&*yy 9 * r. fa:- wljjy id to ord«r. , o^^^ rtSSSO^fflS **“ «*< »5 -3 - ■■ asS- 2 J 00**11 -M 53 'SS A.KEBY! ' ANNOITN i;*• r—Preaching every Sabbalh morning at 11 u clock, | tj lt ' evening at 7 o’clock. Prayer Meeting iu the Room every Wednesday evening at 7 o dock.— v Vcbool.ia same room at 0 o'clock A. M. "''liU’UST—Rev. A. 11. SiaiU'V.vkii,^Pastor. —Preaching , rv morning at 11 o'clock,.and ni the eveningut 7 VcY-iik. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday evening at *. \1 ck. Sabbath School at IF o'clock A. M. USIfKD BRETHREN—Rev. S.oiuel Kepjiart. Pastor, v Si "' every Sabbath morning at 11 o'clock, undin the .‘i'tral 7 o'clock. Prayer Meeting hi the Lecture Room i :v Wednesday evening at 7 o’clock. Sabbath School in tb r.i’.in; room at G o'clock iu the morning. riIOI’KSTANT EPISCOPAL—(No regular Pastor.)— I*.. --,v ijiibb.ith morning at 11 o'clock, and In the . w.':th' , ui*7 o'clock. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday c at 7 irdock. v Sabbath School at l J o*cb>ck A. M. KNUUSU CATHOLIC—Rev. Jfmk Tuwo, Pa*r-.r—Di vin-* services every Sabbuth morning at lU}.<7 o’clock and ni the nib. rnouu at C o’clock. Sabbath School at 2 o'clock ?!.•■ ai'tcrliooil. GCIIMAN CATHOLIC—IU-v. Pastor. —bi>in<- bcrvK-es every Sabbath morning ,ut 1->M o clock, u-. Vin the afternoon at U o'clock, Subbuth' School at 1 fVL'Ck j'rtlte afternoon. AFRICAN METHODIST—Rev, Alk-TANDeiI Johnston, ew-ry Fourth Sabbath iu each month, )’V.i\cr Meeting e\ery Friday evening at 7 o'clock. Sab- Urn School at 2 o'clock in the afU-riioou. RAIL ROAD SCHEDULE. ON AND AFTER MONDAY, NOV. 25, ISCI, TRAINS vii! arrive It and leave Altoona Station as follows: - iuds Tr*in Eoktarrives* 9,35 P. 31., leaves 9.55 p-M. ■ « West u 8,2 u A. M. “ 8.4dA.31. i* M t ki East 4 3.35 A. M. “ 3,40 A.M. - •< West “ 8,55 I*.M., “ 9,10 P. 31. Mail “ East 44 7.30 A". M. r . * 44 7.45 A.M. “ West 44 2,25 I*. M„ 44 2,45 P. 51. The HOLLIDAYSBUKO BRANCH .connects with Ex* ] c.-vs Train ami Fast Line West, and Mail Train East and West, -. INDIANA BRANCH TRAINS connect with Johnstown Af•■.‘.■mtiivrtlutiou Trains East and West. Express and Mail uain East and West. ENOCH LEWIS, Gcnl SwpL MAILS CLOSE AND OPEN. MAILS CLOSE. Kv*teru Way W ••-torn Way H -lit Iny.-burg .Wdtfrru'Tlirough. i. i»t'.ru Through; MAILS ARRIVE IWliilayahurg 8.15 A. M. &ll 15 A.M. U'fMern Tlirough 3 10 A. 51. K.Mern Throngh ...... : 8 20 *•’ W-etcrn Way 11 22 X. 31. Kinlern* Way ....', 1 55 P. 31. office llouiw:—During the week, from 0 45 A. M. till T Ui i l . it. OmSundays, from 7 45 till 9 00 a. w. GEO. W. PATTON P. M MEETINGS OF ASSOCIATIONS. MOUNTAIN LODGE, N 0.281. A. Y. M„ meets, on second .Tuesday of each mouth, at 7}<» o’clock P. 31., iu the third jforv of the Masonic Temple." MOUNTAIN R. A. CHAPTER, No. ISO B. A. 0., meets '•u the first Thursday of inch month, at I),A o'chwk P. M., in wan* room as above. ! MOUNTAIN .COCXCIIit No. 0. R.& S.M., meets on the first Monday of each luonllh, at 1% o’clock. P. M., in same room as above. ’ - MOUNTAIN CO3I3IANDEUV, No. 10, K. T. mwtfl on tho fourth Tuesday of each month, at o’clock P. M , iu same room as above. ALTOONA LODGE, No. 473, I. O. of 0. V., meets every Friday evening, at 1)4 o’clock, in the second story of tho Masonic Temple. , YKUANDA LODGE, No. 532. I. 0. of 0. F., meets every Tuesday evening, at 7*4 o’clock, in third story of Patton’s Building, on Virginia street. WINNEBAGO TRIBE, No. 35, I. 0. 11. M„ meets every Tuesday evening in the second story of Slavonic Temple. Council firefeindled at 7th run 30th breath. ALTOONA DIVISION, No,3U, R. of T., meets every Saturday evening, at 7 o’clock, ill tho second story of tho Masonic* Temple. ’ STATE OFFICERS. Gowmor —Andrew 0. Curtin. Secretary of Mate— Eli Slifer. Attorney General —WUlitun 31. Meredith. AndiUpf General —Thomas E. Cochran. Surveyor General— William L. Wright. General—E. M. Kiddle. State Vreasurtr— Ueury D. Moore. BLAIR COUNTY OFFICERS. Jndgit qf the Cbnrts. —President Judge, lion Gcorgo Tay lor, Associates, Samuel Dean, Adam Moses. Slate Senator-lion.. Lewis W. llall. AnruiUyman,— Xhaddens Banks. Vrothmotarg— Anthony S. Morrow. Rtgitttr and Detorder—Un gh