VOLUME 37.
NEW SERIES.
ITHE BEDFORD GAZETTE
IS EVERY' FRIDAY MORNI.MQ
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E7"NO subscription taken for less than six months,
tT7"No paper discontinued until all arrearages ar
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Been decided by the United States Courts/ha: the
•toppageof a newspaper without toe payment ot ar
rearages, is ynmaffact evidence ol fraud and is a
criminal offence.
IjyThe courts have decided that persons are ac
countable for the subscription price of newspapers,
if they take them fioin the post office,whether 'hey
mibsrribe for them, or not.
RATES OF CHARGES FOR ADVER
TISING.
Transient advertisements will be inserted at the
rate of Si.CO per square often lines for three inser
tions, or less, but for every subsequent insertion.
25cents per square will be charged in addition
l'abie and figure worK double price. Auditor's
notices ten tines and under, $l.OO ; upwards often
iines and under fifteen $1.50. Liberal reductions
made to persons advettising by the year.
'o'kigTnal poetry .
[WBITrtV FOR THE BEDFORD GAZETTE .J
IN MEMORIAM.
BY St GENE BERTRAM.
Psin and sorrow shall vanish before us,
Tooth may wither, but feeling will Iast."— MOOSE
1.
Wild melodies dance through my brain ;
The shadows tail across ray way :
The darkness gathers—and my pain
llrowt deeper with each c'osing day.
No more the wi'.lows by the brook,
Wave gently in the stirring air—
-1 cannot raise my eyes to look ,
And see the desolation there.
11.
1 hear no more the tender voice
Of Laura, by that crystal stream,
Where oft we wandered, when her eyes
Sbons on me with their gentlest beam.
No more she answers to my call,
As erst the did in days gone by-
She learned, alas 1 to know my shame
And sadly laid her down to die.
111.
Her ashes rest beneath the tree
Where oft her ruby lips I pressed i
Hsr dying words were breathed ot me—
My fmlt she knew, though ne'er confessed. •
No more tbe sounds of sweetness fall,
That cheered me ere she ceased t(
breathe,
No more she'll heed the guilty call,
That oft in smt'.es her face did wreath.
IV.
She's gone, alas ! as fades tbe dream ;
But still her face and form 1 see ;
Aid still the spot I'll ne'er forget
Where first she gave her heart to me.
No more, to tell me ol her love,
ihe'll whisper in my guilty ear
No more, alas ! - her vows to prove,
Shed on my breast the crystal-t ear.
V.
Sed melodies dance through my brain ;
The shadows fall across my way ,
T it darkness gathers—and my pain
Grows deeper with each closing day.
No more the willows by the brook,
Wave gently in tbe stirring air—
I cannot raise my eyes to look,
And see the desolation there.
SEL ECT TALE.
TliE IRON VAULT-
A TALE OT A SAN FRANCISCO LOCKSMITH.
lam a locksmith by trade. My calling is a
•trange one, and possesses a certain fascination
rendering it one of the most agreeable pursuits.
Many who follow it see nothing but labor—
think ol nothing in it but its returns of gold or
silver. To me it has other charms than the
money it produces. lam called UDon, almost
daily, to open doors and peer into long neglec
led apartments to spring stubbom,locks of safes,
nd gloat upon treasures piled within, to quietly
'nter the apartments ofladies with more beauty
than discretion, and pick the locks ot drawers
containing peace-destroying missives that the
dangerous evidences of wandering affectidn may
uot reach the eye of a husband, or father,
to possession of the missing key ; to force the
fas'enings of C3sh boxes, and dejiositories of
"cords, Miing of men made rich, of corpora
tions plundered, of orphans robbed, of families
cuined. Is there no charm in all this?—no
food for speculation—no scope for the range of
P'earant lancy 1 Then who would not be a
though bis face is begrimed with
thescoj °* 'he forge, acid his hands are stained
*ith rust ? *''
But I have a sJpry to tell—oot exactly a sto
ry either—for a stor>' complies the completion
well as the beginning of a narrative —and
m >ne is scarcely the introduction to one. Let
turn who deals in things of fancy do the rest,
-a the spring of 1856 I think it was in
—1 opened a little shop on Kearney street, atfd
•Ma woiked myself into a fair business. Late
°oe evening, a lady, closely veiled, entered
rcy shnp, and pulling from beneath a cloak a
•®all japanned box, requested me to open it.
