2 3 & $e ~ @he Democra u d@latchm an. “ ‘ : - VOL. 7. . BELLEFONTE, FRIDAY MORNING, NOV. 7, 1862. NO. 43. Slut Posgtry, tains to the other, and the advantages aris- ing from a proper observance of the mutual claims which all persons have upon each [From the Columbus (0.) Crisis. ] DEATH AND DESTRUCTION. Tramp! rush! crash and rattle! Booming thunder! battle! battle! North and South and West and East Carve at Death’s infernal feast ! Powder! powder everywhere ! Clouds of powder in the air! Dead and dyirg strew the earth, Men of every land and birth— Father, brother son and friend, In the ghastly conflict blend. Age St beauty, youth and mind, Crushed by war and left behind ; Tramp! rush! crash and rattle! Boom like thunder! battle ! battle! Battle onward o’er the plain, Battle backward might and main ; Plumes all nodding in the smoke— Cannon carriage crushed and broke— Furious steeds and furious men Crush and wheel and crush again. Hoarse- voiced captains onward” ery, Dust-dyed soldiers do and die. Rider falling with his steed, Horse and man together bleed ! Here another war-horse, free, Seeks, confounded, hoy to flee— Plunging thro’ the surging wrath, Finds from war no open path. Soldier, dying, prays to God, Wild steed tramps him in the sod, Nothing left but mashed remains, Last prayer scattered with his brains. Beardless youth, with broken gun, From the ranks attempts to run; Vete.an soldier. riding on, Crushes down his only son— Father! father! shouts the child, But the father, battle wild, Hears no sound but rattle! rattle! Boom and thunder! battle ! battle ! Crushing, shocking, surging on, Vicrory is his-only son .— Viet'ry! Viet’ry ! hear him cry, Bee it glitter in his eye— See his gray hair, by the flash That kills his fellow with a crash— See it streaming as he flies On to victory—or dies. Thundering cannon kills his horse ; He gets trampled in the course, Of the legion late he led — Struggles! struggles! dying! dead! Dead and trampled in the plain, Son and soldier battle slain. Thus the battle, men and mettle, Strews the plain with quiv’ring death, Till the death-birds ‘‘ caw’’ and scttle In its foetid, putrid breath. Thus, when frecmen grapple freemen, In the glow of hating hearts. Death stalks quickly, like a demon, Hurling #// his fatal darts. Down beside the bloody river, All along the mountain streams, Here they sleep and sleep forever, Far {from home and all its dreams— Or they writhe in wounded sorrow, Hoping, waiting for to-morrow, On the night's plutonian shore— In the fens and bogs and brushes, In the dry, hot, summer field, By the trees, the roads and rushes, Where the wound has made them yield— In the hollows—on the side-hills— In the churches, sheds and stobles— In the dwellings, barns and grist-mills, Stretched on floors and boards and tables, Where the surgeon plies his steel ; Where the brothers, once fraternal, Writhe beneath the battle’s heel; Or stiffen into infernal Bond of hate forevermore, Signed and sealed by death eternal— Stamped in red—and all is o’er. While all the devils, in their revels, Laugh till Hell is all a glee— Laugh and shout—the joyous devils— ¢ Hail Columbia! The free!” God Almighty! Oh! how rng Shall this abortive work roceed ? God of life and love! how long Shall maddened freemen freemen bleed ? Is there no sense, no hope, no healing, No great thought the hate to quell ? But, drunk with blood, must we go reeling, Down to rain, death and hell ? Cannot freemen see that freemen Can't be quelled to rise no more? Read your Ls: men and women, Read how * crushing’ failed of yore. Parched with thirst and stiff with gore; other, she would unquestionably have ren- dered justice to all, and secured her own cltimate good, but she was too reckless to be under any very. frigid moral restraints, that is, to make reason and conscience the arbiters of her conduct. Of necessity, in- tention to another, one engagement to a succeeding one. Still Mary Awwill had s> many redeem- ing qualities that her want of stability was over-looked. She was lively and witty in conversation, polite and affable in her de- portment, kind in her feelings, at least for the moment, and always ready to meet her friends and acquaintances with a smile. In her personal appearance, too, she was a charm—fascinating even the most phleg- matic. Not to know her was to love her, for at first sight, rather than after a more intimate acquaintance, the eye was greatly pleased. The stranger, even was taken with her beauty—such an image was she to fancy—such an idol to admire. Accordingly, Mary never felt the want of admirers, she always had them at com- mand. Still, on noone of them could she fix her eye, and retain it there. All pleas- ed her more or less—none absolutely. To make a selection, therefore, was quite im- possible for her; or if for time she made one, she could not adhere to it, even in her own mind. If this one urged his suit, she required delay; if that one, she did not like to commit herself to accept for a time.