Huntingdon Journal

              _lhe  Xl untingdon   Journal.
OL. 46.
HUNTINGDON, PA., AUGUST 23, 1871.
NO. 33.
Huntingdon Journal.
URBORROW,
PL'ULISnERS AN
J. A. x.vsn,
KlKTOItS.
n the Corner of llttth and Washington sti-ecls.
IIu.vTixGDoN .ToriiNAf. IS published every day, Ijy J. K. Duunoniiow and J. A. Xa.sh. iie iirm name ot'J. 11. i)L'ltBOliRow k Co., at >r.]Lnnuui, in adva.vci:, or S2,a0 if not paid ix months from date of suliscription, and t paid within the year, iper discontinued, unless at tho option of lishcrs. until ull arrearages arc paid. KUTISEMKXTS will be inserted at Tex per liue for each ofthe tirst four insertion.^, K CE.NTS pcr lin. for eueh subsequent inscr- s than three mouths.
lar monthly and yearly advertisements will ¦ted at thc followins rates :
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0 bOhS m •£, 00130 00 1 col 'V.S 00
al   notiees will be inserted at
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CO ool    sol 100
CE>
1]M-
nd local and editorial i
csolutioiis of Associations, Coinnmuications ed orindividual interest) and notices of Mar- tn<l Deaths, exceeding fivo lines, will be 1 TEX CENTS per line.
1 and other notiees will be charged to the aving them irsertcil.
rtising Agents'must find their commission of these figures.
dtirti„ing acconnts arc due antl eollctlnblc c ttttcrrliscment is once insertetl. PllIXTIXtS of every kind, in Plain and Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— .ills. Blanks. Cards, Pamphlets, kc, of evcry and style, printed at tne shortest noticc, •ry thing in the Printing linc will bo cxecn- ho most artistic manner and at tho  lowest
Professional Cards.
DEXGATE,   Surveyor,   W.irriors-
mark. Pa. [apl2,71.
CALDWELL, Attorney-at-Law,
Xo. Ill, :id street. Oflice for>aerly occupied srs. Woods k Wjlliamson. [apl2,'71.
:. R. K. WIESTLING,
respectfullv offers his professional ;itiiens of Huntingdon and vicinity, ircmovcd to Xo. 61St Uill  street.   (Smith's .NO.) [apr.5,'n-ly.
t. J. C. FLEM3IIXG   respectfully
iffers his professional services to the citizens tingdon and vicinity. Otfice sccou<i floor of igham*s building, on corner of 4th and llill
I. D. P. MILLER, Office on  Hill
street,-iu tho room formerly occupied by hn M'Culloch, lluntingdon. Pa., would rcs- ly ofl'cr his professional services to thc citi- ' Iluntingdon and vicinity. [jau.4,'71.
I. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to thc cammunity. 0 on Washington street, ono door east of the ic Parsonage. [jan.4,'71.
I. G. D. ARNOLD, Graduate of the
University of Pennsylvania, offers his pro- ial services to thc people of Iluntingdon and -V.
EIIEXCE:—Dr. B. P. Hook, of Loysville, Pa., •hom he formerly practiced; Drs. Stillc and ,¦ uf Philadelphia.
:c on AVashington streot, AVest Huntingdon, [ap.l9,'rl.
j. GREENE, Dentist.    Offiee  re¬ moved to Leister'snewbuilding. HiUstreet ns-dm>^ [J""-'.'7I.
L. ROBB, Dcnt4st. office in  S. T.
•    lircwn's new buiidiug, Xo. 520,   //ill .«t., ngdon. Pa. [apl2,'71.
GLAZIER, Notary Puhlic, corner • of AVashington and Smith streets. Hnn- jn, I'a. [jan.12'71.
C.   MADDEN,   Attorney-at-Law. •    Office, X^o. —, Hill streot, Huntingdon, [ap.l'J,'71.
SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at- Law. Huntingdon, Pa.   Otfice, llill  slrcet, doors west of Smith. [jan.4'71.
R. I'ATTON, Druggist aud Apoth¬ ecary, o[)posite thc Exchange Ilotel,  Hun- on. Pa. Prescriptions accurately couij>oun(led. Liquors for Medicinal purposes." [nov.23,'70.
HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa.     Oflice,  sccoud  floor of rr's uew building. Hill street.        [jan.4,'71.
R.   DUKBORROW,   Attorncy-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pn.,  will practice in the al Courts of lluntingdon  county.    Purt iculiir tion given to the settlement of estates of deco-
lico in he Journal Building,        [feb.l,'71.
HJitJ §h\m' §mms
A Sterling Old Poem.
AV'ho shall judge i'rom his m.inner?
AA'ho shall^know him by his dress ? P.inpors may be fit for princes.
Princes fit for sonu'thinjr loss. Crumpled shirt and dirty jacket
May bcclothe thc goldeu ore Or the deepest thoughts and feelings—
Satin vest can do no more.
There arc streams of crystal nectar
Kvcn flowing out of stone ; There are purple beds aud golden
Hidden, crushed, and overfloHU. God, w!io counts by soul, not dresses.
Loves and prospers you and me, AVliile he values thrones the highest
But as pebbles in thc sea.
Man upraised above his fellows,
Oft forgets his fellows then ; Masters—rulers—lords ; reinember
Tbat your meanest kinds of meu ; Men of labor, men of fcciing,
Meu ol" lliuuirbt. meu of fame. Claiming riglit.s tu suushine
Iu a man's ennobling uainc.
There arc foamcd-embroidered oceans.
There are little wood-clad rills; There are feeble inch high saplings.
There are cedars on the hills. God, counts by sou!, not station,
Loves and prospers you and nie. For to him all vain distinctions
Are as pebbles in the sea.
Toiling liands alone are builders
Of a nations' wealth aud fame, Titled laziness ts pensioned,
Fed anil fattened on the same ; By thc sweat of other foreheads,
Living only to rejoice, AVhile the poor man's outraged freedom
A''ainly lifts its feeble voice.
