-I T l ?' f V > rttv. Nia-: - WL* MtMnß' rtfcjg&vl.Li- fj|»- »-; ' J " , it i. - ar*mj I IfmlbCt riait t ttrtir Work tv &3UU&iklr *Tr > ■ s* -i * !# ,J -| B? :1 M *1 1 ' * |i # r |N Ip., -S: a*. £g ■g*.M .► - nm rM tW 'M 'p ?C' fc i'Ltf ifeii H ||; ■- VAJEU)! EFI ■ JStEBeKSTO m**r.tock of DS. - nittiMtimdmoi M3RNS. :h«jp SIONS , ,Xn a ekcliaOjge far 1 ed. ■ '■ ■' ‘ ItiMHwKtat : a^hkslop. ONER. •X HAND ANDIES ttmv which hw » ifcapt reason- APPLES. £ &C., S,C„ •RDEE. tn th# snit- jren will Bod >n Ware. (C, l« .e&d Shut- pnrptaiw— Blair noanty FPBH, . to ba ftpprccte DtcharnrßioM lapoqyiw. I Utd rat np & -; fSTjREET BpOBS, tNARIES fmy • pa * trite, paj. ■ Co.”) NCiPAI, . Oollectioo. tfasaa: ;*l i .GTIfAI, ir%f t L L ■••a-*- rWftO, ' is >. MSUCR’S. WB * j McGRtIM ADEBN, VOL. 8. T&Eimf 1 A VA L.l NEW? INDUCED PRICES! WE ARE BE ABLE TO T » infoßSSthe^pecpteof Altoona and vicinity that <*h *r<» juUi»oeivl»*Alery largeand; flue sapplv of WINTER GOODS, Jt( .,[ umghttu Philadelphia for CASH, and at reduced pii.fx. and are determined to dispose of th**m at the wnlleetpovidble advance. ' Our stock of itfilfiSd GOODS for the Winter is novr riouplrte, consisting, in part, of a fall line of Black SiJks, French Merinos, Drab and Figured Alpacas, Wool Delaines, Figured And Plain Paramettoe. and &a entire new Style of Figured-Delaines. Woolen Shawls, Cloaking Cloths, Hoop Skirts. Balmoral Skirts, very cheap; a full and Complete line of Woolen and Cotton Hosiery And Gloves. We&Uo invite special attention To oar stock of DohwtkSoodi, of which we Uare a foil-line, such a» Prints. Ginghams, Mnslinsaud Sheetings, Red, Qrey and White Shirting, Canton Flannel*. Ac., at or near old Prices. Boots and-Shoos for Men and Boys' Wear;; Ladles. Hisses and Childrens’ GaUecs.. . Fine and heavy Morocco and Goat Shoes. We have also received a choice lot of Groceries, 'uch as Coffee, Sugar, Teas; Syrups. Ac., and A new and handsome stock of Q,uceuswars. >plocted«xpres»ly fur this market. «&. We call the especial attention of all to the fact t«>H( we are now selling all kinds of goods at the/overt m rift prices, Uri&ly Jut c ask, regardlut «/ *hat they f'lrf US. ■ AGS*" Sincerely thanking the public for the liberal pat .•Miage heretofore bestowed, wo most respectfully invite ■verybody^anduyrMcuUrly_ our -friends, tbe Ladles, to • all nt the MODEL and secure bargains while they are to l. h.ul. : (Ded 9,.t€} JOHN LOWTHER t CO. save The per gentage BY BUYING YOUK 1 CLOTHING FROM FIRST HANDS. |4* TTINGEK & TUCK, Manufacturers JLol of audWholonaleand Retail dealers in Ready-made f'lothing, would respectfully luvit** tho attention <*f the public to tho following-feet* in reference to their stock. Ist. We man&fectura oar own, goods. They nre dmde up in oar own Store. In,Philadelphia, under onr immediate •nikerrisioD, and we know they are well made and can be warranted \ EQUAL TO THE BEST, and superior to the largest quantity of Ready-made cloth* mg iiutbe market. . 2nd. Wo boy onr Clothe directly from the Importers and Mimutactorer*, consequently we save tho per ceutige put <>n by middle men. drd. Wo sell our Clothing at n reasonable percentage ov**r the cost of onr Cloths, thereby saving the purchasers •>i' nothing the percentage which must be added by those who buy from 'second-hands to sell again. We retail onr n >rhlhg at *tho same; price which* other merchants pay t >r theirs at wholesale, conseqnently those who bay from ■i* get their gviods at the same price which other Clothier* pjy for their* I In the city, thereby saving wild Ph-tliler** rentage.' ; \Vc have branch Stores in ALTOONA AND JOHNSTOWN, where goods may be had at the fame figure* at which we -ell them beta to the city. tfauy person.ha* been told, or imagines. that Tack’s '(.ire, in Aitbonk, is *• played out.*’ let such person drop ■ afo his establishment, onMain Street, and examine his -jo;uls and prices. Wholesale House, NO. 702 Market Streht, Philadelphia. Dec. 2,1803.