— Many a one hoped, all were disappointed ; and yet Mary was not a coquette ; she did not encourage her suitors wantonly ; she had no desire to disappoint them ; her objec- tions seemed to her to be real, and for the time insurmountable ; she longed to marry, if she married at all, to please herself ; if her admirers did not suit her on inspection, she sat them aside. Perfection was her mo- del, fancy her guide ! For a few years she thus continued to en- courage and to disappoint the expections of her suitors. At length, having become more mature in judgement, she concluded to listen with a willing ear to the solicitations of a young gentleman living in an adjoining village.— This young man was highly esteemed by all that knew Lim. As to property, too, he was in comfortable circumstances, and could easily maintain a family and live in genteel style. No reasonable objection could be made against him as a proper candidate for matrimony. Many a young lady, indeed would have thought herself highly honored to have received his attentions. In point of education, too, he was superi- or to many of his associates, having prose- cuted his studies, in his youthful days, be- yond bis compeers. Already had he taken a commanding position in the community in which he lived, and he bid fair to become a man of superior influence. In person he was likewise dignified and prepossessing. With William Randall a young man pos- sessed of so much to commend him to her favor, Mary, a short acquaintance, was _ de- cidedly pleased. True, indeed, she had one objection to him —he was a mechanic; but this circumstance she resolved to overlook. No one had ever pleased her so much and to every one there had always been something objectionable. 7 Mary Atwill was a young lady of an am- inble disposition, but of little stability of miad. In many respects she was worthy of imitation and praise—not in all. She was 80 apt to recede from her engagements, and, therefore, too little reliable as a companion or friend. Now she was of this mind—now of that—to-day one thing, to-morrow another. At one time she would accede to this or that proposal. at another she would fly from it hers. the eonsequences, only for a transient period. however of sundering the engagement. they thought proper. “But why,” she said, “should one ad- here to what he despises ? why, if he has A lady, at “Jeast, should have tho privilege of being free to act in these matters as inclination may A-gentlemar, too, should never So Mary reasoned, whether rationally or not, her fu- made a rash promise, break it. prompt. marry if averse to the union.” ture shall decide, But such were the principles of Mary’s conduct in matrimonial anticipations, and these principles originated from her fickle- Had she duly reflected on her relation to others, the sensibilities of her admirers, the obligations which each individual of tha same olass in society sus- ness of mind. Such was the character of Mary Atwill, and yob she had many admirers. Some- times they admired, indeed only to execrate afterwards—but whilst she captured with her charus she neglected her Vvictims—she conquered to kill not to save the captive. Broken hearts were never a source of un- happiness to her, for she considered the loss of others rather their own loss than They admired on their own respon- sibility, and were of course answerable for ‘She did indeed encour- age the attention of her suitors, still it was not with a fixed design, or, if'so. with one She was wil- ling to be engaged, with the tacit privilege She didn’t think that matrimonial promises were binding, though she was willing that others should regard them in this light if Mere accident, it is true, had caused him to become acquainted with Mary. Still these two persons seemed to have been de- signed for each other, 80 easily and so nat- urally did they take a fancy the one to the other. . Some few months pass away, each con- gratulating the other on their happy antici- pations, and each becoming more and still more interested in the other's future wel- fare. The world around, it is true, always in- credulous, and frequently 2 little too much 80, had no great confidence in these wo00ings for they had known Mary Atwill before, at least so they said. Of course they did not expect anything else than a rupture between these two devoted ones. Mary had not constancy of purpose enough to adhere to any engagement. She looks, too, they ad- ded, a little higher than a mechanic. But William Randall had no fears; he was sure of the result. Mary had, it was true, disappointed others, him she would not, she could not. Thus hope spreads her brightest bow be- fore him, and he believed her promises.