Truth and justice ate eternal,
Boru with lovliness and light; Secret wrongs shall uever prosper
Wliile there is a suuny right. (.Jod, whose world-wise voice is siuging
Boundless lovelo you and rae, Counts oppression with its titles
But as pebblos in the sea.
A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real
» Estate .4gcut, Iluntingdon, Pa., will attend irvcying in all its branches. AVill also buy, or rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of ev- tind, in any part of thc United States. Send cirttular. [jan.4:'71.
W.  MATTERN,   Attorney-at-Law
>    and General Claim Agent, lluntingdon. Pa., iers' elaims against tho Government for back bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend- ) with great earo and promptness. Bee on Uill street. [jan.4,'71.
"    ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at-
k-» Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention n to Collections of all kinds ; to the scttlc- t of Estate!!, Ac; and all other Legal Business ecuted with fidelity aud dispatch. ^~ Office in room lately occujiied bv K. Milton or, Esq. ["jan.4,'71.
IILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend jiromptly II legal business. Office in Cunningham's new ding. [jan.4,'71.
»    M. & JL S.   LYTLE,   Attomeys-
•    at-Law, Iluutingdon,  Pa., will  attend  to kinds of legal business entrusted to their cure, flice on thc south side of Hill street, fourth door tof Smith. [jan.4,'71.
*    A.   UKBISOiN,   Attorncy-at-Law, ••    Offico, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may31,'71.
IX  .SCOTT. a.  T.  Bnowv. J>  IT.  UILEY
COTT,  BROWN  &   BAILEY,   At-
torneys-nt-Law, Iluutingdon, Pa.    Pcusions, I all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs ngainst Government will be promptly prosecuted. )fficc ou IliU street. [jan.4,'71.
^   W. MYTON, Attorncy-at-Law, Ilun-
-•    tingdon. Pa.    Oflicc wilb J. Scwcll Stewart, 1- [jan.4,'71.
ITILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney-
" at-Laiv, Huntingdon, Pa. Special .attention •cn ta collect bins, and all other l;gal business eu.led to with earc an.l promptness. Onicc. Xo. t. Hill street. [apl;l.'71.
MiscellaneoiLS.
T'XCHANGE   HOTEL,   Huntingdon, ¦^   Pa. ,)OHN S. .AIILLER, Proprietor.
January 4, 1S71.
-ILLISOX   SULLER. H.   BUCII.V.V.VJ
iTILLER & BUCHANAN, DENTISTS,
N'o. 22S Hill Street,
IIUNTINGDOX, VA. April a, •71-ly.
STEAK TIIE RAILROAD DEPOT,
.   COK. AVAYXE and JUXIATA STItfiRTT
UNITED STATES JIOTKL,
IIOLLIDAA'SEUUG, PA. 'CLAIX k CO,, PnopniETORS. .Alchl j-tf
p>OBT. KING, Merchant Taylor, 412
LV    AVashinRton street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib-
¦al share of patronage r April 12, IS71.
spcctfully solicited.
Wh^ Mmj-'ii'dln. The Beggar Girl of Paris.
During the -'Reign of Terror" in France there were many deeds of daring perfornicd CA-en by Avonien, aud many examples of affection exhibited. Tlie streets of Paris Averc deluged Avith human blood, but near the .guillotine it ran in torrents. One dark morning an unusual number of aristocracy had been marched forth, and countle.«s life¬ less heads rolled from the block. Gaping multitudes stood by, and with shouts rent the air as tho aristocracy were thus butch¬ ered.
Among the assembled multitude that dreary morning were tAvo females. Onc of thom AViis plainly clad, while a cloak Avas throAvn around her with which she kept her features nearly concealed. But a closo observation would betray the fact that the Avomau had been Aveepiug. Iler eyes were inflamed and red, and .she gazed upon the pl:itt'i>rm, whilo a sliock of thc glittering knife severed the head from the body of some one Avho had been unfortunate cuough to fall underthe b.an of the two leaders.— Thc face of the Avoman was young—not more than sixteen or eighteen years of age.
The othor female Avas quite different in character. Her face was fair, but there was a brazen expression about it. Sho Av.ts clad in rags, and as each head lell, she Avould dance, and in various ways she would expres.s hor delight, aud then exclaim:
'•There falls another aristocrat who re¬ fused me charity wheu I liumbly sued him."
Each expression ofthe kind would create a laugh from those Avho heard her. But any thoughtful person must Avonder that one so young could havc beon so depraved. The first fem.-ile Avatched this creature for a fcAv moments, and then pressing her hand to her side, she laid a hand on the shoul¬ der ofthe wretch and Avhispercd :
"Would you like to become rich at once?" The female of rags turned about with a look   of ¦surprise, burst into a loud laugh, and then replied:
•'Of course I would !" "Folio ^ me and you shall be." "Scough.    Lead on." It  Avas with considerable difficulty that the females extracted themselves from the crowQ; but they did so at length, and the first female asked of the other : "What shall I call you ?" '•Oh I I'm called the Beggar Girl Marie." "You live ou begging?" "Yes;  but what's your name, and what do you want?"
"3Iy name is ilarie, tho .same as your own."
"Are J'OU an aristocrat?" "It does not matter. If you know Avhere you can find a room lead me to it, and you shall have gold."
The pauper led thc way into a narrow, filthy street, and then doAvn into a cellar and into a dark, filthy room. The other female could not but foel a .sickening sen¬ sation creep over her, but she recovered herself. After contcmpUiting for a time the  apartment and Avhat it coutained, she
asked _: ,. ___               _       _
"Are you well known in i'aris?" "Yes, everybody knoAvs JIarie, the Beg¬ gar Girl."
"Aro you known to Robespierre ? If so, I AA'ant to make a bargain with you." * •   'I am.    What do you wish '!"
