Newspaper Page Text
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
All advertisements for leer than 3 mouth* 10 cents per line for each insertion. Specie I notices one-half additional. All re eolation* of Associa tions, communication* of a limited or indirtdal interest and notices of marriage* and deaths, ex ceeding fire lines. It eta. per Hue. All legal noti ce* of erery kind, end ell Orphans' Court and other Judicial tales, we required by lew to be pub lished in both papers. Editorial Notices 15 cents per line. All Advertising doe after first insertion. A liberal discount mode to yearly advertisers. 3 monts. ( months. 1 year One square 4-5 $ AM SIO.OO Twe squares 0.00 IN 18.00 Three square. 8.00 11.00 10.00 One-fourth column li.oo 18.00 35.00 Half column 18.00 25.00 45.00 One column 30.00 45.00 80.00 Nnwsf'APEN LAWS.—W would call the special attention of Post Masters and subscribers to the tsociEßß U the folloiring synopsis of the News paper laws: I. A Postmaster it repaired to give notice 6y (reternir.g a paper does not answer the law) when a subscriber does not take bis paper out of the office, and state the reasons tor its not being taken; and a neglset to d,; so makes the Posuna.-. ter repaaaesUc to die publishers tor the payment. 1, Any person who take* a paper from the Post office, whether directed to his noma or another, or whether he has subscribed or not is responsible far the pay. 3. If a person orders his paper discontinued, he must pay all arrearages, or Ihe publisher mav continue to send it until payment'is mode, and oliect the whole amount, uAetker it 5 re/tea fro* (At ofice or MO t_ There can be a. legal discontin uance until the payment is mode. 4. If the subscriber orders his paper to he stopped at s certain time, and the publisher con tinues to tend, the subscriber is bound to pay for it. if AM taiet it out of tAt Pott OJict. The law proceeds upon the ground that a man must pay for what he uses. 5. The courts have decided that refusing to take newspapers and periodicals from the Post office or removing and having them uncalled for, is prima facia evidence of intentional fraud. ?rofassioaai & 2usiarss gards. ATTORNEYS AT LAW." j J M.REYNOLDS, ATTORNEY" AT LAW. BEDFORD. PA. All business intrusted to him wU! be attended to with great care. Upon notice 3 111 appear for par ties in suits before Justices of the Peace in JOJ part of the county. Office with J. W. Dickerson, Esq., on Julians St., next door north of Menge! House. tmarly. j \Y C.HOLAHAS, ATTORN EY-AT LAW, BEDFORD, PA. Jan. 28, 7FL-tf I LEX. KING. JR., A A TTORXE 1.4 f-LA W. BEDFORD, PA., ! All business entissted to his cave will receive prompt and careful attention Office three doors ' South of the Court House, lately occupied by J. i W. Dickerson. * ncv26 AND LINGENFELTKR, ' ATTORNEYS AT LAW, aaoroßD, FA. J Have formed a partnership in the practice of 'he Law, in new brick building near the Lutheran Church. [April i, 1889-tf A. POINTS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BEDFORD, PA. Respeetfnlly tenders his professional services to the public. Office in the I.vyci azßaild ing, second floor.) 20- Collections promptly made. [April,L"69-tf. M. ALSIP, J ATTORNEY AT LAW, BXDFORD, PA., Will faithfully and promptly attend to NIL busi- J ness entrusted to his care in Bedford or. D SDJ.IB c g counties. Military claims, Pensions, hack PAY, Bounty, As. speedily collected. Office with Mann A Spang, on Juliana street, 2 doors south of the Mengel House. opl 1, 1869.— tf. JR. DURBORROW, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BsaroßD, PA., Will attend promptly to all business intrusted to bis care. Collections mode on the shortest no tice. He •*, SU*o, a regularly lieenwed Claim Agent and all give special attention to the prosecution * lis t against the Government for Pensions, Bock T sy, Bounty, Bounty Lands, Ac. Office on Juliana street, one door South of the inquirer office, and nearly opposite the 'Mengel House" April I. 1869:tf S. L. RESSBt I- - .J. B. LOSGK.NRCSSP. A LOKGENECKER, ATTOR.VRTS A COCSSXLLORS AT LAW, Bedford, Pa., Will attend promptly and faithfully to all busi- J cess entrusted to their care. Special attention given to collecti >ns and the proseeution of claims for Back Pay, Bounty, Pensions, Ac. MSS-OFFICE on Juliana street, south of the Court House. Apri hßSilyr. j F M'D. SBASPZ R. F. XERR SHARPE A KERR, A TTORXE TS-A T-I.A R". Will practice in the Courts of Bedford and ad joining counties. All business entrusted to their care will receive careful and prompt attention. Pensions, Bounty, Back Pay, Ac., speedily col- ; lected from the Government. Office on Juliana street, opposite the banking house of Reed A Schell. Bedford, Pa. Apr L,69:tf ( PHYSICIANS. QR. B. F. HARRY, Respectfully tenders his professional ser- : vices to the eitisens of Bedford end vicinity, j Office en 1 residence on Pitt Street, in the building formerly occupied by Dr. J. H. Hofias. [Ap'L 1,89. MISCELLANEOUS. TACOB BRENNEMAN, 0 WOODBERRY, PA., SCRIVENER, CONVEYANCER, LICENSED CLAIM AGENT, and Ex-OSeio JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, Wili attend to ail business entrusted into his hands with promptness and despatch. WiU remit mon- ! ey by draft to any port IF the country. ITsely DM ANIEL BORDER, Prrr STREET TWO POORS WEST OF THE BED FORD HOTEL, BxiroßT, PA. WATCHMAKER AND DEALER IN JEWEL- ! RY. SPECTACLES. AC. He keeps on h*md a stock of fine Gold and Sil ver Watches, Spectacles of Brilliant Double Befin. Ed Glasses, also Scotch Pebble Glasses. Gold W atch Chains, Breast Pins, Finger Rings, best quality of Gold Pens. He will supply to order any thing in his line not on hand. [apr.2B,'6s. W. C ROUSE, • DEALER IS CIGARS, TOBACCO, PIPES, &C. | On Pitt strait one door east of Geo. &. Oster A Co. 