Newspaper Page Text
BY DAVID OVER.
A BACHELOR'S COMI'LAIST. j
They're stepping off, the friends I know,
They're going one by one ;
They're taking wives to tatne their tires.
Their jovial days arc done; (
I can't get on; oM crony now
To join me in a spree;
Thwy'veail grown grave, domestic men,
They look askance on me.
1 h*te to sec them 3obei'd down,
The merry boys and true,
1 hate to hear them sneering now
At pictures fancy drew ;
I care not for their married cheer,
Their puddings and their soups,
And middle-aged relations round,
In formidable groups.
And though tlicir wife perchance may bare
A comely sort of face,
Aud at the table's upper end
Conduct herself with grace,
I hate the prim reserve that reigns.
The canton and the state;
I hate to see my friends grow rain
Of furniture and plate.
Oh, give me back the days again,
When we havo wandered free,
And stolen the dew from every flower,
The fruit from every tree ;
The friends I loved, they will not come,
They've all deserted me ;
They sit at home and toast their toes,
Look stupid and sip tea.
Ala* ! alas! for years gone by.
And for the friends I have lost;
TVhen no warm feeling of the heart
Was chlll'd by early frost.
If these be Hymen's vaunted Joys,
I'd have him shun my door.
Unless be quench his torch, and live
Henceforth a bachelor.
I would not hurt a living thing.
However weak or small;
The beasts that gtaze, the bird* that sing,
Our father made then; oil,
Without whose notice we have real
A sparrow cannot fall.
'Twas but the other day
I met a thoughtless boy
Bearing a pretty nest away ;
It seemed to give him joy ;
But oh! I told him it was wrong
To rob the little feathered throng.
I pa63cd another by ;
It seemed a saddening thing
To see him seize a butterfly
And tear away its wing.
As if devoid of feeling quite;
I'm sure that his could not bo right.
The patient horse and dog,
So faithful, fond and true,
And e'en the little leaping frog.
Arc eft abused too;
By thoughtless men and boys, who seem
Of others' comfort not to dream.
Yet surely in our breast
A kindlier soul should dwell,
For 'twas our blessed LORD'S request
To use His cieatures well ;
And in His holy book we find
A blessing given to the kind.
A SINGULAR AFFAIR.
A Girl Restored to Life ajler being Forty-eight
Hours an Icy Coipse.
A young girl of 12 or 13 years of age in
Nuneaton, England, named Amelia Hinks, was
supposed to have died, and for more than forty
eight hours the imagined corpse lay beneath
the winding sheet, when it happened that her
grandfather, a very aged u;aD, accompanied by
a female relation, went to see the corpse. The
old man removed one of the coppor coins, and
although the eye remained closed, he fancied
he saw a movement beneath the lid.
The woman with him at first ridiculed the
idea but on looking more closely sho too ob
served a movement. The medical attendant
was then apprised of the circumstance; and al
though he at first treated it as a delusion, the
spplicatioQ of an instrument to tho region of
toe heart soon convinced him that there was
life withiu the apparent corpse. The body was
then removed to a warmer room, and the ex
istence of life soon became apparent. By de
grees animntivirr was restored, a ioud sneeze
placing tho fact.of _hcr being a living subject
Lejiind gTcEulit. .When tho speech was restoiod,
the gTfl-desftrtbed everything that had taken
ptaco front the time of her supposed death.—
She knew who had closed her eyes and placed
the coppers thereon. She also heard the order
given lor her coffin, and could describe the va
rious remaiks made over her ns she lay in her
death clothc-a. This very extraordinary affair
is causing considerable excitement in Nuneaton,
and the i-eiirbborhood.
A Weekly Paper, Devoted to Literature, Politics, the Arts, Sciences, Agriculture, Ac.. &c— Terms: One Dollar and Fifty Cents in Advance.
THE SURGEON'S REVENGE, j
The following deeply interesting story was
related by Dr. Gibson, in one of Lis lectures j
before the medical class of the University of;
Pennsylvania. The hero of the story is Vesale,
one of the most etniucnt of Italian surgeons.