T h lock was curiously constructed, and I was
J: ' oi an hour fitting it. The lady seemed ner-
TOU ' at the and at length requested me
,a shut the door. I was a little surprised at
the suggestion, but of course complied. Shut-
door and reluming to my work, the
s.y withdrew her veil, and disclosed as sweet
s lace as can be imagined. There was a rest
's?'Jei9 m her eye and a pallor in the cheek
j which told a hr-art ill at ease, and in a moment
every enaction for her had given p'ace to that
'of pity.
"Perhaps you are not well, madame, and
the night air h too chilly I" 4 aid I, rather in
quisitively.
I felt a tebuke m her reply ; "In request in?
you to close the door, I had no other object
j than to escape ihe attention of the passers."
! did nut reply, but thoughtfully continued
my work. She resinned
"That little box contains valuable papers,
and I have lost the key, or it has been stolen.
I should not wish to nave you to remember
that I ever came hereon such an errand," she
continued, with some hesitation, and giving me
a look which was no difficult matter to under
stand.
"Ceitamiy, madame, if you desire it. Iff
cannot lorget your face, [ will at least attempt
to.lose Ihe recollection of ever seeing it here."
The lady bowed rather cddly at whit I con
sidered a tine compliment, and I proceeded
with my work, satisfied that a suddenly dis
covered partiality lor me had nothing to do
with the visit. Having succeeded, after much
filing and fitting, in turning the lock, I was
seized with a curiosity lo get a glimpse at the
precious contents of the box, and suddenly
raising the hd, discovered a bundle of letters
and a daguerreotype, as 1 slowly passed the
casket to its owner. Sbe seized it hurriedly,
and placing the letters and pictures in her pock
et, locked the box, and drawing the veil over
her tace, pointed to the door. I opened it. and
as she pa.-sed into the street she merely whisper
ed, "Remember !" We met again, and I have
been thus particular in describing her visit to
> the shop, to render probable a subsequent re
! cognition.
! About rio o'clock one morning, in the lat
ter part of May following, I wis awoke by a
gentle tap on the window of a little room back
of the shop, in which i lodged. Thinking ot
burglars, I sprang out of bed, and in a moment
l was at the window with a heavy hammer in
I my hand, which I usually kept at that time
I within convenient reach of my bedside.
"Who's there ?" 1 inquired, "raising the ham- ■
mer and peering out into the darkness— for it '
was as dark as Egypt when under the curse of
Israel's God.
"Hist I" exclaimed the figure stepping in ;
front of the window ■ "open the door ; I have
business with you."
' Rather past business hours, I should say ; j
but who are you ?"
"No one that would harm you," returned
the voice which I imagined was rafhn femi
nine for a burglar.
"Nor one that can !" I replied rather em- j
phatically, as a warning, as I tightened my j
grip on the hammer, and proceeded to the door. '
I I pushed back the bolt, and slowly opening the
j door, discovered the stranger already on the
[ steps.
"What do you want ?" 1 abrupllv inqui
red.
i "I will tell you," answered the same soft
voice, if you dare to open the doer wide enough ;
for me fo enter."
"Come in," said I, throwing the door ajar,
and proceeding to light a candle. Having
succeeded, I turned to examine the visitor.— I
He was a small and neatly dressed gentleman, ,
with a heavy Ragliu round his shoulders and a
blue nivy cap drawn suspiciously over his eyes
As I advanced toward him, he seemed to hesi
sate a moment, then raised the cap Irom his
forehead, and looked me curiously in the face.
J did not drop the candle, but I acknowledge to
a little nervousness as I hurriedly the
light upon a table, and silently proceeded to
invest myself with two or three articles of clo
thing. As the Lord iiveth, my visitor was a j
lady, and the same for whom I had opened the
little box about a month before ! Havin com
pleted my ha*ty toilet, I attempted to stammer
an apology for my rudeness, but utterly failed.
The fact is, I was confounded.
Smiling at my discomfiture, she said
"Disguise is useless ; I presume you know !
me ?"
"I believe I told you, madam, I should not
forget your face. In what way can I serve
you ?"
"By doing a naif an hour's work before day- I
light to-morrow and receiving five hundred j
dollars for your labor," was the reply.
"Is it not ordinary work," said I, inquiring- 1
ly, "that commands so munificent compensa
tion."
"It is a labor common to your call," returned
the lady. "The price is not so much for the
labor as the condition under which it must be j
performed."