"You see that my clothing is better than your own, and I wish to exchange with you. 1 want you to remain here and uot shoAV yourself at all i'or a short time, or until I come to you again. As a rccoii- pensc Tor aiding me I Avill now give you a thoustiiid I'raiics. As a security for my return, take this ring.
Thc lady drew a diamond ring from her finger and gtive it to the beggar girl, then handed her a pur.se cnntainiug gold. The girl appeared a littlo puzzled, then asked: "Woll, Avhat iire you going to do Avith my dress ?"
•'I want to put it on and go Avhcre I first met yuu."
"Oh I I understand yon now. You want to see the chopping go on, and you are afraid that you Avill be taken for an aristo¬ crat if you wear that dress. You ivant to rcpreseut me."
•'Yes, I want to look sis near like you as po.ssible."
They exchanged dresses ; and soon the young, rich and fioble Mario do Nantes Avas clad in the rags of the Beggar Girl of I'ar¬ is. The hi.story of .Marie de Nantes Avas a s;id oue. Her father and two brothers had fallen victims to thc remorselc.-s fiends of the revolution, and a third and last broth¬ er had been seized. ]5ut of his fate slie Avas ignorant, although she expected that it Avould be similar to tluit of her relatives. He had been torn from ber but a i'cvi hours before. After the exchange had been made
thc pauper looked on the stockingless and shoeless i'eet and ankles of the lady, and said:
"That will never do. Your feet are too white aud delicate. Let me arrange mat¬ ters."
In a few moments JIarie was prepared, and in the fiiith and rags shc emerged into the street. She now took her course back toAA'ard the guillotine, and at length reach¬ ed the square, where the bloody work Avas still going on. Gradually she forced her way through the crowd, and nearer she came to the scaffold. She even forced a laugh at several remarks she heard around her, but thoso laughs sounded strangely. She now stood Avithin the platform, swept it with her eyes, but her brother Avas not there.    The ery was raised.
Her heart fiuttcred violently, aud she felt a faintnoss eome over her as shc heard the tramp of thc doomed man approaching. Her brother walked proudly and fearlessly forward, and ascended the very steps that led to the block. iAIarie's heart had failed her, and she was unable to put her resolve into execution. But now a sister's love swelled up in her heart, and she recovered her strength. She sprang forward, burst¬ ing through tho liue of guards, and ran up the steps. Grasping her brother by the hands, she cried :
'•What does this mean ? It is only the tiristocrats that are to die."
"Away Avoman," exclaimed one of the executioners.
"No; I Avill not go aAvay until you tcll mo why my brother is bound."
"Your brother w;is an echo."
"Well, who tire you ?"
"I am Marie; don't you knoAV me ?"
'The Beggar Girl ?"
"Aye."
'•But this is not your brother?"
"It is.    Ask him—ask him." .Young Antonio de Nantes had turned a scornful  glance   upon   the maiden, but a light crossed his face as he murmured:
"0, my sister."
"Is this your brother?" asked Robespierre of the supposed beggar, advancing near her.
"It i.s."
"Does Marie speak tho truth ?" asked Robespierre.
"She does," was the brother's rep!}'.
"And arc you de Nantes ?''
'•I tell you I am her brother."
"AVhy did you not tell us of this be¬ fore ?"
"I attempted to speak, but AA'as silen¬ ced."
"But you might have declared your¬ self."
'¦You Avould not have believed me "
"But your dress ?"
"It belongs to an aristocrat. Perhaps to him for whom I was taken."
"Robespierre advanced close to young Nantes, and gazed earnestly into his face; then he approached Marie, and looked steadily in her eyes for a short time. It Avas a moment of trial to the poor girl.— She trembled in spite of all her efforts to be calm. She almost folt that she .Avas lost, when the human fiend, whose word Avas laAV, turned and said :
'¦Release tUu uiau.^'
The chains were instantly removed, and Antonio de Nantes walked down from the scaffold, followed by his sister, while shouts rent the air, for they supposed he Avtis a commoner who had thus been saved. The young man worked his way through tho crowd as rapidly as possible, leading Marie. They scarcely escaped it before the poor girl fainted from tne intensity of her feel¬ ing. The brother scarcely knew what to do, but a hand Avas laid upon his arm, and a voice said :
"Bring her to my room again. She will be safe there."
Tho brother conveyed hor to the apart¬ ment of the p.auper, and asked of her :
"Have you seen the female before ?"
"Yes ! I know all about it," returned the pauper. "She has done it, and I am glad"
Before the noble lady hat? returned to consciousness the brother had learned all. When she did so, they both sought more secure quarters, after rewarding the beg¬ gar girl, as promised.
"Do you think Robespierre was really deceived ?" .isked Marie dc Nantes.
"I think not," returned the brother.
"He saw your plau. He admired your courage.    Could a fiend h.ave done less ?"
"Perh.ips this was the caso, but if so it Avas a deed of mercy, and is the only one that man ever did."
"You are right."
Antonio de Nantes Ava.s not tigain arrest¬ ed, and lived happily with that sister who had so nobly periled her own life to save him, by representing the Beggar Girl of Paris.
ltellK»iiJiJiSS.
A Country Post-Office.
A eountry pnst-offiee is thus described by the Kennebec Journal :
There are sometimes tragic-comic scenes witnessed at every Avell-regulated post¬ offiee. It is ((uite a humorous scene, when the mails are in, the schools just out, and the post-ofliee is filled to overflowing ;Jirst are thc little folks, small in stature, but witli a wonderful capacity for makiug a noise—and what is a boy AVorth if he can't mako a noiso ? Here in one corner Tom and Harry are engaged in the delightful pastime of pulling each other's hair, and seem to enjoy it immensely ; and here are a bcA'y of young misses, one of Avhom is saying, "Now don't you tcll for the world," to which they all assent with sundry jerks of the head ; and here just in front of us is "Unele John," asking "Aunt Hanntih" about "that ar' sick child," and at our left two young ladies are Avatching with ex¬ pectant faces certain boxes, to see if he has written. And when the mail is oistribu- ted it is quite .n study to Avatcli thc faces as the crowd passes out, from the self im¬ portant oifiee boy Avith his huge budget, to the shy young AvidoAV Avith her single dainty missive ; with now and then a sad face—yearning for words that do not come. The dull, empty boxes have a meaningless look about them now; but a moment ago they held the words of loving hearts .and issues of important business relations.