'a Store, Bedford, PA., is now prepared J to sell by wholesale all kinds of CIGARS. AH ; orders promptly filled. Persons desiring anything : IN his line will do well to give aim A call. Bedford April 1. •89., P N. HICKOK , . ~ DENTIST, i Office at the old stand in BAVR BCILDISO, Juliana St.. BEDFORD. AH operations pertaining to Sttrgieal and Mechanical DtntUtry performed with care and I WABRANTED. AuattAttict administered, rcken dtoired. Ar• ' Hficial teetA interted at. per set, 98.00 and up. icard. As I am detsimined to do a CASH BUSINESS or none, I hare reduced the prices for Artificial Teeth of the various hinds. 28 per cent., and of j Gold Killings S3 per cent This reduetiuo will he ! made only to strictly Cosh Patients, and ail SUCH ' will receive prompt attention. 7febSß W M LLOYD ,T • BANKER. Transact* s General Banking Business, and makes J collections on all accessible points ia the United States. GOVERNMENT SECURITIES. GOLD, SIL VER, STERLING and CONTINENTAL EXCHANGE bought and sold. 1 . S. KEY ENUE STAMPS of ail descriptions always on hand. Accounts of Merchants, Mechanics, Farmers and all othar solicited. INTEREST ALLOWED ON TIME DEPOSITS, I Jan. 7, 78. MARRIAGE CKRTIFCATKS.—On hand and for sole at the Inquirer office, a fine assort ment of Marriage Certificates. Clergymen and J ustioes should have them. LUTZ& JORDAN. Etlitoi-s and Proprietors. |FAGMW COLUMN. I*o ADVERTISERS: . THE BEDFORD INQUIRER. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BT LUTZ & JORDAN, OFFICE ON JULIANA STREET, BEDFORD, PA. THE BEST ADVERTISING MEDIUM IN SOUTH WESTERN PENNBYL VAN IA. CIRCULATION OVER 1500. HOME AND FOREIGN ADVERTISE MENTS INSERTED ON REA SONABLE TERMS. A FIRST CLASS NEWSPAPER TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: 12.00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. JOB PRINTING : ALL KINDS OF JOB WORK DONE WITH NEATNESS AND DISPATCH, AND IN THE LATEST & MOST APPROVED STYLE, SUCH AS POSTERS OF ANY SIZE, CIRCULARS, BUSINESS CARD.- WEDDING AND VISITING CARDS. BALL TICKETS, PROGRAMMES, CONCERT TICKETS, ORDER BOOKS, SEGAR LABELS, RECEIPTS, LEGAL BLANKS, PHOTOGRAPHER'S CARDS, BILL HEADS, LETTER HEADS, PAMPHLETS, PAPER BOOKS, ETC. ETC. ETC. ETC. ETC Oar facilities for doing all kind; of Job Printing are equalled by aery few establishment* in the country. Order* by mail promptly Slled. All letter* should be addreued t LUTZ k JORDAN. 3 Horal anfc Snirral #rtospapcr, Dcboteb to politics, otiucation, ?litrraturr anb j-H orals. I'oftnu WAITING FOR THE SPRING. As breezes stir the morning, A silence reigns in air ; Steel blue the heavens above me, Moveless the trees and bare ; Yet unto me the stillness This harden seems to bring— "Patience ! the earth is waiting. Waiting for ihe Spring." Stroog a*h and sturdy chestnut, Rough oak and poplar high, Stretch oat their sapless branches Against the wintry sky, Even the guilty aspen Halb ceased her quivering, As though she too were waiting. Waiting for the Spring. i strain mine eyes to listen, If happy, where I stand, But one stray note of music May sound in all the land, "Why art thou mate, O blackbird 7 (O thrush, why dost not sing? Ah ! surely they were waiting. Waiting lor the Spring." O heart' the days are darksome! 0 heart! thy nights are drear ; But soon shall streams of sunshine. Proclaim the turning year, Soon shall the trees be ieafy, Soon every bird shall sing. Let them be silent waiting, Waiting for the Spring. j __ A DOMESTIC TALE. IF THE SHOE FITS THEE, W EAR IX. Mrs. Thompson stood by the kitchen table paring potatoes for dioner. Some thing was evidently wrong with the little lady, for there was an unmistakable air of "spite" in the way she tossed the potatoes into the pan of cool spring water, waiting 1 there to receive them. It was sultry weath er: and through the open window came the sound of mowers whetting their scythes, blended with the call of the robin. But it j only irritated Mrs. Thompson—indeed everything irritated her that day. Looking out from the back door, might be seen a lovely landscape, with broad reaches of' meadow-land, fringed with graceful bolts ot birch; and softly-rounded mountains lifting their velvety foreheads to the white, fleecy clouds, that went slowly sailing across the exquisite ether, like huge drifts of thistle down. But this also irritated her; every thiog could be beautiful save her life, and that was cold, and rude, and barren. At least, Mrs. Thompson, io the plentitude of her present unsatisfactory mood, was telling herself that it was. To begin at the beginning. Jane Law-' re nee had been au unusual!-. romantic girl, and had gone for two years to a boarding school. She had always fancied that she I would marry some famous artist or scholar, who would take her to Rome, and Venice, where she might live in a perpetual dream of beauty. She so loved beautiful things 1 I Perhaps all women do; aud that may be the reason so many are found ready to barter 1 love for gold. But, contrary to all her pre conceived notion-. be married Robert Thompson, a I plain, practical farmer: aud instead of touring it in Italy, she went to live at the old homestead which had been the abode of the Thompsons for generations. Dreams and reality are so very different, you see. Robert Thompson was a working farmer, as well as a practical man. and all his people worked. His mother had worked in her dsy, his sisters had worked, he expected j bis wife to work. She took to it gleefully. She had not been brought up with high notions by any means, and at first the work did not seem so much. But every experi enced lady knows how the labor terms to ! accumulate in a plain farmer's household as the years after marriage go on. There were plenty of men and boys about, but only one woman servant was kept, and Mrs. Robert Thompson grew to find she helped at nearly everything, save perhaps the very roughest of the labor. In place of lounging in elegant foreign studios, or gliding down famed ca nals or streams in picturesque gondolas, she bad butter and cheese to make, and poultry to raar and dinners to cook in the long, low ceiled kitchen, and (he thousand and one cares upon her shoulders that make up a busy household. Quite a contrast, as must be admitied. With things a little different, she'd not have minded the work so much, could she have had nice carpets and tasteful furniture, and books, and a pieture or two, and flow ers. The home was so very hard and prac tical, and its surrounding* were getting so shabby. At first she had not noticed this, or cared for it; but every year, as the years went on, made matters look dingier. Old Mrs. Thompson had not cared to be smart and nice; Robert never thought about it And what though he bad ?