—tf. NEW GOODS. THE undersigned would respectfully in form the citizena of Altoona and surrounding conn ir v, that be has just returned from the Kast. where ho has selecting bis stock of FALL AND WINTER GOODS, which, for style, quality and price, cannot be surpassed in tiii* neck of;country. llle stock Is much larger than homtoforo, and as it is quite an object, in these exciting w:»r times, fcjr every one to purcheee where they can get The Best Goods and at the Lowest Prices, h-> would sa][ that he can snd will sell as low. if not a tittle, lower tjhnuaoy other bouse in this place. He wishes nil to call see his stock before purchasing elsewhere. :m he feels confident be can offer inducements which will defycompetition. His stock coturiKaof I.ADiES’'jDRESS GOODS of every description, MKN AND BOYS' WINTER WEAR, LADLES AND MISSES’ DRESS SHOES, MEN AND DOTS’ BOOTS AND SHOES. MEN’S HaL? HOSE WOMEN’S AND MISSES’ WOOL HOSE, lUTB AND CAPS, BLEACHED AND DNBLBACKBD MUSLIN, ! QINOHAMS AND HEAVY DRILLINGS, lie will Mil Lodin Sewed, Heeled Bootee, at J! J>0@1.75 Kip . 1.*.-* l-SlfaiAO M-.-n’a BocrU,. i iT5@3,50 BALMORAL SKIRTS, very low. I GROCERIES. White and Brown Sugar, Bio Coffeee, Syrnpa, Tea*. 4c.‘ i.ini .TervtHng that la oaually kept in n Dry GoodeStore, ind as cheap a, the cfaeapeet’. . _ J. A. SPRANKLE. tltoona, Oct. 7.188 S; CITY DRUG STORE. DU. E. U.» REIGABT would respect fnUy'annoooce to the citizens of Altoona and sur rounding country, that he has recently purchased the Drugstore of Berlin A Co., on Vhginla Street, opposite i i iiw’ Hardware Store. FTia Drugs are Fresh and Pure, .ml he hope# by. strict attention to busiues*. to merit b share of public patropAge. i all and ekamina his stock. He has constAirtly-on hand, . Drugs, MEDICINES and CHEMICALS, FINE TOILET SOAPS, PBRPVHERY, BRUSHES, GLASS, ; PUTTY, PAINTS, OILS, VARNISHES. | CARBON OIL AND LAMPS. NOTIONS, CIGARS „M 'Day article usually kept in a IXrrf.-daii Drug Store. PURE WIHES AND LIQUORS t tor medicinal one.; DOMESTIC GBAPB, WINK—PDRE—WARRANTED. Physicians' prescriptions o curately Uomponnded, at all hour* of the day or night. Altoona, s*pt. 18*•* «: looted Ttth tereot cm, ud with the vie* »| health Thanhftiiilo the pnbllc for their »ery liberal patronage heretofore, ther hope fo merit a continuance of the same. Store on RAIN ST. next door to Bowman’. Exchange Hotel. T SMITH t MANN, Altoona, |lay 12, 18^3. 'PEAS! TEAS! TEAS I—FKITfeHEY baolllsf Teas Hiiperior lo any ever offered in Al toona. ‘Thly are free of adnlteratton, coloring, or mix toroofanypad. Boston crackers—a large limbf of ttMM dethddav crackem Jast received andforwOdby . FRITCIIKY. MAoSERE L—NOS. 1,2, AN 03, in dll .teed Btw. and each package W.r« o ted|‘ B *»W*raf.r “'“»*% WTOHI6V THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. E. B. MfeCJtffM. ■ - - - i lf B. C.' BERN, ZDITOftB AND PROPRIETORS. i?«r aimom. (payable iavarii&lj. iu aU-vstnoe,). |1 60 All papers dUconUnuwl at the expiration of the time paid lof. teams or advbatuinq; I insertion r 2.d0. 3 do. Four line* or less $ 26, $ % 60 oa* Square. <8 Uue»).6o 76 . 100 Two ** (16 - \OO :15b 200 Three r (24 “ ) 160 i : 200 ; 260 Over leas than three months. 25 cent* per sqotire for each {iwertlon. '■ 3 mouth*. $ mouths. 1 year. Six lines or less I 60 $ 3 00 % 6 00 One aqqare . 2 60 \ ■ 4 00 c 7 00 Twn V 4 00 0 00 r!0 00 Three'v 5 W> ; 8 00 12 00 Four I 0 00 10 00 14 00 Half a column L 10 ,00 ? ,UOO 20 00 On* column ;. 