly," said the young man
sighing. " My father loved yours dear
ly, Miss Seabright."
" Folks will take queer notions," said
Betsy. " Well,"I must say you are an
object. I can't help laughing,whenever
I look at you."
" We shall have a merry life togeth
er," 6aid Harold, " if your disposition
continues."
" Oh, I shan't see much of you," said
Betsy. " I can promise you, after the
ring is on. What possessed you to
smash yourself up so ? Bnt I shan't
refuse you, ' It's money makes the mare
go,' says the old song."
" It may be," said Harold. " But let
the mare stand still for me, then
quite decline to fulfill the engagement.
So, madam you have the fortune with
out any incumbrance in my person."
' And good riddance to bad rubbish
say I !' cried Betsy. 'There are better fish
In the sea than you, or women would be
poorly off. You're going, eh t Well
the sooner the better. Miss Smith, ring
the bell.'
Elsie rose and touched the bell.
But now that the deed was done, and
her object attained, she felt dreadfully
ashamed of herself. '
Certainly a more unhappy and singu
lar object than this before her could not
well be Imagined.
Indeed, compassionate as was her
heart, she felt that his appearance was
not only painful, but almoftt ludicrous,
but all the more should he have been
tenderly and kindly used.
Why had she played this childish
prank, and allowed a vulgar woman to
insult him in her presence V
And this gentleman for hideous as he
was, he evidently was a gentleman by
breeding as well as by birth how would
he henceforth think of her V
He would always believe that she had
uttered those rude words, ; she and none
other.
And as he left the room she followed
him and the servant who had answered
the bell retired at her nod, and left the
two together in the long hall where
they could hear the long and violent ex
plosions of laughter with which Betsy
was now filling the drawing-room.
' Mr. Harrington," said Elsie, her
face crimsoning as she spoke, " I cannot
let you go without one word of explana
tion. I I have been so grieved that you
should be so insulted. I never meant
" My dear young lady, you have noth
ing to do with it, and my feelings are
not in the least hurt," replied the younjj
man. " Who could care for what a
person like the woman we have just left
could say ' But I am amazed that that
should be Miss Seabrlght. I know she
is a lady by birth. I understand that
she was beautiful and gentle. I "
"Oh, Mr. Harrington," cried Elsie,
" I have been such a foolish girl 1 She
is not Miss Seabright. I I it was a
ridiculous stratagem of mine. I .hated
the idea of a betrothal to a stranger, and
desired that you should take the initia
tive in breaking off the match. But,
believe me, I had no knowledge of your
infirmities, which could be only a sub
ject for sympathy to me ; and I beg you
to forgive me for placing that coarse
woman in a position in which she could
Insult you. ; Prove it by remaining with
me until I can offer you some refresh
ment after your long Journey."
The young man bowed, looked atx
her a moment, and then replied
frankly:
" Madam, I quite appreciate your mo
tives and entirely forgive you. I am
pleased to accept your Invitation."
It was the custom in well arranged
houses at that day to send guests to their
rooms for awhile before dinner.
Accordingly Miss Seabright ordered a
servant to show Mr. Harrington to an
apartment on the upper floor, and re
tired to her own room to dress for din
ner. Ten minutes after her entrance into
this apartment, this servant brought her
a large bundle and a small note a bun
dle several feet long, and a note a few
inches square. She opened the note first
and read these words :
Mr Dear Miss Seabright: I also
have a confession to make. I also, be
fore I met you had resolved that you ;
should be the one to decline the condi-
tlons of our fathers' wills, intending
afterwards to give you back your share
of the property. Consequently I set
about devising a scheme; and, reading
my school day letters, it occurred to me
that no one ever went through so many
small accidents quite unscathed and un
marred before. I knew that few women
would choose to marry a very hideous
man, consequently I concocted a , dis
guise which I fancied would make me
repugnant to the least particular of the
fair sex.
Allow me to lay at your feet my
crutches, which I never needed, thank
Heaven; my hump,which was a feather
Eillow : the skull-cap, which did not
ide a bald pate, and all my bandages.
The vermillion which adorned my nose
I have removed with a little water ; and
though I obtained my Invitation to din
ner under false pretenses I beg to be al
io wed to pay my respects to you in proper
person, and to apologize for my trick,
which, after all, dear madam, was only
tit for tat.
At first Elsie was unreasonably angry,
but her anger did not last long.
They met at dinner, and before they
parted it was quite concluded that they
should carry out the wishes of their
parents by agreeing to dine together al
ways. A Rhode Island Judge being chal
lenged by a general In the state militia,
the following dialogue ensued :
"Did you receive my note, sir?"
" Yes, sir," replied the Judge.
" Well, do you Intend to fight me V"
" No, sir." . '
"Then, sir, I consider you a pitiful
coward.
" Right, sir ; you knew that very well
or you never would have challenged
me," answered the Judge.
A dead man ean drift down stream
but it takes a live man to pull up against
H. Then is the time that tries a man's
soul when the tide is against him.
. . . - .
S3" We never saw u woman shoe a
horse, but any womau can shoo a hen.