t*'** HH* aAniii'iddkiM. -J «SsiM«restaa I MM U> •• ijgaas #s ». ft. th« JWl—iMWi,. m„, Tktwo. **.«- Mu mi M, ud -rrf— li.|_ I, fef «U who to , Sf'l? i gin-1 ■M? I tY AND BA&ifcY! DERBIGNKD AS&fOUN. iilene ofAHoan* udTktNt|rUikt I* *l*lg» btrofaai of BUTS, SFICEB «h*j» on naad % ijcndjtddc«Tplain hi* own mMiv&ctoro, CRONES, BAIRISS^C. ailotaaoni oCthajeor. Sagar, Molasses,' Bstto. 0 WHITS WBSATFLOUR. AT FLOUK, CORN HBAI* MX, IfnrMlc in to|» enroll goeßllHw ud price my rtock nail 50a will And up M enj-in town. JAOOB WIRE. :at ‘jyaioii * the mind of everj^ g«t the best artfets far rf to other matters. Ini . attempt to direct, bat If the line of £8 OR SHOES examination of bis stock udvoii Uiy on hand an assortment oCßephb&ta* ke-p which he offers at fair prices. *4al ati eqUon to custom imafed to girv Milaikction. Non* bat th <• on V(r*hu» itreet, ImmejMel Ig Store. JOHN H. RQBJCBIS. ?ETTIN(xEE’S J Kews Agency, No. 7, MAijj street. BOOKS, BlAiqt SOOKS, IY, CONFEOTIORARjEg *S&TOBAGGO, mOVS IN <H«EATVABDSTi ol* turn. J .. , ■■■■,. JU POLICE Jooratl at Crime ladth l»*ji|i t»-tB • and i> a M«ljr ’ mtataa *ll tba Ct^^hli^WlpW* l «t« »;■*»« wtit. FfiOTSttaaMßssr L . rsTER tSCMRER iww o#’AUooite'iiMSiwlwjßSiSi^*** 11 11 I fi trm fS— , J9tt uid JHUCT WKBBF*W.Mz'r*~ lery hMt trt&lwto WSW*"* ElELStt&fc pg.ttoMuan. ", ■ >■'.:• ■.■7- too “ , ' o,, * , 3^Ste w 0 B A S ‘JS irtoOpaU oO£a or dfeoptotv Bfii Mte aten'Mlm S* r tuetk Oneoio Xb^Oubon AT MoCO M, C 1U t M & BERN. \)l. 7 THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. , H. C. BURN. 1 I PROPUXTORS. . um . mivahle invariably in adtance,) $1.50. " r. 'loo-on tinned at the expiration of the tune V'il"** U ’ r «r ABvmiiewo. 1 inaiTtlon 2 Ilu. ■' •«>. , $46 $ 37H $6O .-.'“■'-"Tfc) 60 76 1 00 ..... 1 00 1 60 200 !*■' .. -, '' 150 200 250 ofr tiorr weeks aud Iw ttan-tlirw n.ontlir. 26 eanta „|i.an' lor racli 6n , ont h«. 1 year. *1 50 t 3 00 $5 00 - ;;;. 260 400 700 4 00 Cl 00 10 00 5 00 SOO 72 00i ~‘6 00 10 00 14 00 , v llU i*« .»r .quarts m' ; 'V io oo u oo 2000 IJ4II * 11 no 25 00 40 00 column r*'jr., uu 175 , »Mir>rfi hu(l KxecuWrs Notices •**• w- ,hw ;5 * i,„eii “ i( !‘ or aaracter or individual in “'^SSllt'SKr BALTIMORE LOCK HOSPITAL J&uuum.fa AHBFUOE FROM QUACKERY. ‘’The Only Place Where a (Jure Can be Obtained* L,o JOHNSON has discovered the | most CerUin, Speedy and only Bffectimi Remedy in Lrld for nil Private Diseases. Weakne»9 of the Back ! 'hi* Stricture*, Affection* of the Kidneyß and B ad .. ’ Discharges. ImpoUncy, General Debility. *■ r ‘ rtviiDflDST Languor, Low Spirits. Confusion the Heart, Timidity. Trembling, i‘ I^’of SiKht or Giddluess. Disease of the Hesd, Soar or Skin, Affections of the Liver, Lungs. Stom ,V,«el*-those Terrible disorders arising from the r “ Habits of Youth—those stcaxr and solitary pnm ' mor'wsl to theit victims than the aongof Syrens to :: Mirioers of Ulysses,.blighting their most brilliant ', or anticipations, rendering marriage .Ac., nnpossi- YOUNG MEN •' . .yiy who have* become the victims of Solitary Vice. . Jo'iful and destnetive habit which annually sweeps ;■aullmilyciare thousands of Young Men “ft* l6 n,os *. 1 lalcntfand brilliant intellect, who might otber , 1. lave entranced listening Senates with the thunders „i rl,iqnence. or waked to ectnsy the living lyre, may call ulh foil confidence. MARRIAGE lurried Persons, or Tonne Men cotemplating marriage, i»ius»«»re of physical weakness, organic debility, defor min' ie„ fnevdilv cured. ~, , iiVwho places himself under the care of Dr. J. may, re- Confide in his honor as a gentleman, and confl ict!, rolv upon his skill as a physician. • ORGANIC WEAKNESS I,..mediately Cured, and full A igor Restored. This Distressing Affection—winch renders Life unseralj e aad marriage impossible—is the penalty paid by the k i Of improper indulgences Young persons are to r . to commit excesses from not being uwai e of the draad f,.l cmsMuences that may ensue. Now. who that under ■umls the subject will pretend to deny that the power of ™son i?lost sooner by those falling into improper !,tbits than by the prudent! Besides being deprived,the .ileasures of healthy oifspring. the