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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<i3.
victory Won!
fpHJfi Subscribers would respectfully
I uaontce to thV cltiseuof Altoona and vicinity,
Jsst jetarned from (be Batt with their
i )?A‘Ll| AND WINTEK STOCK OF
HATS & CAPS,_.
BQ<S<3P3<SC SKO^S.
TUed .to* Of HATSA GAiPS >*•* «:
looted Ttth tereot cm, ud with the vie* <rf raltiog all
who may fcfor them with their patronage. Their line ol
B Thel?'iiwW JfoSxir' <md CHILDREN'S SHOES
are of City tHkt, and Warrsntad. Iheir Balmoral Shoe,
for Ladlw rand Mtam*, are jut the thing for wet
weather *i>»| 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.
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NO. 48.