—it is ooly natu ral for men to assume that what had dine for a mother would do for a wife. In time Mrs. Robert Thompson began to ask that some renovation should take place, at which Robert only stared; the house that bad done without painting so long, could do yet, and the old things in it were good enough for them. She did not venture to urge the point, but she did press for some flowers. Tb<-re was a strip of ground under the south parlor windows where a shrub of sweet brier grew, and pinks, sweet-williams, and marigolds blossomed in their season. But they were old-fashioned, common flowers, and she pined for the rare and elegant plants she had seen in conservatories and public gardens. But Robert Thompson would as soon have thought of buying the moon, as such useless things as flowers. The garden, like himself, was all practical, filled with : cabbages, onions, potatoes, and sweet herbs. And so went on her unlovely existence, in ; which dissatisfaction was becoming a night mare. Now and again, on those somewhat rare occasions whto she went out to visit | ber neighbors, and saw how pretty many of i them bad things she came home more than ever out of heart. The worst was (or the best) there was no real reason why a little money should not be spent in making the home prettier and happier, for Robert j Thompson was doing well, and putting fair ly by. But understanding had not come into the man, and his wife was too meek, perhaps too constitutionally timid, to made trouble over it The matter to-day—which bad put her so very much out —was this. A sewing-club j had recently been established io the ncigh- BEDFOKD. PA., FRIDAY. APRIL, W. 1870. borhood.' There was ranch distress amidst the poor laborers' wires and families, and some ladies with time on their hands set up a sewiug club, to make a few clothes for the nearly Daked children. The fanners' wives had joined it, Mrs. Thompson among others; i tbey met at stated intervals, taking the different houses in rotation, dining at home at twelve, assembling at ooe o'clock, and working steadily for several hours. It was surprising how much work got done, how many little petticoats and frocks were made in the long afternoons. In less than a month it would be Mrs. Thompson's torn to re ceive the company —for the first time —and she naturally began to consider ways and means. For they met for an entertainment as well as for sewing— tea in the afternoon, a grand meal later when the stitching was over. "hut was Mrs. Thompson to do? Their stock of plates and dishes consisted of a few odds and ends of cracked delf, that had once been a kind of mulberry color. She long wanted some new white ware, she wanted it more than ever now. Qrover, the keeper of the village crockery-shop, had a lovely set for sale, white, with a delicate sprig of. couvolvuli and fuchsias, looking every bit as good as real china. Mrs. Thompson had j set her heart on the set, and that morning had broached the subject to her husband. "What's the matter with the old ones?" asked he. "Look at them," she answered. "They are frightfully old aad shabby." "I daresay the food will taste as weil off them as off Grovcr's set of white ware." "But there's not half enough. We have ! as good as none left. " "Mother baa some best china. Where is it?" "That's nearly all gone. We couldn't put the two on the table together." "Why not?" "Ob, Robert! Look at this. It is the shabbiest old lot ever seen." "Twas good enough for mother." Mrs. Robert Thompson disdained com ment. "You'd not have thought of this but for the sewing-circle haviog to come here. If they can't come and eat from such dishes as we ve got, they are welcome to stay away." There were tears in Mrs. Thompson's eyes. But she crowded tbem bravely back. He took his hat to go out to his mowing. "We really want the things, Robert. Those at Grover's are very cheap. I can get all I want for a mere trifle, do give me the money.'' "(trover II have to keep 'em for us. I've got no money to waste on fine china," re j turned the farmer. "By the way"—look ing back from the do or—-"Jones and Lee are coming to give me a helping hand. I want to get the south meadow down to-day if I can —it's a famous heavy crop; so I sfaaii | bring them in to dinner, Oh, and the Hub bards want six pounds of butter to-night; don't forget to have it ready." V\ ith these words, Mr. Robert Thompson j bad marched off, leaving his wife to her : long, weary day's work, darkened and made ■■ distasteful by her disappointment. 