A Medical journal gives this ;isa cure for a eold : I'pon the first indication that you have taken cold stop eating until the cold is cured ; drink freely of eold water, induce a free perspiration over the entire body, either by exercise, the Turkish va- pqr, limp or hot water, bath or wet sheet pack, followed by a tepid spray or spong¬ ing; go to bed, cover up warm, and breathe all the pure air you can. Nine cases out of ten will yield to this treatment in less than twelve hours, and the tenth onc will hardly continue twenty-four hours.
About the Beverage which Fizzes but does not Inebriate.
As the warm weather approaches, soda fountains, Avhich haAO lain idle all winter, are mounted again, syrups manufactured, and various drug stores aud coufectionarics prepard to furnish a large class of thirsty citizens Avith a' foamy and favorite bever¬ age. A large proportion of our population, including thc fair sex, drink soda water as occasion offers. Even the dc\-otce of Bourbon, Avho sneezes at thiu wines, and looks upon lager as a weak invention of the enemy, relishes an occasional glass of soda-Avhcn his coppers are hot and his blood feverish. Others take it Avith a good dash of whisky in each glass.
Soda water is gimply plain '.vater, heavi¬ ly charged with carbonic acid gas, the gas being evolved through the .action of sul phuric acid on lime. Formerly soda ivater Avas made Avith soda and tartaric aeid, but as the sulphuric acid plau is much cheaper it is generally adopted. The fountains tliargcd with soda water .ire subjected to a heavy pressure, and when the work is eare¬ les.sly done they not unfrequently explode —sometimes causing loss of lii'e. Soda Avatcr, Avithout syrup, if unimpregnated Avith minends, is a healthy and pleasant beverage, having a slight biting, stinging taste in thc mouth and a.ssi.sting in the work of digestion when taken into the stomach. In England it is generally taken in this way or mixed Avith brandy. In this country, hoAvever, it is usually taken with syrups, flavored Avith some sort of fruity essence, cf Avhieh thc chemist has given us an endless A'ariety. In this state soda is more palatable, but not so healthy. Soda Avater is deleterious, mostly on ac¬ count of the lead it holds in solution. Be¬ ing conveyed through leaden pipes, the action of the carbonic acid gas rapidly ox- odizes the metal, Avhich is held in ,'olution by the beverage. Lead, as is Avell knoAVu, is a diingerous poison. When the Aveather is not, and the beverage in demand, the danger is not so great, as the fountain is exhausted before it has time to become thoroughly impregnated. It is not so good to drink soda on a cold, chilly dtiy, Aviien there is little demand for it. And occa¬ sionally, in generating the gas, the sulphu¬ ric acid slops over and mixes with the bcA'- erage.
Every popular fruit has its representa¬ tive syrup, the customer paying his money and taking his choice. The unsophistica¬ ted fondly imagine that these grateful syr¬ ups are manufactured directly from tho iruit, and it is a pity to undecei\-e them. But the glory of chemistry, as demonstra¬ ted in the manufacture of delicate flavors from the most unpromising substances. must be vindicated.
The most popular soda syrup is straw¬ berry. The glorious fruit after Avhich it is nautfd numbers its friends by the mil¬ lions, and tho soda tippler, Avith the re¬ membrance of vanished strawberrier and by gone cream still lingering on his palate, when he orders a glass of soda takes straw¬ berry in "his'n." We trust that in ex¬ posing the formula for the manufacture of strawberry syrup, nobody's appetite Avill be spoiled.
Butyric ether is the ba.cc of nil fmit gj: rups. Butyric ether is made sometimes of rancid butter, though old, rotten cheese is generally preferred, the loudest ([uality of limburger affording the best quality of ether. The cheese is treated with sul¬ phuric acid, and if a particularly nice and finely flavored ether is desired, a few chips of old leather are added. Any sort of leather Avill do, but old boots and shoes tire preferred. Strawberry syrup is made of twelve parts of butyric ether and one part of acetic ether, diluted with alcohol and water. A pint of real strawberry syrup added to the gallon of mixture Avill im¬ prove the syrup but it is not absolutely necessary; eolor with cochineal.
Riispbcrry syrup is made after the same formula, except that a pint of real raspber¬ ry syrup is added, if the chemist has it. If not, he takes a jar of his strawberry syrup, colors a little darker, and changes the label.
Banana syrup is made of butyroamylic ether, and acetic ether. The latter ether, is formed by the action of sulphuric aeid on sugar of lead.
Sarsaparilla is the simplest and nastiest of the syrups. Molasses is its base, with a little essence of sasafras and wintergreen added. A few roots of sarsaparilla "biled" in the mixture will do no harm and no good.
A'anilia syrup is made of tonqua beans and fresh hay.
I'ineapplc syrup is made of butyric and formic ether. Formic ether Avas formerly made by tho actiou of sulphuric acid on red ants, but latterly it is made of glycer¬ ine soap.
Peaeh syrup is made of bitter almonds and acetic ether. Twenty drops of bitter almonds will kill a man.
Necter is formed by mixing various .syrups and adding a little madeira wine— the wine being compounded of neutral .spirit, logAVOod, sugar and r.iisins.
Lemon syrup is the purest that can be obtained. It is made of citric acid and sugar, Avith perhaps a few lemon peels. The citric acid is made of lemons.
Scores of other syrups arc in use. Lat¬ terly, buchu is used to some extent. It has a greenish, nasty look, and a taste that is unpleasant at first, though a taste for it is easily acquired.
The above statements in regard to the manufacture of syrups are a true bill.
A glass of soda water with syrups costs the manufacturer about a cent or a cent and a quarter. It retails for tcn cents, leaving a good margio for profit. The re¬ tailer makes from 800 to 900 per cent, on each glass.
