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DISCONTENTED.
How rr.any sick ones
Wish they were healthy;
How many beggar men
Wi.h they were wealthy ;
How many ugly ones
Wish they were pretty ;
How many stupid ones
Wish they were witty ;
How manv bachelors
Wish they were married ;
How many Benedicts
Wish they hail tarried :
Single or doub/e,
f. lie's l"u// of tronb/e ;
Uirhes are stubb/e,
P/eastire's A bubb/e.
Select Hale.
thf. lover and the loved
BY ALBERT IVIAN.
The Missouri river had nearly gained its ut
r it height in the great flood ol IS 14, but was
.-till rapidly rising when I came to its banks in
tue beginning of June, at the pleasant little
town ol Lennox, iu the western part of Hie
State.
Lennox is situated on a high blub on the east
bank of tfie river, which there flows nearly
south. At the foot of the bluff is barely room
for a single street which runs parallel with the
river, and on which a few warehouses, stores,
and mills are built. The blufl is steep —in pla
ces, almost perpendicular—and a single street
ran up from the river to the summit, where the
principal part of the town was situated. The
Missouri, at this point, is commonly about five
hundred yards wide ; and at the trend, a little
above Hie town, where the river turned tromau
•■astern to a southern course, the current was
unusually rapid, even lor that rapid river. The
opposite shore was a low level tract ot bottom
land, several miles wide, elevated only a l°w
leet above the water. Along the shores, and
for a mile or two back, the country was covered
with a dense growth of cotton-wood, hut beyond
this was an extensive prairie. A number of
old water-courses ran tiirough this bottom, into
which the water of the river now found its way
from above, forming large streams across it, and
to a great extent, interrupting travel. Direct
ly opposite Lennox, were a warehouse, hotel
and one or two other buildings, all very near
.he shore. When 1 arrived in town it was
nearly dark, and 1 was told that I could not
cross till the next day, as the ferry-boat was
propelled only by r.and, and the great rapidity
ol the stream rendered crossing slow and labo
rious.
I went to the top of the bluff", from which
the view cf the river and country on the other
side was very extensive. The buildings on
ibe shore opposite seemed almost at mv feet,
they lay so far below me. The lerry-boat
was fastened near the hotel, to the stump of
a large tree, which stood just at the river's
brink.
While looking at the prospect before me, I
saw a carriage drive up to the hotel on the oth
er side of the river, and several persons, nfostly
ladies, descended from it, and went in. A group
of spectators standing near me on the bluff ob
served them, and their conversation attracted
my attention.
"These are Stanton's people," said one of
thein. "They ought to come over to-night. The
river is rising very fast, and no one knows what
miy happen before morning."
"Yes," replied another ; "the bank there is
washing away rapidly, and the liver has near
ly reached the slough on the other side of the
warehouse. When it gets in there, those
buildings will not stand long. They [are cer
tain to go in a day or two, unless the water
tails. The families all left there yester
day.
I went back to my lodgings soon after, and
thought nothing mote about it till next morning
at bn-akfast, when the landloid's son came in
with the news, that the ferry-boat had gone
down the nver during the night—the stump to
which it had been fastened was washed out by
ibe river—and that all Stanton's family were
unable to get away.
The hoarders all hastened out to the bluff,
to see (or themselves. I went along. The
< harige since the previous evening was remar
kable.
Directly beyond the buildings we could see a
wide and rapid stream, which entirely cut off
the inmates from the land, and formed an island
containing, perhaps, half an acre of land, which
was barely above the surface of tfie water.—
The current of the river—if possible, more rap
id than on the previous dav was rushing
with terrible force against the upper end of
l be island, and fast wearing it away. It was
s oon learned that the river had risen several
inches during the night, and was still ri
sing.
II avy clouds to the west and north showed
*ba. ram was still pouring down upon the trib
ute .es of the Missouri that entered the river
| just above, and cut off all hopes of a fall of the
, water.
Mr. Stanton soon joined the crowd that was
: fast collecting on the bluff.
If* was a tall, gentlemanly person, apparent
jlv sixty years of age. He was dressed with
! scrupulous care, and carried a gold headed cane.