6be was both grieved and angry. It was a little thing perhaps, but it is the little things cf life that delight or annoy. Existence seemed very bare and homely to j Jane Thompson that summer day. Witb her love of case, and beauty, and symmetry, ' how rude, and coarse, and hard looked all i her surroundings. It was only one long, monotonous round of homely toil, uurelieved by any of the little swetoesses and grae-s that might make even toil pleasant. She did not often think of it; but she remem bered that day, with the faintest little air cf regret, that she might have'been far diff<r. ently situated, and as she looked up to the pretty French cottage on the hill, embow ered in a perfect forest of blossoming vines, and caught the cool gleam of urn and foun tain, something very like a sigh trembkd on her lips. "Squire Burnham's wife de> not hate to beg for a paltry bit of money to set out her table decently." she thougit, rebel lious'y. And then, in her spirit of aggrievement, she mentally went over the other things she needed, and that Robert knew tcert needed. Why Was life to be ail toil and hare ugliness? There was no reason, he had plenty of money. A new carpet for the best parlor, paper for the walls, so stained with time, whitewash, paint, some fresh chintz, she remembered it all, as she toiled through the long sultry forenoon with an aching head and discouraged heart. It happened to be washing day; and on those days she took all the work, that Molly might not be disturbed in her help at the tubs. What business had she to marry Robert Thompson ? she asked herself, her slender wrists heating away at the butter for the Hubbards. For in the green and gloomy light that Mrs. Robert Thompson looked at things to-day, she quite forgot the fact that she had fallen in love with the honest, steady, and good-looking young farmer, choosing him in preference to Joe Burnham, whom she might have had. Joe had a patrimony of bis own; hundred a year at least, and a good bit of land, which he rented, and was called "Squire," as his father bad been before him. He waoted to marry Jane Lawrence, and she would not Likes and dislikes cannot be controlled, and she cared more for Robert Thompson's 1 little finger than for the whole of poor un der-sized Joe. Squire Burnham found another wife. And Mrs. Thompson, this weary day was furiously envying her. Mrs. Burnham would come amidst the rest of the sewing club, too, and see the miserable ' shabbiness of the mulberry ware and the home generally. The butter got beaten j savagely at the thought. Robert Thompson was not an unkind man, only thoughtless. He was a type of a very large class, more especially farmers, wbo do not feel the need of life's rugged pathway being softened with flowers. Absorbed in his stock, his money getting, he did not re alise how monotonous was his wife's life at home. He had his recreations, the weekly market, gossip witb his brother farmers, politics; she had nothing but work and care. He did not realize the truth that the worn, shabby home told upon her, that she ! needed some brightening to come to it as a yearning want of life. And so, as the years had gone on. she grew dissatisfied at heart, b&rdly understanding what she wished for or what she did not wish, the intensely un lovely, prosy, dull life somewhat soaring her spirit. Now and again, Robert wondered, she who used to be so sweet-tempered. All throngh the long forenoon, Mrs. Thompson nursed her wrath. Robert was selfish sal unreasonable, ami she did not t care aho knew it. She i could not have the I sewing-elub at the farm, comc what might. j The potatoes got boiled; the big piece of > ; beef was simmering oo the fire. Before i [ twelve o'clock bad well struck, she saw her husband and his two friends coming through > the orchard, with red and hungry faces. ' Mr. Thompson always wanted his dinner I boiling hot, and she hastened to lay the • cloth in the cool room of the kitchen. Frank and charley, her two boys, came running in ■ from school, each striving to claim her at i tention. She felt tired, heated, and cross. "Wha! isn't dinner ready ?" demanded I Mr. Thompson, not seeing it actually on 1 the table when he entered. "I told you we had no time to waste to day," be added angrily, in his hurry and hunger. If I hado t anything to do all the forenoon but to get dinner, I'd have it ready to time. I ■ | know." A bitter retort was springing to her lips, but ere it could be spoken, Charley clamor i ously interposed pushing his new copybook i before her eyes. "Look, mother! lam going into seutences I now, like Frank. It's my first copy. The j master wrote it, aod he said I was to get it by heart, too, and always remember it. I>o read it, mother." Mrs. Thomson, her arms full of the cracked old mulberry plates, paused a mo ment to let her eyes fall on the new copy. | "A soft answer turncth away wrath," was what she read. It was not that the proverb was new—she had read it scores of limes— but there was something in its appropriate j ness to the present moment, that fell like a cod sweet wind on her heated pulses. ••I will hare it ready in a moment, Rob ert,*' she said, quietly. Mr Robert Thompson looked up. Evi dently be had not expected so pleasant a re ply. If the truth must be told, he had thought a good bit that morning of hit wife's request about the white ware. Not in the way of granting it, but that she would probably be sulky over it when they got in to dinner. "'lt doesn t feel here as it does it that biasing meadow," he remarked to his friends, as they went into the cool north : room to dinner. "Folks that can keep io doors this weather have an easy time of it They don't know what heat is." * Mrs. Thompson wondered wheather this was a slap at her. Her face looked scarlet enough for any amount of heat. As to sit ting down with them, she bad enough to do ' to wait on the party. It was washing day, and Molly must not be called. "This butter must have been kept in the i kitchen. It's like oil," said Mr. Thomp son. j "I took it out of the cellar since you came i in; I will go down and get some more if you ! think I bad better," was the reply, given j pleasantly. "Never mind. Well declare ! —do yon call this meat doue?" went on Mr. Thotnp son as be began toearVe. "It's harder than a rock. If meat has to be cooked pretty fresh this weather, it needn't be like this." "I tried to have it nice, Robert." she