Notwithstanding all that wo have said, soda water is a comparatively harmless bcA'crage. Barring the led held in solu¬ tion it may be drank even to excess, aud the drinker live to a green old age. The soda toper never disgraces himself by whooping and yelling about streets or roll¬ ing in the gutter, nerer gets in the station house, never beats his wife, and doesn't steal the spoon? at the hotel table.
"While a vender of greens in Boston was endeavoring to dispose of his stock his poor old nag balked, and refused to budge an inch. i
The driver finally commenced belaboring the animal with a stick, when an old lady thrust her head out of the Avindow and exclaimed, "Have you no mercy ?"
"No, ma'am," replied the podler, '•Noth¬ ing but greens."
A Galesburg f'armer whose pew rent Avas raised to $:i5, exclaimed: 'Great Cresar, liere's a nice statg of affairs—the gospel going up and park going doAvn. What's to become of us ?"
A postmaster by tho name of Goodale when he is in a hurry, signs himself XX.
Stimulants.
That man is a maniac, a deliberate sui¬ cide, AA'ho drinks tea, cofl'ee, or ardent spirits of any kind to induce him to per¬ form a Avork in hand, and when he feels too weak to go through with it Avithout sueh aid. This is the re.ison that the majority of great orators and public faA'or- ites die drunkards. The pulpit, the bench, the bar, thc forum, have contributed their legions of victims to drunken habits. The beautiful woman, the sweet singer, the conversationalist, the periodical writers, have filled but too often a drunkard's grave. Now that the press has become such a great power in the land, when the magazine must come out on a certain day, and the daily newspapers at a fixed hour, nothing waits, everything must give way to the inexorable call for copy, and sick or AvcU, disposed or indisposed, asleep or awake, the copy mast come; the writer must compose his article, whether he feels like it or not, and if he is not in the A'cin of writing, he must whip himself up to it by the stimulas of driuk. Some of the greatest writers of the country have con¬ fessed to the practico on urgent oecasions, of taking a sip of brandy at the end of every written page or even oftener. Lord Byron, at the end of every paragraph some¬ times I
It may have escaped the general reader's notice, that more men have died young, who haA'c been connected with the Ncav York press, within ten years, and that too from intemperance, than in .ill the other educational callings put together; young men whose talents haA'c been of the first order, and gave promise ofa life of useful¬ ness, honor and eminence. The best pos¬ sible thing for a man to do, when ho feels too tired to perform a task or too weak to carry it through, is to go to bed and sleep a week if he can ; this is the only true recuperation of brain poAver ; the only ac¬ tual renewal of brain force; because, during sleep the brain is in a sense of rest, in a condition to receive any appropriate particles of nutriment from the blood which take the plaee of those which have been consumed in previous labor, since the very act of thinking consumes, burns up solid particles, as every turn of the Avhecl or screw of the splendid steamer is the re¬ sult of consumption by fire of the fuel in thc furnace. That supply of consumed brain substance ean only be had from the nutrient particles in the blood which were obtained from the food eaten previously, and the brain is so constituted that it can best receive and appropriate to itself those nutrient particles during the state of rest, quiet and of stillness sleep. Mere stim¬ ulants supply nothing themselves—they goad the brain, force it to a grciter eon- sumption of its substance, untii that sub¬ stance hasbeen so fully exhausted that there is not power enough left to receive a supply; just as men are so near death by thirst or.starvation, that there is not pow¬ er enough left to swallow .anything, and all is oAcr. The incapacity of the brain for receiving recuperative particles some¬ times comes on with the rapidity of a stroke of lightning, and the man becomes mad in au instant ; in an instant falls in convul- =W.>.i^n fin inst-int Iosps all ,«pmc<' nnd is an idiot! It was under circuiiastances of this very sort, in the very middle of a sen¬ tence of great oratorical power, oue of the most eminent minds of the ag«4prgot his ideas, pressed his hand against his fore¬ head, and after a moment's silence said, "God, as with a sponge, has blotted out my mind." Be assured readers, "there is rest for the weary," only in early and abundant sleep, and Avi.sc and happy are they who have firmness enough to resolve that "By God's help I will seek it in no other AViiy."—Hall's Journal of Health.
Boxing the Ears.
Boxing the ears is an inexcusable bru¬ tality ; many a child has been made deaf for life by it, because the "drum" of the ear is a membrane as thin as paper, stretch¬ ing like a eurtaiu just inside the external bf the ear. There is nothing but air be¬ hind it, and any violent concussion is liable to rend it in two, and the "hearing" is destroyed forever, because the sense of hearing is caused by the vibrations of this drum or "tympanum." Picking tho ears is a raost mischievous praetice. In attempt¬ ing to do this with hard substances, an unlucky motion has many a time pierced the drum and made it as useless as a pierced India-rubber life preserver; noth¬ ing harder or sharper than the end of the little finger, \\ith the n.iil pared, ought ever to be introduced into the ear, un¬ less by a physician. Persons are often seen endeavoring to remiJA'c the -wax" of tho ear with the head ofa piu; this ought never to be done, first, because it not only endangers the rupture of the ear by being pushed too far in, but not so far it may grate against the drum, excite inflamma¬ tion aud an ulcer, which will finally eat all the parts away, espeeially of a scrofu¬ lous constitution; second, hard substances have slipped in, and caused the necessity of painful, dangerous and expensive oper¬ ations to fish or cut out; third, the wax is manufacturod by nature to guard the eutrance from dust, insects and unmodified cold air, and Avhen it has subserved its purpose, it becomes dry, scaly, light, and in this condition is easily pushed outside by new formations of wax Avithin. Occa¬ sionally wax may harden, and may inter¬ fere v/ith tho hearing; but when this is the case it is the part of wisdom to consult a physician, and let him decide what is the niatter and Avhat the remedy. If onc can¬ not be had the only safe plan is to let fall into the ear three or four drops of tepid water night and morning; the saliva is better still, it is softer and more penetra¬ ting, but glycerine is far preferable to either; it is one of thc best, blandest fluids in nature, and very rapidly pene¬ trates tho hardest wax, cools the parts and restores them to healthful eondition. If, in a week, there is not a decided improve¬ meut in the hearing, medical advice ought to be had at once, as, next to the eye, the car is the most delicate organ of the body.
