BY S. J. KOW.
CLEARFIELD,- PA., WEDNESDAY. OCTOBER 27, 1869.
YOL. w.-m 9.
Sot 4 iMgh ws heard, not a joyous note,
Ai our frifd 10 the bridal w8 borried ;
Xol , ;t discharged his farewell shot,
" At the bachelor went to be married.
Ve married him quickly to save his fright,
Our heads from the sad eight turning ;
And sighed, at we stood in the lampsdim light,
To thick that he was not more discerning.
To think that a bachelor free an bright,
And lhy of the sex aa we found him,
Should there at the altar, at dead of night,
Be caught in the snare that bound biin
Few and short were the words we said,
Though of wine and cake pnrtaking,
Wt escorted him home from the scene of dread,
While hi. knees were awfally shaking.
S!uIy and sadlj we marched him down
From the first to the lowermost story ;
An i we never have heard or sees the poor man
It hum we left alone in his glory.
SAVED PROM DISGRACE.
A SLEWLI RIDE ASD WHAT CAMS OF IT.
Jonas Blenchford, with coat, hat and
gloves already ou, heard the tinkle of the
f'.ek-u LelU, and arose to go down, but
when Lf reached the door, he felt a light
touoh upon his arm, and heard the well
known voh-e of his daughter.
'Ta, may I go?"
'"But I'm otily going to the hand, Grace."
"After tint, lather. I will go there and
wait t:r you. I' not tae tae ve u'in
lite to ?-t ready."
"Well wli! Be spry, and I'll wait,"
Faid the old (.untlcmaa, quite merrily, "and
l it give )u Mich a sleigh ride as you never
hud before a U!jh ride extraordinary.
a know I hate tie bia-A before the cut
ter." "Sa mueh the Letter," said Grace : and
lie ran away to dress, little dreaming how
well the jnoiiiie wuuld be kept.
J..hn Normandy stood by the window
lu:;Liim out upon the busy street, eer and
auoti glancing at his watch, as though itu
I jti nt fur the time to pass. And indeed
lie was. He had do thought for what was
av-in; in the- street below. He saw Jonas
r:.;i)ji,U:i 1 and his daughter as they drove
up t. x)i.'. bank, hut forgot them the moment
t! i j.a v. d irom fitht within the entrance.
Ho In 1 wi'iihty thoughts upon his mind,
ti.at e.'i'jld not be cat a--ide by any ordinary
He was somewhere about thirty years of
till, ere:t, diguiiel, and very plain of
fcaitt'ire. He had battled with discourage
n.;r.ts am? poverty until hb very face bore
njrki of the terrible struggles, but he had
c 'f. jaerod. His motto had ever heeu "On
ard aud npward," and, never giving way,
I', lud at last become cashier of the bank
cf K , a position both honorable and lu-
'July a twelvemonth had he held the po
'ti.m.hat in ti:at .-hort time he had won the
c nfidence of the officers of the Lank, the
r.-arj of bis fellow employees, and was
gns-rally lik-:d by these d jing business with
tiill le was unsocial, lie lived a life of
L own. When the bank was closed for
ti:? Jay, he hurried away to his lodgings,
!:.'. w:is seen no more until the hour of bus
ir.fNi the titxt day. Bu.tiuess was his only
leisure. He talked little worked much;
is a ioor companion, but a true friend.
IL merely turned his head when the
l""sjciit and his daughter entered the batik,
a th;n went back to his thinking ; but
U ..tiv.-iiPjrl seemed disposed to molest him.
"lhy dreaming, Normandy?"
"I have eucuuutered so much reality that
there ii but little of the imaginary left,"
turning toward them, ha!f re'uet-
' Ob. ! Normandy. Not quite thirty.
I ih -v 1 judge, and settling ilown into an
i' i. r ai:, than I am. What arc you think-
1;-ja;j.-ut? It must nut be. Grace, can
'sid') anythiiia; to show this practical old
S-uu-niaa ti e error, of his ways? I'll leave
: i with Liiii to try, while 1 devote a few
io'jit-n:', V) business."
"D n't frtr-t the tide, father."
' -H-.L-r .'.ar. Yoti shall have it."
N ::;iiP. is vfs really vexed to seti the old
r-::-.iatirot away, snd leave him to cn-
n :!. j i!,;s (..raoe B.eehford. tjrace
l-: - t'- l it. and fd.e led him bv a Dretty
"- - f .i.i tiiai i.rouht the smile to his
. :i ot hitucif, and pruvukeJ some
fcs.iry rcplie., that suunded strange
'.' ' -:a When Iiicnchford rttui'D-
'- ! "iii i tl.oui iiaite sociable. Norniao
:1 :-i;iit: over the dJk, listenig to Grace's
3 rT f k. and occasiwaiiy pisttmg in a
M ;Ua; ju jed huw well he was eujoyic
l-awtng by smoke I" exclaimed
--i...-t..-.r i iu mrpriee, but his manner
.:: 1 iir.rt.e diately. Some very urgent
'-keeps me here. Wait! Nioruiandy
!i'e my place."