A. Caldwell. •Shertf— Samuel UcCamont, Deputy—John Marks. District Attomey*~Bqpiiaaln L. llcwit. County Ommusionrrs —<3eorgo L. Cowan, George Coon, James M. Cinkead- * o*’.nly Surveyor— James L. Qwin. Trfaturer— JohuMcKeage. , iW Home Director*— Deter Good, William Burley, David Amundt. Gmnty Auditor*~~ A. M. Lloyd, Robt. M. Mcssimer, L. L. Moore. Osroner—A. J. Freeman. &ij*rinimdm( rif ft/m won §& ooU—Joh n Mitchell. ALTOONA BOROUGH OFFICERS. JmliiM oftfte Peace —Jacob M. Cherry. John McClelland. oi*>yprr—John Alltoon. lowa Council —A. A. Smyth, Daniel Baughman, John Mo- Dowell, E. Greenwood, <3. B. Hostetler,N. J. Mervinc. r Jerl-te (hi,Sol-9. M.Woodkok. llnneph Triaturer— Daniel Lehghman, "J Birtdnrt —Geo. John Shoemaker, J.B. aHeniah, Wm. Hoyden, Jkmcs Lowther. E. A. Beck. ' "ttuuret of School Bpart-J. B. HUeman. Offl s teM < _Jo»eph tWOdor OnaUj/,SiMVttgh and School Tax— Joa. n. ; T ■ . Bowther, C- J. Mann, Alex. McCormick. McClelland s A Mart Aueani-lu*A HeUer, J.B. Belfcnydsr, of -KwWoim—But Watd-Wnilam Maloney. “ Most Ward-Johnß. Piper. .. BeTlman, KObt.Pltcalrns. Korth Ward—Robt: McCormick, John Condo. U. C. DEBS, THE WOLVES. : [The following poem, wliich wo fin'd in tire At lantic Monthly for December, may- not jingle so musically upon the ear of the casual reader as some, others we might select, but to, our mind it possesses more of the elements of gtmnine poetiy than anything we have met with in a long while. It is [icenUarly apropos to the season:] I Shudder net at the murderer’s name, II Marvel not at the maiden’s shame, ll 00. A.M. 8 00‘ 44 8 CO A. 31. A 11 00 A. M, 7 00 P. 31 7OO 44 BY J. T. TIIOWBIUDOE Vo who Ustou to stories told When heart* aro'cheery uud nights aro cold, Of the lone woods ide and the hungry pack That howls on the fainting traveler's track-s^ Fbunr r d eyoballs that waylay, By the wintry moon r the Lolatcd sleigh; The lost child sought In the dismal wood, The little shhes and the stains of blood On the trampled snow; Oh! yc that hear With thrills of pity and chills of fear, Wishing some angel had been sent To shield the hapless innocent— Enow yo the fiend that is crueller for Than the gaunt grey herds of the forests ore? Swiftly vanish the wild, fleet tracks Before the rifle.and woodman's axe; Dirt hark to the coming of unseen feet, Pattering by night through the city street! Each wolf that dies in the woodland brown Xdves u spectre and haunts the town. , All night they snuff and snarl before Thu poor patched window and broken door; They paw the clapboards and claw the thatch; At every crevice they whine and scratch; Their tongues are subtle, and long and thin, And they hip tlu living blood within. V Icy keen are the teeth that tear, ifed os ruin the eyes that glare. Children.crouched in corners cold Shiver in talUred'gar&ients old, And start from sloop with bitter pangs At the touch of the phantom’s vlewlestrfangs. Weary the mother and worn with strife, Still she watches and fights for lifo. But her hand 5 is weak and weapon small! One little needle against them all! . In an evil hour the daughter fled From her j»oor chamber and wretched bed; Through the,city’s pitiless solitude To tho door of sin the wolves pursued. Fierce the father and grim with Ills heart Is gnawed by the spectre gaunt; Frenzied, stealing forth by night, Willi whetted knife to the desperate fight, He thought to strike tho spectre dead, But he smites Lis brother.man instead. Oh! yc who listen to stories told ' * When hearts arc cheery and nights, are cold. Weep no more at the tales yon hear— Tiie danger is close and the wolves are near. Pa*a not by with averted eyo The door whence the stricken children cry \ But when the-beat of the unseen ftjet;’ : I Sounds by night in the stormy street,' 11 Fcflow thou where the spectres glide; Stand like Hope by tho mother's side, And be thyself the angel sent To shield tho hapless and innocent. lie gives but little who gives hi# tears, • 1 lie gives •his best who aids, and cheers. lie docs well in the forest wild Who slays the monster and saves the child; But he does better and merits more, : Who drives tho wolf from tho poor man’s door. |psMliw|. [Original.] MY BIRTH-NIGHT DREAM. XIV DAISY HOWARD. 1 . .r ' ' t There is a tempest raging outside to night; and I sit here alone, listening to its strife. • The rain is dashing against the windows like mad, and. the wind is wailing out a wild wisem-e—a .gad, sullen Dki Ira: —and that strikes a chill to my heart. Twenty-six to-night! lonely, homeless; I had'well nigh said friendless; but, thank God, some few friends are'left to me.- Courage! fainting heart; let you and I look at this tiling just as it is. Let us look our future calmly in the face—you and I, poor heart First let us count our purse. Just seven cents I—a bright half-dime and two pen nies; and poor Jamie's shoes out at the toes, and his blight locks uncovered, save by an old felt hat with many and many a hole in it; poor little Jamie! dive strength, 0! Father—strength to a spr rdw-sich soul. - ! . Twenty-six to-niglrt, “tind all is lost except a little life.” But, courage 1 poor heart; drpop not, Oh weary head; ity is hot seemly on your birth-night. All this is very well to write or spcdk’; but it hull not still the clamoring of- my lonely heart. O' friends of other days, my soul is yearn ing for your presence. Come back to me if but in seeming, arid sit thee down in the vacant chairs by my side; for lam wcaty and lonely, and my heart is aching drearily. Ah! I invoke thee in vain ; but is this? As I bve, every chair is filled! and loving tyords and trader tones round me. .Gather closer—closer, re loved ones. O! T have ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 9, 1862. so longed fiy this hour; and now that it has cotoe my heart is fairly flooded with its rich tide of hapdiness. A mist gathers over my eyes, and I grow dreamy; I see, afar off, glimpses of the given pastures my childhood knew; I hear the low gur gle of the still waters. Hush! Speak softly, I’m dreaming now. A pleasant, cheerful home is mine.— Warm kisses are pressed upon my brow and closed eyes, arid pet names—long a stranger to me—are' whispered in my car. A sister’s white hand smooths the hair from my brow; and red lips, that I fool ishly thought I had • seen grow pale under the kiss of., death, are prattling sweet words close by my 'side. My precious mother sits by the table in my home; I had fancied I hud no home! I can see the dear silvery hair; and the kind eyes that 1 thought had grown dim with much weeping, sue smiling lovingly into mine. Somebody stands between me and the storms of life, and . smooths the path for my tired feet., lam not poor and lonely; lam not jaded and weary-hearted. What is this? a robe of sheeny satin, and gems! —gems for me! My jaded eyes gleam brightly : my hair has a touch of its olden lustre, and the roses of other days arc crimsoning my cheeks. We ate going to the fete— somebody and I. We first visit the' nursery, and press a kiss upon two sleeping brows. A golden head lies pil lowed side by side with one of darker hue; two beautiful children that belong to some body and I. And now we leave our home, and the strong form is close to me yet, guiding my footsteps lovingly. Music is swelling around us,-and troops of friends speak kindly as wie pass through the crowded rooms. How could we have fan cied they had all turned coldly from us? —for, see! they love us now, and beckon us to them. Jlow beautiful life is! How bright the beaming faces around us! How sweet the flowers’ ’ fragrance!—the busv j:C • > hum of voices!—the flash and gleam ot jewels! How precious the’sense of the sheltering care guiding us about. But hark! What is that? A hollow cough grates upou my car.; I start up and rub my eyes. O, no! no! it cannot, cannot be that this is all a dream. I turn me round and look upon my surroundings. Alas! the bright pageant has departed. A little, feverish form, meets my straining sight ; and a cough tliat sends thrills of dread and anguish surging tlu-ough my soul, falls upon my ear. I remember me then, that death has robbed me of all my dear ones but poor little Jamie. I re member, too, J tunic’s little, worn shoes, and see the unfinished manuscript lying before me, that must be finished before the coveted shoes could be bought. So dies out many a hope and bright, bright taunting