— Among the spectial on this point, Mary had a particulargriend who, to confirm her into resolution to adhere to William, thus ad- dressed her. Mary do you think that you really love William Randali ?” ¢ Most certainly I do,” Mary replied. « Your friends imagine otherwise” “They do! well, they are greatly mista- ken.” : « But he is a mechanic, Mary.” «J know that, but he has many redeem ing qualities to make up for that evil.” “ Do you think it an evil ?” “ Why, I think it is a misfortune at least.” Now, Mery, what is mechanism ? Is it not the result of genius?” + Certainly it is, and so I regard it.” “ Well why should any one object to a mechanic?” « Why, the world, you know, apt to look down upon mechanics, and to say of this or that one, * he is a mechanic.” ”’ “But some of our greatest men were me- chanics, Mary.” “That is true; but I do imagine that it would be my good fortune to marry a great man.” «’ {you not think that William Ran- dall may one day become agreat man ?” “ No, indeed !” “ And why not, Mary?” «Oh! I couldn’t expect any such good luck as that.” « Others have had such good luck, Mary, and why should not you have?” «Others have had the good luck, too, to draw a prize in a lottery, but I never had.” “You have never tried the matrimonial lottery.” “No; but we judge of the future from the past, and as I never had any good luck in any one thing, sol expect none in any other.” : “Mary, lot me tell you that William Randall will one day be a great man!” «“ Ah my dear friend you flatter me too much! Ie may be, but it will be only as by a miracle.” “ Why do you say so?” « Because a mechanic has no one to ele- vate him in the world. An eagle needs wings to soar, and a man needs friends to rise.” “Thatis true but there is another way of rising.” “ What is it 2”? “By one’s own genius: one any where !”’ “ And do you think William Randall so talented “Indeed I do and his future life will show it.” The friends parted, but Mary was still sorry that William was a mechanic. She would much have preferred thathe werea merchant or a lawyer or even a gentleman at large. Still, as she was then engaged, and, as all the world said she wouldn’t ad- hereto her engagement, she only resolved the more determinedly to do so. Time passed away and the wedding day approached. William Randall was delight- ed that the world was this time to be disap- pointed in Mary, and that she was hereaf- ter to be regarded as possessed of u less fickle mind. She was now to re-stablish her character for stability. He too, was to enter upon a new scene of enjoyment. Matrimony had beenin his eye for years. All his plans had been rendered subservient to this one great end. He had accumulated property—he had toiled diligently—he had been economical in his mode of living—he had concentrated all his thoughts and wish- es on this one most desirable and most de- lightful result. The day had come in which he was to realize his utmost expectations.— The knot was not indeed yet tied, but whai could intervene now at this late hour to pre- vent this last act in the scenery? Mary was still of the same mind—her wedding dress was made—the cards of invitation were sent out—the preacher had been noti- fied, and things were ready. Only the ap- pointed hour had not yet come—it was just at hand. William now called for his Mary to enter the consecrated room. Alas! as he stepped in, to the adjoining room he overheard the word : «Oh! I cannot marry a mechanic, indeed I cannot.” William cred out, * Marv.” Not anoth- ea word was heard—silence reigned supreme He repeated. *“ Mary!” all was silent, still. He took his hat and retired. The next day he received a note from Mary, that she desired a few more days for consideration. William consented to it, yet not without the utmost chazrin and disap- pointment. Nor did he escape the taunts and jeers of many a one who had befor» prophesied this result, nor worst of all, the pity of the kind-hearted and sympathetic. The few days passed away, and with it Williams entire anticipations of nuptial bliss. He was like a dismasted vessel cast ashore and left to the mercy of the winds and the waves! But Mary Atwill was not forgotten. He did, so far as he was able, eject her from his mind and his memory; but the world kept an eye upon her. They thought she would at length be rewarded, in what they did not dare to conjecture ; still such abuse of confidence, such trifling with one’s affec- tions—such blighting of his dearest hopes and anticipations, they did not believe would escape punishment. talent will carry After a time William Randall recovered to some extent from the shock, he entered again into the scenes of the world and be- came still more successful in his business, and in a short time quite a wealthy man.— His early education, in connection with oth- er favoral circumstances, rendered him the associate of the most elevated in society. —He was at home anywhere. As a politi- cian he became extremely popular and was soon sent to the State Legislature as a rep- resentative. This served only as an intro- duction to still higher offices. By regular graduations in political life, he was, after a few years, raised to the dignity of United States Senate. The mechanic was now a great man, and perhaps, if the circumstan- ces would have admitted of it, Mary Atwill would have been extremely happy tohave received the offer ofhis hand. But no, the scene was now entirely changed ; she her- self was no longer Mary Atwill. To her history, therefore, we must again revert. Two or three years after her rejection of William Randall she was again solicited to enter into the Eden of matrimonial life.