"And what is the condition ?" I inquired. i
"That you will snbmit to being conveyed from '
and returned to your own door, blindfolded."
Ideas of murder, burglary, and almost every
ather crime known to villany, hurriedly pre
sented themselres in succession as I politely
bowed and said
u l must understand something mofe of the
character of Ihe employment, as well as the
conditions, to accept your ofler."
"Will not five hundred dollars answer in
lieu of any explanation ?" she inquired.
"No, nor five thousand."
She patted her foot nervously on the floor.
[ could see she had placed entirely too low an
?stimate on my honesty, and I felt same gratifi
cation in being able to cocvi nee her of the fact, j
"Well, then, if it is absolutely necessary
'or me to explain/' she replied, "I must tell I
you that you are required to pick the Jock of a '
vault, and—'
"You have gone quite far enough, madame,'
with the explanation," I interrupted ; "I am
not at your service."
"As I said," she continued, you are required
to pick the lock of a vault, and rescue from
death a man who has been confined there for
three days."
"To whom does the vault belong?" I inqui- 1
ted.
t "My husband," was the somewhat reiuc
l tant ivply.
"Then why 30 much secrpcy I"—or rather,
I how canpa man in such a place?"
"I secreted hiin tlfere, to escape the observa
tion of my husband. He suspected as much
■ and closed the door upon him. Presuming he
had left the vault and quitted the house by the
1 back door, I did not dream, until to-day, that
he was con6ned there. Certain suspicious
j acts of my husband, t-his afternoon convinced
me that * the man is there beyond human'-hear
; ing, and will b- starved to death by mv barba
| rous husband unless immediately rescued. For
three days he has not left the house. I drug
ged him less than an hour ago. and he is now
so completely stupified that the luck may be
picked without his inteiler ence. I have search
ed his pockets, and cannot find the key ; hence j
my application to you. Now you know all ;
will you accompany us ?"
"To the end of ttie woild, madame, on such
an errand."
1 Then prepare yourself, there is a cab wait
i ing at the door."
I was a little surprised, for I had not heard
the sound of the wheels. Hastily drawing on
; a coat and providing myself with the requisite
; implements, J was soon at the door. There,
{ sore enough, was a cab, with the driver in hi* I
I gear, ready for the mysterious journey—l en- :
j tered the vehicle followed by the lady. As j
: soon as 1 was sealed she produced a heavy ;
1 handkerchief which by the faint light of a |
j street lamp, she carefully bound round my eyrs. ;
The lady seated herlelf beside me, and the cab :
! started. In half an hour the vehicle stopped j
—in what .part ol the city I am entirely igno
rant as it was evidently driven in anything
but a direct course from the point of starting.
Examining'the banding, to s e that rr.v
vision was completely obscured, the la J v han
ded me the bundle of tools with which I was!
: provided, then taking me by the arm. led me
through a gate into a house which I knew was
i brick and after taking me along a passage way i
j that could not have been less than tiliy fett in
length, and down a flight of staiis into w hat ;
! was evidently an underground basement, stop
i ped beside a vault \ removed the handkerchief
from my eye®."- j
"Here is the vault; open it," said she, spnng
i ing the door of a dark lantern, and throwing a
beam upon the lock.
| I seized a bunch of skele'on keys, and after
! a few trials, which the lady seemeJ to watch
j with the mod intense anxiety, sprung the bolt.
! The door swung upon its hinges, and my eom
! panion, telling me not 10 close it, as it was
j self-locking, sprung into the vault. 1 did not
| follow. I heard the murmur of low voices
j within, and the next moment the lady re-ap
i peared, and leaning upon her arm was a man
; so pale and haggard that I started at the sight.
How he must have suffered during the three
j long days ol bis confinement in that terrible
i vault !
"Remain here," she said, handing me the
lantern ; "I will be back in a moment."
The two slowly ascended the stairs, aud I
heard them enter immediately above where 1
was standing. In less than a minute the lady
returned.
"Shall I close it madame ?" sai 1 I placing
my hand upon the door of the vault.
"No! no !" she exclaimed hastily, seizing
my arm ; "it awaits another occupant !"
