VHiItMK •><• NEW SERIES. THE BEDFORD GAZETTE is fonr.isnnn EVERYTRIHAY MORNING, ESV R. F. WRVEBS, At the following terms, to wit: M .30 per annum, cash, i't ai.vanc*. ,oo " " if paid within the year. IVcr " " it not P i,ill within rhe yrar L subscription taken for tesstfian Six months |r?No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid nnWs at the option of the publishers., • Len'deeded bv the United States Courts, that .he "tooraeeof a n'ewspapcr without the payment of ar rlarages, is %/'J*™ evidence o. fraud ami ..a r ' The courts have decided that persons are ae roontablc lor the subscription price of new-spapers ii 111,,} take ihem I rom the post olhce, w.iether t.tej subscribe for them, or not. o c t r IJ. MY OWN PLACE BY MARTIN F. TOPPER Whoever 1 am, wherever my lot, Whatever I happen to be, Contentment and duty shall hallow the spot. Thai Providence ordains tor me ; Not covetous striving and straining to gain One feverish step in advance, — 1 know my own place, and you tempt me in vain To hazard a change and a chance. I care for no riches that are not my right, "No honor that is not my due ; But stand in my station by day or by night, The will of my Master todo ; He tent me my lot, be it humble or high, And set me my business here, And whether I live in his service, or die, My heart shall be found in my sphere. If wealthy, I stand as the steward of my King ; If poor, as the friend of my Lord ; It feeble, my prayers and my praise 1 bring ; If staiwart, my pen or my sword ; II wisdom be mine, I will cherish his gift ; If simpleness, bask in his love ; If sorrow, his hope shall my spirit uplift, it joy, I will throne it above ! 4 The good that it pleases my God to bestow, I gratefully gather and prize , The evil—it can be no evil, I know, But only a good in disguise ; And whether my station be lowly or great. No duty can ever be mean, The factory cripple is fixed in his fate, As well as a king or a queen ! For Pnty's bright livery glorifies all. With brotberhooJ, equal and free, Obeying, as children, the heavenly call, That places us where we should be ; A servant —the badge of my- servitude shines As a jewel invested by heaven ; A monarch—remember that justice assigns Much service where so much is given ! Away then withj"helpings" that humble and harm, Though "bettering"' trips Irom your tongue ; Away ! for vour folly would scatter the charm That round my proud poverty hung ; I felt that 1 stood like a man at my post, Though peii! and hardship were there,— And all that your wisdom would counsel me most, I—"Leave it—do better elsewhere." If "better" were better indeed, and not "worse," I might go ahead with the rest, But many a gain and a joy is a curse, And many a grief for the best ; No i—duties are all the "advantage" I use ; I pine not for praise or for pe ; f ; . As io ambition, I care not to choose ..My batter or worse tor myselt ! I wiil r.ot, I dare not, I cannot !—I stand Where God has ordained me to be, An honest mechanic —or lord in the land— He fitted my calling for me, Whatever my state, be it weak, be it strong, With honor, or sweat on my face, This, this is my glory, my strength, and my song, 1 stand, like a star, in my rr.ACC. A Lawyer in A Predicament. The Buffalo Commercial Advertiser is re sponsible for the following : "Yesterday, a clinker-built row boat, contain ing four gentlemen engaged in fishing, was cap sized in the Niagara river near the head of Grand Island. Three of the party escaped with only a moderate ducking, butt.ie other, a <ega! gentien an, vas less fortunate. By some pro res?, which it would puzzle a Philadelphia law yer to explain, he managed during the moment "f capsizing, to get Ins head in the bait bucket, with the bail around his neck. This novel hel rn"t rather embarrassed his motions in swim ming, though he showed gre3t alacrity in sink ing. He went under, to the horror of his compan ions, though thev might have known that he would not stay there a great while. Corning to the surface he made a few desperate plunges to get ofThis blinder, and then went down a giin. Several feet beneath the surface he found the water too wet for comfort, and came up like another Venus Aphrodite, the bucket still concealing all above his shoulders. Tiiis time he was fished out and helped to the boat,! where he succeeded in getting clear of his head Car. He was not much worse for the accident, j He got rid of the water he had swallowed as soon a? possible, then disentaugleo a-half dozen minifies from his curly hair and whiskers, took a long breath, and gently murmured, "bv thun der !" The partv were soon rescued by other boats." are you looking after, my dear!" tid a verv affectionate mother to her daughter. Ihe daughter looked around and thus replied '• "L king after a son-in-iaw for father. THE OLD CARTMAN. BY BLUNDERBUSS. [From the San