— Her suitor was a young gentleman from the city of New York ; he of course was no me- chanic, his father was a millionaire—the son of a young gentleman at large. Ie drove a fast horse—he spent money as if directly from the mines! In his personal appear- ance was more than ordinary fascinatings at least, he was so in the eye of Mary Ran- dall. Now, to be courted by such a distin- guished youug gentleman was a great hon- or: whut prospects must await one who should be his bride—how happy—how high- ly favored of fortune should s ian To a young lady in the country, so great a change was of course enough to concern a fickle mind. Mary now began to think, too, that her time had come to settle the matter ; that dubiousness would incur an immense risk ; to live a maiden lady was never her ambition, whatever else might have been. She therefore conclnded this time to be true to her engagement. Samael Hoppin, too, intended to be to his. The village was again also agog at the new scene now enacting.— Another grand event was about to transpire, and there was to be a face about it. Some, too, thought that Mary had been amazing wise in rejecting all her former suitors and taking up with this one, so grand, so rich so handsome. Others were of a different opinion. “Allis not gold that glitters,” they said. « There is some coin that is bogus!” Things however moved, forward—the wed- ding day was hastened—tne young gentle: man was urgent to get back to the city, for his affairs required it (of course); he was a young man of business, and his business al- lowed no delay, even though a short time since he was a young man at large ; his va- cation had expired I” As Mary was reputed to be wealthy and as the transfering of property “to its pros~ pective owner would cause some little delay young Hoppin suggested that this business should be transacted prior to their marriage, that event being now no longer a contingen. cy. To this she readily consented. On looking into the state of her affairs, howevor, the young gentlemen was inform- ed 0 his great surprise, there was a mort” gage on his estate that would swallow up the whole ! « Whew !’ the fortune seeker * cried—‘a mortgage; a mortgage, faith | that gives a difterent hue to the scene !" His countenance fell-—his love died within him—his beautifal Mary lost all her charms —the flower faded away, no longer did it emit any fragrancs, And what was to be done? The wedding was hourly expected—the delay was occa. sioned only by the negligence of the preach er. But lo! the telegraphic wires relieve our young hero. He recieves a dispatch that his mother is dying, and that he musi has- ten home instantly, if he would see her alive. Alas! for Mary ; her beau ideal flies—he must go—he flies! And who can pity her now ? the neighbors ? no ! her friends? not one save the mechanic. Indeed her sym- pathy was that only of & friend that sticketh closer than a brother. She pitied her much, but condemned her more-—condemned her for losing the golden opportunity of marry~ ing to her advantage—marrying the only one who could have rendered her happy through life, and perhaps prospectively ‘so beyond the grave. Of course young Hoppin was never heard of again. He was disappomnted in his ex- pectation of a fortune. He had heard that Mary Atwill was very rich—when he found that she was not. his love ceased, and ke had no motive to veturn. In the meantime Wm. Randal had become quite a distinguished man. His sphere in life consequently, was greatly enlarged, and included men of influcnce and talent. As a poltiician he was very popular, and rose from one office to another until he reached the United States Senate. Nordid he remain unmarried—he sought a partner of intelligence and influence, and forgetting the history of his first love, and devoted his effections to the more recent ob- ject of his choice, and 18 now passing this life happily in ber society ; being favored with a lovely and interesting train. of sons and daughters worthy of their parental name. : As to the unfortunate Mary, we bave ¢nly to add tat she afterwards gmarried—if - in> deed that 1s marriage where the hand is giv- en without the heart—and that she confesses with bitter tears of regret, that she lost the golden opportunity in the rejection of the only one that traly loved her, the fortunate mechanic. And in conclusion, we hope the reader may pot think it mal apropos that we ex- press the wish that he may not lose his gol- den opportunity, and especially, that more important one which, if lost involves not only his happiness in the life to come. ttn ly A AA. Kings play at war unfairly with re- publics ; they can only lose some earth, and some creatures they value as little, while re~ publics lose in every soldier a part of them- selves. - ee ——— =Generally the office secker who gets nothing, gets what is good for him and ex~ actly what he 1s good for. GEN. Fremont oN Himserr.—Fremont has been making an egotistical littie speech at St. Louis, in which he compares him- self to the builders of the walls of Troy; to the Trojan “whose spear against the treacherous horse made the clang of arms resound ; to Laocoon attacked by servants, and to Antxus, who rose refreshed every time he touched the earth during his strug- gle with Hercules. These classic allusions are most unfortunately apropos of ¥remont’s fate. The work of the builders of Troy was all in vain and ended in ruins. The Trojan only mvoked punishment upon him- selt by striking the Grecian horse. Lao- coon was killed by the serpents. Hercules perceiving whence Antweus derived his strength held him aloft and strangled him to death. Fremont therefore is not success- ful in classical comparisons than im his mili. tary campaigns. In attempting to euologize himself he metaphorically admits that he is a decea sed general. Tre American Adgriculturist takes up the cudgel in defense of the poor, despised but seldom kicked ¢kunk, and gives him a good notice. Our cotemporery says ; + All summer long he roams your pastures at night, picking up beetles and grubs, po~ king with his nose potato hills where many worms are at work. He is after grubs, not tubers, He takes possession of the apart ment of the woodchuck, who has ggartered himself and family upon your clover field or garden, and makes short werk with all the domestic arrangements of that unmitga’ ted nuisance. With this white backed sen tinel around you can ‘grow clover in peace, and the young tarnips will flourish, Your beans will not be prematurely snapped, and your garden sauce will be safe from other vermin. The most 2areless observation of his habils shows that he lives most exclu- |. sively upon insects. While yon sleep he is busy doing your work, helpmg to destroy your enemies. Inany fair account kept with him the balance must be struck in his favor. ere een VaLvasLe Recerprs.—To make a nice jam —lay your head under a descending pile driver. To see i a man is your friend—malke love to his wife ! To get the frost out of your fingers—put them in hot water. To see if a girl is amiable—tear her dress in a ball roum. To keep yourself warm in bed—set it on fire. 3 To be ahead of time—carry your watch behind you’ : To see how hard a man strikes—tell him he lies. To keep poor relatives from troubling you —commit suicide. To keep from being dry—stand out in the rain. To do away with spectacles— pnt your eyes out. J The National Tax law reaches about everything that one can eat, driuk, wear or use. There is hardly an article of the sim« plest every day use but comes under it wide spreading provisions. ApvANTAGES oF WONEN.—A women says what she chooses without being knocked down for it. She can take a snooze after dinner while her husband goes to work She can go into the street without being asked to “stand treat’’ at every saloon. She can paint her face ifit be too pale and powder it if to red. She can stay at heme in the time of war. and get married again if her husband be kilied. Ste can wear corsets if too thick—othey fixins' if to thin She can get divorced from her husband whenever she sees one she likes better. She can get her husband in debt all over until he warns the public not to trust her on his account. That’s sum. ee lll QA mie. A UseruL Dor. —¢T say, stranger,” said a cottage urchin to a peddler, dont whistle that dog away.” «Why, he ain’t no use, no how ; he’s too homley.”’ «Oh, but he saves heaps of work." “How 7 “Why, he cleans the plates and dishes, go they never want washing, and mothe: says she wouldn't part with him no how; or cur new dog ain’t got used to mustard fyet.” ely A AA pr 077A young iady in one of our rural dis tricts was once escorted home from an evens ng party by a young man to whom she was not particular partial. On taking his leave he remarked-~ «J guess I'll come and see you again pext Sundy night.” « Well, Bill Smith,” replied the lady: «you can come as a friend, but not as a fel- ler.” I7Don’t put your watch under your pillow ; a man should never “sleep upon his watch.” meet A A e—. [=~There's many a slip between the cup and the lip, and not a few between the first kiss and the ring. Veet ll fren cares. (7 Peaches are very plenty this year in every part of Pennsylvania. [Talking to boys in public meetings getting to be an art and science. Billy Roos is a great Temperance lectarer,and at Rush- ville, Illinois, was preaching to the young on his favorite theme. He said; ‘Now boys when 1 ask you a question you musn’t be afraid to speak right out and answer me. When you lock around and see all these fine houses, farms, and cattle, do you ever think who owns them all now ? Your fathers owns them all, do they not 1”? + Yes sir!” shouted a hundred voices. ‘Well, where will your fathers be twen- ty years from now ?” “Dead I" “Thats right. property then 2’ «Us boys !” «Right, Now tell me did you ever in go- ing along the streets, notice the drunkards lounging around the saloon doors waiting for somebody to treat them ?” « Yes, sit ; lots of them !" “Well, where will they be in twenty years from now. “Dead!” exclaimed the boys, «And who will be the drunkards then 2” "Us boys!” Billy was thunder struck for a moment ; but recovering himself, tried to tell the boys how to escape such a fate. te ® © pm And who will own all this Drops of Wisdom. Too much company is worse than none. To set up for a cntic is bullying man- kind. The modest man is seldom the object of envy, Don’t judge by one view of person or thing. Truth endures man’s purpose with some what of immutability. Thought is the wind, knowledge the sail, and mankind is the vessel. Fortune may favor fools ; but that’s a poor reason why you should make a fool of yourself. Some women are born to scheme and some to love, and I wish some respected vatchelor that reads this may take the sort that best suits him. Women never truly command until they have given their promise to obey. Death, to a goed man, is the goming of the year of its blossoming time, Do we call it dying when the buds burst into flow. ers ? There are some points on which no man can be contented to follow the advice of an- other, sore points on which he can consult his own consience only. To bave tarts for tea—let your wife see you kiss the waiting maid. A sure thing. To prevent a headache when getting sober — keep drunk. To tell if you love a girl—have some tal- low headed chap go to see her. To see if a girl loves you ask her like a man. ret) AO Er «Agour Tuirry.—Madam, at what age shall I put you down?” No direct answer. ‘How old is your husband?’ "Sixty one. « And your oldest son ?”’ “Twenty five. «And the next 2” “Twenty one.” «And how old do you call yourself 1’ I do not know my age exactly, but it is about thirty “Did I understand you madam, that your oldest son was twenty seven ? “Yes,, You must be surely, then, be more than thirty. «Well sir, (quick and sndppingly,) 1 told you about thirty. I can’t tell exactly: it may be thirty one or two, but I'm posi- tive its not over that” —— Perm 1t is the degenerate love for taking short cuts and little fallacious rascalities that has in 50 many parts of the world created gov- ernments with arditary powers. The fight at Baton Rouge extended ove an area of about one mile square, and the centre was a graveyard, where lie the remains of Zachariah Taylor, once President of the United States. it po Adam was fond of his joke, and when he saw his sons and daughters marry one an- other, he dryly remarked to Eve, that if there had been no apple, there would have been no pairing. a a — [77The gate of a gentleman’s door-yard is always neat and tasteful. In more sen- ses than one you may know a gentleman by his gait. I LS iad as The 1rish definition of an open countena- nce” is not a bad one; “A mouth from ear ‘0 ear.” teint Surley that man may be envied who can eat pork chops for supper and sleep withou a grunt. Sm —— RO ————————— ¢Caught in her own net,” as the man said when he saw one fair sex hitched in her crinolile. —————— OP ——— 0 Why are chicken’s necks like Joor bells # Because they are often wrung for ompany. 4 eer AO Bmnpt— [~The most valuable help a man ever A Horrip Picrure.—The Continental Monthly for October in an article on “Lon don fogs and London poor,’” has the follow= ing on the heart situation of the poor amd afflicted in the great Babel of the British Kingdom. It is strange that such he'lish neglect should occur right under the noses of the guardians of civilization, while they snuff up far less crimes to cant and whine over, three thousand miles away from the loathsome scene we now refer to. “In the streets of London I have seen women and children contending ifor the possession of a bone drawn from the slush of the kennel. I have saw boys fight and bruise each other for a crust of bread drop« ped upon the pavement, and covered with wet mud, or even unsightlier filth. I Thave entered the abode of this desperate poverty led thither by children, who elamored at my my side for alms and found such misery as 1 am incompetent to express ir words.— I have seen the living unable to rise from sickness, in the same bed with tho dying and the dead. TI have known an instance where a living man in strong health, bating the exhausting effect of privation and sorrow has been compelled to seck repose in the straw beside the body of his dead wite, his children occupying the floor, and there be ing in the room neither chair upon which he could seat himself, nor table upon which he could seat himself for rest, / have seen an infant crawl for nourishment to its dead mother’s breast and there was not in all the house the valae of a cent to buy it food.— I have seen a wife in following her husban’s bedy to the grave, drop in the road and die before medical attendance could be procu. red. Apost mortem examination, proved that she had died from hunger.’ ———# $m IT PAYS TO TAKE THE PAPERS: A capital story is told of an old farmer in the northern part of this county, who had:been saving up to take up a mortgage of $2,000 held agamst him by a man near the sea shore. The f.rmer had saved up all the money in gold, fearing to trust the banks, fn these war times. Week before last he lugged down the money and paid it over, when the following colloquy ensued : «Why you don’t mean to give the $2000 in gold do you ?”’ said the lender, “Yes certainly said the farmer. “I was afraid of the pesky banks, so I've been sa- ving up the money in yellow boys for you this long time,”