most serious and de struciire symptoms to both ,body and mind arise. The intern becomes Deranged, the Physical and Mental Fane lions Weakened. Loss of Procreative Power, Nervous dm > lability. Dyspepsia. Palpitation of the Heart. Indigestion, Constitutional Debility, a Wasting of the Frame, Cough’ Consumption, Decay and Dealii. . OFFICE, NO. 7 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, Left hand side going from Baltimore street, a few doors from the corner. Fail not tojobserve name and anmt»r. Letters must be paid and contain a stamp. Tin-Doc -I,r’s Diplomas hang in his office A CURE WARRANTED IN TWO DAYS. So Mercury or Nuseons Drugs. OR. JOHNSON. . /sil Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, Limdon. Urad- 1 u*te from one of the most eminent Colleges lu the Dhiteu « sUtes. and the greater part of whose life haa been f pent in the hospitals of London, Paris, Philadelphia jaMiel*®* where, has effected some of the mc«t aatoolsning cures that were ever known; many troubled with ringing ip the head and : ears when asleep, great nervousness, being «Urm*d at sudden sounds, bashfiilncss, with frequent Washing, attended sometimes with derangement of mind; »er<* cared immediately. v TAKE PARTICULAR NOTICE- Dr.J. addresses all those who hare Injured themselves fiT improper indulgence and solitary habits, which-ruin both body and mind, unfitting them for either bonnes*, itody, society or marriage. _ These are some of the sad and melancholy effectspro* tuced by early habits of yooth, vl/.-; Weakness of the kk and Limbs, Pains in the of Sight, Los* of Huscular Power,. Palpitation of the Heart. Dys -4v t Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Dlges (i?« functions^Oeoeral lability, Symptoms of Consump Son, 4c. . , , . • Mestallt.—-The fearful effects of tlie mind are much to IV dreaded—Low of Memory, Confusion of Idea., Do jitrssion of spiriis, KribForebodings, Aversion lo Society, M {-Distrust, Lore of Solitude, Timidity, Ac- are some ; uf the evils produced. . , A . Thousands of persons of all ages can nowjuoge what is the cause of their declining health, losing their vigor, be dialog weak, pale, nervous and emaciated, having a sin gular appearance about coggh and symptoms of consumption r YOUNQ MEN IFho have injured themselves by a certain pragtitm in dulged in when alone, a habit frequently l“ rn^. fr "'" evil companions, or at school, the effects of whjen are subtly felt, even when asleep, and If not cured Tenders marriage imposible, and destroys both mind ana Doay, thould apply immediately. ‘ . ' What a pity that a young man, the hope of his cgtyo* the darling of his parents, should be snatched frpm all prospects and enjoyments of life, by the consequence of deviating from the path of nature, and Indulging iu a certain Sjecret habit. Such persons must, before contem plating MARRIAQE, , reflect that a sound mind and body are the most necessary requisites to promote connobial happiness. Indeed* wltn >mt these, the Journey through life becomes a weary pH* grimige; the prospect hourly darkens to the view; the mind becomes shadowed with despair and filled with, the melancholy reflection that the happiness o* another be ''otnt§«bUghted with oar own. DISEASE~vF IMPBUOEHCE. . When the mteguldedvwd Imprudent votary of j?lea*ure finds that h« baa imbibed the - seeds of this paihfai die* wise. It too often happens that an ill-timed sense of shame, or dread of discovery, deters him front applying to those who, from education and -respectability, can alone be- Wend him, delaying till the constitutional symptoms of this horrid disease make their appearance, such as ulcera te sore throat, diseased nose, nocturnal pain s in we head *nd limbs, dimness of sight, deafness, nodes on ,wie snip bones and arms, blotches on the head, face and Oxtremt ties, progressing, with frightful‘rapidity, till at last the palate of the mouth or the bones of the nose fall. In, and the victim of Chisawfal dUeas* becomes a horrid object of commiseration, till death puts a peiiod to hw dreadful snaring*, by sendinghim to “that Undiscovered Country from whence no traveller returns.” J It is a mdancholv fact that thousands fall victims to this terrible disease, owing to the unskillfulness ofignev rant pretenders, who, by the use of that Deadly X'.rcury, ruin the constitution and make the rcsldne ot hfe miserable. ... - jiifc* I Trust not your Ureft.S' the care of the many Cnlearned and WortbleM Pretender*, de*titote of knowl *l?*. name or character, who copy Dr. Joboston’i advcr ffcemcntJi, or style themselves, io the newspapers, wgu- Educated Pbyilci&ns, Incapable of Curing, they keep yw trifling month after month, taking theftr filthy and poisonous compounds, or as long as the smallest fee can obtained, and in despair, leave you with ruined health lo *igh over your galling disappointment, bf. Johnston Is the only Physician advertising, ilti credential or diplomas always hang in hi* office. UU remedies or treatment are unknown to all others, from a life spent in the great hospital* of.Bnrope. the first in the country ami a more bxtenslve Priv&U jPrac- any other Physician in the world. INDORSEMENT Of THE PRESS. , The many thousands cured at this Institution, year after . Vt, ar, and the numerous important Surgical operations performed by Johnston, witnessed by the reporters of the Pun,” *• Clipper,” and many other papers, notices of which have appeared again and again before tin* public, besides bis standing as. a gentlemen of character and re sponsibility, is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted. ill f i] SKIN DISEASES SPEEDILY CURED. * So letters received unless post-paid vnd containing a •Ump to be used on the reply Persons writtugstupitd state. Persons writing should he particular In directing their Mtera to this Institution, in the following manner: * JOHM.M. JOHHSTOM. M. D.. Of the Baltimore Lock Hospital, Maryland. i)Ma ffwfcg. OUR COUNTRY'S CAUL. BY WM. COU.KK BRYANT. Lay down the axe; filpg by the spade: Leave In Its track the tolling plow; The rifle anil the bayonet blade For arms like yours were fitter now; And let the hands that ply the pen Quit the UjEht task, and learn to wield The horseman's crooked brand, and rein The charger on the battle field. Onr country calls; away! away 1 To where the blood-stream blots the green. Strike to defend the gentlest sway. That time.ln all his course has seen. See, from a thousand coverts—soe. Spring the armed foes that haont her track They rush to smite her down, and wt* Must beat the branded traitors bark. in on flol sturdy as the oak ye cleave,: And moved as soou to fear aud flight— Mon of the glade and forest! leave Tour woodcraft for the field of fight. The arms that wield the axe must pour Ad iron tempest on the foe; His serried ranks shall reel before The arm the panther low*. And ye who breast the mountain storm . By grassy steep or highland talus Come, for the land ye love, to form Aebnlwark that no foe can break. Stand, like your own grey cliffs that mock •The whirlwind, stand to her defence: The blast as soon shall move the rock, Ami rushing squadrons on hence. And ye whose homeaare by her grand Swift rivers, rising far away. •Come from the depths of her green land As mighty in your march as they: As terrible as when the rains Have swel|fd them ovpf bank and bourne, With sudden floods to drown the plains. And along the woods iiptorn. And ye who-throng beside the deep. Her ports and hamlets of the strand. In number like the waves that leap On bis long murmuring marge ui sand; Come, like that deep, when, o’er his brim. He rises, all his floods, to pour. And flings the proudest barks that swim A helpless wreck against the shore Few, few were they whose swords of old. Wonthe fair land in which we dwell: Bat we are many, we who hold The grim resolve to guard It well. Strike for that broad and goodly laud. Blow after blow, till men shall see That Might and Right oibve liand in hand. And glorious must their triumph be. jftdrct BASHFUL MEN. Let all bashful people, and there are a great many of then!