A CoNFiDiXG individnai who believes everything he reads in the newspapers, AVas advised in a stray item, to pin down some old new.spapers over his squashes to keep the bugs oft'. He tried the experi¬ ment on one hill. Two days passed, and on the morning ofthe third he raised the covering expecting to find the plants in third leaves, but, instead of this the ten¬ der plants were withered and dried up ; not a green thing remained. He had cov¬ ered the hill with the Bangor Democrat, containing the speech of Jeff. Davis in Georgia—enough to blast antK stop the groAvth ofa 'bull thistle."
How to Keep Cool.
A correspondent furnishes the London Times with the following hints, which will be found pertinent to our own climate :
" In tbese hot days a cool apartment is a real luxury, to be had far oftener than most people suppose possible. The secret eonsists not in letting in cool air, for nat¬ urally all do that whenever they can get a chance, but in keeping out the hot air. If the air outside a room or house be cooler than the air inside, lot it in by all means; but if it be hotter, carcfuliy keep it out.
" A staircase windoAV left open during the uight will often cool the passages of a house, and the rooms, too, if their doors be not shut; but it must be closed at eight or uine o'clock in the morning, or, if on the sunny side, at four or fi\'e o'clock, and the blind drawn down. The mistake people generally make is to throw open windows at all hours of the day, no mat¬ ter whether the a'l-mosphere outside be cool or scorehing.
" Let us have somc air, they say, and in comes tlie treacherous breeze—for even hot air is pleasant while it is gently blow* ing, taking aw.iy perspiration, and there¬ by cooling the skin; Irst this apartment is made warmer; in spite of the draught they find their room to be more uncom¬ fortable thiin before.
" Let in cool air—keep out hot—that is the only formula to insure the minimum of discomfort. Sitting-rooms may gener¬ ally be kept cool during thc whole day if the doors be only opened for ingress and egress, and windows kept closed and shield¬ ed from direct sunshine by a blind. If the atmosphere of a room be impure from any cause, let it be renewed, hot air is less injurious than bad air. Ifa room be small in comparison with the number of per¬ sons engaged jn it, free A'cntilatian be¬ comes indispensible.
" In a cooking apartment the tempera¬ ture will probably be higher than outside, hence the free admission of hot air will be desirable. If persons do not object to sit in a direct draught of air, windows and door may be opened, a breeze being more refreshing, even though several degrees warmer, than still air ; but under nearly all other circumstances rooms should be kept dosed as much as possible until after sundown, or till the air outside is cooler than that inside. Let in cool air; keep out hot."
Never mention what you wish should not bo mentioned again, two to a secret are enough, and one should not know any¬ thing about it.
A Dead Hero.
Jlartiu Cooney is the name of the boy who, deep down in the horrid depths of tho Pittston mine, performed a deed of heroic self-sacrifice which shames into in¬ significance the actions by which many happier men have climbed to fame and honor. Cooney and a companion stood at the bottom of the shaft as the car was about to ascend for the last time. High above them roaring flame and blinding smoke and the crash of falling timbers were fast closing up the narrow way to light and life; below them, in the gloomy pit, were a score of men working on, uncon¬ scious of their deadly peril. Cooney, with one foot upon the car, thought of his en¬ dangered friends. He prnp.^.sed to his coihpahion that they sbould return and warn the miners of their thre.itened fate. Cooney, without a moment's hesitation, but with full consciousness that he had chosen almost certain death, leaped from the car and groped his w.iy back through the grimy darkness. It was too late; the miners had closed the ventilating door be¬ fore he reached them, standing there, be¬ tween that immovable barrier and the shaft,the hot breath of the fiery pit poured in upon him in a pitiless blast, and so he died. He was but a lad, poor, unlearned, and probably unconscious of possession of the higher virtues, and yet he died as great and noble a death as man can OA'cr die; he deliberately sacrificed his own life in an attempt to save those of his friends. Here is a theme for the most exalted poetic genius. Compared with this poor boy, how quickly do the profane and slangy heroes of the coarse poetasters of the Hay school sink into contempt; and how unworthy and insufficient seems the fiction in which they are plaeed ! It is from sueh persons as this pour and obscure lad, doing deeds of infinite heroism Avith a simplicity that is altogether pathetic, that we learn that the purer and higher qualities of the race— the qualities which reveal the presence of the spark of Divinity in the soul—exist even yet in the humblest of mankind.
Sleeping, Fainting, Apoplexy.
When a man is asleep, his pulse beats and his lungs play, but he is without sense, and you can wake him up.
If a person faints, he, too, is without sense, but he has no pulse and does not breathe.
Apoplexy is between the two ; the heart beats, the lungs play as in sleep, and there is uo sense as in fainting, but you cannot shake the man back to life.
In sleep, the face is natural; in a faint¬ ing fit, it has the pallor of death ; in apo¬ plexy, it is swollen, turgid, and fairly livid.
Ifa man is .isleep Jet him alone; nature will wake him up as soon as he has got sleep enongh.
'\Vhen a person faints, all that is needed is to lay him down flat on the floor and he will "come to" in double quick time. He fainted because the heart missed a beat, failed for an instant, ftiiled for only once to eend the amount of blood to the brain. If you place thc patient in a horizontal position, lay him on his back, it does not require much force of the heart to send blood on a level to tho head ; but you set a man up, the blood has to be shot upward to the head, and this requires much more force; yet in nine etises out of ten, if a person faints and falls to the floor, the first thing done is to run to him and set him in a chair.