14.’00 : 26 00, 40 00 Admlfibstrators and Kxt-ciitors Notices .j. 1 76 Merchants advertisinp by the year, three squares, with liberty to change 10 00 Prob-imional or Builne** Cards, not exceeding 8 lines •aith paper, peryen» f A. 6 00 Communication* of A political character or individual intereet wil) be charged according to ths above rates. Advertisements not marked with the nmnber of Inser tion* Retired, will bo continued till forbid and charged ’according to the above terms. Business notices five cents per line forever? insertion. Obituary notice* exceeding ten lines, Afty cents a square I fbou* ftoetrj). WOUNDED. The following splendid lyric was written; by Rev, WIN liam E. Miller, of the Methodist Protestant Church, and residing at Tompkins’Core, New York. Jt has the ring both .of Tennyson and Whittier. Ws find it in the col umns |Of the Western J (eihodut ProtqttaiU f . 7 | Let me lie down, c Just Ijerc in the slutdo of tliia cannon-torn free. Here, jhiw on the trampled grass, where 1 may see The Bt|p£o of the combat; and where I *iay hear The g|ad erv nf victory, cheer upon cheer: j iiOt me lie down. Oh, it was grand! Like (be tempest wo charged, in the triumph to share The Tempest—its fury and thunder were there: Oh, on, o’er iatreuchments, oVr living and dead. With Ithe foe under foot and our flag overhead: r Oh, it wks grand. Weary and faint Prone on (he soldier’s couch, oh, how cap 1 re*t * With shot-shattered head and wibre-pirrCea bre ih: Comrade*. at toll-call, when I shall be sbught, Say fltonght till I fell, and fell where I fought. Wounded and feint, i - Oh, that last charge!; Right through the dread hell-fire of shrapnel and shell, Throigh, without fult'ripg—cleitrvhrougb with a jell. Right in their midst, in the turmoil and gloom, Like heroes we dashed at the mandate |»f lK>oni! Oh. that Let charge! It was duty! S ineithings are worthless, ami some others good That Rations who buy themjxty only im ldo.«l: For Freedom and Colon each tuna owes .bi* part. Ami here 1 pay my share all warm from my heart: It is duty" 'Dying at lost! My ntother, dear mother, with meek, teerlul eye Parewelli andUodbleas you, toreyer and,aye: Oh that I now lay on your pillowing hrekst, To breath my hud sigh on tbo bosgin first prest: Dying at tout! k• j ; I am no saint. But boy*, agy a prayer. There**, one that begins: u Onr Father.” and then say* “ Forgive as our sips.” Don't forget that part, say that strongly .and then I’ll try to repeat it, and you’ll say, Amen! Ah. I’m no saint! Uark!<—theiWa shout! Raise me up, comrades! We have conquered. 1 know I Up, up ohS my feet, with my face to the foe! Ah, there flies the Flag, with its Star Spangles bright. The promise of Glory, the symbol of Right! Well may they shout \ I’m mustered out! O God of pur fathers, our freedom prolong. And tread down rebellion, oppreaikm and wrong! 0 land of earth’s hope, on cby bloOd-rendereU sod 1 die for the.Natlou, the Union, and God? I’m mustered but f flfrt - llpscrilang. RICH AND POOR |“ Come hither, Hannah, my poor, proud child!” There was a world of music in my mothers deep, sorrowful voice, and I crossed the room in twilight, and threw myself on a low stool at her feet. The coal fiiff was smouldering, in the grate.— Theearpet, with its dark,' rich colors, looked warm and comfortablein the dim light, but outside the wind hurried how ling by, and unquiet feet in the cold No-" vember rain paced around this house, like a patient sentinel. ' I had been a long time loved by One, good and noble, and more than worthy. He was like some poet artist’s conception of morning, with his calm bright brow, his clear blue eyes, and golden tresses. — There was an expression of bold and fear less truth in his handsome features, and a look of loving tenderness about bis mouth. He was all sunshine, and tie shone his way into my heart. 1 loved him, though I hardly acknowledged it to myself. He was poor, and I—l had but my proud old name, and the ruined mansion and the waistcid patrimony of the proud race of Stuarts. Another lover came, and this one was rich. The gold lay yellow and deep in his iron coffers, and the' broad lands that called him .master, all! were green and fair. If Morgan Phillips was radiant with the beauty of moirning, the other one, Hunt Henesly was (he. personification of a stormy night, not ivet with the rain of tears; but blade, dimened and terrible with heavy tempest clouds, with how and then a star sprinkling through them like the gleam of a giant’s burnished armor. — 1 loved Morgan- Phillips, but Hunt Kenedy's wfldw nature i possed a strange charm for my adfenturous imagination.