Andrew Vesale first saw light in the city of
Brussels. His father was an apothecary, at
tached to the service of the Pi incess Margaret,
aunt of Charles V., and governess of the low
Up to the period when Vesale first rendered
himself conspicuous, the anatomy of the hu
man body was so imperfectly understood as
scarcely to merit that the terms of science
should be applied to the dim and confused ideas
relating to it. Vesale was the first to break 1
through the tramijiels with wuteu Ignorance and
bigotry had crippled the tuareh of sur- i
mounting with admirable courage and constnn- •
cy the disgust, the terror and the peril insepa- !
rable from this description of the labor in j
which he bad devoted himself, he was to be ;
seen whole days and night 3 in the cemeteries, 1
surrounded by* the festering remains of mor
tality, or hovering about the gibbets, and dis
puting with the vuiture for its prey, in order
to compose a perfect skeleton from the remains j
of executed criminals left there by the carrion j
It was during a sojourn at Basle, after his j
return from Italy, that Vesale first beheld at
the house of ilaus Hoibien, the painter, Isa
bella Von Stauwark, the daughter of a mer
chant at Harlaem, who was destined to exer
cise sotue influence over his future life. Ho
was scarcely twenty-eight years of age, and al
ready he had attained the summit of well di
The family of Von Stanwark was a wealthy ;
and honorable one, far superior to that of Ve
sale iu birtu and fortune; but the distinguished
position the latter had acquired for himself, en- 1
titled him to aspire to :u alliance oven more ;
exalted. The son of the Princess Margaret's j
apothecary would have been rejected by the |
rich Harlaem burgher, but as the emperor's
first physiciao. was accepted by him as the
most eligible son-in-law. The marriage sol
emnized, Vesale, uccompanied by bis young
brido, set off for Seville, where Charles then
hold his court.
Though she loved her husband, there was so
much awe mingled with her affection, as to
throw an appearance of restraint over her de
meanor toward him, even in ihe privacy of do
mestic life. The very nature of his profession i
and occupation wa3 calculated to increase that !
awe, aud oven to create soma degree of repug
nance in a shrinking mind, which nothing but
strong affection could overcome. Isabella's
nature required skillful drawing out aud tender
fostering. Vesale, unfortuuately, mistook her
timidity for coldness, and resented it accord
ingly; this led to estrangement on her part,
which he attributed to dislike, jealous distrust
took possession of bis soul.
Vcsale'a house became the resort of all that
was noble aud gallant in Seville, aud ho for a
! time believed his own scientific conversationlo
be the attraction. At first the youug wife
i showed her usual calm indifference to the aJ
j miration that followed wherever she was seen;
| but at last something iu her manner and coun
tenance, whenever one particular person ap
peared, or his name was mentioned, betrayed
that there did exist a being who had discover- \
od the secret for causing the blood to flow more
tumultuously through her veins. That person
was Don Alva de Subs; aud as he was young,
handsome, gay, and the most inconstant gal
lant iu Seville, the suspicions of Vesale were
painfully aroused. He took silent note of the
unusual emotions that agitated Isabella when
ever the nobleman was iu her presence.
The general conduct of Dou Aiva was cal
culated to baffle suspicion, being marked by
indifference. This would havo misled the vtg
; ilant husband, had he not ou one occasion when
uis back was turned toward Don Alva, per
j coived him in an opposite mirror, fix his tcind
j ling eyes upon Isabella with an expression not
: to be mistaken, while she grew red and pale by
turns, and then, as though unable to surmount
1 her agitation, rose and left tbo room,
i Shortly after Ve9-ale received an anonymous
, Dote, saying—
"Look to your wife and Don Alva do Solis,
j and be not deceived by appearances. They
uDly want a fitting opportunity to dishonor you.
Even now he carries about iiitn the gloves she
dropped for him at mass."