In apoplexy, as there is too much blood in the head, every one can see that the best position is to set a man up, and the blood naturally teuds downward, as much so as water will come out of a hottle when turned upside down, if the cork is out.
Dinner Horns.
This is the oldest and most sacred kind there is. It is set to musik, and plays "Home Sweet Home" about noon. It will arrest a man and bring him in quicker than a sheriff's warrant. It kauses the deaf to hear, and the dumb to shout for joy. Glorious old instrument! long may your lungs last I AVhisky Horn: This horn varys in length from three to six inches in their favorite size. It is difl'er¬ ent from other horns, being of a fluid na- tur. It ia really more pugnashus than the ram's horn ; six inches of it will knock a man perfectly calm—Josh Billings.
He learns mueh who studies other men, but he learns more who studies himself.
A Mistake.
It is a great mistake to suppose that great Wealth brings happiness, although too many of us are in thc habit of imagin¬ ing that such is the case. It was once said by a millionaire, who had made his wealth by his own efforts thaf the first dollar he made gave him more delight than the thousands he gathered afterward. He learned to despise so small a thing as a dollar, and in doing so forfeited all thc joy that its possession gave him. In all our relations the valuo of small things is constantly suggested to us. The sum ot happiness is made up of trifles. The fra¬ grance of a flower will sometimes steal over our depressed and despondent spirits like a golden memory, and fill us with an un¬ dcfinable peace that disp.itches aH the darkness from our souls. A cheery word, an endearment or caress, or a voice of en¬ couragement will sometimes awaken our half-dead hearts into new life, and change the sullen and somber aspect of all things arouud us into brightness and beauty. The familiar hearts, the easy chair, the open windoAv, the Avcll-worn book, the kiss of children, the voice and smile of a loved wife, thc family board, the chance visit of an esteemed friend, or to come down to still smaller trifles, the evening pipe, the merry hum of the tea kettle, and the blazing fire after a battle with the rough weather outside, these and such little things as these, involve more happiness and solace than the great triumphs and success that awaits us in the world. The world's triumphs and successes soon clog us, so that AYC demand greater victories to¬ day than Ave were satisfied with yesterday. But these littlo trifles, if we are wise enough to be content with them, grow dearer as they grow familiar, and become parcnnial fountains of joy and solace. Let us take care ofthe little things of life that contain so much of happiness or misery, and thegreat things m.iy be left to take of themselves.
Mt Mmt €iixtU,
Heaven.
Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy skies,
Beyond death's cloudy portal. There is a land where beauty never dies.
And love becomes immortal.
A land whose light is never dimmed by shade,
Whose fields are ever vernal; Where nothing beautiful can ever fade,
But blooms for aye, eternal.
We may not know how sweet the balmy air, How bright und fair its flowers ;
We may not hear the songs that echo tbere ; Throagh those enchanted bowers.
The city's shining towers we may not see.
With our dim earthly vision ; For death, the silent warden, keeps the key
That opes that elysian.
But sometimes wl^f n adown thc  western  sky
The fiery sunset lingers, Its golden gates swing inward noiselessly,
Unlocked by unseen fingers.
And while they stand a moment half ajar,
Gleams from the inner glory Stream brightly through the aznre vault afar.
And half reveal the story.
Tit-Bits, Taken on the  Fly.
The last accounts from Zanzibar states that Dr. Livingstone had made a journey to a point 200 miles west of Tanganyika.
The New York Tribune announces the return from the far AVest of Hon. G. A. Grow, ofPennsylvania, in vigorous health.
The Democratic leaders in North Car¬ olina, in view of the recent defeat of their party at the polls, are calling lustily for a reorganization of the party.
Between fifty and sixty persons, includ¬ ing the proprietor and wife of the Alham¬ bra Hotel, at Atlantic City, wete poison¬ ed oue day last week by eating desert.
The Rev. Thomas H. Hanna, of Pitts¬ burgh, Penn., has distinguished himself among his clerical brethren by refusing in exchange his §2,500 salary in the City of Smoke for a JG,000 salary (gold) in ¦ San Francisco. Such loud calls as that seldom go unheeded.
A'ictor Hugo's fortune is estimated at over 2,000,000 francs, and yet sinee the l''r»nco-J:'ru8»ian war iie lias liaU au appre¬ hension that he might come to want, and many believe ho has grown deranged on the subjeet of money—in other words that he is a money maniac.
Secretary Boutwell confirms the Lon¬ don advices of the absorption of the re¬ mainder of the 8200,000,000 five per cent loan by Jay Cooke, M'Culloch k Co., iu connection with other London capital¬ ists. The amount will be over one hund¬ red and thirty millions.
The Hon. Schuyler Colfax writes to a friend in AA^ashington that he is now in excellent health, better than for many years, that he is taking constant out-door exercise in the field and garden, and wri¬ ting but little. Next week, in company with Senator AVindom, he will vist Minne¬ sota.
Mr. John Stuart Mill has been aston¬ ishing his Scottish friends by the versatil¬ ity of his accomplishments. W'hile visiting Edinburgh, this season, he passed much ofhis time in sketching, whieh he does, it is said, to perfection. Mr. Mill, besides, is a fine pianist, an able philologist, arch- (Elogist and botanist.
The New York thieves do it in this, one of their many ways: A business man, having a claim against New York city of $10,000, was unable to collect it until, after a significant intimation, he made out his bill for 864,000. He then promptly received his $10,000, the balance (54,000) having been pocketed by the Tammany thieves. The Tribune gives the name and residence of theparty engag¬ ed in this transaction.
Thc friends ofthe Cary sisters will be pained, though not surprised, to learn that PhtEbe Cary died at Newport, R. I., on Monday night. From a touching sketch of her elder sister, written a few weeks ago, for a paper called the Ladies Reposi¬ tory, we gather some particulars of her early life. Tho sisters were the daugh¬ ters of Robert and Elizabeth Cary. The father was a farmer. His place, whieh had heen reclaimed from the original Avilderncss, was about eight miles north of Cincinnati, and lying in the Miami A'alley. Here Alice was born in 1820, and Phoebe five years later. They grew up simple country girls. They owed most of their educatiou to their mother, who appears to h.ivo been a woman of unusual intelli- ' gence. They saw few books or newspa¬ pers, but wandering as they did daily amid the picturesque scenes of the Miami A'alley, acquired that familiarity with and fondness for nature which showed them¬ selves so plesantly in their writings in af¬ ter years.