— ALTOONA, PA., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20, 1864 With him 1 could realise every dream of my youth —I could cross the Eastern desert —bivouac among the Bedouine. — stand among the ruins of Jerusalem and weep over the fallen grandeur of Greece and Rome. With him I could float down the castled Rhine—look out on the stormy Hebrides—and follow the truck of the old Norsemen across the Northern sea. s With Morgan Philips what should I share? “Love,*’ answered tremblingly the low voice in my heart, and I saw a vision of a peaceful home, where my pres ence would make sunshine. 1 twined the roses over the cottage walls, and rocked the blue,-eyed children bright with the golden hair of my husband: but the cozy table, with its visions of washing dishes and scouring knives ; the blue-eyed little ones; of rocking, however, fast the cradle gogged, would cry, and arrant fancy turned with a sigh of relief to the. other picture—the.lullaby of the peaceful Mediterranean, the summer isle upon her breast. Unconsciously I said aloud : “ 1 shall be Hunt Henesly’s,” and then my mother called me to her side. I thought, as 1 sat down at her feet, how beautiful she still was, with her sor rowful black eye?. She looked at me steadfastly for a moment, and then she said, half sorrowfully : “My child, you have promised to be Morgan Phillips’ wife! “ No, mamma, I am young yet.” “ Yes very young ; but if you have not promised, you have let him know lor these many months that you loved him— that his presence at your side was wel come. Now, Hannah, if you did not mean to wed him, was this right’?” I blushed ami was silent, and she con tinued ; “I know Hunt Henesly loves you also, and I will not counsel you. - Your own heart will be your safest guide, if you will only follow it. Only, Hannah Stuart, my child, do not let ambition, power, lux ury, or anything tempt you to marry with out love. The retribution will be terri ble,” and my mother drew her shawl about her and shuddered, albeit the room was warm. Her voice was low and husky as she went on: “ I will teH you, my poor girl, a story of my own youth. You need the lesson, and you shall have it.” “ I was motherless. I have a picture of a beautiful being who died that I might live, but from earth ere she had clasped me to her breast. I was my father's idol, but at fifteen he died and left me poor. He had been wealthy, but after my mother’s death he had trusted his fortune to a faithless steward, and 1 was scarcely above want. “ I was beautiful —the world said, and I knew it well. The face that met my gaze as I stood before the mirror, was bright and bewildering lovely. I had been educated in conventional retirement, and my heart was fresh and pure. I loved ! Hannah, 'you never knew such a passion. It Was worship —it was idolatry'—it was the light of my life.— And he I loved was poor. Allen Greame was fatherless like myself, but I was an inmate of his mother’s cottage. Very tenderly they cherished the orphan com mitted to their charge. I knew that Al len loved me. I read it in every act; in the appealing tenderness with which his blue eyes rested oh,my face :in the care with which he anticipated my wishes, and in every intonation of his voice as he addressed me. “ But another suitor came. Allen Greame had never asked my love, and I never promised in so many words to be his bride, but for many months he had believed me all his own, and when your father visited the his eyes sought my face with a kind of questioning sad nesas. Time passed on, and seven weeks beheld me Percy - Stuart’s betrothed.