dream. Oh! Jamie! — Jamie! THE HISTORY OF CROWNS, Crowns were originally Sacred only to tlic gods. First there was the little band or bandelet, that fitted tight around the heads of the ancient gods; then two strings or fillets; then leaves and branches and flowers; then finally the conventional crown or circlet, uiuch as. we have it at the present day. But' soon the emblem of the divinities was transferred to men, and victors and statesmen and lawgivers and kings and heroes of all sorts, even to a well developed athlete, were duly crowned, until at hist the proudest of the ridel’s adopted the rayed or spiked cx’own. which was the last'form held peculiar by the gods. This was in those days of de gcnoracy when kings, pretending to bo gods, forgot to be men. With the Jews the original crown was pointed like horns —horns being the emblems of power and prowess with them; and the first mention made of a crown in the Bible is when the Amalekites bripg Saul’s crown to Da vid. According to a rabbinical tradition, Nimrod—Kcnaz, the hunter king—was the first to imagine a Crown, and the first to be crowned. One day, as he w r as abroad hunting, he. looked up to the sky and saw ; the figure of a crown in the heavens. lie called to a craftsman, and bade him copy the pattern—the crown remaining long enough to enable him to do so; and ever afterwards he wore that crown in obedience to the will of Heaven, and no one couhklook upon it without blindness. VII used to say, snceringly, in allusion to ‘ this story, that the'priesthood.came direct from God, hut imperial power, crow ned from Nimrod. The “ mitre” of the Church is only the old Jewish horn-crown, in its turn copied frpm the Egyptian,; while the Pope’s tiara | is the same initre triply crowned,, to mark | him high priest, judge and supreme legis- Ila tor of the Christian world. So was (the king of old time ever a twofold per j sonage—high priest and chief magistrate !in one; and it has been an endless struggle I hitherto to simplefyhis pretensions. This, | too, is one of the many creaking legacies left us by the Jews.— All the Year Hound. O* Said a Sunday school teacher to a playful child, “ What would you have been witbout your pioui father and .mother?” The little rogue replied: “I suppose ma’am, I would have, been an orphan. [tSDEPESDEST IX KVERYTHIXG.] The other evening I came home with tin extra ten dollar bill in my pocket— money that I had earned by out of doors work. The fact is, I’m a clerk in a down town store, at a gallary of $6OO per an num. and a pretty wife and baby to sup port out of it. I.suppose this iueomc will sound amazingly small to your two and three'thousand dollar office-holders, but nevertheless we contrive to live very com fortably upon it. We live on a floor of an unpretending'little house, for which we pay $l5O dolars per annum, and Kitty, my wife, you’ll 'understand, does all her own work; so that we lay up a neat little sum every year. I’ve got a balance of two or' three Ixundred dollars at the savings bank, the hoard of several years, and it is astonishing.how rich I feed! Why, Roths child himself isn’t a circumstance to me! Well, I came-home with my extra bill, and showed it triumphantly to Kitty, who of course was delighed with my and thrift. “Now, my love,” said I, “just add this to our account at the bank, and with in terest to the end of the year.” Forthwith I commenced existing inter est, and calculating in my brain. Kitty was silent, and rocked the cradle musingly with'her foot. “I’ve been thinking Harry,” said she, after a moments pause, that “since you've got this extra money, wc might afford to buy a new rug. This is getting dreadfully shabby, my dear, you must see.” 1 looked dolefully at the rug; it was worn and shabby enough, that was a fact. “ I can got a beautiful new velvet pat tern for seven dollars,” resumed my wife. “Velvet—seven dollars,” groaned I. “ Well, then, a common tufted rug like this would only cost three,” said my cau tious better half, who, seing she couldn’t eary her first ambitious point, wisely with drew her guns. “ Tint’s more sensible,” said I. “ Well, we’ll see about it.” “ And there’s another thing I want,” continued