"Madame, you certainly do not intelid
to—"
'■Are you ready ?*" she interrupted, holding
the handkerchief before my eyes. The thought
flashed across my mind that she intended to
push me into the vault and burv me and my
secret together. She seemed to read the sus
picion, and continued : "Do not be alarmed ;
you are not the man
I could not mistake the truth of "the fearful
meaning of the remark, and I shuddered as I
bent my head to the habdkerchief. My eyes
were as caiefully batidag-d as before, and I was
led to the cab, and thence driven home by a
more circuitous route, if possible than the one
by which we C3me. A pu:se of five hundred
dollars was placed in my hand, and in a mo
ment the cab and its mysterious occupant had
turned a corner and were out ot sight,
I entered the shop, and the purse of gold
was the only evidence I could summon, in my
bewilderment, that all I bad just done and wit
nessed was not a dream.
A month after that saw the lady and the
gentleman taken from the vault, leisurely walk
ing along Montgomery street. Ido not know,
but I believe the slepping husband awoke with
in that vault, and his bones are there to-day !
The wife is still a resident ol Nan Francts
co.
GREELY IN lfcst>.
In 1850, when the danger to the country
cn the slavery question w.ig nothing to what it
is now, Horace Gieely, through his Tribune,
said : .
"We are willing to COMPROMISE, and take
half our right, rather than .continue a contro
versy from which we can anticipate no good,
but apprehend much evil.
Now, in 1861, when the dangers to the coun
try arp more imminent and alarming than at
any former period, and may be removed by
conciliation and compromise, the same Greely
vociferates for "no compromise !"
WRITING TOTHCLORP. —An exchafige states
that at the breaking of ground for the com
mencement of the Lynchburg and Tennpssee
Railroad, at Lynchburg, a clergyman slowly
and solemnly reed a manuscript prayer, at the
conclusion of which an old negro man, who
had been resting with one foot on his spade,
and his arms on the handle, looking intently in
the chaplain's face, straightened himself up,
and remarked very audibly, "Well, I reckon
dat's de fust time de Lord's cber bin writ to on
de subject oh railroads."
Freedom of Thought and Opinion.
BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, APRIL 5,1861.
"Wait till I explain/' interrupted Stevens.
"I was on the barn-floor, you was up ou the
scaffold pitching hay, and talking to yourself.
I thought it too good to keep ; to, just for the
joke, I told what I heard you say."
The deacon scratched his head, looked hum
bled, and admitted that he might, in that way,
have used the language attributed to him. To
avoid trouble in the aociety, fee afterwards went
to a(x>*ogise to the minister's wife.
"You must consider/' said he, ''that I was
talking to myself; and when I talk to mysilf,
am apt to speak my mind very freely."
MR. LINCOLN'S HOTEL BILL AT
ALBANY.
The "high old time" "Old Abe" and his
suite enjoyed during the trip from Springfield
to Washington, may be inleried from the fol
lowing b*ll for one day spent at the Delaveu
House, Albany :
DEL A VAN HOUSE, Albany, Feb. 1861.
The State oj York :
To T. ROESSELE & Son. Dr.
One day's board of Hon. A. Lincoln
and suite, parlors, dinners and
breakfast in par lor, - - - - $576 50
Wines and liquors, ----- 357 00
Segars, - - - - 16 00
Telegraphs, - -- -- -- - IJ3
Congress Water, $2 50 ; baggage, $fS7, 7 37
Carriages, ------ I' 2 GO '
Sundry broken articles—stoves, chairs,
etc., 150 CO
Total, sl,l JO 00
There were eighteen persons in the party,
which is an avtrage of nine bottles a head.—
Says the Post :
"We are not surprised, after such drinking,
at a considerable charge for Congress water.—
Neither is it wonderful that the breakages for
stoves, chairs and so forth, Were set down at a
hundred and fifty dollars. Fellows with nrne
bottles of liquor nnder their belts must have
been in a stale to break everything about them,
even their own necks."
CF" A roval soul may belong to a
and a beggarly one to a king.
[IF" Whoever makes himself a sheep, is de
voured by the wolf.
| OF""Adversity is apt to discover the genius,
prosperity to conceal it.
■.MISCELLANEOUS.
SPEAKING HIS MIND
Old Deacon Hobhouse had a habit of fre
quently thinking aloud. Especially if any
matter troubled him, he had to talk it over
with hirjst-I* before his peace cf mind could be
restored. One day he was alone in his barn,
pitching bay from the scaffold to the mow, when
his neighbor Stevens went to find him. Sie
ves heard a voice and listened. It was the
deacon, talking to himself. f| e was condemn
ing, in the strongest terms, the extravagance ot
the minister's wife.