said, striving to choke down a risiug sob—as well as an angry word. Mr. Thompson, aroused by a quiver iD the tone, looked at bis wife. His friends j glanced at one another. She sat down at | length, but could not eat. Mr. Thompson I finished his dinner iD silence. He was watching his wife's face. There was something in it be did not understand —a kind of patient, hopeless look, as if she no loDger cared to struggle onward. The old mulberry ware did look dingy on the snowy white table-cloth; almost too bad for ibe9e chums of his to sit down to. He won j dered he had never thought so before, j Robert Thompson grew thoughtful, j He passed into the kitchen when they were going out again—how hot and stifling it felt with that big fire —as bad as the south meadow. His wife had been in it cooking; j that must .Ave made her face scarlet. In j doors was not so comfortable a place, after | all, if you had hot work to do, was the idea that flitted through his mind. And—per , haps the work was over-much for his wife, . who at be*t was but a delicate woman j A fresh, cool breeze h*i sprung up'from 1 the south, as he went out. walking slowly, r but the sun was burning hot still. Robert Thompson waited to wipe his brows; and in that moment the voioes of his comrades came towards him from the other side of the i hedge, where they stood in the little shade it cast. "I never pitied a woman so much in my j life," quoth one of them. "She works like i a slave and does not get even 'thank ye' for jit from Thompson. He's a good fellow, but uncommon down upon the work. Strong as a horse himself, he thinks, I suppose, • women must be the same." "Yes, Bob's a sterling good fellow, but Jane Lawrence made a mistake when she said 'Yes' to his asking," cried the other. "Jones, she wasn't cut out for a farmer's wife—especially one who keeps his folks to it like Thompson does. She's over sensi i tive—delicate; any lady but her would have ■ turned long ago and bid him give her prop ■ er help. He won't make his money out of ! her many years if he don't take better care I of her. She'll run down fast. Awfully | changed, she is. She looks as fadrd as the I j old house rooms—and they haven't seen i II coat o' paint since grandfather Thompson's ■ | day-" "Ah, she'd better have took Joe Barn hatn. The Lawrences used to have things nice in their home, and she'd have got em so still, if she'd married Joe. His wife's : just gone out in her pony-chay. I say. \ Jones, I wonder whether Thompson s wife s ever sorry T' Was she? The unconscious comments of j these, his warm friends, came crushing down | on Robert Thompson s heart und brain like ■ a bolt of fire. That she rejected Barn ham for bim, he knew, when she came home to the : old homestead, aod took care of his invalid I mother. Tenderly had she done it, too. i And—could she be wearing out her life in . hard work for him; she, the uiothpr of bis boys; she whom he loved well, for all his churlishness? Robert Thompson stole away —he could bear his thoughts no longer -and he felt that he could almost kill himself for his blind heedlessness. Tha afternoon wore on towards evening Mrs. Thompson had finished ber in-door work —the washiog up of the dinner dishes and the putting of the rooms straight—and Iwas going in with an armful of fiue things that she had taken from the clothes lines, when the sound of wheels made her look round. "I've brought that white ware Mrs. Thompson. - ' said the brisk voice of Grover. springing from his cart, and lifting down j ; carefully a large hamper. "But I did not orderit, Mr. (trover.** she 1 1 rejoined in rather a frightened voice. "The master did. though. Mr. Thomp son came down this afternoon, and said the 1 things were to come up to you at once. I There's the dinner set you admired, and a tea set as welL Where shall I put 'em?" "Briog them in please," she answered rather faintly. He did as he was bid, and - then drove off. Mrs. Thompson sat down by the hamper j of crockery and cried as if her heart would break. They were magieal tears, too. for they washed all the weariness and despair I from her face, and the shadow from her eyes and heart. She forgot thai she was tired, or that the day was hot. She only thought how kind Robert was, and what a wicked woman she had been for saying to herself in her temper that she'd rather have i had Squire Burnham. Then she unpacked the treasures, pulling them out from amidst the hay, and singing softly all the while. Oh, it was beautiful, that ware!—with its' clear opaque white, and here and there a delicate tracing of fuchsia or convolvulus. Mr. Thompson came in and found her in the midst. "What is it, Jenny ?" he asked —the old fond name he used to eail her. "O, Robert! taking a step towards him. He opened his arms and drew her close to bis heart, kissing her as fondly and tenderly as he ever had in the days of his courtship ' I have been a brute, little wife," he whispered, huskily, "t an you ever forgive me?" "Forgive you? Ob, Robert! I never was so happy in my life ! I have been to nlamc, I have not been a- patient and kind as I might." "Yes, you have, You ve been an angel compared to me. I have made a slave of you ; but all that is over now. I did not think, Jenny; I did not, indeed." 