— Looking back, I cannot see by what cir cumstance this change was brougnt about. I worshiped Allen Greame as madly as ever. His smile was the sunshine of my existence. Your father loved me, or at least he idolized my beauty, and he was a noble, generous man. Still his presence had no power to awaken a single heart thrill. But he was rich and noble bohi. I coveted the proud rank of his wealth— the stately mansion and the old name. It was a long struggle between love and am bition, but at last I laid my hand in his. Scorn me, Hannah, hate me, I deserve it. I sinned willfully, I knew I did not love him—the heart and soul were long yielded up in adoration to another—and yet I be came his bride. ''Alien never reproached me, but the stony, hopeless sorrow in his blue eyes was more bitter than the most terrible words. His mother was kind as ever, but I could see the hot tears fall upon the. bridal garment she was making. And I —Oh, Hannah, I shudder, looking back through all these years, 'at the bare thought of my silent agony, 1 believe I was more beautiful than ever. My eyes were wildly bright, and my cheeks flushed like wine an hundred years old mantling over a silver goblet. My bridegroom liked the impressive coldness of my man [independent nr ners. Ido not think that be ererdreamed that I did not love him, and my stateli ness accorded well with the lofty Ip ride of himself and all his haughty family. “ I married him. The ceremony was over, and he turned to kiss his wife for the first time, when a shriek rang through the church—a piercing, terrible shriek. — Then there was a tenable fall. Allen was borne home senseless. My husband might have suspected when he saw my anguish, that he was more than a| brother. I called him hut he said nothing. He even acceded to my wild prayer that our bridal journey might be postponed until he: was better, and permitted me to be a constant watcher at his bedside. , My be loved had broke a blood vessel in: his fall, anti the fourth day he died. I held his hand as he laded gently. “ Katrine,” he said looking mournfully into niv eyes. “ Katrine, it is very sweet to die with you beside me? I ain dying of your love. I shall be happy, dearest, for an angel whispers you will be mine in Heaven. You have never said you loved me, but I know it. I know that my dy ing love is more to you than all this bright living world, and I am going where no shadows fall. Kiss me, Katrine, and then sing me that dear old song.” “ I had kissed him many times before, as a sister might—the free, innocent kisses of childhood ; but then drawing his head to my bosom, 1 sang. It was a ballad we had sung many times together, when the stars were climbing up into the quiet sky. And 1 sang it now to the soul which was soon to climb over the stars — above the sky, even to the great white throne. He looked at me with floods of light swelling into his large blue eyes.— Every moment he grew' more beautiful, till I was frightened with his unutterable glory. I ceased, and his low voice whis pered —“ Katrine—Heaven.” “ The lids closed oyer those peaceful eyes, peaceful as a child lays I down to dream, and the golden head grew cold upon my bosom. I was alone—with mv dead!” " My mother paused and clasped ’ me to her heart, then releasing mej she con tinued : ” Hannah, I knew in those early days your father loved me as-he -cauld not with the worship of the dead, but he was proud of me and tried to make ■me happy. He suffered much- The wife who rested on his bosom, slept in her dreams upon another’s mixed with grave mould. When he clasped his arms around me, tver between their folds and my slen der waist, where those cold arms of the dead. I pitied hind, but my very soul was sick unto death, I could not feign the love which my heart could neyer—never feel I” “It was two years, Hannah, before