I I learned lie was -one of the most wealthy citi
; zens of the town, a retired merchant, whose
ample fortune was invested in banking houses
j and real estate, llis family consisted of his
wife somewhat younger than himself—and an
only son just entering on manhood. The death
of a brother-in-law, whose w : fe had died some
time before, left him tfie natural protector of
two nieces and a nephew. Mrs. Stanlon and
her son had gone to bring them home, and they
were the persons now on the island, anil in such
desperate need of succor.
The current of the Missouri, always rapid,
renders boating upon it laborious and un
> pleasant ; and consequently, lew boats pro
' pel led by oars are to he found UDOII its wa
] ters.
i A steamer was expected about noon, on her
; upward trip, and is it was certain that the is
i land would resist the action of the water till
i ifcat time, it was resolved to await the arrival
i of the float.
j The construction of a raft was proposed, but
jit was thought doubtful whethei one could be
I propelled across the river. Others proposed
' sending to a neighboring town for abmall skiff
i which was known to be there. Dut as that
j would occupy several hours, it was said that
| ihe steamer would be at tile landing before (he
j skiff could be brought. About ten o'clock, a
j heavy shower drove the spectators to shelter.
fbe rain continued till afternoon, when it sud
. tlenly ceased, and the sun shone out I rightly,
j Though the streets were miry, and the ground
I wet and unpleasant, the tops of the bluff and
! tfie space about the landing were soon crowded
i with people. About one-thud of the island had
i disappeared within three hours previous, and
j the water was now rushing furiously along
within a few feet of the veranda, which ex
! tended along the east side of the hotel.
A part of the 'oundation of the warehouse,
j which stood a little above the hotel, and very
| near it, had been washed away, and the huge
j building was slowly sinking into the river.—
; "lis. Stanton and her son were standing at one
j end of the veran la, and her nieces and nephew
'in a group by themselves, a liftie apart. Bv
j the aid oi my glass, I could see them quite dis
distinclly. The girls were apparently of tfie
ages of eighteen and fifteen, and the boy much
j younger, probably not more than eight years of
: age.
! They all looked earnestly at the crowds of
! people who filled the hill tops ai d lined the
j streets about the landing. Mrs. Stanton seem
jed more agitated than the others, and I could
see fioin tfie frequent movement ol her hand
kerchief that she was weeping. The young
j man was restless, and moved about nervously,
j glancing fiomthe crumbling island to the iand-
j tug oppose, unit then looking up 'and down
j the river, as it' tor the appearance of a steamer.
\ The young ladies remained motionless, stand*
I ing side by side, with their brother leauing up-
I on the railing before them.
A lertible tear that the steamer might be de
tained, and not arrive that day, now began to
I coirie upon the spectators. Mr. Stanton was
; thoroughly alarmed, and dispatched a wagon to
• bring up the skiff that was at a landing some
distance below the town. Jt would require less
time to bring it up in that manner than it
would to row it up against the current on the
river. The driver and attendant were iirypd to
hasten to the utmost of their speed, but it was
nearly two o'clock when they started. Serious
(ears began to be felt for the safety of the im
prisoned family, and the arrival of the steamer
was still anxiously looked for ; but hour after
hour passed, and nothing save the broad, rush
ing waste of water could be seen. Hour after
passed by, and the people looked, and wonder
ed, and sympathized in vain.
The waters rose steadily, and the little island
was fast yielding to their constant rushing, and
wearing away before our eyes, while the im
prisoned tiavelers watched and waited some
sign of coming deliverance, but watched and
waited in vain. The clouds again hid the sun
and a fearful looking storm began to ri-e iu the
north-east.
It was almost sunset when the skiff arrived.
The hundreds of people who had been watching
till then from the I.ill-tops, now hastened down
to the landing, anxious to see the skiff afloat,
and to meet the rescued family when they
should come to land.
I went down the hill with the crowd. A
stranger, whom J had not seen before, came a
long by my side. He was probably twenty-five
years of age, ol medium size, very plainly dres
sed, but with the unmistakable air and ma niters
of a gentleman. 1 observed that his eyes and
hair were both brown, and that he had a care
worn and wearied expression. We walked
on in silence for a moment, and then he
spoke :
"This has been a long, weary day for these
people."
I made some common-place reply, and he
continued :
"How many spend their whole lives in a
similar manner —in fear, and doubt, and agony
watching, and waiting and praying for the
deliverauce that will never come !"