'But—Robert "You shall have more help iu the house, another servant We'll get her in, Jenny, long before the sewing-club night comes round." "Oh, Kobert, how kiod you arc! I feel as light as a bird." "And you are almost. ' be answered, smiling a little sadly a- lie looked into her eager face. "We'llall turnover a new leaf, Jane. Heaven knows I did not mean to be cruel " "Robert, you were never that. "Well —we'll let it be, bygones shall be bygones if you will. Oh, and I forgot to say that I saw Leeds, tbe carpenter, this after i noon. It's a very dull time just now, tbe J poor fellow says, without a job on hand, so I thought I'd give him one They'll be j here to begin to morrow morning." "i'ou—are —not goiog to have the house > done up?" she exclaimed in wild surprise. ; "Every square inch of it. And, once the j painting and that's finished, we'll see what ' else we can do to make it look a bit bright- j er." She hardly believed it ; she burst into tears. "And I have been so wicked!" she cried. Only to-day I had quite wicked ] 'houghts, Robert. I was envying Mrs. i Burnham: I was feeling angry with every- I body. It was the discouragement Robert." ' "Yes it was the discouragement," he said | quite humbly. "We will do better for the j future, Jane; I'll try another plan." She cried silently for a minute longer; -oft. bappy tears, feeling that light bad su- ; : perseded tbe darkness. "And it has ah risen from mi' trying to carry out for a bit that blessed proverb—"A ; -oft answer turnetb away wrath !'" she murmured. "Robert, did you ever before j j see such lovely white ware?" TUE ONEIDA DISASTEK. The Navy l>epariment Las received full particulars cf the collision and sinking of tbe United States Steamer Oaeidi, off Y'o kohama, Japan, on the evening of January ! 24, from Surgeon Suddards and others who , were saved. The following is the report of Surgeon Suddards: UNITED STATES SHIP IDAHO, YOKO HAMA, Jan 2fi, 1 -70. —Sir: I respectfully submit to you the following statement of the circamsta&ces attending the loss of (he United States steamer Oneida, third rate, | on the evening of the 24th iust., as they | came under my personal observation: Tbe ship left her anchorage at Y'okohama about ,"> P. M., and on steaming out was ; cheered by all the men-ofwar iu port. Af ter getting past the buoy, aDd heading for the light on the Kauinsaki, all bauds were : called to make sail, the wind being at about : N. E., face 4 to 5. Soon afterwards the ward room dinner was announced, at which ; time the ship was running, about seven knots, having the head sails set, with the foresail, top sails, topgallant sails, maintop sail, spanker and gaff topsail. We were al most through dinner when a messenger boy i came down and told Mr. Muldauer, the navigator, that Mr. Y'ates. the officer of tbe deck, wished to see him. He went on deck, and when he returned a few minutes later, told us that there was a light ahead, proba bly a steamer bound in. Shortly afterwards I beard some one on deck forward call out "Hard a-port." and a moment afterwards anotber voice, but whether on our own ship or the other I cannot say, cri?d out "Hard a starboard." Almost immediately came a fearful cr jsh, apparently at the after end of tbe ward rcom on the starboard side, as if the whole side of the ship was being crushed in. Ev erybody at once rushed on deck. As I stepped over the hatch combing I saw a large steamer slowly going past us and ID contact with our own ship. Before she cleared us the executive effi • cer, Mr. Stewart, called out to her, "Stay i by us —we are cut down," or words to that 1 effect. N'o answer was made from the strange vessel. He repeated the same words again. There was still no reply, and being by this time clear of us she apparently pro ceeded on her course. I then walked aft and saw that the wheel was gone, the span kers, boom aod gaff carried away, and the whole poop cut off. 1 looked over the starboard quarter, and as welt as I could make out iu the darkness thought the whole of that side of the stem was crushed off. She was fast settling by the stern, and I judged that she would not float more than two or three minutes. On looking up I observed the third cutter hang ing at the davits oa the port quarter. I climbed on the hammock rail and a.-ked the men, of whom there were twelve or fourteen iu the boat, if there was an officer there. They said no. When I got into tbe i boat and gave orders to cut away all the VOL. 43: NO 14. j fastenings, and for a tuan to stand by each j fall, ready to lower away when the order was ; given. Dttriug this time the steam whittle was blowing continually. I kept my eve : on the strange vessel, and she seemed to be rapidly leaving us. The Oneida meanwhile hid come up to the wind, and was htading towards the shoals on the left shore, and I was in ho|<es that she might get into sboa) water, as the j propeller was still revolving and the vessel moving rapidly. A little while afterwards Robert Dyer, coal-heaver, got into the boat. He told me that he had been sent by Mr. •Senter, engineer of the watcb, to report to the officer of the deck that the fires were put oat. He added that when he left the engine room the water was within a foot of the platform, and pouring forward in a perfect flood. Almost immediately afterwards j George W. Kauffman, landsman, jumped into the boat. He informed me that they were trying to get the first cutter off, that there were forty or fifty men in her, and be ' did not think that they would succeed. Agon was now fired. At this time the ship commenced to roll from side to side, as ifsettling, causing the boat to be thrown violently against the side of the ship, and : threatening to break in her side. 1 looked on board and saw thai there was not an offi 1 cer or man abaft the mainmast, the deck forming an angle of about 35 degrees. I waited a moment to see if any one would eome, and seeing no one, I gave orders to lower away and hang on by the falls. As the boat touched the water I noticed that the stern of the ship was almost on a level with the surface. At this moment the men in the boat called out that there was a junk sailing close by, and demanded to chase her and bring her alongside. The after-fall, by which we were hanging got jammed, and the coxswain cut it with his knife, leaving the boat free. We put after the junk, but sailing free she soon left us out of sight. We then turned towards the ship and found she had disappeared. ; Not more than three or four minutes had j 1 elapsed since we left. We pulled towards where we thought she had beeu, but could make little headway ■ against the head sea. After remaining some tim in the vicinity, and seeing and hearing nothing, we turned towards the shore, and after an hour's pull lauded near a Japanese village. We immediately proceeded to a house, and after a few minutes' conversa tion procured three guides, and with them . started immediately for Yokahama, which place we reached after a most fatiguing walk over the mountains of eight hours, at ! 