' I iio il.I be pleased," said he.
ery2wd, Normandy; and remember
I pruuid her a ride eucli as bhe dct
t ad b. r .re.'
A r:l- extraordinary, father."
yes ; that was ic. Do not disap-
"'- -xoruiandy was drawine on ni
M-d.. g..-nt.eiaari stepped to bis siaa
.... . . . . .
-tt-y s lace blanched whiter than
'- ltnt be recovered instantly.
i'lauk you Ganson, for this proof of
'-3r-r:eud,hip, but I have known it for
h. ... I il a .- f
" ur. rieae let it rest where it is, n
u ''an, and I w;n luate jt aj r;gtt ; tbe
- Jin. There i some great mistake.
With a buoyancy of manner that surprised
Grace, alter what she had seen, he conduct
ed her to the sleigh, and with a gallantry
little' expected from one bo practical, he
handed her in, arranging the robes about
her even more skillfully than her old father
could have done. Then he took bis seat
by her side, and off they went.
Through the crowded streets, through
the less crowded suburbs, out into the quiet
country, Normandy all the while chatting
merrily, a startling contrast to his real feel
ings. But when once they were ous of the
reach of tho din of the great city, his man
ner changed entirely. Turning his dark,
searching eyes full upon his companion's
beautnul face, he asked, earne3tly, almost
"Miss Blenchford, can vou trust me?"
Surprised and somewhat annoyed, she
hardly knew what to answer, Iut she saw
that he was in earnest,and in the brief tune,
she thought of all her acquaintances, aud
not one of them would she trust sootier.
"Why do yon ask, Mr. Normandy?"
"If I bhould tell jou," taid he, "that
those whom you hold most dear, yourself in
cluded, were in great peril, and a peril that
you never could guess, and that I had the
power to save you all, would you believe
n ltr 11 . . O T 11 1..
me : v outa you trust me ; v oum you oo
guided by me for a brief time?"
Startled by his manner, and convinced by
liis earnestness, she replied as earnestly,
'Tea, Mr. "Normandy ; I can and do trust
you. But why do you ask ?"
"Do not ask me. It will be enough to
tell you that you and your father and broth
er are truly in great danger, and if you will
place implicit confidence in me, I can save
you. Drop your veil if you please. Thank
Almost tenderly he wrapped the robes a
rou&d her, yet uttering no word.- Then
gathering the reins, he gave the horse a
light blow, and away they went, at a pace
that soon left the city far out of sight. "An
extraordinary ride, surely," thought Grace,
as they sped over thecrip snow ; and there
was a wonder how it would end. But (die
felt no fear, no regret, that she had placed
herself in his hands.
i-or hours they roJc, he noingaii in n;9
power to entertain b;r, succeeding so well
that she almost forgot the singular position.
in listening to his brilliant ta;k and vari?il
expericuco. About dark t hey drew up at
a tartn uouse, wnere isormanay ordered
supper. While it was preparing, he asked
after the comfori of his horse, rubbing him
down with his own hand aud feeding him
for the ride was not yet over.
"We have four hours yet to ride." atd
he to Grace. "Shall we go on?"
1 trust you, Mr. iNoruianJy. JjCt me
help you if I can."
'Thank you ! Thank you,
ford," he said gratefully
Out into the night they started again
lie procured additional robes at the larm
house, and wiappcd his fair companion so
closely that she did not fer.l the biting cold.
He needed no covering; his blood was at a
fever bight, defying the cold north wind
more effectually than the warmest furs.
On they drove through the still keen air;
past farmhouses, over hills, across rivers,
through dense woods and damp vallcy.Sjand
yet the end of that ride was not yet.
Could it be that John Normandy was
playing false? Did he know that the of
ficers of the law were searching for him far
a!.d near? That his name and description
had been flashed over the wires in alldirec
tions? That his name was whispered upon
the street as a defaulter a robber? That
he was already charged with the abduction
of Jonas Blenchford's fair daughter? He
could not have driven faster had he known
all of these, nor have seemed more impa
tient to get over the ground. It looked
very dark, yet Grace Bleuchford trusted
"Wc are almost there," said he, halting
the steaming horse, and pointing to a light
ahead. "Are you sorry that you trusted
me? It is not too late yet.
"Your conduct is very strange, yet I
have no fear," replied Grace.
"You are one among a thousand," he
He stepped out,and taking the bells from
the hore, t-towed them away in the sleigh.
Then he drove on cautiously toward the
"Jt is our beacon," said be. "It tells us
that I ."ni in time."
lie stopped again when within a few hun
dred yards of the house. Securing and we'll
blanketing the horse, he helped Grace to
alight, and together they walked toward the
"We must be very cautious, else our ride
will be for naught.
He drew a revolver from his breast, and
placed it in his great-coat pocket, where he
could reach it without waste ot time
"I have come prepared," he whispered,
fceliiur his companion's arm tremble within
his own. "Do not fear. I would rather
lose my life than that one hair of your head
should be harmed.
They stopped in the shadow, just before
"Now, Miss Blenchford, you will have
need of all your courage and fortitude," he
whispered. "Within this house you see all
that which will be agony to you, but it can
not be avoided. By no other means could I
save the Blenchford name from disgrace.
Ilevolver in hand, he burst open the
door, and entered, quickly followed by
With a cry of fierce anger, the only occu
pant of the room sprang np to meet the in -
truders ; but the momeut the light fell upon
their faces he sank back into the chair with
a groan, and buried his face in his hands.
"Oh God! Lost, lost!"
Grace Blenchford recognized her only
brother James; and, seeing his distress,
she sprang to his side to comfort him.
"Don't touch mc,Grace !" he exclaimed,
in terror. "Normandy, take her away !
Don't let her come near mel Why did you
bring her here ? Oh, my sister is it possible 1
Great God 1 I shall go mad ! I can not en
dure it ! Oh, why did you ever bria her
"To save yon," said John.
He had closed and bolted the door, but
still retained the revolver in hi9 hand,
lie moved nearer to the conscience-stricken
"James Blenchford, calm yourself," said
he. "We have conic, not to harm, but to
save you. The presence of your sister ought
to tell you that."
1'oung Bleuchford raised his head with a
"God bless you, John Normandy ! You
know not what I hava suffered, but I dared
not go back. And now you will keep it from
my dear father?"
"I will," said Normandy, solemnly. "No
one shall know it, save ourselves."
"But Grace?" said James.
"She ueed know no more," said Norman
dy. "I brought her here that the sight of
her might give you courage to return with
"John I shall tell her all," said James.
"I shall tell her ail, but not now."
"Where is your accomplice?"
"He will arrive in the next train. I was
waiting for him."
"And that is due in thirty minutes, "said
Normandy, looking at his watch. "Give
me the money, James, and we will leave
this place bnfore the villian arrives."
Grace saw all, but heard nothing, for they
had withdrawn to the ether side of the room
that she might not bs pained ; but a great
fear was weighing upon her a dread cf
some approaching calamity. When they
came back, she looked from one to the oth
er for some explanation, but very little they
rave her. Normandy spoke first.
Miss Blenchford, you Ere puzzled at my
words and actions, but you will pardon me,
I kriiw. when I tell you that it is better for
a:: ot us to say I;ttl8 about this matter.
Your brother has been led into an error that
threatened to be almost serious. Fortunate
ly, everything is now arranged satisfactorily,
thanks to your presence, and he will return
to the city with us. Watch over him and
pn-y for Lint, that Le may not stumble
I ask it," said James ; and without an
other word they left the house, and were
oon on their way back to thtf city.
Silently they rods Until the limits of the
city wt-re rcaencj. Incn rioruiandy gave
the reins to Janice, aud alighting, bade them
"But you, John," said James, "what will
Fear net for me," replied Normandy,
adding in a whisper, "I shall not betray you
Then he charged them both never to tell
what had passed between them that night ;
and, without waiting to hear their replies,
he strode rapidly down the street.
He went directly to the bank, reaching it
just at opening time, and, without a word
to any one, went straight to the vaults
his custom every morning and deposited
the money that James Blenchford had stol
en from them. Then he went back. aud met
the officer to arrest him. lie expected it,
but he had left the money in its place, and
now he Was ready for prison. Ho felt thank
ful that he had been allowed so tnuco time,
lie had saved James Blenchford, his father
and Grace, and what did he care now? He
was alone in the world ; he had done his
duty, and had hope. James Blenchford
went to him in prison, but Normandy would
hear nothing about surrendering himself.
"Iwill tell you a secret, James, aud then
you will see a motive for my actions. I love
your sister better than my own life, and I
could not bear to have a word whispered
against her. Let it rest as it is. I am con
Again James Blenchford promised, but
it was hard for him to abide by it. With
all his faults he had a generous heart. That
very day he told Grace the whole story of
his disgrace, and how Normandy was suffer-
iug for them; and she was touched by the
recital, aud thought of every means to liber
"Where is the money, Jamas?"
"Normandy placed it in the safe, un
known to any one."
"And has it not been found ? Would not
the whole matter be looked upon as a great
blunder ; and would not Mr. Normandy be
liberated at once, aud exhonoi atcd from all
blame, if the money would be found there?"
Away went James, without 'waiting to
answer his sister's question, and within ten
minutes was mounting the steps to the bank
He sauntered up to Ganson, and carekssiy
inquired if there was anything new in Nor
"Nothing," replied Ganson. "He still
protests his innocence, and I am inclined to
think he speaks the truth."
"So am I, Ganson. Do you know I am
half certain that it is all a great mistake
that the money is now somewhere about the
"I wish it might prove so. It is a hard
blow for Normandy, and if it is gone, who
eke could have taken it? He has the key to
"I don't believe it is gone," said B'ench-
' ford, controlling himself wonderfully. "I
would like to make another search. I'll ask
Jonas Blenchford felt very sore over the
disgrace of his favorite, and especially since
his daughter had returned, and spoken in
the warmest terms of her treatment during
the ride. He was, therefore, very willing
to do anything to clear up the matter. He
readily consented to make another search
for the missing money, though he was well
satisfied that it would be fruitless.
And indeed it came very near being so.
For full two hours they looked, pulling
drawers, turning and unfolding papers, till
eviry one but James was satisfied that it
was not there. He, knowing, or fully be
lieving thpt Normandy told the truth, did
not give up, aad at last brought the pack
age to light, from an obscuie corner where
it might have been overlooked a score of
. With a cry of joy James took the pack
age and counted out the money, all in bills
of a large denomination.
"It's all ri?kt, boys I" he shoutfd "Nor
mandy is innocent."
Then all ras confusion. James ran home
and told Grace, and they nyoiced together ;
while their father went in person and pro
cured the release of Normandy, telling
the strange story as he went. It was tho
happiest moment of his life whin Norman
dy :ock his place in the bank again.
James profited by his bitter experience.
He never again swerved from the right, and
is now living, a respected citizen of his na
tive place. Grace ha? never forgotten her
extraordinary sleigh ride, and never wil!,for
her came is now Grace Normandy, and she
loves her plain, noble-hearted husband, with
Towers and spires have been fur centuries
appendages to churches, and they are cer-
taiuly ornamental. Their rreat expense,
however, has cr.used.in this country at least,
foolish attempts at economy in their con
struction at the risk of their stability. We
refer, of course to wooden structures. Mel
ancholy illustrations of this occurred in the
recent great blow, when many church spires
were prostrated in New England ; the losses
in many casec falling upon parishes poorly
able to beer them. Now, is it not a perti
r.eni. inr; uiry. whether Bach cataairophias can
be prevented? und if to, bow? Spires,
properly constructed, will sustain a greater
v. ind pressur-3 than bouses br.ilt of the same
material. Why, then, are they co cften
blown down, cr.Jatverir!,'-; life and property ?
Three causes may be aligned, aud these
being attended to, spires will be secure.
First, then, thce should be a sufficiency
of timber of good size aud qtir.lity; second,
there fhould be sufficient fastenings ; third,
there should be frequent examinations to
see that all parts of the spire are free from
decay. No timber should be used in church
spires except it be of the very best quality
and cf ample sizo ; cr.re should be taken
that all the main timbers I speak of thoso
especially in ah upright position are fas
tened together with heavy iron clamps and
bolts, which can be rcrewed up when slack
ened from any cause. Builders must not
be atraid of expense in the beginning, for it
is the hi shest economy in the end. The tall
spire of the Elliot Church in Newton,which
was watched carefully during the lat gale,
stood perfectly firm, and why? Because it
was built as above described ; and it will be
found on examination that all the spires
which have withstood the storms of the past
fifty years in New England, have been erect
ed in essentially the same manner, whiio
those which have fallen before the gales
have been cheaply and weakly built.
Comfort or Tea Driskbrs. In the
life of most persons a period arrives when
the stomach no longer digests enough of the
ordinary elements of food to make up for
natural daily waste of the bodily substance.
The size and weight of the body begin to
diminish, more or less preceptibly. At this
time tea comes in as a medicine to arrest
the waste, and to keep the body from fall
ing away so fast, and thus to enable the less
energetic powers of digestion still to supply
as much as is needed to repair the wear and
tear of the Eolid tissues. No wonder.there
fore, that tea should be a favorite on the
one hand, with the poor, whose supply of
substantial food is scanty, and on the other,
with the aged and iufirm, especially of the
feebler sex, whose powers of digestion and
whose bodily substance have already began
to fail. Nor is it surprising that the aged
female, who has barely enough of weekly
income to buy what are called the necessa
ries of life,should yet spend a portion of her
gains in purchasing her ounce of tea. She
can live quite as well on less common food,"
when she takes her tea along with it : while
she feels higher, at. the same time more
cheerful and fitter for her work, because of
Nothing on earth can smile but human
beings. Gcnis may flah reflected light,but
what is a diamond flash compared with au
eye-flash and a mirth flash ? A face that
cannot smile is like a bud that cannot blos
som, and dries up on the staik. Laughter
is day and tobriety is night, and a smile is
the twilight that hovers gently bstween both
and is more bewitehing'than either.
There are later advices from Dr. Living
stone, assuriugthe world of the safety of
the most daring, and, we hope,- the most
successful, of African explorers. These ad
vices include a letter dated in July, 1SCS,
from the Docicr himself, with tha subse
quent accounts received, through traders
from the interior, at Zanzibar.
An old lady went to the Washington counr
ly (Iowa) fair mistaking it for camp meeting.
Kark Twain on Mr. Beecher.
TheBev. Henry Ward Beecher' s private
habits are the subject of Mark Twain's la
test contribution to the Buffalo Esprest.
The whole article is extremely funny, but
that portion which relates to Mr. Beccher's
farming experience is in the humorist's most
extravagant vein, and quite equal to his best
efforts. It is as follows :
"Mr. Beecher's farm consists of thirty-six
acres, and is carried on on strict scientific
principles. He never puts in any part of a
crop without consulting his book. He plows
and reaps and digs and sows according to the
best authorities-and the authorities cost
more than the other farming implements do.
As soon as the library is complete tha farm
will begin to be a profitable investment
But book farming has its drawbacks. Upon
one occasion, when it seemed morally certaiu
that the hay ought to be cut, the hay book
could not be found and before it was found
it was too late and the hoy was all spoiled.
"Mr. Beecher raises some of the finest
crops of wheat in the country, but tho un
favorable difference between the cost of pro
ducing it and its market value after it is
produced has interfered considerably with
its succecs xs a commercial enterprise, liis
special weakness is hogs hofrever. ITs cou
sidors hogs tho lest game the farm produeoa
He buys the original pig fcr a dollar and a
half, and feeds hisi forty dcllars Trorth of
corn, and then cells him for .but nine dol-
lais. This Is the only crop he crer makes
any money on. He loses vn the corn, but
he makes seven dollars and a half on the
hog. lie does not mind this, because he
never expects to make anything on corn.
anyway. And then he has tha excitement
of raising the hog anyhov, whether he gets
the worth of him or not. His strawberries
would be a comfortable success if the robins
would eat turnips, but they wont, and hence
"One of Mr. Beecher's m03t harrassing
difficulties in his farming operations comes
of the close resemblance of different sorts
of seeds and plants to each other. Two years
ago, hia far-sightedness warned him that
there wa3 going to be a great scarcity of
water-melons.and thei-efore he put in a crop
of twenty-seven acres of that fruit. But
when they came up they turned out to bo
pumpkins, and a dead loss was the conse
quence. Sometimes a portion of his crop
goes into tha ground tne most promising
sweat potatoes, and comes up the iufernal
eot carrots though I never have heard him
express it in just that way. Wheu he bought
his farm he found one egg in every hen's nest
on the place. Ha said that here was just
the reason why so many farmers lailsd
they scattered their forces too much con
centration was the idea. So he gathered
those eggs together and put them all under
one experienced old hen. That hen roosted
over that contract night and day for eleven
weeks under the anxious supervision of Mr.
Beecher himself, but she could not "phase"
thost? eggs. Why? Because they were
those infernal porcelain things which are
used by ingenious and fraudulent farmers as
' nest eggs." But perhaps Mr. Beecher's
most disastrous experience was the time he
tried to raiso an immense crop of dried ap
pies.' He planted fifteen hundred dollars
worth, but never a one of them sprouted.
He has never been able to understand to this
day, what was the matter with those apples."
A smart old lady at Portland, a few days
ago, was seen on a railroad track a short
distance before the train. The engineer
whistled and rang the bell, but to no
ourpose. She continued to walk on until
she was unceremoniously seated on the cow
catcher. When the train completely stop
ped she alighted and very pleasantly said to
the engineer, "I heard your whistle, but
thought it was from a tug boat. I am much
obliged to you for stopping."
Here is a dismal effort of the Chicago Re
publican, which passes for a very good joke
in the breezy locality : A New York shirt-
maker" claims to have fallen heiress to one
hundred thousand dollars, but her enemies
contend that she is the victim of a chim-
A marrying bachelor anxiously asks if it
would be of any use to attempt to make love
to a young lady after on5 has stood on her
dress until he could hear the gathers rip at
the waist? If he would re drexs the wrong.
she probably would not reject his oi-dress.
A New Orleans attorney had for a client
a young woman whose leg had been bitten
by a dog, and he referred to the circumstance
as an injury to "that elongated member
which assists in sustaining the body in its
efforts at locomotion."
The Menomonee (Wis.) Titrate advertis
es for a boy to learn the printing business,
and has "no objection to his knowing more
than we do, but wants hivi to agree to
have it take him more than three months
to learn the trade."
In a certain village in Massachusetts, the
topers label their rum jugs " ashing ilu
id." Very appropriate for rum has washed
many a man clean out of house, home, and
A young gentleman, epeakiug of a young
beauty's fashionable hair,called H pure gold.
"It ought to be," quoth an old bachelor, "it
looks like twenty-four carrots."
Mrs. Vice President Colfax has come out
with the whole weight of her moral influ
ence aaainst the panier. She thinks it the
proper furniture for a donkee.
"I don't admire ladies' cuffs," as the hus
band fcaid when his wife boxed his ears.
I Ma. Row: Flease insert the following
pines in the columns of the Jocrxal, as
they are tho heart tokens of a real bereave
We have parted from each other,
And my heart is sad and lone,
For I loved you deeply, truly,
la the days that now have flown.
We have parted from each other
When the storm was thick and dark,
We parted, Oh ! too coldly,
Tet 'tis hard to give you np.
Like the strong and constant ivy
Clings my lonely heart to you.
Oh. I'll never Snd another
Who will more constant prove.
Ah ! this world is fall o! sorrow,
I have drained its bitter oup,
Bat above there is another.
There alone I put my trust.
Whenycur pleasant smile was on me,
All that's hard seemed easy, sweet;
Now that also is denied me,
What can cheer my weary steps t
When my saddened form is kneeling,
When my lips are moved in prayer,
I will breathe of him who fondly,
Truly loved this heart now drear.
Shall I let so ono deprive you
Of your place within my heart,
Keep it for you, sacred, holy,
Till we meet again above?
There no cruel hand can sever,
There no storms can come to mar;
Oh, that we may meet in Heaven
This shall be my daily prayer.
In the still solemn hours of the departed
night, a wail of anguish floated up from a
grief-stricken mother asroan of agony es
caped the lips of a suffering father. A lit
tle wee form in ks crib breathed slower and
slower, a little heart fluttered fainter and
fainter, little pale cheeks grew colder and
colder, little white lingers clasped tighter,
and through the doorway entered the white
winged angsl and tenderly clasped to her
bosom and bore away to the eternal throne
the spirit past suffering, Darling is dead !
No more will her little glad voice ring out to
tease and vex you. Never again will you
listen to tha patter of the chubby feet In
its narrow home lies, this morning, tho form
that every night knelt down with upturned
angel face and clasped hands to repeat the
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
1 pray the Lord my soul to keep 1"
Somebody's darling is dead. If you and
I arc not grieving, only next door may the
solemn crape tell the passer that death is
there. Every day soma little spirit soars
away to the right hand of him who loves
theni best of all. Some little form some
little miniature of us grown old is every
hty tenderly placed in its flower-decked cof
fin. Children of the rich, children of the
poor all are one with death, and poverty
does not sear the heart so that grief cannot
Ail were children once all have felt child
hood's griefs, wept childhood's tears, shared
childhood's happy joys. The old man ol
to day, almost a child again in his thoughts
and deeds, once was a merry laughing boy,
all days to him were days of sunshine, and
he sighed when he thought of the many,
many years ere time would make of him a
man. He has felt the greater griefs of boy
hood, the rude shocks of manhood, the good
and the evil in men and the world, and he
looks back to the days of youth to think that
time has so soon made him old. Somebody's
darling always is dead always can wc sec
the weeds of widowhood, the sad faces o
orphans, hear sobs of grief and feel the
bitter tears of anguish. To-day the crape
is on yon door to-morrow it may cive its
bitter sign from your's. Life death eter
nity ! And yet how seldom do we think to
drop kind words, to be a child again iu gen
erous deeds to fellow men.
Wo long for the day when this custom
shall be absolete. It is unbacoming the tru
ly afflicted one. Tho wearer says by the
black garments : "I have lost a dear friend.
I am in deep sorrow." But true grief does
not wish to parade itself before the eye of
the stranger ; much less does it assert its
extent. 1 he stricken one naturally goes a-
part from the world to pour out its tears.