I looked at him in surprise. He noticed it,
and added :
"Physical dangers and sufferings are often
terrible •, but they have this alleviation—they
secure to the sufferer the sympathy of those a
| round him ; but mental anguish is not visible,
and must be borne alone. Many men and wo
men, too, will risk their lives to rescue a hu
man being from danger and distress like this,"
(and he pointed towards the island) "who will
walk carelessly by, and neither think nor care
to think, how easily they might relieve alar
greater distress."
BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 29, 1860.
We were by this time in a dense crowd, and
were separated. When 1 reached the landing
the skiff was lying in the water, and Mr. Stan
ton was standing near it, with tears in his eyes
expostulating with a uegio boatman who stood
by. A dense mass of human beings surrounded
iliem in a semi-circle. By crowding along at
the edge of the water, I succeeded, with diffi
culty in getting inside of tfie circle. I noticed
that the skiff was quite small and could cany
but a few persons.
The people on the island were still standing
on the verandah, which the water had now
reached, and was undermining. Mrs. Stanton
was waving her handkerchief incessantly, but
the young ladies stood apart, clasped in each
other's arms silent and motionless, looking with
an earnest steadfast gaze, at the river and the
landing opposite.
"Will no one go ?" cried Mr. Stanton, in agf
ony. "I have neither the strength nor the skill
to row the boat across. I'll give any man a
thousand dollars v.-ho will do it ! A thousand
dollars !" he repeated wildly ; "or any amount
one will ask !"
"A thousand dollars, and your freedom,
Jack!" tie exclaimed, addressing the negro
boatman, "it you will but take the boat to
them."
But the negro shook his head slowly, as he
answered :
"I can't, Massa Stanton it's no use, the boat
can't go back, and I would be left there to
drown."
"I'll give five thousand dollais to whoever
will go! five thousand dollars!" he ciied,
looking wildly around.
1 asked -vliat ail this meant; and was ans
wered that theskitf would only hold four per
sons with safety ; consequently, the persons on
the island—five in number, of whom two were
children—would fill it to the utmost capaci
ty.
The young m3n Stanton was'a good oarsman
and, if he had the skifl, could easilj bring off
the whole party ; but whoever should taketheiri
the boat, must, perforce, take their place ami
remain in the island till the boat could return
for his deliverance. But it was now almost
night, and a heavy stoim was last approach
ing, and it would be quite impossible for the
skill'to go back to tfie island before tLie storm,
and the darkness would render the attempt
hopeless.
J'hi*. was the cause of Mr. Stanton's excite
ment. No one was willing to undertake the
enterprise; it was too dangerous. It was evident
that the island would wholly disappear before
morning ; and it wasalso evident that the Tskiti
could not return that night. The skifl could
not possible carry more than five persons on the
island ; and either one o! them, or the person
taking it to them, must remain, with an al
most absolute certainty of perishing.
What shall we do 1 What can be done ?
were the questions that passed through Hie
ciowd; but no one could answer them. It seem
ed like going to certain death—and who was
readv to die I
A profound silence tell upon the crowd, and
all stood motionless and irresolute as a leeling
of crept over them. Tfie silence was op
pressive, ar.d not a sound broke the stillness,
except tile lushing of tile water along the edge
of the ieyee. The silence seemed of longer
duration than it really was—it had lasted per
haps a full minute, when tfie stranger who had
walked down from the town with me, stepped
quietly out from the throng, and said, in a low,
calin voice :
"I will go." And wilhou. waiting for any ex
planation, or any thanks from Mr. Stanton, who
attempted to express tiis gratitude, and repeated
his offer ot reward, he stepped into the skill'and
took up the oars.
"Take the rope and draw the skiff up to the
point yonder, where that there log lies out
into ttie river," said he, in a commanding
tone.
Several men sprang forward and seized the
rope. Thu-object of this was, to take the boat
up the river a considerable distance above tiie
point where he intended to land 011 the other
side. The spectators followed the boat tapidlv,
and there was an evident ieelmg ot relief 111
tile prospect ot the family being at last deliver
ed.
During the passage up to the point indicated
the stianger did not speak—scarcely once look
ed around, but kept his attention fixed upon ttie
boat, which he carefully guided with the oars,
keeping it out iu the stream sufiiciently to a
void sinking the shore. When the men who
were drawing it reached the spot, tht-y all let go
the rope but two, and these walked out care
fully on the log to its extremity.
"That will do," said the stranger. "Throw
the rope into tile boat."
They obeyed ; and exerting all his strength
upon the oars, the skiff shot out rapidly into the
stream.
There was much wondering in the crowd,
and many questions asked about the stranger ;
but no one could answer them —no one knew
about him.
At the point where he started out into the
river, the current was not very strong near the
shore, but when about a third of the way across
the skirl! entered the main channel of the stream
and he was swept rapidly down. He still kept
the prow ol tlie boat pointed towards the oppo
site shore, but his utmost exertion could propel
it but slightly forward, while the current bore
him along downward with great rapidity. The
spectators, following the motion ot the boat,
hastil y retraced their stejis to the landing in
front ol the warehouses, but before *we reached
the spot, the skiff had passed through the most
rapid part of the river, and entered the eddy
formed just below the island. In a few mo
ments mo'e the stranger had brought the skiff
up to the house, and we saw the young man
seize the rope and make it fast to the railing of
the verandah. The stranger stepped front the
boatyipon the lloor, and I observed that he
bowed to the ladies and motioned them to the
Freedom of Thought and Opinion.
boat. The voiiug man was the first to enter :
it was necessary that heshould to keep it steady
while the others were taking their places.—
Mrs. Stanton next stepped in, and then her litte
nephew. As the young ladies were approach
ing, I saw tfie stranger take something from
a side pocket and place it in the hands of the
eldest ; she paused, as if in conversation with
hin, and it was not till the others were ail sea
ted that she moved forward and entered the
boat ; and even then she moved slowly, as if
with reluctance.
Ihe stranger loosened the rope that secured
the skiff, again to the ladies, re
mained standing on the verandah.
As they floated rapidly away, it was evident
that they must descend the river a considerable
distance while making the passage, and that
they would land at what was called the lower
landing, about a half a mile below where we
were standing. We all walked down in that
direction. The rain began to fall, accompa
nied with a heavy wind—the light faded rap
idly away, as the storin increased, and it was
a Intuit as dark as night when the skill came to
Jand. The passengers were welcomed with
loud cheers, and assisted into a carriage which
had long been waiting them. They were thor
ough ly drencheo, and seemed nearly exhausted
with fatigue, anxiety and lasting ; thev had ea
ten nothing for thirty-six hours. The tain beat
furiously and pisilessly upon us as we has
tened back to our lodgings. At supper the
subject "was discussed, and there was much
wondering and inquiring about the stran-
As I was describing his personal appearance,
the landlord remarked ;
"He must be the stianger who stopped here
last night."
I replied that I did not see him at the table
either in the morning or at noon.
"No," said he, "he did not come down till
late this morning, and did not come to dinner
at all."
It was concluded on ail hands that he was a
doomed tr.an —the utter impossibility of his sur
viving the night was evident.
The storm continued with terrible fury— the
rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew almost
a hurricane, attended with incessant flashes of
lightning ; and mingled with the loud roaring
of the wind was a continuous roar ot thunder.
It was the most terrible storm of that stormy
year. It was long past midnight when it ceas
ed ; and the tumult of the storm, and the agita
tion occasioned by the interest lelt in the late of
the unknown traveler, prevented sleep for many
hours.
The next morning was calm and bright.—
Long before sunrise the crowds who. the previ
ous clay, had thronged I lie bluffs, were hurry
ing along the streets and sidewalks to learn the
fate of the stranger. It was soon learned. The
river was higher than on the previous day, and
every vestige of the island had disappeared.
Nothing but a broad expanse of dark, wild, rush
ing waters was visible, hurrying on in a fierce,
relentless tide.
A thrill ol inexpressible horror, mingled with
a strange feeling ot admiration, filied every
heart, as the eye first rested on the spot where
the brave young stranger had yielded up his
Jite alone in the storm and darkness, and gone
down to liis unknown and noteless grave.—
"Why should he do it V' was the question on
every tongue and in every mind. "What w'as
his motive ? Why should he go down to cer
tain death lor tfie sacrifice of strangers, when
their own friends shrank from the sacri
fice ?"
While I was standing alone, looking out up
on the river, after the spectators had with
drawn, a carriage came tip. It contained
Air. Stanton and his family. They looked
earnestly upon the river lor some time in si
lence.
"Was it possible for hun to escape, uncle ?"
asked the eldest of tile two ladies.
Mr. Stanton had descended from the car
riage and was standing at the door, which
was open. He shook his head sadly, as he re
plied :
"I think not, Delia—l think not."
Delia was very pale, and leaned her head a
gainst ihe side of the carriage, as it laint and
weak. Sne was really beautiful—a blonde,
with rich auburn hair and clear brown eyes,—
Her forehead was high and broad, and all her
features were regular and delicate. The whole
party remained silent for several minutes. She
wa the first to speak.
"I am glad to have yon all saved," she said :
"hut I do not fell that I have any light to life
on such terms. Why should any one die for
me V
"fie- loltf you to open the letter he gave von
this morning, if he was not found," said Mr.
Stanton.
Miss Delia immediately produced a letter,
which she opened. Alter locking at it a mo
ment, her eyes tilled witl) tears, she handed it
to Mr. Stanton. He read it aloud.
1 was standing near enough to hear distinct
ly, and they seemed willing that I should hear.
The note was brief :
♦'lf I do not return, give the reward—if I
succeed—to your niece, Miss Delia Greene."
That was all.
Mr. Stanton turned the bit of paper over and
over, as if there must be something more. Hut
there was nothing.
"Did you know him, Delia ?" asked Mr Stan
ton.
She bowed her head slightly, but did not
speak. Mr. Stanton looked vexed ; and all the
other members of the lamily uttered many ex
clamations of surprise.
"And you never told us ! Who was he?
Where did you see him ?" and many'iike ques
tions.
She made no reply, but continued leaning a
gainst the side of the carriage, weeping, and
paler than before.
"This is unaccountable, Delia," said Mr. Stan
ton, sternly. "Was he a friend of yours ?"
She did not reply immediately, but in a mo
ment she said quite clearly and calinlv
•'I met him once—he was my friend. I
cannot tell you anything more about him."
Her tone and manner were quiet and firm,
and no one ventured to ask her any inore ques
tions. Her distress was so evident and so deep,
that it checked them all and kept them silent.
Afier a little, the carriage drove away, and f
went back to my hotel.
The stranger had left little baggage, a few
books, and some manuscripts. Mr. Stanton's
family made diligent inquiry ol all Delia's for
iner friend* and acquaintances, but none of them
could tell aught about the stranger. No one ol
all her friends could recall anything that ever
seemed remotely to connect tier with the stran
ger. Finding that he could learn nothing more,
and feeling bound by the promise he had made,
Mr. Stanton placed the five thousand dollars re
waid at Miss Delia's disposal, and it was by tier
placed at interest ; and tfie income thus derived
served for tier support. And tfie secret which
caused so much anxiety and inquiry she kept
locked in her own heart, and no human power
could tempt her from her fidelity.
Deila never married. Within a year alter
the events described above, siie went trom her
native country, as a missionary, to a remote
station in tfie Old World.
"I shall never teturn," she said tome, on
the eve of her departure. "You may k--ep these
papers for your perusal, when 1 ain gone; and
when you hear of tny death, make what use ol
them you please."
After fifteen years of successful labor, as
teacher, in one ot the mission schools in the
East—successful labor, of which even a Chris
tian might feel a grateful pride—she, too, yiel
ded up tier life tor the good of others; no! sud
denly, and by violence, but the i ffect ot long
continued toil and anxious application wrought
its slow but certain work ; auU at tfie beginning
of tfie year just closed, tier life and labor termi
nated, and I can now reveal the history ot Hie
unknown stranger by whom her life was once
saved.
His name was Leonard El wood, once a clerk
;n New Orleans. Pride and poverty, some
years before I saw him, had impelled turn to
to commit a crime—forgery, embezzlement, or
some kindred act —aud its commission enriched
him. 1
During a trip up the Missouri, about a )ear
belore the commencement ot my narrative, he
met with Miss Delia lireent, who was travel
ing alone at the tune an though their acquain
tance was necessarily briet, they loved each o
ther belore the tune of parting came. When
they parted, they were virtually engaged, and
a constant correspondence was promised till
they might meet again. She went to her home
in Western Missouri, and he to do his business
in the South. But during bis absence a clue to
his crime—which had laid the Inundation ol his
magnificent fortune—had (alien nto the hands of
an enemy—one who h;.d long envied El wood's
wealth, and sullered tiom his competition in
trade. His ruin was sudden and complete.—
With true courage, he wrote a lull account ol
his crime and its exposure to Delia—it was the
first letter he had wiiten—renouncing all claim
to her hand, and bidding her to forget him.
He managed to escape punishment; but ail his
property was lost ; and, without friends or mo
ney, lie wandered away, hoping to find em
ployment in some obscure poition ot the coun
try, where he might remain unknown. But
wherever he went tor employment—and his ed
ucation and business habits would, under ordi
nal j| circumstances, have secuieii him a situa
tion — the story ol his crime went also ; and
thus, duven trom place to place, he at last be
came hopeless and Uespaii iug. Finding no
opportunity ol living honestly, and firiuly re
solved not to live in any other manner, he came
to the banks of the Missouri on the same day
that Miss Delia reached them on the opposite
side. It was one ol those strange coincidences
that sometimes occur. Poverty, distress and
remotse had in one year, so changed him, that
when they met she did not recognize him.
He placed in her hand the sealed note wlych he
had hastily written belore lie unertook the
perilous enterpiise, and a portrait taken during
the days of his prosperity. She remembered
him when he s|>oke. "i\ly life is worthless,"
tie said ; "it i can save you, it will be some a
toneineni tor ttie past. Do not tegret my late.
It is the happiest that could befall me. Fare
well."
They parted. He lies beneath the turbid
waters ol the Missouri : she, in a quiet grave
on the shores of the .-Rgt-an Sea.
political.
THE REPUBLICANS AND CORRUPTION.
The Republicans are making a great fuss just
now over their one-sided investigation anil ir
poit on the subject of corruption, bdt they ap
pear to forget, or at I. Ast wish the people to for
get, their position, complicity and active par
ticipation m that very business, l'he infamous
course of the last Republican Legislature in this
Slate will not soon pass from the remembrance
of the people, and among the daikest pages in
the history ol Pennsylvania will be those which
record the notoriously corrupt and disgraceful
acts of the majority of the members. Special
legislation to advance the interests ot a dishon
est, lobby, and a neglect of the leading concerns
of this great Commonwealth, distinguished the
Republican members beyond all precedent, a
mercenary purpose being at the bottom of all.
In New York, where the Republicans, too,
were in power, rank rascality and unscrupulous
corruption stalked forth hand in hand. The
New Y'oik Tribune , in remarking upon the acts
of the Republican Legislature of that Slate, de-
I nominated the majority "an atrocious confeder
acy ol public robbers," who "were debauched
by wholesale bribery." That journal thanked
j God when they adjourned, consoling itself with
the belief that "it is not possible another body
*so reckless not merely ol right but of decency
whom: \I MBI:K, 2905.
VOL. 3. NO. 48.
not merely corrupt but shameless—will be as
sembled ID our ha lls ot legislation within the
next ten years."
I he New York Tinus, in speaking of the ap
pliances useil to pass the passenger railway
scneines ot 'the shameless and prostituted in
triguers tor monopolies," said :
'•What public interest could lead members
from the interior obstinately to resist everv a
mendinent, and force the bills through in their
most obnoxious shape? What public motive
could prompt honorable members from Utioa,
Irom Oswego, Iroin Rochestei or Buffalo, to
persist against every dictate of justice, and in
spite of the most earnest remonstrances—in fix
ing upon the people of New Rork the most op
pressive monopolies ever fastened opon any ci
ty ? Why should country members insist, with
such uncompiomising pertinacity, on giving
away grants lor which responsible men were
willing to pay a million dollars?
"There is on I y one answer to these inquiries
Ftiey were bribed to do so. Their votes were
bought and paid lor. If the Grand Jury of Al
bany county would do its duty—if respectable
men. cognizant of the facts, would givejuslice
the benefit of their knowledge—we believe a
score of members, at the lowest estimate, would
be indicted, tried, convicted and sent to the
penitentiary for the crime of selling the public
interests to put money in their own pockets."
The New York Express (American) in allu
ding to ttie denunciations ol the Republican
press in this regard, made use of the annexed
language, which is worthy of betug placed along
side of the tirade!, of the Republicans touch in"
"official corruptions." We quote :
"The Republican party in its State policy
professed to be the peculiar friends of economy,
retrenchment and reform. We have seen how
shamefully those professions have been falsified.
'The indignation of such journals as the Tribune
and Post is all moonshine. It is not worth a
nything. The object ol it is to create an im
pression that 'Republicanism and profligate le
gislation are not Siamese twins, and m°so far
to prepare the way to asking the people to give
the same party another trial in the Capital next
year. Rut, green as the people are in some
things, we apprehend they are not so verdant
as the wire-pullers imagine. Nor can anybody
he humbugged, either, by the show of public
virtue on the part of the Governor, in vetoing
that monstrous scheme of public plunder, the
Gridiron Railway bills. There was a perfect un
derstanding that most of the vetoed bills should
pass. Tlie people will merely look upon the
Governor as having given a sly wink to the Le
gislature, and whispered, "You know you are
strong enough to pass these bills, but it is belter
I should vote them, so as to save appearances
with the public, and not cast the whole odium
upon the Republican party."
"Another circumstance going to show fhat
the "virtuous indignation" of the Republican
party is all a sham, is the profound silence they
maintain upon the very generally credited ru
mor that the "Albany Regency gets a million of
dollars from the Gridiron, to be used as an elec
tioneering fund to carry this State for the nom
inees of the Sectional Convention at Chicago."
It is hardly necessary to multiply proofs of the
notorious greed ol the Republican party when
in power, but, with a view ol calling to mind
some striking reminiscences touching the lea
ding spirits of the Chicago Convention, eex
tract I ruin the Uniontown (Pa.) Genius of Lib
crhj, the lollowing apposite paragraph :
"It was singularly proper that George Ash
mun should preside over the body that nomina
ted Abraham Lincoln lor the Presidency. He
is the man who introduced the resolutions into
Congress, for which Lincoln voted, declai in"
the Mexican war unjust, unconstitutional, and
wrong. Their course on that question drove
both Ashmun and Lincoln from puolic life, from
which they did not emerge until Lincoln was,
in 185S, put up against Judge Douglas for the
Senate, and Ashmun appeared on the boards at
Chicago, as President ol tn<? Republican Con
vention. In ISS/, Ashmun figured prominent
ly for a short lime as a lobby member of Con
gress, engaged in procuring the passage of the
"lre wool" tarill adopted in that year. He ac
ted as the agent ol Lawrence, Stone iV Co ,
who expended $70,000 in procuring the pas
sage of that act, of which sum JJshmun got some
SI,OOO, 'l'hurlow Weed some ST,OOO, and
James Watson Webb got a furnished house at
Washington t welt stocked unth provisions and
liquors, to which members could be invited and
feasted, while being impressed with the impor
tance of this unjust measure to the elmericun
woxl growei . Ashmun is the very man to play
the pai t he did at Chicago, and to denounce the
Administration as he did in his speech. A
scamp and a knave himself, it was natural for
him lo seek to bring others down to iiis level.
In.ag.ne such a man as Lincoln President, and
sucti jobbers as George Ashmun about, and it is
not difficult lo determine what sort of morality
we would have in Congress and the White
House. Ihe people will take care, however,
thai no such calamity falls upon the country,
by lepudiating the Cincr.go Convention and all
its doings."
Now, is it not amusing to find shameless,
mercenary and unscrupulous vagabonds, like
the Republicans, shouting at the full vent of
their lungs, "corruptions and frauds ?" A
crowd With hands lull of public plunder, dirty
with the bribes of rascally lobbyists and their
pockets lined with the fruits of their legislative
shame. The people understand the dishonest
device of those who cry "stop thief' to escape
the punishment they merit, and next November,
the Republicans will discover the tact.—Penn
syloaaian.
THE FOLLOWING occurred in a school near
London :
Teacher—"What rart ot speech is egg ?"
Boy—"Noun, sir !"
Teacher—"VV hat's its gender ?"
Boy—"Can't tell sir."
Teacher—'ls it masculine, or feminine ?"
Boy "f'an'l say, sir, till it's hatched."