Francisco Gotten Era.] I have a mint! to tell a little story. That it is btief, may he seen at a glance ; that it's true I most emphatically avow. li the reader despise it because of the first, br the editors of the Era reject it for the reason ol the Inst, then I will eschew truth in the future, and devote myself to the elaboration of lies into chanters and the purest fictions into volumes of seven teen hundred pages each. With this understanding, I proceed at once to remark that five yerrs ago, or thereabouts, j John Ainsley— or "Pap Ainsley," as lie was familiarly called was the owner of a hand cart, and earned a living bv conveying miscellaneous parcels from one section of the city to another, receiving therefor the reasona ble remuneration of fifty cents per load. To designate-the occupation in the prosiest lan guage possible, he was a hand-cartman, and ; when not employed, could always he found j during working hours at the corner of Montgomery and California streets. His hair and long beard were buite gray and his limbs j feeble ; and if he could not shove as heavy a load through the deep sand or up the steep grade j above him as the staluait Teuton on the oppo site corner, thereby losing many a job and many a dollar, all the light loads in the neighbor hood fell to his lot, and kind hearted men not (infrequently traveled a square or two out of their way to give an easy job to "Pap Ainsley." j Four years ago last September, (I recollect the month, for I had a note of four thousand ! dollars to pay, and was compelled to do some pretty sharp financering to meet it,) having two or three dozen volumes to transfer to my lodging, I gave Pap Ainsley the task of transportation. Arriving at my room just as lie had deposited the last armful on the table, arid observing that the old man looked fatigued atter climbing three flights of stairs five or six times, I invited him to take a glass of brandy— a bottle of which I usually kepi in my room for medical and soporific purposes. Although grateful for the invitation, he politely declined. I urged hut he was inflexible. I was astonished, j "Do you never drink ?" said I. "Very seldom,*' he replied, dropping into a a chair at my request, and wiping the perspira- j lion lrom his forehead. "Well, if you drink at a!!,*' I insisted, "you will not find as fair an excuse in the n®xt twelvemonth for indulging, far you appear fatigued and scarcely able to stand." "To be frank," said the old man, "I do not drink now. I have not tasted intoxicating liquor for fifteen years since " "Since when 1" I inquired) thoughtlessly, observing his hesitation. I The old man told me. Sixteen years ago) he was a well-to-do farmer near Syracuse, New York. He had one child, a daughter. While attending a boarding school in that city then a girl of sixteen years of age, "she formed an attachment for a young physician. Acquaint ing her father of the circumstances, he flatly j refused his consent to her union with a man lie ' had never seen : and removing her from school,! dispatched 3 note to the young gallant, with the somewhat pointed information, that his presence in the neighborhood of the Ainsley farm would i not meet with tavor. The reader of course surmises the result. In less than a month there j a= an elopement. The lather loaded his j double-barrelled shot-gun, and swore vengeance,; but failing to find the fugitives, he took to the j bottle. His good wife implored # him not to give way to despair, but he drank the deeper, j and accused her of encouraging the elopement. In three months the wife died, and at the ex- j piration of a year, when fhe young couple re turned to Syracuse from Connecticut, where they had remained with tiie parents of the hus- i band, thev learned that the old man had sold bis farm, squandered the proceeds, and was almost destitute. Learning of their arrival, Ainsley drank himself into a frenzy, and pro ceeded to the hotel where they were stopping, I attacked the husband, wounding him in the arm with a pistol shot, and then attempting the life of his daughter, who happily escaped uninjured I through the interposition of persons brought to j the spot by the report of the pistol. Ainsley j was arrested, tried and acquitted on the plea of insanity. The daughter and her husband re turned to Connecticut, since which time the father had not heard from them. He was sent to a lunatic asylum, from which he was | dismissed after remaining six months. In IS5] ! he came to California. He had followed mi ning fur two years, but finding his strength unequal to the pursuit, returned to the city, purchased a hand-cart, and the rest is known. "Since then," concluded the old man, bowing his face in his hands in agony f "1 have not tasted liquor, nor have I seen my poor child." I regretted that I had been so inquisitive, and BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, AUGUST 19, 1559. I expressed lo fhe sufferer the sympathy I really felt f>r him. After that, I seldom passed the corner without looking for Pap Ainsley, and never saw him but to think of the sad story he fiad told me. One chilly, drizzling day in the December following, a gentleman having purchased a small marble top table at an auction room oppo site, offered to the old man the job of con veying it to his residence, on Stockton street. Not wishing to accompany the carrier, he had 1 selected the face, probably giving the best assurance of the careful delivery of the pur chase. Furnished with the number of Hie house, the old cartman, after a pretty trying struggle with the steep ascent of California street, reached his destination, and deposited the table in the hall. Lingering a moment, the lady did not surmise the reason, until he politely in formed her that her husband (for sue!) lie took him to be) bad probably by accident neglected , to settle for the cartage. "\erv well, I will pay you," said the ladv, stepping into an adjoining room. She returned* j and staling that she had no small coin in the house, handed the man a twenty dollar piece. He could not make change. "Never mind, ; I will calf to-morrow," said he turning to go. "No, no 1" replied the lady, glancing pit yingly at his white locks and trembling limbs : "I will not put you to so much trouble and she banded the coin to Bridget, with instruc ; tions to see if she could get it changed at one of j the stores or markets in the neighborhood. "Step into the parlor until the girl returns ; the air is chilly, and you must be cold," con tinued the lady, kindlv. "Come," she added, as lie looked at his attire and hesitated : "there is a fire in the grate, and no one ther® but the j children." "It is somewhat chilly," replied the old man, following her into the parlor, and taking a seat near the fire. "Perhaps I may find some silver in the house," said the lady, leaving the room, for I tear Bridget will not succeed in getting the twenty dollar piece changed." "Come—l love little children," and the child who had been watching him with cu riosity run behind the large arm chair, hesita tingly approached. "What is your name, dear?"' inquired the cartman. "Maria," lisped the little one. "Maria ?*' he repeated while the great tears gathered in his eyes I once had a little girl named Maria, and you look very much like she did." "Did you ?" inquired the child with seem ing interest, "and was iier nam® Maria East man, too ?" "Merciful Cod !" exclaimed the old man, starting from his chair and dropping into it with his bead bowed upon fiis breast. "This cannot be ! and yet, why not !" He caught the child in his arms with an eagerness that frightened her, and gazing into her lace until lie found conviction there, sudden, iv rose to leave the house. <■[ cannot meet her without betraying mys-lf, and I dare not tell her that I am that drunken father who once attempted to take her life, and perhaps left her husband a cripple," he groaned, as he hurried towards the door. Tiie little ones were bewildered. "You are not going ?" said th® mother re-appearing, and and discovering the old man in the act of passing into Hie hall. He stopped and apparently turned bis fare, but seemed lo lack the resolution to do ought else. "He said he had a little Maria once, that looked just like me, mother,*' shouted the child, her eyes spaikling with delight. The knpes nf the old cartman trembled and he leaned against the door lor support. The lady sprang towards him, seized him by the arm, and attempted to conduct him toward a chair. "No, no ! he exclaimed, "not till you tell me I am forgiven 1" "Forgiven ? for what ?" replied the mother, ; "Recognize in m® your wretched father, and 1 need not tell 3-011 !" he faltered. "My poor father !" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck ; "all is forgiven—all forgotten !" AH was forgiven, and the husband when lie returned late in the afternoon was scarcely less rejoiced than his good wife at the discovery. Whether or not Bridget succeeded in changing the double eagle, I n®ver learned ; hut this I do know—it took the honest female all of two months to unravel the knot into which the domestic affairs of the family had tied them selves during her absence. Pnp Ainsley still keeps his cart, for money would not induce him to part with it. I peeped into fhe back vard of Dr. Eastman, one day last week, and discovered thp old man dragging the favorite vehicle round the enclosure, with his four grand children piled promiscuously into it. j Freedom of Thought and Opinion. "You can'f Pass." Persons rob one another every day, but h® must have been a clever fellow who robbed the Prefecture de Police (tl;® head police nffioer in Paris.) And this 1 man did whose nam® has become historical—Beaumont. He was the Jack Sheppard among thieves. ben Beaumont accomplished the immortal izing feat (amongst bis brethem) he had just re turned from the Bagne, (fhe galleys) at Brest. It took place in the days of the celebrated Vidocq. He actually lobbed the strong box at the head poiice office, and this box contained not only bank notes, but all the jewelry which is found, or in any way comes into the hands of the police. After his return from the galleys, lie frequently called upon Monsieur Henry, principal officer of fhe second division of polic®, and these visits were made under pretence of making certain revelations, or giving useful in formation, in the hopes of becoming attached to the police himself. Monsieur Henry's office was next to the cash ier's office. In going and coming, Beaumont had keys made to fit them. This was, doubt less, a great point gained, but it was not all ; it was necesiary to watch a moment when the cashier would De out, not home, or having left his office, and when Monsieur Henry, who npv er scarcely was absent, should be away. Eve rything turns well for those who choose to wait patiently. Beaumont found the long watched for opportunity, and as lie never did an}- thing hastily, lie did all at his ease this time, and a.? cleverly as quietly. ll* put on a black coat belonging to Monsieur Henry, a dress then lit tle worn, except by those high in oifice ; he ' walked down stairs and went to the nearest guard house, asked for the officer, who took him for some high official, and two soldiers were sent with him, without the least difficul ty. Beaumont gravely placed tliem at each end of the corridor, with strict orders to let no one pass until further directions. It was very da ring but equally sure. When he had made his selection amongst heaps of precious things, and filled his pockets with gold and jewels, he pas sed one of the sentinels and said : "That's right mv friend. lam going to the head director's. Everything must remain as I have left until mv return ; I shall soon be back: let no on® pass." But the office hours arrived, and ail the clerks too, high and low. "You can't pass !" they were told. So thev all went out and walked up and down the vard. Some,- however, went lound, lat last, tired of waiting, to the other en trance. But "You can't pass I" again saluted their ears. Then came the head of Hie office, and last!\* Monsieur Henry him.fi I, who did not take mat ters quit® so quietly. He ran to the guard house. The officer knew nothing of the rank or name of the functionary who had asked lor a gu3rs. To release the soldiers from their duly the minister of the police had to be sent for, and thev got in. If a thunderbolt had fallen among them all, they could not have been more dumb founded. The strong box was rifled, and the ground strewn with rejected valuables. Who could have done it ? To whom attribute the audacious act ? All the persons employed were tinder examination and suspicion, when Beau mont was betrayed by a comrade, and condem ned a second time. He had stolen several hun dred thousand francs, the greater part of which was found upon him. ''There was wherewithal to have become an honest mar. ; I should have turned one," lie said. "Tt is easily done when you are rich : yet how many of the wealthy are rogues !" This is all he uttered. lie was sent to Brest, where he died, leaving an immortal name among the thieves. Inclined to be Quarrelsome. We heard that prince of story-tellers, Tom Calloway, get offthe following, midst hoists of laughter, tiie other night. Squaring himself, and stretching ouFhis legs, he began : There was once a littl®, slim built fellow, rich * ... 9$ a Jew, and independent as tiie devil, riding along a highway in the state of Georgia, when he overtook a man driving a drove of hogs by the help of a big, raw-bone specimen of human ity. Stopping the last named individual, he ac costed him— "l sav, are these your hogs?" "No sir, I'm to work by the month." "What - pay might }-ou be getting, my friend ?" "Ten dollars a month, and whiskey thrown in," was the reply. "Well, look here, I'm a weak, little, inoffen sive man, and peopl® are apt to impose upon me, do you see. Now, I'll give you twenty five dollars per month to Jride along with me and protect me," was Gardner's reply. "But, he added, as a thought struck him, "how might 1 you be 0:1 a fight ?" "Never been licked in my life" rejoined six footer. 'Just the man I want. It's a bargain, replied Gardner. Six-footer ruminated. Twenty-fir® dollars —double wages—nothing to do but rid® around and smash a fellow's mug occasionally, when he's sassy. Six-footer accepted. They rod® along till just at night they reach ed a village. Dismounting at the door, they went in. Gardner immediately singled out the biggest man in tlie room, and picked up a fuss i with him. After considerable promiscuous jaw irig, Gardner turned to his fighting friend and intimated that the licking of that man had be come a sal necessity. Six footer peeled, went in and came out first best. The next night, at another hotel, the sam® scene was re-enacted : Gardner getting into a row with the biggest man in the place, and six- , footer doing the fighting. At last on the third day they came to a fer ry, kept by a huge double-fisted man who had never been licked in his lite. Whilst crossing 1 1 the f river, Gardner as usual, began to find fault j and "blow." The ferryman naturally got mad . threw things round kind o'loose, and then fold them his opinion ol their kind. Gardner then turned to his friend "from the shoulder," and gently broke the intelligence to him, "that he was sorry, but that it was absolutely necessary to thrash that ferryman." Six-footer nodded his head but said nothing. It was plainly to be seen that he did not relish the job, by the wax he shrugged his shoulders, but there was no help for it. So when they reached th® shore, both stripped, and at it the}- went. Up and down the bank, over the sand, into the water, they fought, scratched, gouged, bit and roiled, till at Hi® end ol an hour the j ferryman caved. Six- ! footer was triumphant, out it had been tough* work. Going up lo his employer, he scratched his head for a moment, and then broke forth : 1 "Look here, Mr. Gardner, your salary sets mighty well, but—l'm—ot the opinion—that: you're inclined to be quarreLome. Here I've only been with you three days, and I've licked th® three biggest men in the country. I think * this firm had better dissolve, for you see, Mr. Gardner, I'm afiaid you're inclined to be quar relsome and T reckon I'll draw." Execution of Colonel Ilayne. j Among (hedistinguished men who fell vic tims during the war of the Revolution, was Col. Isaac Havne, of South Carolina : a man who by his amiability of character and high sen timents of honor and uprightness, had secured the good will and affection of all who knew him. He had a wife and six children, the ol- j dest a bov thirteen years of age. His wife, to whom he was tenderly attached, fell a victim to disease ;an event hastened not improbably bv the inconveniences and sufferings incident to a state of war, in which the whole family j largely participated. Col. Hayne himself was taken prisoner by tiie British forces, and in a short time was executed on the gallows, under circumstances calculated to excite the deepest commiseration. A great number of persons, both English ant! Americans, interceded for his life. Th- ladies of Charleston signed a peti tion in his behalf; his motherless children were presented on their bended knees as humble sui- i tors for their beloved father : but all in vain. During the imprisonment of the father, the °l - son was- permitted to stay with him in pris on. Beholding his only surviving parent, for whom he felt the deepest affection, loaded with irons and condemned to die, he was overwhel med with consternation and sorrow. The; wretched father endeavored to console him, by reminding him that the unavailing grief of the son tended only to increase his own misery ; and he could even rejoice that his troubles were so near an end. "To morrow," said he, "I set out for immortality. You will accompany nie to the place of execution : and when i am dead take my body and bury it by the side of your mother." The youth here fell on his father's, neck, crying, "Oh, my father! my father! ij will die for vou ! I will die with you !" Col. Havne, as he was loaded with irons, was una ble to return the embrace of his son, and mere ly said to him in reply—"Live, my son ; live to honor Cod by a good life ; live to serve your country ; and live to take care of your brother and little sisters." The next morning Col. j Hayne was conducted to the place of execution.! Ilis son accompanied him. Soon as they cane* in sight of the father strengthened j himself and said, "Nfßfcsmy sop, show your-wlj a man ! That tree is th<* boundary of my life, and a!l my life's sorrows. Beyond that, the wicked cease from troubling and the weary "are at rest. Don't lay too n.t£fi at heart our sept ration ;it will be short. To-day I die ; and you, my son, though butjvoung, must shortly ly follow me." "Yes, my faU*r," repliefl the broken-hearted youth, "I shj®borl!y follow you, for indeed, I feel live long. WHOM: ]\iihber 28 S. And his tnelancliolv anticipation was fulfilled • n a manner more dreadful than is implied in the mere extinction of life. On seeing his fath er in the hands of the executioner, and thpn s'ruggling m the halter, he stood like on" trans fixed and motionless with horror. Till then he had wept incessantly : but as soon as he saw that sight, the fountain of his tears were staunched, and he never wept more, He diej insane ; an J j n his last moments often called upon his father, in terms that brought tears from the hardest hearts. Wonders of tSie Mississippi, i ~ . The difference of level between high and low water mark at Cairo is fifty feet. 7'he i width and depth of the i jver from Cairo and M emphis to New Orleans is not materially increased, yet immense additions are made to the quantity of water in the channel by large | streams from both the eastern and western sides of the Mississippi. The question naturally arises : What becomes of this vast volume of water 1 It certainly never reaches New Or- I leans, arid as certainly does not evaporate : : and of com s®, it is confined to the channel of the river, for it would rise far above the entire reg-on south of us. Jf a well is sunk any where in the Arkansas j bottom, wafpr is found as soon as the water level of the Mississippi is reached. When the Mis sissippi go"s down, the water sinks accordingly in the well. The owner of a saw-mill, some ( twenty miles from the Mississippi, in Arkansas, dug a well to supply the boilers of his engine, during the late flood. When the water rece ded, his well went down till his hose Would no longer reach the water, and finally his welt was dry. He dug a ditch to an adjacent lake to let the wafer into his well : the lake was drained, and the well was dry again—having literally drank ten acres of water in less than a week. The inference is, that the whole valley of the Mississippi, from its banks to its highlands on either side, rests on a porous substratum which absorbs the abundant waters, and thus prevents that degree of accumulation which would long since have swept New Orleans into the Gulf but for this provision of nature, to which alone it is attributable. In fact, if the alluvial bottoms of the Missis sippi were like the shores of Ohio, the vast plain fromCiiro to New Orleans would to-dav be part and parcel of the Gulf of Mexico, and this whole vallpy a vast fresh-water arm of the sea. Were the geological character of the valley different, the construction of levees, confining the water of the Mississippi to its channel, would cause the rise in the river to becomp so great at the South, that there no sufficient levee could be built. The current would he stronger and the ayumulalion of water greater as the levees are extended noftti of us. Such results were reasonably enough anfici- patpd ; but the water instead of breaking the levee?, permeates the porous soil, and the over flow is really beneath the surface of the swamp--. Such, it seems to u?, are the wise ! provisions of natural laws for the safety and ultimate reclamation of the rich country south of u?. We believe that the levee system will be successful, and that the object of i's adoption will be attained. The porosity of the material used in making has caused most if not ail of the crevasses. Men mav deem it a superhuman task to wall in the Mississippi from Cairo to \ew Orleans, hut our levees are the work of pigmies when contracted with the dikes of Holland.— .Yatckcz Paper. [Frc oi the Ailenlown Democrat.] A Few Plain Questions Democrats ! cut this out and ask vour know nothing and republican neighbors the following ! simple questions. Who are in favor of giving npgroes the right of sufliage which they refuse to foreign-born ci tizens ? The know-nothings and republicans. Who passed the law in Massachusetts pre venting tareign-born citizens from voting, when du'v naturalized according to the Constitution of the United States ? The know-nothings and republicans. Who recommended the same law to be passed in \ew Jersey ? The know-nothings and republicans. Who recommnded the same law to be pas sed in New Yotk ? The know-nothings and republicans. Who sanctioned and approved that odious j measure in Pennsylvania by giving silent con : sent in their late State convention. The kn iw-nothings and repuolicans. Who introduced a bill in the legislative of Ohio to strike out the word "white" from the constitution in order to give negroes the right of suffrage? The know-nothings and republicans. Who are in favor of foreigners not voting un til tiiev are 21 years in this country ? Tim know-nothings and republicans. Who voted agaii st admtting Minnesota as a fre<* Siate ? The know-nothings and republicans. Who voted against admitting Oregon as a free Slate ? The knnw-noth n: and republicans. Wh > carried banners in lSsf> upon which only sixteen S a esnppeared where there shon d have been thirty .two ♦ Th- know-nothings and republicans. Who were in favor of letting the Union slide? The know.nothings and republicans. Ifjr*"Hello ! Jim, what are you making?" in quired a young friend passing by. "Why, mo ther mod-' apple-butter the other day, and she don't like it, so I am making it back into apples again." # VOL. 3, NO. 3-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers