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ijgaas
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». 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.
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Oneoio
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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.