you was born. He had learned of late to seek happiness otherwise. I did not trouble myself to inquire after the nature of his pursuits ; I was greatful to be left alone. When you was put into my arms, I rained tears of blessings over : you, and thanking God that my heart could love. As I lay there in silence, with! my eyes shut, holding you on my heart;, I heard my husband say : “ Perhaps this child will win her love for me. God grant it—we may yet be happier.” ! ■ “It was a vain hope, Hannah ; I was colder to him than ever. We poth loved you. I would hold you in myl arms hour after hour, raving madly over the dead who should have been your father. One night as 1 held you thus, my husband en tered— , ■ “ Katrine,” said he—“ I shall die to night—die by my own hand. I lost my all at the gambling table, whether , your coldness has driven me. I am sorry for your sake, and for the sake of your inno cent child ; but you deserve little else — who could sell yourself lor staton, when your being was another’s 1” “I knew his reproaches were just, and I sat still in defiant silence, holding you to my heart. For five minotesk he stood silently looking on us. Then he spoke again with a softened tone: “ Katrine, forgive me. Perhaps you did not know your heart till it- was too late. Let not our parting be iin anger— I have done you many wrongs, but I have suffered terribly. God will judge me, and be is merciful. Katrine, kiss me once before I die. Once let me hold you to my heart. You are my ! wife—your hatred cannot be so deep .that you will refuse me this, my last request-’* “ Hannah, I» know' not what demon ruled me, but I sprang up from my seat and held you aloft in my arms!, and cried: “ Go! do hot touch me 2 ; I loathe you!, I hate you But for you my dar ling Allen would not have died. Before your coming I was happy. Go! You cannot suffer as I have suffered, ever since your hateful lips called me wife!” “ Then holding you still, I sank down upon the floor weak and Helpless. I can remember nothing distinctly, but I have a faint, indistinct memory ol ? aj kiss of fire upon ray forehead—of seeijig your baby face covered with caresses And of being aroused from the dajknesg |of my long faulting by the report of a pistol. Tofcr father wins dead. “ Haunah. do not qnite hate me. I have loved you, suffered for you, lived in your' life. If my crime was gieat, the punishment of my life-long remorse is most terrible.” 1 clasped her bowed form in my arms, and pressed her lips again and again to her flushed brow, shuddering the while at the thought that as terrible had been my fate but for that story, and its warnings. “ Oh, how much dearer my heart acknowl edged her in the utter hopelessness of h«r fearful sorrow than she had ever been in what I had supposed the cold perfectness of character. There was a quick ring at the My mother gathered about her the heavy fold of her shawl, and then turning upon me the appealing glance of her tearful eyes, passed from the room. Hunt Henesly entered. ; He knelt at my feet, and whis pered pleadingly of the future his care should make so bright. Involuntarily I shuddered as I drew my hand ? from his clasp. “ Mr. Henesly,” I said in a low earnest tone. “ I have;heard that to-night which makes the distinction of this* world, seem of little moment in contrast with a calm true love that shall last for eternity. 1 cannot so love yon. I can not bo. your wife.*’ My words left no room for hope, and be went out silently into the storm. 1 never looked upon his face again. Before the evening was over, Morgan Phillips also sought my presence, and his errand was to say farewell. Sitting be-, side roe, my band in his, he said: “ Hannah, my beloved, 1 dare not ask you to be mine, but I will not stay' and see you given to another. I leave you tp your bright destiny.” There was not much pride left in my heart then, and 1 said in a whisper so low that only ears of love could catch the sound— 1 Morgan, stay, for my sake, stay!” Oh! what an expression of beautiful light and eagerness, of morning sunshine, broke over hie face then ! But the rest is ray secret. I am Mrs,' Morgan Phillips now. I hear of Hunt : Henesly sometimes, standing among the proudest and noblest of the land. But his name brings with it no regrets. Dearer than the bright skies of far-off Italy, are the blue eyes that met my own so loving ly ; sweeter than the whole world’s hom age. the tones which murmur, as I stand among my idols—“my wife! my beloved!” Fatal Effects op Laughing Gas.— Mr Samuel P. Sears, says the New York Tribune, a merchant doing business at No. 23 Park row, on Monday evening called at the establishment of Dr. Joseph Bur nett, dentist, and requested him to extract two or three diecayed teeth, also requesting the dentist to administer to him nitrous oxide gas, better known as “ Laughing Gas.” Mr. Soars, being to all appearance in perfect health, the operator administered the gas and drew the teeth. The patient seemingly recovered from the effects of the inhalation, and went into an inner room, but soon returned and complained of short ness of breath and sank on a sofa, expir ing in a few'moments. The deceased was removed to the residence of his parents, where an investigation by Dr. George B. Bouton revealed the fact that the lungs : of the deceased ; were . very much diseased. Dr. Bouton is of the opinion that the quantity of gjas inhaled would have had no injurious effect on a person in ordinary health. Coroner Wildey held an inquest on the body, and the following verdict was rendered by the jury: “We- find that deceased came to his death by congestion of the lungs, caused by enhaling nitrous oxide gas. We exonerate the person who administered; it, but recommend that here after an examination be mode by a com petent person of any one who contem plates inhaling said gas.” How Dick Took the Turkeys.—A story told of Dick, a darkey in Kentucky, who is a notorious thief, so vicious in this respect that all the thefts in the neighbor hood were charged to him. On one oc casion Mr. ■ Jones, a neighbor of Dick's master, called and said that Dili must he sold out of that part of the countiy, for he had stolen all his—Jones’—turkeys.— Dick's master could not think so. The two, hoWhver, went into the field where Dick was at work, and accused him of the disputed theft. “You stole Mr. Jones’ turkeys,” said the master. “No I didn’t, massa,” responded Dick. The master persisted. “ Well,” ,at length said Dick, “TU tell you massa, I didn’t steel dem turkeys, font last night I Went across Mr Jones’ pasture, and I seed one of your rails on de fence, so I brought home [de rail, and, confound it, when I came to 1 look, dar was nine turkeys on de rail.” yy Pass t|ot judgment on thy "follow Ull thou hast been in the same predicament: say not hf matters thatare incomprehensi ble, that tfyu canst comprehend them; neither say when 1 shall have leisure .1 will study, lest thou may never have .it. EDITORS AND PROPRIETOR 0 Within the pastteiHiays, writsea M«i>- phi* correspondent, General Buiba a«H oat« Bag of trace on some business to Forrest. On going oat the party mat a, flag of trace from General Forrest After an exchange of greeting, and the particu lar business transacted,’ the rebels, who had come oat from Forrest, proposed tbr return with the Unionists to their camp, and and join the Union army. Being a thig of trace, the Unionists declined the propo sal, not wishing to.abose the sacred roles of a flag of truce to any such purpose. They, however, reported the fact to head quarters on their return. Insertions from the rebel ranks, and entry into the Union lines, are so common, occurring every day and night, that they won to be tsdkhd about, though they are promptly reported daily.\ The Mosses to the rebels by desertion are enormous. They may enforce their con script law. They take all between the ages of sixteen and sixty. They may per fidiously take those who, in good faith, paid large sums of money for substitutes, as the rebel government now threatens to do; bnt with all such efforts, whether fair or foul, there is good reason for saying that they cannot materially increase their army, because they cannot retain their conscripts beyond the first hour offering an oportunity to escape. These desertions are not matters pf occurrence in Arkansas merely, where there are now whole Union regiments made up of former rebel soldiers. They occur in Mississippi, Tennessee, and Geor gia. Within the present week, a squad of rebel soldiers from Bragg’s army, deser ters, after wandering tbrougjhjthe country, hiding by day and travelling by night, reached the Union lines, gave themselvs up, weary, with tattered garments and feet almost bare, and are now enlisted in the Union army at a post fifty miles east of here. Willing to go in. —The following letter from Wm. Davis, of Richmond, Kentucky, dated December 17th, 1862, directed to the Provost Marshal, has been published: I have no broken limbs. 1 have no chronic diseases, such as ‘ inflam matory rheumatism,’ ‘ phthisic,’ ‘ white swelling,’ &c. lam not blind in either eye. lam not knock-kneed, 1 am not bandyshanked. lam not bow-legged. 1 have no bad teeth, and can bite off a car tridge, I stand straight on my pastern joints. I have never been drilled in the Southern army and never been so fortu nate as to be a member of the sympathise ing party in Madison. I have no impedi ments in my speech. lam neither near sighted or far sighted. I can hear welL 1 can hear the ring of a musket as well 'as the ring of a silver dollar. lam short, lath sound in wind and limb. lam about twenty-eight years old. lam a housekeeper, and have a wife (a good Union woman), and no chil dren living. lam a citizen of Madison county Kentucky, from which you want two hundred and thirty-nine soldiers. I am as brave as any man who is no braver than lam. One Of my legs is as long as the other, and both are long enough to run well. lam for the ‘ last man and last dollar,’ ‘ nigger ;or no nigger,’ es pecially ‘ the last man.’ If you have a good musket marked ‘U. S.,’ send Udowp and lam ready to hem it in defense of the Union. lam no foreigner, and claim all the papers that entitle me to ‘ go in.’ ” Singulak Suichhc. —A shoemaker on the Grand Trnnk'Bailroad' attended a party given by the railroad company' at Island Pond on Christmas night, and en joyed himself heartily. On getting home with bis wife, he mixed a cup of poison with the greatest deliberation, drank it, said he was about to die, and spent the short time he lived in calmly arranging business matters. No'cause for the act is definitely known. fy Mrs. Partington says that when she was a gal she used to go to parties, and always had a beaux to extort her home. But now, the gals all sorts of deldpities; the task of extorting them home devolves on their dear selves. The old lady threw down her specks, and thanked her stars that she bad lived in other days, when the masculines knew how to appreciate this valer of wimmen folks. tgb. An old settler of Wisconsin, a Mr. Grignow, known to all the pioneers of the State, was a victim of the great storm of the Ist inst He perished within a quar ter of a mile of bis home, acteJ a conspicuous part in the Blackhawk war, and has had the credit of being the captor of Blackhawk near Fort Crawford. There is a rumor that fourteen men were 6pzep to death at a lumber camp bn Wolf river. CrWho is wise? he that is Who is mighty 1 he that conquerehiiiiself. Who is rich t he that is contended, . ’W}u> ishonored? he that honoreth others. 4V> Who would be free, themselves ipust strike the blow.— Byron. p " r i -J: *. ’*■' ’• tei&j. NO. 48.