4 A. M. of the 25tb inst. On arriving at Yokohama I called at Mr. 1 Carroll's who kindly put his house boat at mv disposal and accompanied me on board j of the Idaho, where I reported the loss of j the Oneida to Lieutenant Commander Mul ! len, at five A. M. The collision occurred at !ten minutes to seven, and about twelve minutes elapsed between the collision and the sinking of the Oneida. It is my opinion that if the Bombay, the vessel which sank us, had come to our res . cue when the steam whistle was blown, or even when the fiist gun was fired, all or 1 oearly all hands on board of the Oneida might have bctn saved. ON OOINt; SI'KETV. Ought a man ever to go surty lor another? Why not. It is a most friendly act. If prudently done, it may be the most eminent benefit to a neighbor. It gives hiui the benefit of your good reputation when be is not known. It lends him your credit where bis own is not sufficient. It puts him in j funds which otherwi.se he could not com mand. Such surface to a friend is generous and sometimes even noble. No better use can be made of one's money than to help a true friend. We are commanded to "re member those in bonds as bound with them.' ' To be sure, this was originally applied to bonds of a different kind, but with not a whit more propriety than to pecuniary I bonds. A man who by a few thousand dol lars, can save his friend and perhaps his family, from bankruptcy and want, could hardly spend his money in a manner which, all his life long, be would remember with more satisfaction. But, there are certain moral and pruden tial considerations which should always be borne in mind in going surety for a friend. You should make up your mind how much property you have, and how much you arc williog to give away, absolutely, for that j friend for whom you endorse. For no bluu ; der can be worse than to endorse on the sup i position that you will not have to pay. ; Never endorse without saying to yourself, "This may come round upon me. I may have to pay it; and it it comes to that, I am able and willing." Nine out often of the fatal mistakes made by bondsmen arise from taking the opposite course from this. They consider the act of endorsing a friend's paper as a mere commercial form. ' There is no risk. I shall not have it to pay. He is abundantly able to take care of his paper. I I shall help him without barmiDg myself. and he is a stingy man who will not do that." ! This is the calculation on which a man binds himself to pay a friend's debts in case the Irieud cannot pay tbem himself. Bat how do these things turn out? Odc Dt- J not go far to aseertrin. Kvcry village Las an illustration. The borrower was mere involved than you supposed. or' perhaps, than he himself knew, and his creditors j closed on him and wound him up, and were j overjoyed to find such a good name on his paper. Or, the sanguine scheme on which ! he has ventured, which seemed sure of sue- j cess, almost without possibility of failure, ; suddenly, like a loaded wagon, slipped off a ; wheel and upset into the dirt.' Or, just as everything was at the peint of success, your friend sickened and could not look after his affairs some critical matter was neglected or some dishonest person stepped in and croo ked matters: your friend died, the estate went into the execuctor's hands for settle- j mcnt, was bady tuacag-d, warped and croo ked, and finally turned oat insolveot. And what became of you? Why. you were surety for the full amount of what you are j worth ! In sa hour you find yourself confron- ' ted with debt that sweeps away your bouse, j your farm, your little sum in the bank, and 'caves yon just where yon began twenty five j I years ago, with this difierence, that then you had only yourself to provide for, and now you have a wife and eight children. Then you were twenty-five years old, and life was all before you, and now you are fifty years, and life pretty much behind you! You have given a tray your children's bread. I You have not y.t saved your friend, but SUBSCRIPTION TERMS, AC The I>VKIUII U fieUiiMntrj Bern AT morn iag be following relei : On v. TEAS, (ia advance,) 12.00 " " (i! oot paid within lil 814.J... SZ.SO " " (if Bot paid within the year,)... 13.0P All papert outside of tbe comity dincootinned without notice, M the expire!ion of the time for which the subscription bu been paid. Single copiee of the paper fat niehed, in wrappers et fire cents each. r.'</tnaieaictk>D en subjects of local or general ntereet, are reapectfully solicited. To ensure at tention favors of this kind mast invariably be accompanied by the name of tbe author, not for pnbiicatisn, bet as a guaranty against imposition. Ali letters pertaining to business of the oficc should be addrawed to I.ITZ i JORIMJJ, Benronc. Ift. litrs ruined yourself. Perhaps your friend had settled on hia wife a small property. So much the letter for her if be had. Of coarse she will divide with you, since it was to save her husband, that yoa ware ruined But, if the will not (and human nature is made up of shaky stuff;) and her children go to school while yours stay at home; and if they live in a comfortable house, pleas antly furnished, while you are hiring a few rooms in the cheapest quarter of the towo then I suspect that yon will chew the ends of a great many bitter reflections. When it is too late you will t very wise. You will -ay to yourself, it may bo, "A man is a fool who signs for any larger sum than he can conveniently pay." Amen, say we 1 Before a man puts his name down on another man's paper, be should ask himself. "Am I willing to give this person as much money as I sign for." Amen, say we ! "To sign a bond on supposition that it is a mere form, and that you will have noth ing to pay is to put ouo's bead into a fool's noose." Atuen. again, say we! There is no harm ID signing for a neighbor if you have got the property, if you are able to pay tbe amount without harmiug your own household; and if you love the man for whom you sign enough to be"*willing to GIVE biui outright the cum covered by your endor-uir-nt. Otherwise to go surety for a neighbor is a folly, a sin and a shame ATTEMPT TO BLOW UP A DINNER PARTY —The Belgian Conui at San F."*nci*co has secret and inveterate enemies in that city, who last week attempted to take his life Several gent'eaien were dining with him, and after dinner they passed out in a body to a rear house, and as they went out they beard a terrific explosion. They waited, startled and even terrified, hut all was still after the report. They finally ventured hack into the house, and found that in the dining room the table had been hurled from the position it occupied, while everything on it and around it was utterly destroyed In the parlor all the furniture was demol ished utturly, the floor torn in pieces, all the glass in the windows, as well as in the windows of the adjoining bouses, broken An iron powder canister was found imbed ded in the floor of the parlor. The canister would hold about ten pouods. It had been split and torn by the explosion. Beneath the floor marks of hands and feet were ob served. bite of fuse and a quantity of half buriied paper. It has evidently been inteud ed to blow up the whole house white the Consul and his dinner party were at the ta ble. How THEY BRIBE IN ENGLAND.— The Pall Mall Gazette contains a report of an in vestigation in the esse of an election fraud in Beverlev, and the Commission report, that according to the statement of witnesses, out of a constituency of 11(J about 800 were open to bribery, and about three hundred who were koown as " rolling stoek" with out political principles or likiDg of any kind. They expected to be paid, and would not j vote unless they were paid. This is the ! way in which the bribery was managed: An aperture was made in the folding-doors of the library at the Mechanics' Hall, just large enough to permit a man's hand to be thrust through it; behind this door stood or sat the briber, witb a bag of gold before him; the voters were directed to pass through the room; the uumber was called out, a sovere ign or two, as the case might be, was pushed through the apeture, nothing being visible but tnc man's hand and the voters then passed out at another door. "MY BUT DRUNK."— "Drank! my boy drunk !" and tears started to the mother's eyes, and she bent her head in unutterable sorrow. In that moment the vision of a useful and honorable career were destroyed, and one of worthlessness if not absolute dis honor, presented itself. Well did she know that intemperance walks hand in hand with poverty, shame, and death, and his moth er's heart was pierced as with a sharp point ed steel. Ah! young man if the holy feel ing of love for her who bore you is not dead within yog. shun that which gives her pain —adhere to that which gives her joy. If she is with her Father in heaveo, shun that course of life which shuts the gates of heav agaiust you. and debars you from her socie ty forever. The drunkard can never inherit the kingdom of God. TRUE OF NEW YORK.— -A young Bos toman, who proposed starting business iu Now York city, made a preliminary visit there armed with letters of introduction to business men. These presented and the usual compliments passed, the New York merchant inquired of the youngi Bostonian what he intended to do. "I have not exactly decided," replied the Puritan, "but expect to settle in some good business and make a living honestly." "A living honestly?" | "An honest li.iog," repeated the Boston i&n "Young man, said the New Yorker, "I i congratulate yon. There i? not a city in the United States where JOB will meet with so little com|tition in your method of doing business. ' STYLE. —A eotit that has the mark of use upon it is a recommendation to peoide of >ra-e and a hat with too much tap and too | high a luster, a derogative circumstance. The best in cur cities and towns, are on the , back of penniless fops broken down nur ! chants, clerks with pitiful salaries, and men : that do not pay up. The heaviest gold chain dangles from the fobs of gamblers of very limited means;* costly ornaments on ladies indicate to (he eyes that are open, the fact of a silly love or husband cramped for funds. Aad when a pretty.woman goes by in plaio and neat apparel it is the pre sumption that she has fair expectations and a husband that can show a balance in his favor. For, like books, too much gildiog makes men suspicious that the bindding is | the most impotaut part. How THE THISTLE .SAVED SCOTLAND The following is related as the origin of the thistle as the national emblem of Scotland When the Danes invaded Scotland they availed themselves of the pitch darkness of I night to attack the Scottish forces unawares, j In approaching the Scottish camp unobser ved, marching barefooted to prevent their tramp being one of the Danes trod upon a large pricklv thistle, and the sharp cry of pain which he instantly uttered, sud denly apprised the Scots of their danger, ' who immediately ran to their aruis, and defeated the foe with great slaugh ter. The thistle was thenceforward adop I ted *- foe national insignia of Scotland.