"%e setß a worse example than Satan !" ex
claimed fbe deacon byway of climax.
And having freed his mind, be was was pre
paring to come down from the loft, when Ste
vens gIiJW out of the barn, and came in again
just as the deacon landed on the floor.
"How d'e
want to borrow your half-bushel an hour or
two.* -*
"Oh, sat ifi,sartin," said the deacon.
The measure was put into the neighbor's
hands and fee uepailed.
It was a peaceful community,—the minis-(
ter s wife WB? an excellent woman, not with-)
standing hi love ol finery, arid Deacon Hob
house wysuf all men the least disposed to make j
ti'Oiible in tie society- Hence the sensation !
which wax produced when the report circula- i
ted that he had used almost blasphemous lan- j
guage in sinking of that amiable lady. The •
sweetest tempered lady would not like to hear i
of a deacon declaring that
"She ets.i:sfoir>e example than Satan !" The
whose ear was indue time
leached by i¥e leport, felt in a high degiee in
censed, aiid£?nt her husband to deal with the
hones' old itjjJ' •
The IstleS? ' astonished when tola of the
grave chargjte,gainst In n.
"I nevefjKft} so!" he solemnly averred.
"You positive thai you never did ?"
saidltoe
"Meaveftpbows ! Ii is as false as can be!"
exclaimed t rdeacon. "Whatever thoughts I
may have ban about your wife's extravagance—
and lam no,v free to think she has set our
ivviveaand daughters a lunntng alter new bon
nets, sbawlip and such vanities—whatever
thoughts I've had though, I've kept them to
myself; I p.ei-r mentioned 'em to a living soul,
never !"
Th' good iif.n's earnestness quite convinced
the minister he hau been falsely reported.
It v.as tiiereraPe necessary to dig to tne root ol
the scandal. Mrs. Brown, who told the min
ister's wife, had heard Mrs. Jones say
Adams said lhat Deacon Hobhouse said
Adams, being applied to stated that he had tbe
report from Stevens, who saui he had heard the
deacon say so. Stevens was accordingly
brought up for examination* and confronud
with the deacon.
"It's an outrageous falsehood !" said the dea
con. "You know, Strveus, that I never open- i
ed my lips to you on the subject—nor to any
other man."
"1 heard you say," remarked Stevens, cool
ly, "Inat the minister's wife sets a worse txam
p!e than Satan ; and I can take mv oath of
"VVhpfel where?" demanded the excited i
dearon.
"In your barn," replied Stevens, "when I
went to borrow your half-bushel." *
"There never was such n lie ! Stevens—
Stevens," said the quivering deacon—"you
know "
A FAIRY TALE WITH A MORAL.
Theie was once a poor woman, and she had
no dearer wish, than once, by accident or a
miracle, to obtain a great deal ot money, be
cause she believed that if she only had rronev
all sorrow and suffering would be as good as
gone.
The accident and the miracle did not hap
pen for a long tune, however, till the woman
one day beard that on the slope of a hill there
grew among other grass, a weed—and it any
one were so fortunate as to pluck it, the motin
tain would open, the j iucker would walk into
a large cave, at which sat seven m.-n round a
tablej who would allow her to take away as
much of their treasure as she could ear
ry.
From this moment the poof woman had noth- '
ing more pressing to do, than to letch lull giass!
daily during the summer lor her cow, h-canse j
she hoped to pluck the miraculous weed among ,
it. And so she did ; one dav the woman i.ad
again collected grass, carried the heavy basket '
on her head, and led liei little daughter by the '
hand, .. ien a large rock opened noiselessly he- |
fire her i'ke a well oiled door, and a,.owed
her lo see into the cave, where seven < Id m. ;i
wiii: ?o :g beards were sitting round a table,
and piles of gold and silver were heaped a
rouud them.
Tie woman naturally took advantage of the
opportunity, emptied her basket upon the
ground anil filled it with gold. When this was
done, and she was going out, one of the old
men kindly said, " Woman, forget not tie best
thing," but she did not listen, and went
off.
Cut she had scarcely reached (he end of the
I cave, when tbe rock cl >std again, and shuf
111 the woman's little daughter who had re
mained behind playing with the gold. Then
the mother's grief and agony were great; she
ran lamenting to man, and told him
what had occurred. The latter said she must
wait another seven years, till she could find
her daughter agam ; af'er that period, she
must go again to the mountain at the same
hour in which she lost tier child, and wait for
what might happen, but she made a grand mis
take in quite emptying herbaskit for the sake
of gold, uecause the miracl weed was among
the grass she threw Now she remem
bered thp old man's ard learned to her
sorrow that she had done wrong to consider
wealth as the highest blessing. How slightly
she now valued the gold she brought "home,
when she had to pay for it by thpss of her
child: She thought further, that
th- ie are many blessings in the- world, which
it lost reduce tbe value of gold to nothing.—
This and many other things the poor rich wom
an had time to reflect on during the seven
years, and, to her hcuor be it said, that till the
expiration of that time, she would not look at
or handle the gold. At length the day came
on which she hoped to find her child again.—
The woman hurried to the hill in the neiglfcor
a od of the rock where her child was shut up:
and see there! Irotn a distance she perceived
the treasure of her heart, her child, sleeping in
front of the rock ; it was young and blooming
as when sht lost it. She lifted it tenderly,
and kissed it a thousand times with tears, on
the road home, thinking, "If all the gold were
out of my room, I should be ?s happy as if I
had four.d all the treasuie in the world !"
But the gold was not gone ; and so she was
grateful for that, and enjoyed the advantage of
wealth, aud spent much on the good education
of'her da ughier, and thus the well ftained mai
den became a great and invaluable tieasure.
HOW NOT TO CORK LCT A FAULT.
"Well, Sarah, I declare ! you are the worst
girl that I know of in the whole country !"
"Why mother, what have I done?"
"See there how you have spilled water in j
my pantry ! Get out uf my sight ; I cafinot i
bear to look upon you—you careless girl 1"
"Well mother, I couldn't help it."
This conversation I recently overheard be
tween a mother and her daughter. Mrs. A.
tbe mo'her, is a very worthy woman, but very
ignorant of the art of family government. Sa
rah, her daughter, is a girl cf about
ten years old. She is very much accustom, d;
to remove thing* out of '.heir proper places, and
seldom stops to put them in again. On the oc- i
casion referred to ab.*e, she had been sent to
put water into the tea-kettle, and bad very |
carelessly spill, d a considerable pot lion of it on i
the pantry floor. After the above conversa
tion. which, on the part of 'the mother, soun
ded almost like successive ciaps of thunder on
the ears of her daughter, Sarah escaped, in a
pouting manner, into an adjoining room, and
her mother wiped up the slop in the pao
try.
Well, thought I, my dear Mrs. A., if that is
tbe way you treat your daughter, you wil!
probably find it n?ces3ury to wipe after her a
great many times more, if you both live.—
Such family government a* is hero sit firth
seemsjto n.e to be liable to leveral serious objec
tion*.
The reproof was too boisterous. Children
can never be frightened into a knowledge ot
error, or into conviction of crime. It is their
judgment and their taste for neatness and order
which p-ed training and not their ears.
It was too unreasonable. The child was, in
deeed, careless, but she had done nothing to
merit the title of "the worst girl in the coun
try." Children are sensible of injustice, and
very soon find it difficult to respect those who
unjustly treat them.
It was too passionate. The mother Seemed
to be boiling over with displeasure and disgust ;
and onder this excitement she despised her dar
ling child—the very same that, in a short time
afterward when the storm had blown by, she
was ready to embrace in her arms, as almost
the very image ot perfection.
It was inefficient. Sarah retired, under the
idea that her mother wa3 excited lor a very
little thing, which she could not help. Thus
she blamed her mother, and acquitted herself.
WHOLE ItUIfIBER, 2944.
, ( SE LECT POETRY*
'| [lt >* no ' "ft'"" 'hat the name of Stephen A. Dou
glas is coi ne.ted m our irioU~ with literatuie, or
i anything ou'suie of th- fierce contentions of the po
. litical are„ a . but here is a poetical eflusion which
i is creJned to bim.]
BURY ME IN THE MORNING;
BR STREIIEN A. DOUGLAS.
Bury me in the morning, mother
0 let me have the light
Of one brght day on n.y grave, mother,
Ere you leave ne with the night j
! Alone in the night of the grave, mother,
'Tisa thought of terrible fear—
' And joil will be here, alor.e, mijtherj
And stars will l < sh-rnng here ;
So b' - ry me In the morning mother,
A< d let me have the ligat
i Of one bright day on my grave, ms'.her,
Ere I'm alone with the night.