/take a comfort and consolation from the remarks of a modem writer touching this class:— We seldom see a. genuine bashful man who is not the soul of hohor. Though such may blush and stammer, and appear awkward, shrug their shoulders and appear unable to throw out with ease the thoughts to which they would give expression, yet commend t 6 us bashful men for real friends. There are fine touches in their charac ter that time will mellow and bring put, perceptions as delicate. as the faintest tint of the unfoldfli roses; and their thpuglfts are none thcnress refined and beautiful, that they do not flow with the impetuosity of the shallow streamlet. It is a wonder that such men are not more appreciated; that yaung women with really good hearts and cultivated intellects will reward the gallant Sir Mustachio Brainless with smiles and attentions, be cause he can fold a shawl gracefully, and has a dandy countenance, with a Parisian elegance, while they will scarce condescend to look upon the worthier man, who feels for them a reverence so great that his very mute glance is a worhip. The man who is bashful in the pres i ence of women is their defender when the loose tongue of the; slanderer would defame them. It is not he who boasts of his conquests, or dares to talk glibly of failings that exist only' in his imagination; his cheek will flush with resentment, his eyes flash with anger, to hear the sacred name of women coupled with a coarse oath; and yet he who would die to defend them is the least honored by the majority of the sex. La dies! a word in your ear. Have you lov ers, and Would you possess a worthy hus band'? Choose; then, the man whose delicacy of deportment, whose sense of your worth leaves him to stand aloof, while others, with less modesty and no fooling, crowd around you. If he blushes, if he stammers, even; at your approach, consider these things as signs of his exalted opinion of your sax. If he is retiring and modest, let not a thousand fortunes weigh him down in the balance; for, depend upon it, with hiiq your life will be hap pier, even with comparative poverty, than with many who are surrounded with the splendor of a prince. A pious minister after lecturing a Sunday class in the most edifying manner, proposed to close the exercise by singing “Jordan,” meaiung the hymn, “Jordon’s stormy banks I sland." The worthy man was horrified! by: hearing the school strike up, “ Jordon am a hard road to travel; I believe.” 1 ~ , ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 31, 1862. BEYOND THE MOTUTADT. The little child was dying. His weary limbe were racked with pain no more.— The flush was fading from his thin cheek, and the fever that had been drying up his blood for many days was now cooling rap idly under the touch of the icy hand that was upon him. There were sounds of bitter but sup pressed grief in that dim chamber, for the dying little one was very dear to many hearts. They knew that he was departing, and the thought was hard to bear; but they tried to command their feeling, that they might not disturb the last moments of their darling. The father and mother and the kind physician stood beside dear little Author’s bed, and watched his heavy breathing.— He bad been silent for some time, and ap peared to sleep. They thought it might be thus he would pass away: but suddenly his mild blue eyes opened wide and dear, and a: beautiful smile broke over his fea tures. He looked upward and forward at first, and then turning his eyes upon his mother’s face, said in a clear, sweet voice : “ Mother, what is the name of that beautiful country that I see away beyond the mountain—the high mountain ?” “l ean see nothing, my child,” said the mother; “there are no mountains in sight of our home.” “Look there, dear mother,” said the child, pointing upward, “yonder are the mountains. Can you not see them now ?” he aSked in tones of great astonishment, as his mother shook her head. “They are so near me now —so large and high, and the people are so happy—there are no sick children there. Papa can you not see be hind the mountains ? Tell me the name of that land ? The parents glanced at each other, and with united voice; replied: “The land you see is Heaven, is it not, my child?” “Yes, it is Heaven, I thought that must be its name. Oh, let me go—but how shall I cross those mountains ? Father, will you not carry me, for they call me from the other side, and I must go ?” There was not a dry eye in that cham ber, and upon every heart fell a solemn awe, as if the curtin which concealecT its mysteries were about to be withdrawn. “ My son,” said the father; “ will you stay with us a little while longer? \ou shall cross the mountain soon, but in stronger arms than mine. Wait—stay with your mother a little longer: see how she weeps at the thought of losing you!” “Oh, mother! oh, father! do not cry, but come with me and cross the mountain —oh, come!” and thus he entreated, with a strength and earnestness which aston ished all. The chamber >vas filled with wondering and awe-stricken Mends. At length he turned to bis mother with a face beaming | with rapturous delight, stud, stretching out his little arms to her for her last embrace, he cried: “ Good-bye, mother, I am going ; but don’t you be afraid —the strong t arm has come to carry me over the mountains!” Thes* were his parting words; upon his mother’s breast he breathed his last; and they laid the little fair boy down again j upon the pillow, and closed the lids over the beautiful blue eyes, over which the mists of death had gathered heavily, and bowing by the bedside, praying with sub missive, though bleeding hearts, and said: “The f/ord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord !” THE MIHD. Of all the noble works of God, that of the human mind has ever been considered the grandest. It is, however, like all else created, capable 6f cultivation; and just in that degree as the mind is improved and rendered pure, is man .fitted for rational enjoyment and pure happiness. That person who spends an existence without a realization of the great ends for which he was designed; without feeling a soaring of the soul above mere rnercenarymotives and desires; not knowing that he is but a portion, as it were, of one vast machine, in which each pieSb has a part to perform; having no heart-beating in common with those of his fellow men, no feelings in which self is not to live. His mind is shut in by a moral darkness, and he merely ex ists, a blank in the world, and goes to the tomb with scarcely a regret. Such things we have seen, and wondered at; wondered that mortal, endowed with so many noble qualities, and capable of the highest attainments of intellectuality, should slumber on through a world like ours, in which is everything beautiful, lovely and sublime, to call forth his ener gies and excite his admiration—-a world which affords subjects for exercising the at tribute with which we are gifted, and opens a scene of the richest variety to the mind and the heart, and of such a diversed char acter that-we may never grow weary. If, then, you would.wish to live, in the true sense of the term, cultivate the mind; give vent to pure affections and noble feel ings, and pen not every desire and thought in w»lf - Live for the good of your fellow men, and in seeking their happiness you will promote your own. fINDEPENDENT IK EVERYTHING.] A KEEK PICKET—EffCOTOTEE OF (THE UITHOHOKED t BEAVE WHO WITS. DIE OK PICKET. j On the IBth of June, I met a little pro- I cession of four men bearing; in from Hooker’s* picket line upon' a bloodysfretch er, the body of a dead soldier. 1 1 saluted, the corpse with my reverted hand: to the visor of inv cap, and halting my; horse, inquired, “who is he, boys’” “Lyman Field, jr., of Co. H, 16th Massachusetts.” I passed on to the front. They went rearward to the grave. Killed on picket! Who has siing the j dead heroes of the Picket ? In what re ; ports is honorable mention made of them, that, face forward to the foe, fall dead under fire while far in advance of the ar my, solitary sentinels to watch: that dan -1 ger does not steal on it unannounced ? In what bulletin receive, embalmment while they are buried, and leave to their families with their knapsacks,* their watches, their purses, their pipes, and other little personal property, the priceless legacy of a famous death in the Chicka hominy swamp? Alas, no mention is made of them. They go regularly to bat tle every evening they go out upon the' picket line, but they go unattended by the power, patronage and machinery- of fame which environs the regiments that are embattled for a field fight. They go alone, almost, into a battle that lasts all night and all day, without a moment’s in termission. No magnetic thrill of cour age is communicated by touch of shoulder to shoulder—the observation that over awes or stimulates men in the bppn field is wanting to them as a brace to; the man ly discharge of duty. They are alone with their self-respect and the foe, and when they go forward upon their knees a bleeding sacrifice upon the national altar. I say that these men merit more, because they have accomplished more and sacri ficed more than those who in crowds meet death from a missile that is ever thrown by chance, and does never select unshin ing victims. Picket duty! it is the most important work done in an army. The imposed 'silence, the sleepless, vigilance, the partial solitude, the consciousness of constant danger, strain men up to their highest powers of endurance.; No true soldier ever came off from * a fighting picket line without weighing less than when he went on. And when the ground is swampy, as it is all over the Chicka hominy and the White Oak districts, phy sical discomfort and suffering - which can not be avoided add to the drain upon the soldier’s vitality, and send him home with marks of exhaustion which men accus tomed to the sensitive reading of the American face never fail to take note of, and be impressed by. He needed not to be the son of a prophet, who,; riding any day past Sickles’ men coming in from picket after three weeks’ service in the extreme front, should surely say “ that man, and that man broad-chested and big-limbed as they are, will never again outlie any part of the White Oak Swamp. They Will ride within twenty-four hours and not to the front. Their; next battle field is the hospital, and their ,foe is al ready intrenched within their nerves.” And so it is. There is no service on earth under whose depressing and mias matic influences men break down so sud denly and so profoundly as picket duty in face of an enemy thoroughly savage in his temper, and crouching in leafy cov erts which in time of peace i sheltejt only the serpent and the Bat you, men iyid women of the unsuspecting and com fortable North, have you any idea of the direct and immediate dangers of this un honored and unsung military service '? At times, as I said before, the rebels are quite communicative, as the following dia logue, which occurred at Yorktown, be tween Jos. D., of Leeds, Wis., and one of them, when within ten roils of each other, will show: The parties were separated by a low, deep swale, covered with water and thick brush, and were unable to discover each other’s person. Joe hearing a noise on the other side, yelled out in a loud voice: Hallo, Mike! Have you got, any to bacco ? Secesh (with a strong Hibernia accent) —Yes, be jabers, and whisky too. Joe —Cpme over and we’ll have a quiet smoke. Secesh—l’ll meet you half way. Joe agreed to do so, and advanced some distance through brush and water, and then slopped. Secesh—-Where the devil are ye ? Are ye cornin’'? ~ Joe—l’m half way now. Can’t go any further without swimming. Secesh—Haven’t ye a boat 1 ? Joe —No, I have not. Secesh —Where’s yer gunboat ? Secesh—Down taking care of the Mer rimac. Secesh—Then come over in that big balloon. [Much laughter along tlu? rebel lines ] Joe—Have you a boat ? Secesh —I have sure and I’m coming over. Joe then inquired the ne.ws of the day, and if his companion had a Norfolk Day Book. Secesh replied—l have. Have jrou got a Tribune? Joe answered that he had not. \ Secesh —Where is Gen. Buell ? Joe —Buell’s all right, and surrounds Beauregard. Secesh —Where’s Gen. Prentiss ? Joe—Where’s Johnston ? [Another rebel laugh.] Joe—How about Island No. 10 ! Secesh —That’s evacuated. Joe —How is it that you left 100 guns and 9,000 prisoners ? , Secesh —Sure they (the prisoners) were not of much account. Joe —How about Fort Pulaski ? Secesh —That be bio wed ! It was only a rebel sand bank. But tell me what made you leave Bull Run ? 1 Dickß. (Union) —We had marching or- 1 ders! This caused great laughter among the rebels, some exclaiming, “ Bully Boy!” ■ Dick B.—Where’s Zollicoffer? Secesh —Gone up the spout. Joe—Why don’t you come over ? Secesh —Can’t get through the brush. At this moment a rebel bullet came whizzing over by our men, and Joe angri ly inquired who fired. fool over this way. An order was then issued to cease firing. Joe—Ain’t you coming? What regi ment do you belong to ? Secesh —Eighteenth Florida, What regiment do you? Joe —Berdan’s First .Regiment Sharp shooters. Some of his comrades here warned him to look out. Secesh —Would you shoot a fellow ? Joe replied —No; but I will stack arms and smoke with you, if you will come over. Here a rebel officer ordered him back, and the Secessionist refused to communi-’ cate further. — Cor. Mihoaukie Sentinel. •9* The Washington correspondent of the Springfield Republican relates the fol lowing as the best thing he has heard of the President: — “Beddatb came to tell the President that Geffrard, President of Hayti, would send a "white minister to this country if Mr. Lincoln especially desired it. “Hayti is so grateful,” said Redpath, “for recognition at your hand, that he was au thorized to say that; if you desired it as a favor, a white minister should be sent in stead of a colored one. Of course, Hayti would prefer to send one of her own chil dren, but she ■will bo generous even to the prejudice against color!” Mr- Lincoln turned drolly in his chair and replied: “ Well, you can tell Mr. Geffrard that I shan’t tear my shirt if he does send a negro here!” , Burnside and the Fisherman. —Gen. Burnside was recently sailing outside Fort Macon in a yacht when he encountered an old fisherman. “What news?” inquired the General. “Well,” answered the old fisherman, “ they do say old Burnside is down here, sword in hand, giving em ” “Do you know Burnside?” he asked. “No,” was the response; “but I should like to see him. I should know him if I were to. see him, for I have seen his picture” | The General removed his hat, display- I ing his bald head. ; 1 ‘Tflelloo 1” exclaimed the fisherman, “you 1 are .the old fellow himself, ain’t yout-r- You look just like t}ie picture Sam Tbomp-. son broagh* down from Hatteras; how ate 'you, General? I’m glad to soe you.” Ai.wats Take Good Advice. —Coun- sel is always granted to criminals for their defence. A robber being -surprised' in picking a pocket in the Grand Chamber of Justice, it was resolved, to proceed against him in a summary way, for : so daring an offence. An advocate was however allot ted to the prisoner for counsel; who ask ing him aside, said: “Is it true that you picked this pocket?” ; “It is true; sir," said the-culprit; “but indeed—” ■ “Hush!” said the counsel, “the very best counsel I can give you |s to run away as fast as you can.” ; The" robber profited by this advice, and ran off by the back stairs. The counsel returned to the bar, and was asked by the first president what he had to say ■in be half of his party. ; . “ Gentlemen,” answered the advocate, “ the wjetch confessed to me his crime, and as he was not guarded, and I was named to give him my best advice, 1 have advised him to run away. He has followed my advice.” Much laughter arose; for nothing could be "Said against the advocate. It belonged to the court to give orders and to the offi cers to take care that the prisoner should not escape. ; r ( “ How do yon dp .Bare?” said a Frenchman to an English acquaintance; “Bather poorly, thank you,” answered th other. “Nay, my dear sare,” said the Frenchman, “don’t thank me for your illness—•! cannot help it.” EDITORS AND PI AS AX¥SISQ ucrwarr. Major Thomas S-Uichards, of die First Pennsylvania Cavalry, relates the follow ing incident: \ One of Gen. Fremont’s batteriesof eight Parrott guns, supported by a squadron of horse, commanded by the Major, was in a sharp conflict with a battery of the enemy near at hand, 1 and shell and shot were fly* ing thick and fast, when the commander of the battery, a German, one of Fnsmont’s Staff, rode suddenly up to the cavalry, ex claiming in loud and excited tones, “ Pring up de shackasses, pring up de shackasses, for Cot sake, hurry up the shackasses, im me-di-ately." The necessity of this order, though not quite apparent to our-readers, will be obvious when we mention that the “ shackasses" are mules carrying mountain howitzers, which are fled from the backs of that much abused but valuable animat, and the immediate occasion for the “ shack asses” was that two regiments of rebel in fantry were at that moment discovered de scending a hill immediately behind our batteries. The “shackasses” with, the howitzers loaded with grape and canister, were soon on the ground. The mules squared themselves, as they well knew how, for the shock. A terrific .volley was poured into that advancing column,'which immediately broke and retreated; 278 dead bodies were found in the ravine next day, the effects of that volley from the backs of the “ shackasses.” / The Philosopher and the Child.—A philosopher once asked a little girl if she had a soul. She looked up into his face with an air of astonishment and offended dignity, and replied: “ To be sure I have!” “ What makes you think you have ?” “Because 1 have,” she promptly re plied. “But how do you know you have asoul.” “Because I do know,” she answered again. It was a child’s reason; but the philoso pher could hardly have given a better. “ Well, then,” said he, after a moment’s consideration, “if you know you have a soul, can you tell me what your soul ist” “Why,” said she, “I am six years old, and don’t you suppose that: I know what my soul is ?” “PerhapS you do. If you will tell me 1 shall find out whether yon do or not” “ Then you think I don’t know,” she re plied, “ but I do; it is my think.” “ Your think!” said the philosopher, astonished in his turn; “who told you so ?” “Nobody! I should be ashamed if I not did know that, without being told.” The philosopher had puzzled his brain a great deal about the soul, but he could not have given a better definition of it in so few words. How the Men Woke in Trenches.— It may be a puzzle to conceive how our men can throw up fortifications tight in the face and plain eight of the enemy, without bemg seriously disturbed by them. A brief descriptian may be interrating, in asmuch as it cannot be contraband be cause the work is done right under the noses of the rebels. A working party’is detailed for night duty; with muskets slung on their baths and picks on their shoulders, they proceed [to the selected ground. The white tape marks, the lino of excavation, the dark lan terns are faced to the rear, the muskets are carefully laid aside; the shovels are in band, and each man silently commences to dig. Not a word is spoken, not one spade dicks against another; each man first digs a hole sufficient to cover himself;’ he thdn turns and digs to bis right hand neighbor.; then the ditch widens, and the parapet rises. Yet all is silent; the relief comes, and the Weary ones retire; the words and jests of the enemy are often plainly heard, while no noise from our men disturbs the stillness, save the dull rattle of the earth, as each spadeful is thrown to the top; at daylight, a.long line of earthwork, afford ing complete protection to our men, greets the asfoniefced eyes of the enemy, while, the sharp-shooter’s bullets greet their ears. Frequently this work is done in open day light. the sharp-shooters and pickets keep ing the enemy from annoying our n>en. ff One day Nasir Eddin ascended the pulpit of the mosque, and thus addressed the congregation: “Oh, true believers! do you know what am going to say’to you t” ■ “No,”respondedthe congregation. “Well, then,” said he “there & »o«« in my speaking to you,” and he came down from the pulpit. He went to preach the second time, and asked the congregation the same ques tion: “ We know,” said the audience. “Ah, you know,” said he, quiting the pulpit, “why should I take the trouble of telling you V' When he next came to preach, the con gregation resolved to try his powers; toad when he asked his usual question, they to lled: ' “ Some of us know, arid some of as do [ not know.” • , well,” say he, “tel tho» who 1 know tell those who do not know.” j. t NO. 26.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers