Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, July 25, 1862, Image 1

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a — . - CERO ha,
The Democratic Watchman,
VOL. 7.
Original Poetry,
To one Arr
There's a voice comes from the valley,
O’er the mountain and the lea ;
And it calleth “Honest Abram’ —
Calleth loudly unto thee
Now for aid
Better listen to its wailing,
Better hearken to its plaint,
For it cometh full of sorrow,
From a “‘never sleepy saint—
0 "tis said.
One that’s grown go weary watching
By life’s pathway dark and damp,
For the ‘‘good times’’ that were promised,
When he wore cap, cape and lamp
Filled with ¢ile’’ ;
That he’s going, ‘Honest Abram,’’
From this world I know not where ;
In thy bosom, ‘Honest Abram,’
Let him rest from toil and care
For awhile.
The homes once for the homeless
How all quickly disappeared ;
And the houses for the I
All has fallen, it is feared
On the shelf,
And his lamp is lost or broken;
Cap and cape have fore to grass ;
While the people say he’s nothing
But a stupid, silly Ass
Like yourself!
~ PMisellangous,
My Hospital Experience.
* What shall I do to pass my time pleas-
antly and useful 2’ was the question | put
to myself after the last ‘good bye’ had been
spoken, the last kiss exchanged. and the
parting words of my husband had died out
of the new desolate room, leaving a linger-~
ing echo in my heart which sounded like
desolation. ‘It will never do to sit here
idly, and brood in vain regret his absence ;
and surely, if he thought I'should do noth-
ing but pine and grieve for him, it would
add a heavier weight than now ‘rests upon
his mind, for then very sore causes for trou-
ble would rest upon him. Itis enough, to
feel that our dear country calls for him in
affliction, and God go w:th him in her cause.
1 should blush for him if he held aloof now,
aor proffered himself in the full vigor and
pride of his young life, as a shield against
the arrows of destruction which threaten
her, and which have already severed some
of the brightest links which united our be-
loved nation. And while he has gone forth
brave in defence of right and truth, shall T
sit down and cry like a miserable, selfish
child, because it cannot have the toy it loves
best always in its hand ? No, no. That
will never do! I should never claim to be
4 daughter of my proud, beautiful mother,
America, could I for one moment be guilty
of such a selfish weakness.
So ran my thoughts as L stood beside the
window, listening to the last clang and
clatter of the bell on the boat which bore
him away.
Slowly it put oft from the wharf, and then
up to God went as deep and fervent a pray.
er as ever wife breathed, for guidance and
safety. His last kiss was warm upon my
fips—his last words are ringing in my ears
—and soon, perhaps, that voice, with ite
foving tones, might be forever hushed, and
the warm lips cold and mute, under the icy
seal of death ! Yet not for one moment
would I have recalled him, even while I
grew sick at heart, and a heavy dread strove
to creep into my brain, driving away its
usually hopeful and pleasing fancies,
“It 1s right and just,’ I murmured. as I
turned away, ‘and God will go with him. I
know what I shall do. I shall go and take
care of the poor sick boys up at the hospi-
To think with me is to act. Ina moment
my bonnet and cloax were donned, and I
was on my way with a light heart. Are
there any wives, mothers or sisters, who
will wonder how I could feel light hearted,
when [ had just sent my husband away to
battle, perhaps never to see his dear face
again ? I will tell you why. 1 trusted in
God and was yielding to an impulse to good
deeds. 1 say good, because I was animated
solely by the desire to render assistance and
relieve suffering, and not for what other peo-
ple think or say of me.
On entering the hospital, I found the at.
tending physician, Dr. L —, there, and in-
troduced myself.
*I have nothing to do,’ J said, ‘and want
you to employ me. Can I render assistance
in any way ?’
¢ Yes, madam,’ was his prompt response,
‘If You will core in sometimes and prepare
something nourishing, and talk to them, to
5 them in good spirits, we shall be very
% ’
* I shall certainly do so. Iam glad if I
can be of use.’
I 1aid aside my bonnet and cloak, without
further ceremony, and went to the sickest
-man I saw. :
« How do you feel 3 I asked, bending
over him.
* Weak—ill—nigh unte death,’ he replied,
in a tone so pitiful aud full of despair, that
1 felt tears spring to my eyes. I sent them
back to their source. however, and spoke in
a full, firm, yet kind voice,
‘Oh, no. You are not near death. You
areill, but you will not die. Uncle Sam has
use for, you yet, and in a few days you'll be
up and ready to shoulder your musket again.
Don’t you think so 2’
His eyes sparkled n their deep sockets,
and a momentary flush rose to his pale
«Oh, if I could only think so! But the
time drags so slowly, and here I lie useless,
helpless, keeping those who could fight away
to take care of me.’
0, well, you need a little rest any way,’
I said cheerfully. ‘Now I want to do some-
thing to cure you. Do you want your face
bathed ¥’
‘Yes, if it is not too much trouble,” he
said eagerly.
Not a bit. Now be easy, and I'll soon
have you feeling nicely.’
I got a basin of water, combs, brushes,
sponge and soap, and came back to him.—
His large dark eyes rested with child like
pleasure on my face, as I carefully bathed
his face and hands. He had grown so fee-
ble that he could scarcely connect a sentence
without pausing, and lay panting on his pil-
low from the slighest exertion. After bath-
ing his face, [took the comb and straighten
ed out the snarled masses of long black hair
that grew thickly over his brow. I soon
found that illness had made him childish,
though I at first started at his childish blang-
‘ You're mighty purty,’ he said suddenly,
and for a moment I did not know what to
say, but then I thought ‘that I may seem
so to him, poor fellow,’ and only smiled in
¢ What's your name 2’ he next asked.
¢S—,* I replied.
* You ain't married are you 7’ -
* Yes, and my husband's gone to fight as
you did at Fort Donelson.’
‘Oh dear,’ he said fretfully, ‘I'm so sor~
ry. What did you get married for 2 Never
mind, I will put a spider in his dumpling
when I get well.’ .
With the last words, a mischievous light
broke over his face, and his black eyes
twinkled. I laughed merrily at him, and
he seemed to enjoy it hugely. Poor fellow !
little enough amusement he had. If he
could amuse himself at my expense, I wonld
have no objections.
My next patient was an orphan boy, six-
teen years of age. Frank B— belonged to
Birg’s Sharpshooters, and a braver heart
never beat in the bosom of mortal than that
which throbbed in his.
While bathing his face, I asked him what
induced him to leave his home in Nebraska,
to come away and peril his life at such an
early age. His reply is worthy to be writ-
ten by that of a noble Nathan Hale, who re-
gretted having but ‘one life to offer to his
country.” He said: ‘I joined the army be-
cause 1 was young and strong. I have but
one life, and that would be worth nothing
to me if not offered to my country.’
Noble boy ! How many more like him
h-ve fallen willing sacrifices !
The next day [ carried a basket of ap
ples, oranges, pies, tea, §¢,, to the hospital.
As [ went in, several of the men lifted their
heads, and nodded pleasantly.
‘I'm glad you have come back,’ said one
and another thought, ‘it looked so home
like to see a woman amongst them.’
My ‘admirer’ with the black eyes clasp-
ed my hand when I offered him an orange,
and kissed it gratefully.
‘If T live, he said, ‘I'll always pray God
to bless you. If I die, I'll watch over you
from Heaven.’
Poor fellow! I wonder that if from that
Heaven to whish his spirit has flown, he is
watching over me to-night as I pen these
lines ?
Frankie's blue eyes greeted me with a
glac smile before I was near enough to
speak to him. When I bent over and asked
how he felt, he answered me cheerfully,
saying he hoped to be able soon to return to
his regiment.
I bathed his face, gave him a cup of hot
tea, with some toast, and left him sleeping
Those who have never visited the hospi
tals cannot conceive of the wretched condi-
tion m which the men are brought into
them, That day twenty eight were brought
in from Donelson and Savannah, and such
objects I never saw. Their faces and hands
were stiff with coal dust, and burning with
fever. Their hair long and matted, beard
uncut and full of dirt.
It was a serious task to attempt render-
ing them comfortable, but I did not shrink
from it. On the contrary, I felt grieved at
my ability to serve more than one at a
time. Oh how I longed for the power to
stir some of my own sex, who in that town
passed the days in thoughtless idleness, to
action, if ouly for an hour, to assist in
bringing those poor sufferers to a comfort-
able condition.
From morning till noon I toiled faithfully
glad from my heart, and thanful for the im-
pulse that had sent me there.
I went home and dined, and feeling tired,
wanted to lie down to rest. But then I had
promised to bring some fruit to the boys 1n
the afternoon, and I could not feel satisfied
till I had done so, that I could rest any
time, while they lay tossing in pain and fe-
ver, perhaps longing for a cool draught they
could not get.
1t was four o’clock before I got away
again, and then I was really tired. So days
merged into weeks, and it became a regular
routine. From eight till ten or eleven, and
from half past one till four, I took pleasure
amongst them, even while pain stirred my
heart to sec their sufferings. One by one I
could see them fading. No care or skill
could save them. They had offered their
lives to their country, and she had accepted
the sacrifice.
Poor little Frank B. daily grew weaker.—
Nothing could tempt him to eat, and his
cough grew worse, while his face hecame
thin and pale. He never lost his joyous
spirit, but always seemed hopeful, even
when too ill to rise from his berth.
One afternoon I was startled on entering
by the most piteous cries, and that they
came from my little favorite, generally so
brave and patient.
¢ Why Frankie, what’s the matter!” |
asked, bending over him.
‘Oh, you have come ! | did wish for you
so much. Oh, I'shall die, and I wanted
Somebody by who seemed to care for me a
little. You do ike me ; don’t you, dear
Mrs. S.——? You've been so kind to me.
Oh, this pain !—I can’t stand it long !
His hand grasped mine nervously, and ev-
ery fibre of his frame quivered with pain.—
I saw that the dews of death were standing
thickly already on the broad, beautiful fore-
head over which the fair hair clustered so
prettily, and my eyes filled with tears of
sorrow deeper than words could express.—
T stooped to kiss him, and a glad cry escaped
the poor blue lips of the dying boy.
¢ Oh, kiss me again, won't you ?—That is
like my sister. Do kiss me once more ; I
feel better. Oh, I would’nt mind to die if
my sisters were here to tell me they loved
me. You do love me a little, don’t you ?
‘ Yes, a great deal Frankie ; as much as
if I was your sister. Don’t you think so ?
I’m sure your'e a good boy, and I am sorry
to see you suffer so.’
Ie drew me down toward him, and press-
ed his face close to my arms. I could en-
dure no more. The poor boy’s mute appeal
for tenderness and sympathy in his dying
hour, far from home, breathing out his
young life amid strangers, unnerved me. I
drew that young bright head to my bosom,
and my tears fell fast upon its sunny curls.
Did the gentle sister he loved, have one
thought of the scene that was transpiring on
that night, while perchance they sat and
talk ed of him, their only and petted brother,
in their far off home in Nebraska ?
¢ You will stay with me to-night, won't
you ¥ he pleaded again. ‘Oh, you won't
leave me to dic alone
* No, Frankie, I will stay with you.’
He was comforted and became more quiet
as I clasped his hands and tried to soothe
him. Gradually a purple hue overspread
his face. Now his lips became whiter, and
the large clear eyes plead for some token of
endearment, and each time that 1 pressed a
kiss upon his forehead, a look of deep and
earnest gratitude softened the suffering ex.
pression of his face.
About nine o’clock he breathed his last,
and now every time I look down at my hand
and see the little ring of mine be wore be-
fore died, 1 seem to see the parting look of
his great eyes ere they fixed in death. How
sad the task to brush back the damp locks
{rom the cold brow, and compose the blue
linbs in their last repose ! That night I
wept and prayed for the sister as I had nev
er wept and prayed for myself, for he was
all they had.
A few days after this, anether of my pa-
tients, who was fast recovering, 1 thought,
had a relapse, and was again confined to his
berth. There had been a storm that dashed
in the windows, and he got wet.
On Friday, he asked me to write some
letters to his brother, sister and his betroth-
ed. 1did so, while he dictated, and he had
a rich vein of mirth and sentiment pervading
his nature. This I soon discovered in his
dictations, and was much interested. He
showed me the miniatures of his friends, and
talked of soon returning home. Bade me
say to his sister that he was coming soon —
if he couldn’t get a furlough he would
make one, &c.
Saturday found me almost blind from in.
flamation of the eyes, and I did not get to
the hospital until Monday morning, Sad
faces greeted me. Matron, physicians and
nurses, wore serious faces, and the Ste ward
quiecly placed letters, miniatures and de-
scription rollin my hands, I looked to.
wards Fred’s place, it was vacant!
Oh, that was a sad task I had to perform !
To sit down, three days after writing those
pleasant, hopeful letters, and tell them that
heart that dictated them was still forever .-
I wrote to the lady he would have made his
wife, and returned her letters. I had rather
have performed any other task on earth ,—
The poor father and mother, whose bent
forms were fagt tottering to the grave—the
bright, sweet-faced sister—the loving broth -
er! To all these I must convey tidings
that would sting the hardest heart. Yet,
such is the fortune of war.
These are but few of the many instances of
the kind which might be given to the public,
Every day for three or four weeks I witnes-
sed such scenes, performed such tasks as
those I have named.
Since that, however, fortune has called
me to scenes of more startling nature. I
have scene where the conflict raged, the
forms of the dead and dying, and amongst
those who yet lived, such suffering as the
heart could not concewe without the eye
having witnessed it. Forms mangled,
crushed —to live and suffer for a fow days,
anc then to die in the most horrible agony.
Oh, God! when will it cease? When
will the hand of the father fall listless, as he
attemps to cleave the son to the earth, and
brothers cease to regard each other as foes ?
Will peace ever be restored ? Shall we ever
again be united ? Alas! will we ever love
each other again, or give room in our hearts
for other than revengful, bitter feelings 2
On Wednesday morning two negroes, Ja-
cob and Reuben Long, from Allegheny coun-
ty, were committed to jail charged before
Justice Hunter of West Newton, with having
forcibly outraged the person of Mrs. Mary
Ann Faulkner, a very respectable lady, re-
siding in Rostraver Tp., this county.
The facts of this case as related to us, are
of a most revolting nature. Mr. Faulkner
is a market pedler, and left home with his
horse and wagon, on th: morning of the day
on which the outrage was committed. He
1esided on the turnpike, near the Allegheny
line. Mrs. F. had retired to bed with her
infant ; no other person being about the
house, About 11 o'clock, she was aroused
by a knocking at the door. She enquired
who was there. She was answered that her
husband had met with a ‘ disaster “—upset
and broke his wagon—was badly hort, and
had sent his horse home by “us” and to
tell her to put it in the pasture. She got up
—put or: a skirt, and placing her frock over
her shoulders, opened the door ; discovered
a horse hitched near, but could see nothing
of the men. Suspecting nothing, she took
the horse and led him towards the pasture
when looking around she discovered that
the horse had a white spot on his face, which
her husband's had not, and the bridle, also
was pot his. She immediately became
aware of danger and dropping the reins, ran
for the house, when two men sprang from
their concealment, seized her arms, threw
her violently on her back, with her skirt
pulled over her face, confining her arms as
in a vice, and partially smothering her, and
while in this situation, onc of the fiends vio
lated her person, then held her until. the
other perpetrated the same outrage, when
they ran off and left her. As soon as she
was able, she went into the house, took her
child, and made her way to a neighbor's
house, where she told the story of her wrong.
The night was dark, and she coujd only
tell that they were Negroes from their well
known voices, and by the horse, which she
knew belonged to the father of the accused,
who lives farther along the road. It was
several days before she had them arrested.
Her convictions of their identity is strength
ened by the fact that the accused left West
Newton at a late hour that night with the
horse she identifies, and had about time to
reach her house at the hour she charges the
outrage to have been committed,
Thus is but a foreshadowing of the scenes
that will be enacted if Mr. Lincoln is per-
mitted to consummate his abolition schemes
—Let him beware, or somebody will ¢ be
hurt ”—at the next election.
When the swarms of slaves now within
the lines of our armies are let loose upon
the North we shall havea surfeit of such
negro outrages.— Greensburg Argus.
AMERICAN WoMeN IN mie Cars,—The
woman as she enters drags after her a mis.
shapen, dirty mass of battered wireworks,
which she calls her crinoline, and which add
as much to her grace and comfort as a log
of woad does to a monkey when tied to the
animal’s leg in a paddock. Of this she
takes much heed, not mana ging it so that it
may be conveyed up the carriage with some
decency, but striking it about against men’s
legs, and heaving it with violence over peo
ple’s knees. The touch ofa real woman’s
dress is itself Celicate ; but these blows
from a harpys fin ate loathsome. If there
be two of them they talic loudly together,
having a theory that modesty has been put
out of court by womans rights.
But though not modest the woman I de.
scribe is ferocious in her propriety. She
ignores the whole world around her, as she
sits with raised chin and face flattened by
affectation ; she pretends to declare aloud
that she is positively not awarethat any man
is even near her.
* ¥ % % But every twist of her body
and every tone of her voice is an unsuccess -
falsehood. She looks square at you in the
face, and you rise to give her your seat,—
You rise from a deference to your own old
conviction and from that courtesy which you
have ever paid toa woman’s dress, let it
ever be worn with ever such hideous defor-
mities. She'takes the place from which
you have moved without a word or a bow.
She twists herself round, banging your shins
with her wires, while her chinis still flat-
tered, and she directs her friend’s attention
to another seated man, as theugh that place
were also vacant, and necessarily at her
disposal. Perhaps the man opposite has
his own ideas about chivalry.—4;Trol~
th lA MA ee
{077 A Prediction.—If theso infernal fan~
atics and Abolitionist ever get power in
their hands, they will override the Constitu-
tion, set the Supreme Court at defiance,
change and make laws to suit themselves,
lay violent hands on those who differ with
them in their opinion or dare question their
infallibility ; and finally bankrupt the coun-
try and deluge it with blood.
If this “ War for the Union ” is unhap
pily protracted much longer, it is certain
that the negro will be forced into it. Every
day we witness the increased efforts of men
like Sumner and others, who have ** wrongs
to avenge,” to force Mr.’ Lincoln into the
employment of the ¢ slaves’ in the army
and navy and the logic of their *¢ principles
drive them to this result, If the negro be
naturall entitled to the freedom of the white
man ; if he was designed by ‘he founders
of this government to be included in our po-
litical society, and a party formed to secure
¢* impartial freedom ”’ for the negroes is a
legitimate constitutional party ; in short if
the Federal Government can make Ameri~
can citizens out of ‘“ negro slaves,”’ then
not only has it the nght, but it is the duty
of the Government to set these negroes to
fighting for that very thing surely for which
the party in question was organized, and
for nothing else, viz : to secure impartial
freedom” for these negroes. This is to
obvious and logical to be disputed by any
sensible or honest mind, and therefore we
repeat, the negro will, sooner or later, be
forced into this conflict for “freedom and
humanity,” as Mr. Seward termsit, but
which Mr. Toombs would say, was a conflict
to degrade and destroy the liberty of the
white man by amalgamation with negroes.
That a terrible result must follow any such
attempt, is obvious to those who understand
the spirit and necessities of Southern socie-
ty. In all the ¢ slave ”’ States, we believe,
it is a capital offence for a negro to raise his
hand-to-a-white person. This, even if it be
too severe, is'in accord with the higher law
aud safety of society, for absolute, unresist-
ing obedience of the grosser animal nature
the negro, is vital to the security ot the
higher organism of the physically feeble
white woman. child, &. In view of this—
this gross, sensual subject Negro in juxta-
position with the elaborate and highly or~
gamzed Caucasian—what a monstrous and
wicked conception to reverse the order of
nature and impel the former into conflict
with the natural and inherent supremacy
of the latter ? When the Sepoys revolted
against the white Europeans, they blew
them into atoms from the muzzles of their
cannon—a frightful, but perhaps just pun-
ishment, for the ordinary forms of punish-
ment were to feeble to be felt by the apa-
thetic Mongol. But 4f the relatively superi-
or Mongol reqired such punishment as this
to make a proper impression on him, what
should be the punishment inflicted on the
grossly organized and semi-animalized ne-
gro when he raises his hand against the lite
of the master race ? This can only be con-
jectured of course ; but those who compre
hend Southern society, and the great natu~
ral laws of that society, know that if the lu-
natics of the day impel their miserable vic~
tims into an impious and monst@gs revolt
against their natural guardians, the whole
world will shiver with awe at the conse-
quences.— Caucasian. *
Tag SvrLE SecrRET.—Twenty clerks in a
store. Twenty ‘young men in a village.—
All want to get along ini the world, and all
expect to do so. One of the clerks will rise
to be a partner, and make a fortune. One
of the compositors will own a newspaper,
and become an influential and prosperous
citizen. One of the apprentices will be
come a master builder. One of the villagers
will get a farm and live like a patriarch.—
But which is destined to be the Incky indi~
vidual? Lucky! Thereis no luck about
it. The thing is almostas certain as the
Rule of Three, The young fellow will dis.
tance his competitors is he who masters his
business, who preserves his integrity, who
livesclearly and purely,who never gets in
debt, who gains friends by deserving them,
and puts his money in a savings bank.—
Therc are some ways to fortune that look
shorter than this old highway. But the
staunch men of the community, the men
who achieve something really worth having
—good fortune— good name—and and a
serene old age—all go this road.
A Seconp Moses.—A Iarrisburg paper
states that during the recent terrible freshet
a cradle was seen coming down the rushing
waters near Manadville, and being suspec-
ted of containing something, it was watched
by several persons for three or four miles,
expectiug it would at some point of its jour.
ney come near enough tothe shore that it
would be safe in venturing after it in a boat
At last, at a bend in the swollen stream,
the cradle came sufficiently near that it
was secured, when lo! and behold upon
lifting up a light covering, a beautiful babe
looked up and smiled! We remember of
reading in that book of old, of a time when
the daughter of one of Egypt’s proud rulers
went to bathe, when something was seen in
the distance, to bring which, one of the
maids was sent, when upon opening a babe
was seen, which looked up and smiled.—
The above incident brought this ancient one
up to mind. A kind person took the little
one in charge and although a week has
elapged, and inquiry has been made, no cluc
to the little stanger has been discovered.
[T= ¢ Why, dear me, Mr, Longshallow,”’
said a good lady, “ how you can drink a
quart of that hard cider at a single draught?”
As soon as the man could breathe again he
replied, ‘I beg pardon, madam it was so
hard I couldn’t bite it off.”
Rough John Beckwin, a Mississippi fer«
ryman, tied his boat to a post, and plodded
wet and weary, to his little house. Having
thrown himself, witk an oath, into a chair,
be lighted his pipe, and pufted the smoke up
the chimney, while he dried his feet at the
Presently his] little daughter “came in,
Jeading her younger brother, and walking to
her mother said, with a grieved expression,
‘Mother little bub swore ; little bub can’t
have any wings when he dics to fliy up to
the good place. Poor little bub !" and the
little girl began to cry. But the bey looked
up to his mother’s and said, “But father
swore too. Can’t he have any wings when
he dies 2"?
The mother did uot answer, for sk.e feared
the stern man who sat smoking his pipe by
the fire.
But the iron had eutered John Beckwin’s
soul. That night Le dreamed; and as he
stood before the cottage, looking at the stars
and moon, there was a sound of a trumpet
above, that made the world tremble, an ex-
ceeding glory in the sky, and from the midst
of the glory a voice calling to the judgment
And immediately the air was full of white
souls, whose eyes turned upward with a
steady gaze, while their hands were clasped
over their breasts. .
And the voice called again, ‘Come ye
blessed.”” Then the white souls were given
wings full of stars and shining like silver,
which flashed back the glory from above,
as they calmly floated upward,
While he stood wondering and terrified,
he heard a sharp ery of pain at his side.—
There stood his little boy, with ragzed and
soil stained coat, and his hand stretched pit
eously up towards the flying host- + Oh.
my father !”’ exclaimed he, “why did you
teach me to do wrong ? The dear Lord
just now beckoned me to come, but 1 had
no wings and no cloak of siver; and he
looked grieved at me, and turned away. —
Oh father, why did you teach me to do
wrong 2"
There was a sound as of thunder -a crash
of the universe —and the old man found him
self in a long train of souls, with heads hw
ed and tears ranning from their eyes, walk"
ing down a black, narrow archway, where
he could look only before him, and see bes
yond the great train of weeping ones, an
open gate from which came firé. But he
heeds them not, for behind him he heard
the patter of little feet, and ever and anon,
amidst sobs and moans, the voice of a child,
«Oh father ! why did you teach me to do
wron , #’
John Beckwin awoke, and heard hig little
boy quietly breathing’in the cot besideshim.
He never swore again.
{= It is an ascertained fact that it is
cheaper to steal negroes than to buy them.
Those that want negro labor in the North
have elucidated this to their entire satisfac
tion. Those that have conscientious scru~
ples about stealing, favor ‘¢ compensation,”
that is, for the Government to engage in the
slave trade, buy negroes at its price, and
send them North, where each one can pick
out a nigger to his own liking, at no expense
to themselves, but at the expense of their
neighbors, who arc obliged to help to pay
for him in the shape of taxes. The Govern-
ment buys the negroes, the people pay for
them, and those that want them will then
be enabled to get them free gratis for noth.
ing. That’s very convenient, fellow- citi
zens, is itnot 2? The above may be thought
by many to be ¢ jocular,” but it contains
much of the essence of Abolitionism.-= Leb
anon Advertiser.
(IZ A Louisiana Congressmen still for
the Union.— An officer of the Massachusetts
31st writes from New Orleans as follows :
+* Last night the officer of the guard at the
St. Charles was accosted by a gentleman
whom he found to be Boulingny, one of the
last representatives whom Louisiana sent to
Congress, and who held out for the Union
long after his State had seceded. Since that
time that man has fought no less than seven
duels—solely on account of his Union Senti-
ments. He is now a maimed man, his left
hand shattered and his left arm paralyzea,
and one or both of his feet injured. This is
itterally ¢ standing up for the Union,” and
he says be is still as strong a Union man as
ever. All houor to him 4nd all like him.—
May there be many.”
IZ= An Excellent Sentiment.—1In the late
Democratic Convention in Fairfield county,
Ohio, Dr. Olds offered the following resolu-
tion, which was enthusiastically adopted ; —
¢¢ Resolved, That we are in favor of the
Union as it was, the Constitation as it is,
and the Negroes where they are,”
This is the sentiment of national patriot~
ic men everywhere.
(= Senator Wade thinks ‘ the Constitn-
tion is suspended for the present,” ¥f Sen-
ator Wade, and a few like him, had been
¢ suspended 7 themselves years ‘ago, ther
would have been no trouble in the nation
now.—Carlisle Volunteer.
{7 Gen. Fremont—a path finder who al-
ways misses the track; a statesman who
never made a speech ; a general who never
won a battle ; and a millionaire with ** nary
077 With most men charity begins at
home and ends there,
NO. 28.
Do yott know the type setter is an archi.
tect? You see those bits of lead and zinc
lying over, across and against each other,
like the tangled braids of a mermaids hair
And yet they form an army more powerfitl
than ever fought on tented field. Yesterday
they stood up ¢ form’ —truly ina thousand
forms. You may Jook upon the little bits
with a smile on your lips, but you little
dream they are stronger and wiser’ than you
—they will speak when you are dead end
forgotten. They have sotnetimes mide you
smile and sometimes shudder. ¢ Stocks !s
Isn’t there something in that ‘word ? Hawn’
you been head and heels in them for years,
and don’t your feeling rise and fall with
them alternately ? A little further on yoit
come to the ‘married’ Ah!I thought that
would make you smile. |saw you kiss a
baby then. and that word unraveled it all. —«
You havn’t forgotten the day you went cour
ting, have you? Then there was magic 1n
the utterance. You stood at the altar on
the strength of the happiness you felt, and
if yout had not always loved the girl as you
ought to, there is no one vou love so well.
Yon secretly bless the day when the single
word ‘Married’ was wreathed like a sacred
archway over the joys of you and yours.—
Don’t you nemember fittle Minnie—she
whom you loved so well —she with the
blue eyes and auburn curls? When Death’s
dark Angel foided her litt'e delicate hands
over her snowy bosom, and sealed her loves
ly eyes with its icyjfingers, don’t you res
member how the great tide of sorrow came
o'er your smitten heart ? You little thought
the other day when sou picked ap the pa-
per— that the word *Died,’ of only four let-
ters --which you laughed at as they lay
dusty®and dirtygin their square § homes—
would make you - weep—would make you
think of her whom God hath taken.
If you come to this offi:e to morrow the
printer will show you how to distribute
knowledge. He will pull to pieces tough
wiry arguments that yesterday defied the
world. Those pretty palaces which the po-
et wrought will have to come down, and
their golden fancies become to morrow the
integuments of the politician’s prose. In
they go —those metalic dwarfs, scattered
breadeast like good seed, which shall bring
forth sixty, aye an bundred fold. ‘Sixty
lives lost’ and Prentice’s last joke march in
together, and the printer whistles Yankee
Doodle as carelessly as if human life was
below par, any soit is. This is the print.
er’s life and business.
A Printing Office is a great bowling alley,
The printer scts up pins—the world keeps
tally, the editor puts the balls in motion,
and away it goes, carrying death and des.
truction in its front, settding a pin here and
a pin there, while a noisy rabble always
stand by to cheerand hiss down the players.
Some play for money ; and a few —a precious
few—do it to patronize the boss and bless
mankind. Nomatter what the balls are -
made of or how they go if they only hit the
mark. The crowd pocket the spoils and the
honors are lelt to the proprietor, who goes
behind the scenes and starves in his shirt
sleeves. And such is life.
When the printer dies, the world just gets
a glimpse of his value as his coat tails van--
ish into glory, and then it looks very bad,
rubs its head a little, calls hin a clever fe].
low—says only fault was in being poor,
and then the world shoves his sympathy out
of sigktinto that idiom the human heart,
and on rolls the Juggernaut as though noth
ing had happened. :
Some day the people will wake mp and
find a screw lost in the jagged machine of
human progress. If you do, don’t waste
more sympathy than possible on those my
theological fellows who print your beoks and
Quite a number of years ago there lived in
the town of G—, Androscoggin County,
Maine, a man by the name of L.—.Ilo was
farmer, stage-driver; and hotel-keeper, and
was blessod with a large family of boys.
Among them was the hero of our yarn. Ide
was the name he was best known by. He
was lean; long, lank; and scrawny. Always
on hand to run of errands and do chores
generally. One very hot day in July, Ide
was sent off about three miles to a mill with
a large lot of grain to be ground. Unlueki-
ly for him there was quite a quantity in be-
fore he got there, so that it was late in the
afternoon before the miller got to work
upon Ides lot. Tne water was low, conse-
quently the mill-stones revolved rather slow.
Ido was hungry, and his inner man got up-
roasious, and looking up to the miller(Uncls
Reub), he says,
“Uncle Reub, I'can eat that meal fastor
than you grind it.”
““ Ah, my boy,” said Uncle Reub, “how
long could you do it 2”
“ Why, till I starve to death” said Ide.
Uncle Beub says that he never got such’
a shot before.
[= What is the differencn beiwcen a
Republican and an Abolitiomst. Pickles
says :—dJust the same difference there is be-
twaen a tadpole and frog.”
—_——— ee
07 «- My son what would you do if your
dear father was suddely taken away from
you.” ‘Swear and chaw tobacker.”
05 The right man in the right placs
{ husband at home in the evening.