my wife, putting her hand coax ingly on my shoulder, “and it’s not at all extravagant either.” “ What is it 1” I asked, softening rapidly. “I saw such a lovely silk dress pattern on Canal street this morning, and I can get it for six dollars, —only six dollars— Harry! It’s the cheapest tiling I ever saw'.” “But havn’t you got a pretty green silk dress?” “That old thing! , Why, Harry, I’ve worn it ever since we’ve been married.” “Is it soiled, or ragged?” “No, of course; but who want? to wear (he same green dress forever! Everybody knows it is the only silk dress I have.” “Well, what then?” “ That’s just a man’s ‘ question,” pouted Kitty. “And I suppose you have not observed how old-fashioned my bonnet is getting.” . “Why, I thought it looked very neat and tasteful since you put on that black velvet winter trimming.” “Of course —you men have no taste in such matters.” We were silent for a moment; I’m afraid we both felt a little cross and out of hu mor;: with one another. In fact, on my journey borne, I bad entertained serious thoughts of exchanging my old silver watch for a more modern time-piece of gold, and had mentally appropriated the ten dollars to further that purpose.' Savings-bank reflec tions had come later, : As wc sat before the fire each wrapped in thought, our neighbor, Mr. Wilmot, knocked at the door. He was employed at the same store as myself, and his wife was an old family friend. “I want you to congratulate me,”-*be said, taking a seat. “I have purchased that little cottage out on the Bloomingdalc road to-day. “ What! that beautiful littA w'ooden cottage with the piazza, and lawn, and fruit garden behind ?” exclaimed Kitty almost enviously/ , “Is it possible?” I cried. A little cottage borne of my own, just like that I had often admired on the Bloomingdalc road, had always been the crowning am bition of ray life—a distant and almost hopeless point, but no less earnestly de sired- “Why, Wilmot,” said I, “Low did this happen? You’ve only been in business eight or ten years longer than, I, at a sal aiy but a trifle larger than-mine, yet I could as soon buy the mint as purchase a cottage like that.” “Well," said my neighbor “we have all been working to this end for years.— My wife has darned, patched, mended and saved—wc have livied on plain fare, and done with the cheapest tilings. But the magic charm of „the whole affair was that we laid aside every penny that was not needed by actual, positive want. Yes, I have seen my wife lay by red coppers, one by one.” ,“Tunes are hard you know, just now; the owner was not what yon call an econ omical man, and he was glad to sell at a HOW TO EAEN A HOME. A STOEY FOE II.VT.D TIMES, moderate price. So you see that even “ hard times” have helped me!” When our neighbor was gone, Kitty and I looked meaningly at one another. “ Harry,” said she, “ the rug isn’t bad after all, and my green silk will do a year longer with, care.” “And a silver watch is quite as good for all practical purpososj as a gold repeater,” said I. “Wc will soi aside all imaginary wants.” “The ten dollar bill must go to the bank,” said Kitty, “ and I’ll economise the coppers just as Sirs. Wilmof did. Oh, how happy she-will be among the roses in that cottage garden next spring!” • Our merry tea-kettle sung us a cheerful song over the glowing tire that night, and its burden was “Economy and a home of opr own amid the roses and the country air.” . - -4 ■ DOH’T GET DISCOURAGED.' Don’t get discouraged! Whoevei gained anything by drawing down the corners bf his mouth when a cloud came over the sun, or letting his heart drop like ,a lead-; weight into his shoes when misfortune came upon him ? Why,, man, if the worht knocks you down jostles past yog in great race, don’t sit whining under people’s feet, but get up, rub your elbows, and be gin again. There ore some people who even to look at is worse than a dose of chamomile tea. What if you do happen to be a little puzzled on the dollar and cent question ? Others besides you have stood in exactly the Same spot, and strug gled bravely out of it, and you are neither halt, lame nor blind, that you can do like wise ! The weather may be dark and rainy—very weH; laugh between the drops and think cheerily of the blue, sky and sun shine that will surely come to-morrow! Business may be dull; make the best of what you have, and look forward to some? thing more hopeful. If you catch a fall, don’t lament over your braise, but be thankful that no bones are broken. ; If you can’t afford roast beef and plum pudding?, eat your codfish joyfully and bless your stars for the indigestion and dyspepsia you thereby escape 1 But the moment you be-; giu to look over your troubles.and count up the calamities you may as well throw yourself over the wharfs and be done with it. The luckiest fellow that ever lived, might have woes enough, if he set himself seriously to work looking them up. They are like invisible specks of dust; you don’t sec ’em till you put on your spectacles to discover what is a great- deal better let alone. Dont*get discouraged, little wife ! Life is not long enough tp spend in inflaming your eyes and reddening your nose because the pudding won't bake, and your husband says the .new shirts you worked over so long “set like bags.” Make another pudding —begin the shirts anew! Don’t - feel “down in the mouth” because the dust will settle, and clothes will wear out, and crockery will get broken. Being a woman don’t procure you an exemption from trouble and care; you have got to fight the battle of life as well as your and it will never do to give up without a bold struggle. Take things as they come, good and bad together, and when you feel inclined to cry, just changc your mind and laugh; never turn a blessing around to see if it has got a dark side to it, and 1 always take it for granted that things are blessings until they prove to be something else.— Never allow yourself to get discouraged, and you’ll find the world a pretty conifori table sort of place after all. A Sailou’s Yatcj.— -Jack Brace tells the following story in the Boston Journal: On the passage, last Summer, of the ship Comet from San Francisco to New York, a mis chievous sailor lad, the captain's appren tice, for some'practical joke on the cooper* was headed up by that personage in an empty water-cask on deck. Suddenly there came on a blow, and, in a severe lurch, the cask containing the boy rolled over into the sea. The circumstance was not noticed by those on board. ■ Fortu nately the cask struck bimg up, and floated about thirty hours, when it was thrown upon the beach oil the coast ot New Jer sey. Here the boy made desperate efforts to extricate himself from his prison with out success, and, in despair, gave up to die. Some con's,’ however, strolling on the beach, were attracted to the cask, and in walking around it, one • came so near that the boy put his hand out of the bung hole and seized her tail, which he instantly drew into the hole, and held on with both hands. The cow bellowed and ran for dear life, and after running some two hun dred yards with the cask, struck it against a rode on the beach, and knocked it, as we may say, into a cocked hat. The Ifoy thus providentially released, was disopt ered by some fishermen and taken care of until he Was sent to New York. - When you doubt between two words, choose the plainest, the commonest, the most idiomatic. Eschew fine words as you would a rogue.; love simple ones as yOu would native rpses on your checks. Let us use the plainest and shortest words that will grammatically and gracefully express our meaning, - EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS, i SINGULAR WAS INCIDENT - The Lynchburg Republican publishes the following incident, remarkable alike for its singularity, as well as for its melan choly fulfillment to the brother of one of the parties concerned:' Just before tho ■war broke out, and before Lincoln’s proc lamation was issued, a young Virginian named Summerfield, was visiting the city of New York where he iftade the acquain tance of two Misses Holmes of Water bary, Vermont. He became somewhat intimate with the young ladies, and the intercourse seemed to be mutually agreea ble. The proclamation was issued, and the whole North thrown into a blaze of excitement. On Visiting the ladles one evening, at the hour of parting they re marked that