Vesale shut himself up to ponder over the
most effectual means of avenging himself.—
His resolution was soon taken. Having cstub
; lished schools of anatomy at Lucca aud Cordo
dova, he obtained the Emperor's permission to
visit them, quitted Seville ostensibly for that
purpose, but returning the same night couceul
ied himself in a tenement belonging to bim at
i some distance from h:s abode in Alcazar, which
■ was devoted to the double purpose of a labora
tory and dissecting room. He had taken no
person into his confidence; he was alone in tiis
At dark on the following evoning, he issued
forth, muffled to the eyes iu a woman's mintle
and hood, and left a uote at Dou Alva's habi
i tatios, coniainiug au embroidered glove of ls
' abella's and these words—
"l have obtained the key to Vesalc's labora
tory duriug his absence; be at the gate an hour
j after miduight, aud you will be admitted on
pronouncing the uame of Isabella."
The assignation was promptly kept by Don
Alva. At an hour past midnight ho left his
bouse aloue, but he never returned to it.—
Whither lie had gone none could say; nor could
any trace of bim be discovered. It was sup
posed be must have missed his tooting aud fal
len in the Guadilquiver, ucar which his abode
was situated, aud that his body had b.cu swept
sway by the waves of the ocean.
BEDFORD. PA.. FRIDAY, JANUARY 7, 18-59.
Such an occurrence was calculated to pro- J
duce a groat sensation in the place where it
happened; and Veiale, recalled three weeks af
ter by the illness of his wife, found the disap
pearance of Don Alva tha the:,,e of every
tongue. The altered appearance of Isabella
was attributed by Vesale to grief for tbo mys
terious absence of Don Alva, and that convic
tion took from hiui all pity for her suffer
It chanced to be the festival of the Santa j
Isabella, and to honor her patron saiot, as well |
as to celebrate the return of her husband, Isa- j
bell put on her wedding dress, and seating her
self by an open casement that overlooked the
Alva gardens, she watched for his cootiug.—
Bat whilst her eyes were vainly fixed upon the
path by which she expected him to appear, a
hand was laid on her shoulder, and turning
round she beheld Vesale standing beside
"I lave ordered tie supper to be laid in IP)'
study," said he; and taking her hand, he led
her to the room in question, dismissed the at
tendant and closed the door. Everything wore
a festive air; yet the repast was cheerless. —
Perceiving that she had tasted nothing, Vesale
poured a few drops of elixir in a cup of Mala
ga wine, and presented it to her, saying—
"Drink this, it is a sovereign cure for the
disease you are suffering from.''
"Piedgo uie the draught," she replied, fil
ling up a goblet from the santo disk, "and it
will bring n quicker healing to me. Let us
drink to our absent friend, Andre."
Vesale accepted the offering, and they emp
tied tbeir goblets together.
"Talking of absent friends," said he, and
suddenly fixing his eyes upon her, "you have
not spoken to me of Don Alva de Solis. Are
all hopes of hearing from him relinquished?—
He was a braggart and a libertine, and boasted
that no woman ever resisted his seductions, that
no husband ever suspected the injury he was
preparing for him."
Then grasping his wife by tbs hand, be led
her up to the door at the farther end of the
room, and throwing the door wide open, reveal
ed to her view a skeleton, suspended within,
holding in one of its bony bauds one of her
"Behold," lie said, pointing to the ghastly j
spectacle, "the gallant and beautiful Dou Alva ]
ae Soils, Uie oojeci or guil'y Iov, v, r 1
template him well, if the sight can render your I
few moments happier, for you are about to j-'in j
him in another woild—the wine I have given !
you w is poisoned !"
Wheu the last dreadful sentence, and its
more dreadful illustration foil upon her af- '
flighted senses, she became paralysed with ex- j
cess of emotion, the scream which bad tisen to j
her throat died there in struggling murmurs,!
and sinking back, she fell as otic dead on the
arms of Vetale.
She was not dead, however; lie had not poi
soned her; that crime he bad hesitated to com
mit; yet he was none 'he loss her murderer.—
Convulsion after convulsion, aud at last she
died, and, in that supreme moment, the hour
that preceded her death, her husband, who nev
er her, boheiJ one of those phenomena
which Bomc'tmes attend the dying. Awaken
ing from a tcrpid slumber, consciousueii aud
memory returned at once, and with them calm
and courage she had never possessed In the
flesh of life.