A movement has been inaugurated at Danville in this State, looking, it would seem, to the union of labor and capital. A call for a meeting, to be held at the rooms of the "Anti-Union League," says : "Rec¬ ognizing the rights of all men, manufac¬ turer and laborer, must in the end triumph. AVe believe in the eternal brotherhood of mankind, that all men are equal before the lawa, tbat the rights and duties of all must be respected to insure prosperity, peace and happiness to society and the eountry. No reign of terror, mob law or strikes can exist without injury to all men." In con¬ clusion it adds: "Furnaces out of blast, mines closed, mechanics idle, laborers out of employment are the fesults of Unions which are not based upon mutual princi¬ ples." Tho main object of this uew or¬ ganization is to establish the idea that strikes or lock-outs should invariably be the last resort of laborers or employers, and that mutual concession and concilia¬ tion be made the understanding between the two classes.
The Fruit of Sorrow.
He who has no de,ir friend in the better world, who has not been called to surren¬ der to heaven ono whom he has cherished here, lacks as yet an experience that would link him to the spiritual and the eternal Avith the most fervent sympathies of his being. All heavenly he raay be in his temper and in his life; his faith may be strong^ his hopp bright, his .union with Christ complete, but he wants that tender and endearing sympathy with heaven that comes from having there a parent, a child, a sister, a wife, and that gives to the un¬ seen world a home like feeling and a pre¬ sent reality. He who has caught the last affectionate breathings of the departing saint, who, even as from the other side of the river of death, has received the fare¬ well greeting of faith, and love, and joy, has henceforth a new experience of things spiritual and heavenly; has a vested inter¬ est in hraven, has a more assured hold upon its realities, and is a nearer partaker of its life.
The gain of such an experience, the value of such a palpable and personal in¬ terest in that world, may well mitigate, if it do not compensate, his loss. New links bind him to that great spiritual world of whieh he is a member, and of whieh he shall soon become more cognizant, when flesh and sense and all the external media of thought shall give place to the direct intuition of God and of the future state.—¦ As each relationship of life—son, brother, husband, father—opens a new experience of sympathy and affection, so does this per¬ sonal affinity with some already in the world of spirits—the marriage of souls that survives the dissolution of earthly ties— bring with it a life-like experience of the unseen, the spiritual, the eternal that binds the soul more closely to its higher destiny, and imparts to it in hopes and aspirations an exceeding gain. Why art thou bur¬ dened, C>, my soul, with the pain of earth¬ ly loss! Is not thy loss their gain whom thnn didst Inve ? and if their g-ain i.s not thy gain also, who art forever Ifiiked to them as a partner of their blessedness ?— J. P. Thompson.
Level Up.
It is better fo level up than to level down. The average man grabitates doAni-' ward with sufficient rapidity when left alone. Even the practice and principles of the Christian neei bi:§cing. The wise physician does not, in ordinary eases, ad¬ minister laxatives continuously, nor with great frequency. He makes larger accounts of tonics. It is agreed, and by those who are not devoted to the dissemination of tho principles of puritanism, that the ag« tends to laxness. Selt-indulgence com¬ mands the greatest host. Of Chrbtiana whose knees are weak, and AA'hose arms are feeble, who go forth to battle with "sword of lath and shield of pasteboard," we have whole regiments. We want men and wo¬ men in our churches and out of churches, who think of other things than how far it is safe to go in the direction of danger.— Tha age wants vprtebrn] columns. In the prayer meeting, and the pulpit, in the home and the street, by the preaching of the life and- lips, of the voice and pen—be a tonic. Or, to come back to the original figure, level up.— Congregationalist.
 —i»   ^    ¦—¦	
The Dying Never Weep.
It is a striking fact that the dying never weep. The sobbing, the heart-breaking agony of the circle of friends around the death-bed call forth no responsive tears from the dying. Is it because he is insen¬ sible and stiff in the chill of dissolution ? That cannot be, for he asks for his father's hand, as if to gain strength in the mortal struggle, and leans on the breast of his mother, sister or brother in still conscious affection. Just before expiring, he calls the loA'ed ones, and with quivering lips says, "Kiss me !" showing-that the love he has ever borne in his heart is still fresh and warm. It must be because the dying have reached too deep for earthly sorrows, too transcendent for weeping. They are face to face with higher and holier things, with the Father in Hciven and His angels. There is no weeping in that blessed abode to which he is hastening.
 ^   »   »     	
Old Age Without Religion.
Alas! for him who grows old without growing wise, and to whom the future world does not set open her gates, when ho is excluded by the present. The Lord deals so graciously with us in the decline of life, that it is a shame to tnrn a deaf ear to the lessons whioh He gives. The eye becomes dim, the ear dull, the tongue falters, the feet totter, all the senses refuse to do their office, and from every side re¬ sounds the call, "Set thy house in order, for the term of thy pilgrimage is at hand."
Thy playmates of youth, the fellow la¬ borers of manhood die away, and take the road before us. Old age is like some quiet chamber, in Avhich, d'sconnected with the visible world, wc can prepare in silence for the world that is unseen.—Tholuclc.
The Bible.
Out of it have come all pure moralities, forth from it have sprung all sweet chari¬ ties. It has been tho motive power of re¬ generation and reformation to millions of men. It has comforted the humble, con¬ soled the mourning, sustained the suffering and given trust and triumph to the dying. The wise old man has fallen asleep with it folded to his breast. The simple cottager has used it for his dying pillow; and even thc innocent child has breathed its last happy smile with its fingers between its promise-freighted leaves.