VOLI WE 55. NEW SERIES. THE BEDFORD GAZETTE )<J PUBLISHED KVF.KY FRIDAY MORNING BY MEYERS & BEN FORD, /I the following I'rms, to wit: FL.FLO per anruirn, CASH, in advance. $2.00 " " if paid within the year. <2.SO " " if not paid within the year. £-5-No Mibscription taken lor less than six months. QfT'Nn pajx-r discontinued until all arrearaei-s are paid,inile-s at the option of the publishers. It has •>ren decirled by the United States Courts, that the stoppage of a newspaper without the 'payment 0 f ar rearages, is prima facie evidence ot fraud and is a criminal offence. ftyi'he courts have decided that persons aie ac cc.iiitahle for the subscription price of newspapers, if they take them iiom trie jrost oilice, whttherthe y subscribe for thorn, or not. Original [J octr ti . For the Bedford Gazette. SOLILOQUY AFTER A "SPREE." The air is full ot cobwebs—flimsy things Of gossamer do float before mHe eyes ; Ai d seeming stars,quite multitudinous, ]>s c.role in small, bright gyraiiori" ! —'tis A very pretty sight, but somewhat strange— And now, egad ! 'tis less agreeable To one who>e "ways are pleasantness, and al 1 Whose paths are paths" of soberness. Ah! ha! Mv brain grows dizzy, looking back*fro.Ti height 0; soberne-s into Die lowly depths Ofpast inebriation I'm swimming, Not in a'-sea of glory," like old VVotsey, Pat in the Maelstrom of ttie dregs of wine. L?t one lie down again—there, so : ye gods! And Bacchus, first ! what great commotion's this ? My brain seems weary of its home, and knocks 0 .streperously against its bony casement, 5 -eming to say, with Yorick's starling, "lean'! get out ! 1 can't get out !" O Moses ! On ! lor an Ocean to quench my thirst, and ice To iay upon my burning brow ! Eheu ! n direful fruit of base intemperance ! Curses on Noah for hi- fell invention ! Peliciou-, damning, blissful, cursed wine ! Why nrt thou like to woman's love, so sweet In the beginning, and ro hitter in The cm! ? "Alas ! the love" of wine "is known To he a lovely an j a fearful thing ; For all" of ours "upon that die is thrown. And if" we do get very drunk, "life hath No more to bring, but" sickened stomachs Anc! aching heads ! i have been drunk wuh love, Ard have been tipsy v-*ito t ie •; of tame—- Have been deliriously ir.nii with joy Of Hope, and havebgen "mellow" with 'he fumes Of wine; and, having grown sober from pach Of these intoxications, I've had time Te chew reflection's cud, and now 1 find 1 hat inebriety in all things i But vanity—a fulness, that will en 1 In emptiness of stomach and of so il. Ho! garcon ! "bock and soda-water !" INCOSMTTM. TIIE PAUPER LIEI TENANT. T did noi like to see hirst there. lie was too young and handsome a man. His phrenolo gical developments were decidedly sp>od. Me hatl a fresh complexion, 1J I tie eyes, lighf, curiy hair; hut a lack ol derision characterized his countenance —want ol firmness w as apparent in his manner. He was reading a newspaper. 'That is not one of your paupers ?* said I to the gentleman in charge. 'I am sorry lo say tnat fie is, sir, he re plied. 'So young ! so promising in appeaianre—l really cannot understand it,' was my reply. 'Nor could any one not acquainted with hi? history,' was the reply; ; 1 u' let us r>sume cur walk.' By and by he'll come this wax: he is not Backward about it. I don't know what lo make of the man. really.' •J' if, how old is he ®' 'Twenlv-nine years; he looks even younger. I f. ar he has I' d all proper ambition, and, it may b>-, will end Ins life in the work house.' VVe wandered along Ironi one room to Ihe ether. The establishment was perfect; most of the paupers were old, infirm; many of them look ed shame-faced on being noticed. I'our old men .' ] suppose they had no children to care for them. In one of Ihe offices was a model of a ship It was a splendid Hung. From keel to mast head there was no fault in her. The guns w> re beautiiullv carved. Officers stood on her quar ter-deck, sailors in her rigging. Every coil ol rope, every block, every stiroud was exquisite in finish and proportion. The boats were setti m!, the s.i.ls all set. Truly, she was a regal i pel. Behind this vessel was a painting rp -r--fitting the distant port. •M v r.atlira 1 question was, 4 Who did that? 1 The t 00l telluw is dead,' was the reply. — 'lie wa- a genius and a scholar. Ihe noblest ■ /king man, sir, that you ever laid eyes on.— You have seen that tine atone mansion on Sedg wick Street? Weil, sir, lie built that house ten years ago, and paid thirty thousand dollars for it, and y.-t, five y ears after, he was in the poor house.' •What diJ it, sir ?' 'Rum.' That was the oriel reply. Expressive, wat ft not ? 'Yts, sir, rum. The last time hp went oul this eyes were very much intlained,) the doc tor of the institution handed him a dollar, say ing, 'lGb, if you drink any more, you will lust your eyes.' ' Bob looked at the dollar, then turned to th doctor -.villi a most expressive glance, as f. Mii ; ■Then, farewell the eyes ':' ■Horrible, wasn't it ? In a month s fitn* they were digging his grave. It was in tin corner'af the churchyard. Nobody fol owec 'be miserable body. It laid iu a pine cotfin and we only said, as we heard of it—'Poor old Bob ' that's all me epitaph a drunkard gets, sir !' Fifteen minutes after I was hunting up the personage wh ih id interested me s > much. J found liim in the garden, hoeing potatoes. We talked together on agriculture. His fine language astonis i- 1 me. I f.-lt that lie had an intimate acquaintance with books, with im-n, with nature. VV-* walked along, he showing me the pro ducts of the soil. Presently we came to an ar bor ove:hung with grapes, and sat down to gether. 'Pardon me,' said I,'if I lake the liberty of asking, what Drought you here at so youthful an age !' Mis eves dropped, he raised them again a- he answered 'Rll /}/' That bri.-f word ! In my mind it is associated with all Hie horrors of hell. Presently lie continued '1 have disgraced an honorable name, sir I ain bringing my family to shame, and yet I ' have not (h- nerve to be a better man.' I was indignant at this confession. He saw it a rill Coliti illei.l 'DJ not B!ame me, sir, you have not hail mv trial. I have fallen from a high place. Eigh teen months ago I was a lieutenant in the Navy, sir.' •Hit possible." T was startled, shocked. •Yes, sir, possible; a reality, .sir.' His lip quivred*a little as he aided—'l have a brother in Ihe pulpit, a fine preacher, a man loved , and respected. How do you suppose he feels? T have a rich brother in New York. They have both tried their best to save me. 'I was ruined in mv youth. There is a large oil store on of ,\1 and L streets. You have doubt! -sseen it. Before his death, my father carried -n lint business. I went there regularly alter it wasc! >sed lor the day. steal ing from my home, often from my bed, for the purpose to carouse with three voting f-!lows of my own age. We lold stoties, we drank wine together til! midnight, then with the false k<-v I had made, J would steal uilo my home and sleep oil the effects of my carouse. I began iliat, sir, when I was but t<*n years of age. Do you wonder at rny b-ing a drunk ird ? Of these boys, I alone am living. One ol them shot him self, another was drowned, drunk, and the third was hung Or murder only two months ago.— The fourth you s- ** j s not much better on,' he added, Willi a sickly smile. •My habits began to be known at lis! to tr.v : uaxenii. it came pear lliem R -fire T was eighteen, I had been brought home drunk nearly a scoie ot t;m<-s. Sir, I fought wdh my habit, out it mastered me. The fiend had me j by the throat. 'Strange to say, once, when in liquor, I per- I formed a daring feat. I caught a runaway horse, and, nv sheer strength, succeeded in ar- j iestitig his iiiad course. Would that some pow er could have held me so. I was much ap plauded for mv heroism. But bettei than all tiie praise I heard were the sweet smiles upon the white face of the girl I had saved from a I horrible death. She was driving alone iu the | city, as had been her wont f>r months. I claimed the privilege of driving her home, as she was most thoroughly frightened. You j smile sir; but, sir, the exertion, her grateful | thanks, mv own impulses f gratitude, had so- j bered me. I spiang into the vehicle, and in a \ short lime we stopped at her father's door.— She invited rne in. I thought I would at Jt-asl describe the accident, and make some apology j for my unexpected appeaiance. 'I toid tiie story of the narrow escape to an 1 old man whose br nv and hair were whitened ! with the frosts of eighty winters. It was the j aged grandfather. Childish in his joy, he tot tered tnwaids me, arid throwing his trembling arms shout rny neck, he his t-d no* on the cheek. • Many tunes 1 have felt that kis?, sir. 1 was unwoithy of so pure an ovation, from such a holy man. J felt myself unworthy ol thai dear an gel's gratitude, us tin- sweet Annette came in a lew moments after, still trembling, still pale and with her nu-ty blue eyes and gentle lip thanked ire* again and again. In that house, that day, I was Fasted like a prince. There wt if cousins and aunts there visiting lor the summer, and among them I was a lion. '[ was a good-look ing fellow then, sir, and , just on the eve of entering college. 'Young as I was, if ever nan fell ill love, I did there and then. Poor child ! how she loved trie- and I clouded her life. 'Well, sir, you wait for my story, I see.— After this my tails upon Annette were frequent. I lost my relish tor vulgar dissipation, and pre ferred her society to that of my former conge nial mates. II I drank—and I did—it was se cretly, and I always slept it olf. My friends and those of Annette's proposed a match—you see rny lather was wealthy I had good expec tations, intended to study lor the law, and was deemed a desirable match. 'I believe I worshipped Annette. She was : scarcely more than a child, but such a glorious, gifted creature. She was sixteen, 1 twenty; tour years between us. VVe were engaged in twelvemonth from that lime, while 1 was going through college. 'For a year I had successfully resisted my olci disease. I called it a disease; Ido now.— Remember, I did not let the cursed draught a lone, as I should. I only kept the appetite in unwholesome subjection. l a P ' knife, but not to the right place, and therefore came disgrace and (low it fall. 'One night the students had a frolic. 1 was the foremost reveler. They tempted me with devilish pertinacity to drink to excess. I did so; grew quarrelsome and raised a row. In the "melee two of the students were injured, ! and 1 made so much noise that we were discov ered in our revels. The blows that were given were proved upon me falsely; I never remem , bered tnat 1 gave them. 1 was convicted, ex pelled arid published. BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, NFVEMBER 12,1838. 'The disgrace was overwhelming. I tried to kill myself when 1 heard that Annette's friends had laA me oil forever. A note was put in my hands one day just as I had determined on the neans to rid myself of existence, ft read thus : 'Dear Richttrd : I am sorry for you ; 1 do not believe nil they say, and surely a man is not to be cast oft for one false step. Come to aunt Martha's this afternoon. They have for bidden me lo receive you at the house, but I will see \ou there. Y ours, as ever, ANNETTE.' 'Ol sir, that made my heart Dap into my throat-with joy and grief. She did not know that this was far from my first 'false step.' 'Dear angel, she had faith in me and wanted to comfort me. Besides, she was voung, impul sive, loving. At three in the afternoon I went to the place she had designated. It was a poor, plain house, r her aunt Martha was far from rich, and, as I sat in the little parlor, Annette came in and ma le all light. 'Her low ' dear Richard!' was the sweetest music I ever heard. Then as I caught her to I my bosom, she pressed back my bair with her ! loving lingers, and said with a smile that see- i | .tied angelic, 'They can't make me think you wicked, dear Richard, while I look on that lace." 'Her voice inspired me ; her perfi-ct faith, ihr a time, elevated my manhood. I silently vowed thjtsuc.il a thing should never happen 1 again—that I would not die, but make myself | woithy of her. 'Y'o.u do not believe ail they say of me, then?' I asked. ; 'No, Dick ;' the beautiful eyes were raised lovingly to mine. 'Xo, Dick, and 1 wouldn't believe though they had made you appear guilti er than you are. You know, Dick,' she added, as if to apologize, or, to soften the apparent re proof. ' it is very, very wicked to drink at all.' 'But 1 did not injure the students,' I said, evasively. 'I distinctly saw Hal Burt and Joe White strike at them ; I am sine I did not touch them. It is all dune through jealousy.' '1 knew it ; I told them so at home,' said Annette, triumphantly. 'Said I, Dick is smart, and the foremost of his class, and they hate tii.n for it. They will injure ft is good name if they can, hut never in my estimation.' •G "i bless you, my love,' was ail I could say. There were tears in my eyes and promises in my heart ! Q! >tie was so 0 autilul !so good, that altera >n ! I can see the dear eyes that I have nude shed many bdter tears, looking up at me now with that same soft, loving, pleading, wVtii r rny 1 Mine IVifnu. Aig-VtyWtM. a ■'-d tin. 'We parted. Itogoto my disgraced home to meet cold, averted looks ; she to be shelter ed, petted and loved by ail who knew her.— My father, with incredible exertion, procured me a situation in the service. It was the worst tiling that could have been done for me, though as there was soon to be fighting, promotion —il I lived — was possible, nay, almost certain.— But temptation was on that vessel, on deck and in her cabin. 1 took leave of Annette and ! went to sea. Once on the ocean, I forgot pru ! dence, love, Annette, all tilings pure and good, in my devotion to the cup. There was wine at table. A dashing v<>ung officer who 'took' ; to me supplied himself with champagne and : various liquors. 1 was always, to a certain ex j tent,drunk. Our destination was Mexico.— : There, for the exhibition of drunken valor, I was appointed second 'lieutenant—before, I had | been third. Ah ! sir, I lived a gay life. 1 j dare not tell, nor even think ol my excesses— j they were horrible. Once again 1 was promoted, I and c ame home with the honors of a first lieuten ancy thick upon me. Then I was lionized.— ; Aniiette's friends forgot my weakness. The glit | ter of mv epauletes filled their vision. They I could not see tiie drunkard in a uniform, i j went to Annette's home as I listed, i One night I called upon her. 1 Ind been drin- I king freely, and was not sensible ol my situa ! Hon, or 1 would have shot irnsell before 1 j had venturrd in her presence. She never | looked more beautiful. What 1 said or did that , night I never knew distinctly. I remember her ; wild look oI afhight—her hands, pushing me j f. anticaily from her—her springing away and my chasing her—her cries of utii ight—finally, i her locking hrrsell in her room, which J mane ! fruitless attempts to enter, then my leaving the house with all the doors open, and then toum ! a blank. | 'Tin- next morning dawned upon me iu the chamber ola friend. As I looked up with a -1 ching (train, a noble (act* bent over me—the • lace ol one who had been a fellow collegian, j and who was then studying for the ministry. 'I asked feebly, where ] was, 'Horace and I found vou prostrate in the ; street, a few rods from here. You were utter ly helpless. We lifted you against your most i imprecating struggles ; you cursed us with every breath, hut we finally brought you here, and here you have slept till now. It wants a ! quarter of eleven. I closed the blinds that you j might sleep it off.' 'I did not ask what he meant by it. I was | ashamed , too much ashamed to look at him. 'I hinted at the effects of a southern fever, hut from under my nearly closed lids 1 saw j something like a sneer on his face. 'He sat down by my bedside, and he plead with me tor an hour. For God's sake he be j sought me to break from this ruinous habit.— He held up the very t)ame s of hell till I shudder ed. Then bespoke ot Annette, and i knew by the tremor of his lips, the huskinessof his voice, that he, too, loved my darling. I had suspec ted it belore, but now 1 was certain, ami it roused the wildest feelings of jealousy. Madly 1 boasted ol her unconquerable attatchment ; fool that I was ! With a coarse, unskilful hand I bared his own heart to his view till heshiank from me in agony. Then I arose—forgetting all gratitude for his great favor in bearing me, i senseless, disgusting as I was, from the clutch |es of the police or watchman, saving me the Freedom of Thought and (pinion. i shame of opting my eyes in a station-house, and having in/ name bruited about i.i the pub . lie prints. '1 went to fie dwelling of Annette. I was ushered into vside parlor, where she lav upon a lounge, hetcheeks as colorless as the dead, tier large ey;s shining fitfully, and looking as if they had tyver been closed in sleep. : 'As 1 ben'qver her, she said, s fitly : 'Fh-ase dui't come so near me, Mr. Islington; 1 am ill. -1 starter; at that as if I had been shot. 'Mr. Islington !'. '1 repeated my own name, looking at her with a, wonderful glance. •Oh ! il l could believe it was not you, but some other' she said, sighing in a weary way, and siiul'iig her eyes lightly, though not so as to preventthe tears that would ooze through. ' V\ hat ain you mean V 1 asked ; and my look ol extremeiiucreduiity must have astonished her. ♦O Rich ard, Richard, you don't know what you said last night,' she cried, convulsively, passionately. -You don't—you can't know w Itat yo# d|d. O, Richard, the very recollec / Hon crazes (Tie. Don't, don't, tome near me; indeed, 1 cai't bear it. The recollections—uh ! Ir-I I i_>le, ter ib:e ' 'For Goifs sake, Annette, what 'did I say? i ell me, that 1 may ask your paidon on rny knees, and then L will leave you forever. 'O, Richard, Richard,' she moaned. Then she cau B ht my hand with impulsive tender i ness; drew tne towards her, laid her head oil my aim, as she said, in a tone that haunts me • Jet: i •I will tell you a little, and then you must go. It will he best lor both of us, R.chard— | lor both. It may break my heart; but it would be broken some tune, you know. Richard, I cannot say in words what you said to me, now, : it would kill me to hear them. On ! 1 never tbought lhi-> would ruj'peii —after all 1 have said—ail I have lelt lor you. Richard, you revealed some horrible things to me. On ' were you so wicked in that foreign country ? Dni you love and deceive that poor Spanish git I ! (), God tie! j> you, poor liicluid ! God lielj) you ll Vou did. 'i sat stupified pale with horror. She ' looked once in my fac<*, and shuddered as she -said, brokenly—•! could forgive you all but that. "I 1-lt like a condemned criminal. For a: while 1 sat there struggling lor voice, and then j 1 lold her mat, however wicked I bad been, 1 ; had never deceived woman. ...dfLe/ die p/.tHAd.',! she said, sinking from mv aid, I cannot (oiget last night. Don't get down to me in (nut way. I know now—l knew \ then that you were not yourself, and for that I reason, because you will not conquer that fatal habit, ive miat iiart. Don't say another word rny dear; weak and yielding as I seem ] can be firm. R-ineinoer that y our own hand has thrown the cup from your iips. J have tiled to belie ve'— iter voice grew broken and sobbing —'l have tried so hard to believe that you were ev erything good and worthy —Y'ou don't know how I have idolized you, looking on you as the saviour of my lite. I'liat is what I have said so often when tbev reasoned with me—'Father, he saved the hie of your child. How can I help loving hiiii ! i), yes they all know it ; ev erybody knew how 1 loved you. I never took jiaitis to conceal it, but now now 1 must.' '1 walked the Hour tn anguish of body and of spirit. Tilti I went to her and said: 'Annette, you love that cautmgGeorge Mer rick better loan you dome. Don't dissemble— -1 know it aii—l know what he thinks of you, the hypocrite ! '1 had iasli*-d myself intoa fury that was not i to be calmed by her gentle lepetitson ot my name her pleading looks. 'Yes it must be to. If you loved me, you would overlook what happened when 1 was not inyseit. Little things like that would uot cause you to dismiss me. 'Little things !' she repeated, with a reproach ful look. 'Richa'd, it you knew what you said last night, how you insulted me, you would never look tne in the lace again.' 'Farewell, then, forever,' 1 almost howled ; and seized my hat to go 1 knew not where. 'Richard josh one word more. 'lf death had been the penalty, I could not have resisted that plaintive appeal. 'She held forth her arms, pulled ine down a gain beside her, and sobned upon my ne. k as it her heait would burst. Again and again she essayed to speak, and again fresh tear: and cho king sobs followed, i was almost dying with shame, and the hot tears pressed to my burn nig eyeballs, but 1 bit my hps and kept them back. My whole frame was shaken, but not alone witn her anguish. There was a scene held uj< before my soul—a black disgraceful scene. 'On!v to say, dear Dick,' she gasj>ed forth at last, 'that, ii 1 live, I shall never, never marry anybody else ; and it, at any time, J know that) on have (thoroughly reformed, oh ! then, if you will take me, and love me still, I will he yours ; yours through all time, through all eternity. '1 kissed her many times, and desperate, mad dened, bating myself and cursing mankind, I left her, lor what ?' His manner stailled me; his voice was hoarse and fierce. 'To come to be a beggar and a pauper at the age ot twenty nine, through the love ol ruin!' An< ther movement and I was alone. A fearful page in the book of a man s history had been uniolded to me. 1 shuddered as 1 lelt the arbor. He who had talked with nrie was no wheie to be seen. Three years after that I was traveling in a stage coach, when an accident happened ot a somewhat serious nature. 1 lie coachman was dragged from his seat and trampled upon by theliorses, till his body was in a shocking con ditioo. He was carried lo the nearest house. I wassomewhat injured,!and not thinking it ad-1 visable to go on, applied for shelter at a pret ty cottage pointed out to me. The door was opened by the same young man who had lold j me his dismal story in the N poor honse.— jAt first sight we recognized each other. He | led me in, saying joyfully : 'I have conquered! ; 'I ffirgot my pain in the joy of hearing such ! news, and willingly heard what seemed like a i continuation that had not had a three years' in terval since I had listened before. 'You remember the day we talked together,' he said. 'Well, I have little to say, but it seems wonderful ; 100 wonderful for me to be lieve. After you had gone, I went to work: 1 but as I struck the earth, a strange unearthly j feeling came over me. I seemed tor the first : time to open my ev-s and look about me. 'Good God !' said I, as I thought on my situ | ation ;'Lieutenant Islington-Lieutenant Isling ; ton a pauper in the old N workhouse hoe ing potatoes? It won't do! Sir, I threw my hoe as far as I could hurl it ; with this right arm, and turned a!ou!, and f walked out of that place, redeemed my nam-, ■ my character, and my Annette ; and now T own i this house and land,and am a happy man, thank God ! -Great le3rs were rolling down his cheeks. I will not say anything about my own. The I r-ader can judge whether I was unmoved. — Then he told me the story of his finding Annette an orphan and pour, earning a livelihood by her needle; ol his waiting and working nearly three years, and now they were just married. At that moment a blooming creatuie entered. 'My Annette.' said the proud husband presen ting her. 'She has come in from a sick neigh | bor's. 'Your wife is a lovely creature. No wonder you thank God,' said I, aside, just as I retired I to rest. He smiled. I could not blame him that the smile was an exultant one. He bad conque red himself. God had written hitn "Greater tiian those who take a kingdom !" F OST CF A SEAT IN PARLIAMENT. —In an En* ! glisii journal we find it stated that it is no slight ! : matter, that of fighting one's way up to t tie un- | pa I seats ot the Engli.-h Parliament. Mn.j THACKERAY, for instanee, told m-, says a corres : pondent ot the London Times, that Ins unsuc- I cessful contest for the comparatively small bor- j | ough of Oxford, cost him over j£t,ooo sterlir g, : one item of which—for the hire ot "cabs ant! ( tl vs" —amounted to JEI7S, or nearly §903. — costly. One li iea Lot mine woo s-too-va'U .WT* : succession for a county representation, losing j the first and winning the second contest, spent upon the two" inure than JC 12,003 or $60,000. Seats in the United States Congress seldom cost so ii uch as '.his, though the expense occa sionly runs to a high figure. DEAD HEADS ON r;u: PRESS.—GAR railroad friends have recently cut olf many "dead heads" >n their roads, complaining that the number was too great. What would they say it they i were wonied as we often are. The press endures the infliction of deadhead- I ism from the pulpit, the bar and the stage; from corporations, societies and individuals. It is expected to vieid to its interest; it is required Ito give strength to weak institutions; eyes to the blind, clothes to the naked, and bread to the ; hungry; it is asked to cover up infirmities, hide : weakness, and wink at improprieties; it is ex pected t > herald quacks, bolster up dull authors, and (latter the vain; it is, in short, to be all ! things to all men; and it it looks lor pay or re ; ward, it is denounced as mean and sordid.— There is no iuierest under the whole heavens ! that is expected to give so much to society with j out pay or thanks as the press.— Patriot (S* I ni ; on. CHARGE IT. —Dr. Thompson, 'mine host' of the Atlantic Hotel, is a jolly, free-hearted land lord; but his wit-Ms often blunt, pointed and misses fire. Me had furnished a huiried break fast for some southern passengers by the cars— bustling about with all sorts of helter skelter say i ngs. 'Gentlemen, here's your breakfast. I've seen worse.' 'I never did see much worse,' says one of the passengers. The doctor was taken down. As they rose to pass out, they asked what was to pay. 'Fifty cents down, or a dollar when we charge it.' said the Doctor. ' Well, charge it then,' said our grumbling passenger. 'l'm sold !' said the doctor. Goon, gentle men, I'll charge it.' [Ep-"Watermillions ! Here they are—fine large, ripe watermillions —two lor a fip apiece, sung out an enterprosing countryman in front of our windon. ' Two for a fip apiece,'drawled uncle Fossil, as he selected eight melons. 'Ctn-ap enough sart inly,' and he passed up a halt dollar. ♦All right !' said the countryman, as lie pock eted the coin and drove off. •Two for a fip apiece,' soliloquised old fossil, wondering how eight melons at that late, couhl absorb the half dollar. [tj=~The following conversation is said to have taken place between a New Haven merchant and one of his customer?. •Sir—Your account has been standing for two years, J must have it settled immediately.' To which in reply •Sir Things usually do settle by standing. I regret that my acconnt is an exception. If it has been standing too long, suppose you let it run a little while !' Ipv—Pet-r Sharp says that his wile is equal to j five "fulls"—beauti-fui, youth-ful, aw-ful. and ' arm-ful. WKIOLL Xt TIBER 2523. POLIT I O A L. DEFEAT, NOT DESTRUCTION* Jhe deleat of ihe Democratic Party in Penn sylvania, although not entirely unexpected, it yet more thorough than even the most sanguine ol the opjHjsition could have anticipated. It avails but little to speculate concerning the causes which led to this disastrous result. The i depression of the tunes, as we belbre stated ; 'a as n > doubt the most powerful of the various influences that conspired to cause our defeat.—■ Alter the vessel is totally wrecked it is a poor consolation to gaze in melancnoly abstraction upon tbe rocks whereon it was dashed to piec es ; but we may put them down in cur politi | cal charts to oe avoided hereafter. Defeat al | ways conveys a irsson, which ll properly uitei preted, may be turned to great advantage in the ! future. Ihe Democratic Party is not entirely ■ unaccustomed to deleat. It has endured more • than one, fully as disastrous as this appears to i be, and iccoveied with renewed vigor. The : campaigns succeeding these overthrows have ! always Ueen the must brilliant and glorious, be ; cause they taught the party the necessity ola thorough organization, the aominaiion ol good candidates, and tUe suppression ct minor and distracting issues. The defeat of the Democracy and the triumph ol the Opposition in 185<£, ! when Gov. Pollock swept the State by a majori ty ot nearly forty thousand, piomised much wufce for the luture ct the Democratic Party i than the result of this election. The Missouri Compromise act had been repeal d, and the Democratic Party adopted the principle of pop ular government lor the Territories. This poli cy was misunderstood and unpopular. Thou sands of Democrats deserted the party and join ed the Know Nothings, then in the zenith of their mysterious power. These two influences depleted the ranks ol the Democracy so thor oughly, that tne Opposition predicted that the day ot Democratic supremacy had tbrever pass ed, and that the party had fought its last battle. Wtio could have anticipated, in that tiour ol gloom and defeat, that in one year the Democratic Party would put the Opposition to rout ? And yet so it was. A twelve month of the Opposition rule constrained those Demo crats who had wandered ofl", to return to their liist love; and one year from the gloomy elec tion day ol IS5+, which witnessed the most thorough Democratic deleat on record, wit nessed another glorious victory added to th long list ol its conquests. The election of Pi.umuk, Canal Commissioner, in 1855, set Pennsylvania all right again, and paved the jusc js'StU'-cjeleclbJU ot a President in 1856, tall, will toreteii the choice of anoih.v*y,n<xt cratic President in 1860. In the days ol the old Whig party, when the oppositi >n was thoroughly united in party name and paity principles,, they never could retain [>ower more than one year. A victory at one election was sure to be followed by a deleat at the next. Put this giasp of power has been rendered stili more leeoie and uncertain by the [•arties and factions into which the Opposition nas been divided. They may both unite ia claiming a victory over the National Adminis tration, out when limy come to settle what pos itive cude of principles has been successful in this election, internal dissensions will be the result. Is tins election a verdict in tavorofthe principles of popular sovereignty ? Ask Wil mot and those Kepublicaus who have fought tnis principle to I tie death, if such is their un derstanding. I, it a victoiy oi the Wihnot pro \ iso principle ? Ask the Americans who favor popular sovereignty. Both sides will tell you in general terms tuat the result of the election is a rebuke to the Administration, but they can not agree as to what principles have triumphed. We are not dismayed at this deleat, aud feel satisfied, that as lar as the future is concerned, it is a barren victory to the opposition. The recuperative energy ol the Democratic party is great, and in one y ear, from this lime, it will be as powerful as ever. The peopie have no real sympathy with the Republican or American paities, and will return to the Democracy as soon as tile temporary causes ol alienation have passed away. The opposition have found on lormer occasions that our deleat is not annihila tion, aud they will learn the lesson again.— ; Harrisburg Union. Prospects of the Democracy. In the course of an able aiticle on the "Con ! gressional Elections of.the North," the Rich mond South says : But, let the present state of things be what it may, the prospects of the Democratic party ol the Union will not great !v suffer iri any event. These elections over the Kansas difficulty will be at an end. There | will t> no discordant element in the way of the perlet co-operation of all sections of the party, lin the next Presidential election. On the other ' hand, the disorganization oft he Opposition will : b-come every day more intense and impractica -1 ble ; the chances of an effective coalition di minish in proportion to the increase ol candi dates and the multiplication ol irreconcileable issues. The most determined of the Black Re publicans will adhere to tiir anti-slavery arti cle of their creed, to the bitter end; but the occasion lor its immediate application is past and the excitement subsided, the conservative portion ol the party will begin to reflect upon the ultimate consequence of such a purely sectional movement. Black Republicanism will appear in the next Presidential canvass, aa fiercely sectional as ever, but with such dimin ished proportions as to render it powerless for mischief. The 'Americans' will doubtless pre serve their oiganizalion, unless, meantime, they become merged in the controlling element of the Opposition. In either event, the position and prospects of the Democracy will be the same. We shall be victorious in 1860, whatev t-r the character of the Opposition ; and, lor our part, we care not how soon they combine their scattered fcrcee. VOL 2, NO. 15.
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