their present meeting would probably be their last; they must hurry home to aid in making up the overcoats ahd clothing for the volunteers from their town. Summerfield expressed his regret that they must leave, but at the same tiinc'especially requested them to see that the overcoats were well made, as it was his intention,.if he ever mpt.thc Vermont regiment in buttle, to kill 6uc of them and take his coat. Now for the sequel. Virginia seceded. The Second Vermont regiment, a portion of which was from the town of Water bary, was sent to Virginia. The battle of Manassas was fought, in which they were .engaged, and so was Sununerfield.-—» During the battle, Summerfield marked his man, not-, knowing to what State ho belonged; the fatal ball was: sped on its errand of death; the victim fell at the flash of the gun, and, 1 upon rushing up to secure the dead man’s arms, Summerfield observed that he had a fine new overcoat strapped to his back, wjpeh he determined to appropriate to his own use. The fight was oyer, and Sumiuerlield had time to examine his prize, when- remarkable as it\ may appear, the coat was marked with the name of Thomas Holmes, and in the pockets were found letters signed with the names of the sisters whom Summerfield had known l in New York, and to whom he had made the remark we have quoted, in Avhicli the dead man was addressed as brother. The evidence was conclusive—- he had killed the brother of his friends, and the remark which he had made in jest had a melancholy fulfillment. We are assured this narrative is literally true, Summerfield now wears the coat, and, our informant states, is not a little impressed with the singularity of the incident. DEATH OF PEINCE ALBEBT. Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria, whose death occurred rather sud denly on Sunday, the loth ult., in London, of gastric fever, was born at Rosenau, on the 26th of August, 1819. He was tlie jecond son of Ernest, Quke of Saxe Co nui-g Gotha, under whose immediate per sonal superintendence he received an ad mirable education, which he completed by attending the University of Bonn, during three academical seasons. In July, 1838, he visitted England, in company with Leo pold, King of Belgium, and spent some time at the court of the youthful queen, and in November, 1839, it was formrlly announced to the privy council, by the Queen, that she intended to form a matri monial alliance with Prince Albert. The secret had long been public property*’ but was kept in suspense by the decorous con tradictions of the ministerial journals. , The marriage was solemnized Feb.: 10, 1810/ For the purpose of rendering him perfect ly independent, the munificent personal al lowance of $150,000 a year was made to him by Parliament. Beside which lie was a field-marshal, Knight of the Gartcf, and other orders, coltticl of the Fusilier Guards, and held a number of other lucrative or honorary appointments. He was a man of refined taste, and an accomplished musician and draughtsman. Forbidden by his po sition from interfering in politics, he ocou pied himself with superintending the edu cation of his children. The progress of tlie arts and sciences, and general philan thropic subjects, such as the “dwellings! of the working classes,” sanitary arrange ments, &c., also engaged his attention.— He was patron and president of numerous charitable institutions, in which he took a personal interest. As President of the Society of Arts, he was the chief promo ter of the great exhibition of 1851. He was noted, in a country of scientific agri culturists, for tlie spirit with wblch he carried out agricultural experiments, and his fanning stock has been frequently ex hibited, and gained prizes. As a patron . of art, Prince^Albert has shown himself particularly active. .' < > ■’V : iv ' Unwritten ; Poetuy.— Jt is stopped upon the bmul blue twinkles'in ctery star^—-it niingles in the and slitters in the dew. drop that ams ife Ulysbell. It glows'in the gorgoopsajlpci of the decline of dny> and w’ thh blackened crest of the gathmag cloud.. It is in the mountain’Sl^^rtiqid In the rataraci’s oak, and in the can see the ’ pf Uwi finds her dwelling-puce. 1 - \ NO. 48.