You tell of the Savior's love, mother,
1 tetrl it is in my iiea*-t
But on ! :rom this beautiful \ rjd, mother;
'fit hard for the young :o pa : ;
Forever to part, when here motheri
toui is fain to s'ay ;
For the grave is dtep and dart, mother,
And heaven seems far away.
Then bury me in the morning, mother,'
And let tne have the light
i Of o. e bright day on rry grave, mother,
Eie I'm alone with the night.
"SUBODY HURT"
A puvate letter from an extensive manufac
turer ol Providence, R. 1., to a gentleman id
Richmond, Va., has the following :
"The condition of affairs here is awful. No
sales of goods or any thing else—no value to
personal or real tstaie. Confidence extinguish
ed ; everybody waiting for the fourth of March.
If relief does not come, then m : lls must be
unemployed ; business men must succumb; un
employed business men must succumb ; unt
desolation most prevail. What terrible
responsibility party men have assumed in pur
suit ol the nigger chimera."
BID MASSACHUSETTS EVER SECEDE 1
Certainly she did. On the 26th of March,
1845, Ibe Legislature of Massachusetts passed
tne following resolution :
Resolved, That Massachusetts hereby refu
ses to acknowledge the act of the Government
of the Uuited Stales authorizing the admission
of T-xas as a legal act in any way binding her
from using her ulinost exerlions "for co-opera
tion with other States, by every lawful and
constitutional measure, to annul its conditions
and defeat its accomplishment.
HOME COURTESIES.—A correspondent gives
us this experience:
"I am one of those whose lot in life has been
to go out into an unfriendly world at an earlv
age ; and of nearly twenty families in which I
made my home in the course ol about nine
years, there were only three or lour that could *
oe properly designated as happy families, and
the source ol trouble was not so" much the lack
of love as lack of care to manifest it." The
closing words of this sentence give us the fruit
ful source ol family alienations, ol heart aches
innumerable, of sad faces and gloomy heme
circles. "Not so much the bck of love as lack
of care to manifest it." What a world of mis
ery is suggested by this brief remark! Not o
ver three or four happy families in twenty, and
the cause so manifest, and so easily remedied !
And in the "small, siveet courtesies ei lite,"
what power resides ! In a look, a word, s
tone, how much of happiness or disquietude
may be communicated. Think of it, reader,
and take the lesson home with you.
PAT BETTERING HIS INSTRUCTIONS. —A lady
and gentleman recently married, in the neigh
borhood of Nottingham, lelt home in their own
carriage far a bridal tour among the Cumber
land lakes. In oider to avoid the curiosily at
tracted by persons in the hou-ymooh the gen
tleman gave his liish foolman the strictest
charge not to tell any one on the road that
fhey were newly married, and threatening to
dismiss him ins'antly if he did. Pat piomised
implicit obedience ; but on leaving the first inn
on the r >ad, next morning, the happy couple
were much astonished and annoyed to find the
servants all assembled, and poii.'ingto the gen
tleman. mysteriously exclaiming, "That's him ;
that's the man." On reaching the next siage,
the indignant n aster told Murphy be n.M im
mediately discharge him, as he tiad divulged
v hat he impressed upon him as a secret.—
"P.ase yoor l-cooiy' say s Pat, "what is it you
complain of ?"—"You rascal" t-xclaimed the
angry master, "you told thp •err3 n ta the inn
last night that we were a nev. !y ir arn-d coup
le." "Och, then, b Ibis and be that," said
Pat, brightening up in aut'c : pate.l triumph,
••there's not a word of truth in if, ver honour ;
sure I tould the whole krt of them, servants and
all, th.it you wouldn't b" married for a fortnight
yet !"
MH. BUCHANAN'S AUTHORSHIP. —The Histor
ical Magazine says :
Since it is announced that Mr. Buchanan
will favor the public, alter his retirement from
office, with a serips of sketches of men eminent
ill political life, of whom there has heretofore
been no fitting memorial, it may not be a vio
lation of any confidence to say that it is be
lieved he will undertake a more formal work
with regard to P-esid*-nt Polk.
(CP*lf falsehood paralyzed the tongue, what
a death-like silence would pervade society.
no paper without reading H, auo
drink no water without looking into it.-
VOL. 4 NO. 34.