Ileal affliction seeks privacy. It is no re'
epect to the departed friend to say we are in
sorrow. If we have real grief, it will be dis
covered. When God has entered a house
hold in the awful chastisement of death it
is time for religious meditation and com
munion with God on the part of the survl
vors. How sadly out of place, then, are the
milliner and dressmaker, the trying on of
dresses and the trimming of bounuts. There
is something profauc in exciting the vanity
of a young girl by fitting a waist or trying
on a hat, when the corpse of a father is ly
ing in au adjoining room. It is a sacrilege
to drag the widow forth from her grief to
be fitted for a gown, or to select a veil. It
is oftwn terribly oppressive to the poor. The
widow, left desolate, with half a dozen lit
tle children, the family means already re
duced by the long sickness of the father,
must draw on her scanty purao to pay for a
new wardrobe fur herself and children,
throwing away the goodly stock of garments
already prepared, when she most likely
knows not where to get bread for those
little ones. Truly may fashion be called a
tyrant, when it robs a widow of her last
dollar. Surely your sorrow will not be
questioned, even if you should not call in
the milliner to help you display it. Do not
in your affliction, help to uphold a custom
which will turn the affliction of your poorer
neighbor todeeper poverty, as wcil as sor
row. 77te Central Baptist.
The heart seldom grows better by age. A
young liar will generally be an old one ; and
a young knave only a greater one.
VW. WALTEK3. Attoksby at Law,
. Clearfield, Pa. Office in the Court Hoase.
f 7ALTER BARRETT, Attorney at Law, Clear
V field, Pa. May 13, ISM.
ED. W.GRAHAM, Dealer in Dry-Goods. Groce
ries, Hardware. Queensware. Woodenwas,
I'roTisioaa, etc.. Market Street. Clearfield, Pa.
DAVID Q. SIVLISO .Dealer in Dry-Oooda.
Ladies' Fancy (ioods. Hats and Caps. Boots,
Shoes. etc .Seeond Street. Clearfield, Pa. sepS
.TERRELL & BIOLER, Dealers in Hardware
Lv L and manufacturers of Tin and Sheet-iron
rare, Second street, Clearfield, Pa. June 'AS.
IT F. NAUGLE,
Watch and Clock Maker, and
IL. dealer in Watches. Jewelry, Ao. Room li
Graham 'srow, Marketstreet. jov. 1.
HBUCHER BWOOPB. Attorney at Law.Clear
. field, Pa. OSes in Graham's Row, fourdoorf
west of Graham A Boynton's store. Nov. 10.
HW. S.MITH, Arronsier at Law, Clearfield,
. Pa . will attend promptly to busines en
trusted to his care.
June 30, 18A9.
WfrLLIAM A. WALLACE. Attorney at Law,
Y Clearfield. Pa.. Legal business of ail kinds
promptly and accsrately attonded to.
Clearfield, Pa , June 9th, 1S6.
B M'EN ALLY, Attorneyat Law. Clearfield.
Pa. Practices in Clearfield and adjoining
tuunties. UCce in new brick building ot J . rloyn
t n, 2d street, one door south of Lanich'a Hotel.
rTEST, Attorney at Law, Clearfield, Pa., will
. attend promptly to all Lejal business entrust
ed to bis care in Clearfield and adjoining coun
ties. Office on Market street. July 17, 1887.
rilllOMAS II. FORCET. Dealer In Square and
Sawed Lumber. Dry -Good a, Queensware, Gro
ceries, Flour. Grain, Feed, Bacon, Ao , Ao., G ra
h am ton, Clearfield county, Pa. Oct. 10.
P. KRATZER, Dealer in Dry-Ooods. Clothing,
, Hardware. Queensware, Groceries. Provi
sions, etc., Market btreet, nearly opposite tn
Court House. Clearfield. Pa.
HARTSWICK A IRWIN. Dealers In Drugs,
Medicines. Paints. Oils. Stationary, Perfume-
r . Fancy Goods, Notions, etc, cto-. Marketstreet,
learSeld, I'a .Dee. 8, IS6S.
"H KRATZER A SON, dealers in Dry floods,
. Clothing. Hardware, Queonsware, Groce.
ies, Provisions, Ac, Second Street Clearfield,
Pa. Dec 27, 186S.
JOHN GFELICH. Manufacturer of all kinds ol
Cabinet-ware, Market street. Clearfield, Pa
He also makes to order CofSns. on short notice, and
ttendr funerals with a hearse. AprlO.'SS.
rpiIOMAS J. M CCLLOCGn, Attorney at Law,
X Clearneld, Pa. OBce, east of the '-Clearfield
o Hank. Deeds and other legal instruments pre
pared with promptness and accuracy. Jnly S.
RICHARD MOSSOP. Dealer in Foreign and Da
mestic Dry Goods, Groceries, Flour. Bacon.
Liquors. Ac. Room, on Marketstreet, a few doors
west ot Jottrntl Ofirt, Clearfield, Pa. Apr27.
FREDERICK LEITZINGER, Manufacturer of
' all kinds of Stone-ware, Clearfield, Pa. Or
der Mlicited wholesale or retail He also keep
on hand and for sale an assortment of earthans)
ware, of bis own manufacture. Jan. I, 1S6S
V M. HOnVER.Wholca!e and Retail Dealer lm
1. TOBACCO. CUiARS AND SNUFF. A
Inre assortment of pipes, cigar cases. Ae., con
stantly on hand. Two doors East of tha Post
Office, Clearfield, Pa. May 19, '69.
"VTT'ESTERN HOTEL, Clearfield. Pa ThU
y well known hotel, near the Court House, la
worthy the patronage of the public The table
will be supplied with the bet in the market. Tba
best of liquors kept. JOHN DOUGHERTY.
TOHN H. FULFORD. Attornev at Law. Clear-
J field. Pa. Office on Market Street, over
II art. -wick A Irwin s Druz Store. Prompt attention
given to the securingofBounty claims, Ae.,and to
1 legal business. Jttarca Z7, l&bT.
W ALBERT, A EM'S .Dealers In Dry Goods,
fc Groceries, Hard ware. Queens ware. Floor Ba
con, etc.. Woodland. Clearfield countv. Pa. Also
extensive dealers in all kindsof sawed lumber
shingles, and square timber. Orders solicited.
Woodland, Pa., Aug. 18th, 1SB3.
DR. J. P. BURCH FIELD Late Surgeon of tha
83d Reg't Penn'a Vols., having returned
from the army, offers his professional services to
the citizens of Clearfield and vicinity. Profes
sional calls promptly attended to. Ofiee OB
South-Eant corner of 3d and Market Streets.
Oct. 4. 1H65 Amp.
QUBVEYOIl. The undersigned
nis services to the public, as a surveyor.
Ho may be found at his residence in Lawieoea
township, when not engaged ; or addressed by
letter at Clearfield. Penn'a.
March 8th. 1867.-tf. J AMES MITCHELL.
JEFFERSON L I T Z, M. D.,
Physician and Surgeon,
Having located at Ofceola. Pa., offers his profes
sional services to the people of thatplaoe and sur
rounding country. All calls promptly attendee!
to. Office and residence on Curtin Street, former
ly occupied by Dr. Kline. May IS, '61.
rpilOMAS W. MOOBE, Land Surveyor
and Conveyancer. Having recently lo
cated in the Borough of Lumber City, and reeaai
suuied the practice of Land Surveying, respect
fully tenders his professional services to tba own
ers and speculators in lands ia Clearfield and ad
joing counties Deedpof Conveyance neatly ex
ecuted. Office and residence one door ast of
Kirk Sr Spencers Store
, Lumber City. April 14, 1869 ly.
Q OLDIEBS' BOUNTIES. A recent bill
has passed both Houses of Congress.and
signod by tho President, giving soldiers who en
listed prior to 221 July. ISfil. served one year or
more and were honorably discharged, a boanlv
rvBounties and Pension collected by me for
luoaeouuueu 10 tnein-
WALTER BARRETT, Att'y at Law.
I5th, 1856. Clearfield, P.
J LEA It FIELD HOU8B.
FRONT STREET, PHILIPSBURO, PA.
I will impeach any on who says I fall to glvt
direct and personal attention to all onr customers,
or -fail to cause them to rejoice overs well far
nished table, with olean room and new beds,
where all may feel at home and tha weary be at
rest. New stabling attached.
Philipsbnrg, Sep. 2, 68. JAB. H. QALIB.
-L Huntingdon, Penn'a.
This old establishment having been leased I
J. Morrison, formerly Proprietorof the "Morriae
Honse. has been thoroughly renovated and r
furnished, and supplied with all the modern ia
provements and conveniences necessary to i
elaes Hotel. The dining room has been rcn
m. toe ursi noor, and is new spacioas and airy.
The chambers are all well ventilated, and the
Proprietor will endeavor to make bis (nests ner-
fectly at home. J. MORRISON,
Huntingdon June IT. 1588. Proprietor.
D R. A.M. HILLS desires to inform his patient)
an the public generally, that he has associated
r, o V " Pcl,c" f entntry.S. P.SHAW.
1. li. S , who is a gradual nf ih. Pkn.j.i.L,
Dental College, and therefor has tb hlthest
attestations of his Profeasional skill
All work don in th office will hold myself
' . " responsioie tor being don In the meat
feionCt0rymDnernd kIbest order of th pro
.t.?"tWiB,l,!d P' of twentw-tw years la
conflWen t0,?"k t0 7 patron witk
Engagements from a dlstane should b mad
by letter a few days befor th pett.atdeei.n
eoming. I Clearfield, Jan I, aWB-ty,
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