"Andre," said the dying woman, fixing her
I eyes on her husband, "I ain dying by your
! hand, yet 1 am innocent; I never wronged you
by thought or deed; Don Alva pursued me with
1 his love and threats, but I repulsed theiu. I
never loved but you. I feared aud honored
i you as much as I loved, but I dared not tell
you of his pursuit. Ob, Andre, believe my
words, the dying deal not in falsehood. Should
I be tbus calm were I guilty?"
j Vesale, siuking upon his knees, solemnly pro
tested his faith in the innocence of his wife,
and with choking sobs, abjured Ler to believe
ho only feigned to give her poison, that he
could not nerve his hand to take her life; but
the terror of death, not death itself was upon
! her. And while he yet spoke, Isabella mur
"Thanks be to heaven for this," and draw
ing his hand toward? her, laid it upon her heart,
aud as she did so it ceased to beat.
: The Nortara Case—Another Letter
from Mr. Cass,
WASHINGTON, NOV. *29, 1858.
Sir : You are doubtless familiar with the
circumstances attendant upon the recent ab
duction of a Jewish child named Mortara, from
his pareDts' house, details of which arc now
being discussed in the influential presses of
this and other countries. It is a matter of some
importance to American Isrealites that this
Government should, in some legitimate way,
I unite with oilier civilized Powers in expressing
I a National opinion upon the subject.
The Uuitcd States Government can only (as
I am fully aware) sympathise with the Israelites
in their efforts taken to insure the restoration
! of this child from the involuntary and cruel
j bondage imposed upou hiui; yet it is due to the
spirit of the Constitution, as well as to the
general principles of universal religious libetty,
that this Government should, upon every proper
| occasion, enunciate thoxo doctrines which form
the only safeguard of a free people.
My co-religionists have always expressed such
feelings of gratitude for the opinions and po
; Bilious occupied by yourself touching similar
! questions wtiilu a member of the Senate, ond it
; is to be expected that you will further add to
| their deep seuse o f " obligation by taking such
! ground as prudential reason will dictate, against
the inhuman doctrine of 'involuntary baptism
by indirect agency, so terribly ascendant ID the
recent abductiou oi this Jewish child.
Tiusting that you will call this matter to tfce
? eaily attention of his excellency the president,
1 have the honor to subscribe myself, very re
spectfully, your obedient servant.
JONAS P. LEVY.
HON. LEWIS CASS, Secretary of State, Wash
ington, D. C.
WASHINGTON, Dec. 20, 1858.
Dear Sir : As I have already explained to
you, your.letter respecting the proceedings at
Bologna in (lie case of the boy Mortara did
not ooine under tuy observation till I had of
ficially answered two other applications for the
same purpose. As one of my letters had then
been published, and it was probable tbe other
would bo without delay, there was no need to
repeat the communications, especially ae no
ch-tnge had taken place in tho views of the
You do me but justice when you class me i
among the friends of religious liberty, aud also |
when you refer to my course when questions!
were under discussion there, touching the right? i
of our fellow citizens of the Hebrew faitb. My |
reason, not less tban my feelings, leads me to j
advocate oulimited freedom of conscience.
But in the application for tbe authoritative |
censure by this Government of the proceeding? '
at Bologna, tbe true principles of national in- j
tercoiuinuuicatioa dictate caution and reserve, i
and as we should reseat any such interference
in our own case, we ought equally to abstain
from it when otber nation? aro coucerned.
But as an individual, I have no hesitation in
expressing my surprise and regret at t' c de- I
plorable occurancc in the Papal States. It is j
difficult to conceive how such an act of injustice
could take place iu the middle of the 19th j
century, and in the heart of Europe. Tbe J
judgment of the world will condemn it.
I am, dear sir, respectfully yours,
JONAS P. LEW, Esq.
THE BEGINNING OF THE WOULD.
Tbe following is an extract from a sermon
of Sptrrgcon, tbe English preacher, and is a
specimen of the eloquence which within a year
of two, has made his uaute familiar iu both hem
Cn any man tell me when the beginning
was? Years ago, we thought the beginning ut
thisy 'id was when Adam caute upou ii; but
fore that G<>d was forming chaotic matter to
make it a fit abode for man, and putting a iace
of creatures upou it, tliat tiiey might die and
leave traces ot his handiwork and marvelous
skill, before lie tried bis hand on (nan. But
this was uot tho I egititiiug, tor revelation
points us to a period l'o>g etc tins World was
fashioned, to the days when the morning stais
were begotten--when, like drops of dew from
the fingers of morning, stars aud constella
tions fell thickly from the hand of God; when,
by his own lip?, he launched forth ponderous
orbs; when, witn his own band, he seut comets,
like thunderbolt?, wandering through the *ky,
|to find one day their proper spliere. We go
I hack to those days wiieu worlds were made aud
j system? were fashioned, aud we have not ap
■ proached the beginning yet.
"Until we go back to the time when all the
; universe slept in the mind of God, as yet un
j born, uutil we enter the eternity where God,
the Creator, dwells alone, everything sleeping
in his mighty gignutic thought, wc have uot
! guessed the beginning. We may go back, back,
back, ages upon ages. \\ c may go back, it
we may use such a word, whole eternities, and
yet never arrive at the beginning. Our wiug
might be tired, eur iaiagiuatiou die away.—
(Jould it outstrip the lighiuing's flushes, in ma
jesty, power aud rapiuitv, it would soon weary
itself ere it could get to the beginning. But
God, from the begiuning, chose his people, when
unnavigatcd etber was yet uutauiied by the
wing of a single angel, when space was shore
less, or eiso unborn, wheu universal silence
reigued, and not a voice or whisper shocked
the solemnity of siieDce, when there was no be
i iog, no motion, naught but God himself alone
!in his etcrhity; when, without the song of an
| angel, without tho attendance of even a cberu
. bim, loDg ere the living creatures were born, or
i tbo wheels of the chariot of Jehovah were fash
ioned; even then, "in the beginning was the
Word," anu in the begiuning God's people
wore in tbe word, and in the beginning he
chose them all unto eternal life."
THE RIVER JORDAN-
A correspondent of the Utica Herald gives
this description of the Kiver Jordan;
"A line of green, low forest betrayed tbe
course of the sacred river through the plain.
So deep in its chanuel, aud so thick i? tho forest
that skirts its banks, that I rode withiu twenty
yards of it before 1 caught the first gleam of
its waters. I was agreeably disappointed. I
had heard the Jordan described as an insipid,
muddy, treacherous stream. \Yheher tt vas
the cootrast with the desolation around, or my
own fancy that made its green banks so beau
' tiful, I know not, but it did seem iu that mo
ment of its first reve;ation to my longing eyes,
the perfection of calm and holy loveliness. It
is hardly as wide as the Mohawk at Utica, hut
far more rapid and impassioned in its flow. In
deed, of all the rivers I have ever seen the
Jordan has the fiercest current. Its waters is
by no means clear, but it as little deserves tbe
name muddy. At tbe place where I first saw
it tradition? assigns the baptism ot our Saviour,
aud also the miraculous crossing of the children
of Israel on their eutrauce into the promised
land. Like a true pilgrim I bathed in its wa
ters, and picked a few pebbles front its banks
as tokens of iemembranco of tbe most familiar
river in the woild. Three miles below tbe
! spot where 1 uow staud, the uobie river—itself
j the very emblem of life—suddenly throws it
i self on the putrid bosotn of tbo Dead Sea."
From the American Agriculturist.
Calendar of Operation* tor Jan.
VS ith a good shelter for his household, and
for bis farm stock, provisions and (odder in
abundance, and a mind in keeping with the
quietude which reigns about him, the thrifty
farmer may now sit contentedly before tho fire
while the wintry blasts sweep by bis door. lie
has no need of goiDg out every few hours, with
shovel in band, to see if the sheep arc buried
beneath a drift, or the calves perishiug with
cold. He has ample time for reading, and to
mature plans for the year now commencing, aud
especially to close up all accounts of the past
Let New Year's dar be a new starting point
and, with toe experiei ;e of former years fresh
in memory, let a strong effort be made to ren
der the acres doubly productive at a slighly in
creased expense of tillage.
The (.Mender of last mouth will mainly an
swer for this with a few additions.
Barns and stables require especial attention,
for through them passes much of tM.Summer's
toil. Beincmbcr 'to savo, is to earn,' and suf
fer nothing to be wasted upon the floors,.in tbe
mangers, or yards. Chaff aud coarse fodder
will readily be eaten if run through a hay cut
ter aud mixed with ground feed. Use dried
muck or saw dust for absorbents in the stables
which both benefit the stock and increase the
Breeding Animals of all kinds require care
ful attention, but uot over-feeding. Give tbem
a good shelter ia comfortable quarters.
Cattle turtve octtcr oh icss ioou, ucu com
fortably boused, than when so exposed as to re
quire a large quantity of fodder to keep up the
animal heat. Feed a potftbn of the toots stored
in the cellar, giving turnips to milch cows after
rather than before milking, or they may flavor
the milk. Carrots are better on this account
Cellars may need some extra protection to
keep out frost. Spread mats or straw over root
and po'ato tins where frost can not bo exclu
ded from tbe cellars.
Corn—Unless seed.was saved, as it should
have been, at the time of harvest, select it,
from the best in the bins. Grind or cook any
ted out so as to get tho full benefit of it.
Fencing Stuff—Secure a good supply of posts
rails, and board timber while the swamps are
frozen. Posts may be holed or pinned together,
and gates made during stormy days.
Hemlock and Oak Bark—Market early, that
which was peeled last Summer for tanning pur
Hogs—Warm, snug and dry quarters are now
wanted for hog?. Keep the pens well coated
with muck, leaves, straw or saw-dust, for bed
ding and manure. Clean oat often. Provide
for Spring pig? by turning in tbo male, if not
Horses—Take good carc of thoeo noble ani
mals, since Winter with its fine sleighing and
sledding scarcely affords a season of rest.—
Through heat and cold, sun, rain, and snow,
upon the road for a pleasure drive, or to mar
ket the surplus produce, ia the woods for lum
ber or fuel, or carting home the distant purchas
ed manure, tbe horse bus an almost daily task,
and richly merits kind bumano treatment and
generous food. Cover with blaukcts when not
using, give good beddiog at night aDd a liberal
allowance of grain, alternating with carrots
where they can be had.
Lumber—Many farmers have a surplus of
pine, hemlock, cetisr, aud various kinds of b?rd
wood lumber, which they can now get out for
railroad ties, ship-building, furniture, or car
penter work. Preserve the young and thrifty
trees from injury as timber is yearly growing
Manure—Continue to maks, even at this in
clement season. By keeping e- ry manufacto
ry welt supplif -i with muck, double tbe usual
amount of equatty good m.iuure can be made.
In the absence of muck, use 6aw-duat, ppent
tan and tbe refuse of almost any manufactory
in your neighborhood. Road scrapiog?, sods,
or even common soil carted into the yard as ab
sorbents of liquid manure, will always pay ricb-
I Iv for tho trouble.
Marketing produce can usually be dono to
i advantage during this month. Attentively ex
amine tbe 'Market Review,' as it appears from
mouth to mooth iu the Agriculturist . This is
prepared with much caro, and will greatly as
sist the farmer in ewtimating tbe proper time at
whioli to sell.
VOL. 32, NO. 2.
Plowing heavy soils in open Winter weather
will usually improve tbcm by turning up the
bard pau to the strking influence of frost, be
sides killing burrowing insects and roots of
pestiferous perennial plants.
Poultry—Keep io warm quarters, feeding
well while the ground is frozen or covered with
snow, Cellars under barns or other buildings,
or an excavation made in the side of a hill with
a roof over it affords good shelter dnriDg Win
ter. Give meat, also pounded oyster shells, or
lime, to keep up the supply of eggs. Boiled
potatoes and buckwheat cakes, alternating with
grain and good food.
Roads—Keep them open to public travel even
if snow storms are frequent. It shows a lack
of public spirit to see a community obliged to
leave the highway blocked up by snow drifts
until thawed out iu the Spring.
Salt—All farm 9toek should have salt once a
week at least. Salt hay will answer the same
Sheep—Provide suitable shelter seperate
from other stock. Give a few cut roots each
Tools—Many of those wanted another season
may be made or repaired during rhe stormy days
of this uiontb.
\ ermiß, such as rats and mice arc unprofita
ble animals. Keep only a smali stock about
the premises. Terriers, ferrets, cats, traps,
strycbuinc.and arsenic are the proper antidotes
A smali bounty on their tails will usually set
the children astir, and rats too.
Wood- -Cut smd draw from the swamps while
'bey arc frozen and the sledding or ccrting
good. Have a full year's snpply, not only at
he door, but cut, spiit and piled away under
cover if possible, before the Spring work com
mences upon the farm. Remember the annoy
ance of having men called from the hay field
to get oven-wood, or the breakfast delayed on
account of only green stuff for fuel.
A STIRRING APPEAL.
The ; local' of the IXCJMOUC, get eff
I the following 'load' Tuesday morning of the
ciectioD, on his own account :
Only few a few hours will intervene before
; you are called upon to exercise your rights aa
I freemen, and at the ballot box state your pre
! forence for rulers and officer?.
BE PREPARED !
Don't wear your best clothes! Patriotism
don't require the sacrifice of them for the sake
of the Union.
ROLL CP TOUR TROWSERS AND GO IN.
Vote early !
Vote frequently !
Vote often !
Keep on voting!
When yon get well known at one ward, go to
anther, tut vote maufully, and for whom you
like, and frequently—we insist, frequently.
DON'T VOTE PGR GEN. JACKSON! FOR lIE IS
RALLY ! RALLY! RALLY !
To tho polls !
Save your country !
Sav3 your wives and children !
Vo'e tbat those orphans may enjoy hercaftar
the political privileges you are enjoying, and
let not the trutor and the treason strike them
down. If they do hit, hit back—our whole
human nature calls on vou to Lit back. We
need not suggest hitting hard when you hit.
See that the infirm are brought to the polls
in one horse wagons. Don't put the beggars
on horseback—we need not remind our readers
where they will go.
VOTE UNTIL SUNDOWN.'
Don't lose a chance !
Put in all the votes you can !
Go it! Go it! Go it!
Swear in your votes!
If you can't swear your votes in, swear at
the electiou board. Have a swear at somebody,
at all events.
VOTE ALWAYS !
Never mind your dinner or supper, but atay
at the polls and vote !
DRINK CONSIDERABLY !
The more you drink the better you will feel.
Moreover the candidates pay for the liquor.—
See that there is nothing left over - therefore.
In conclusion wc would say,
Continue voting ail day !
MRS. DOUGLAS O:I THE LATE CANVASS.—
A correspondent of the Vincennes Sun,speak
ing of the pleasant domestic qualities of Mrs.
Douglas, relates tbat at tho Chicago celebra
! tion, a few days ago, Mrs. I). was asked how
she stood the canvas. "Very well," said she,
"but I must go and get my husband souie clothes
—be has come out of the battle half naked. I
got him two dozen spirts last spring, and i*o
or three sots of stud's; be lost all his shirts but
two, and one that don't belong to him—and all
the studs but four, which belong to four differ
ent sets and besides he hasn't any of the ether
clothes tbat be started out with." His old white
hat, however, rode out the storm, dilapidated,
but safe. #
"How do my customers like the miik I sell
"Oh! they all think it of the first wV-et-"
A young carpenter having been told that
•the course of true love never did run smooth,'
took his plain under his arm when he went court