The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, March 13, 1861, Image 1
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DEPARTING ETEMEI333 Fleecy rails of white were floating Through the azure sky; While a sufferer, wan and weary, Watched them sailing by— :Smiling sweetly, pointing upward To his home on high. Loving arms chi tig round him, And a golden head Nestled softly on his bosom, And a child-voice said: ' , Von% dear father, ever leave us, I wilt die instead." Ohl those 'crushing words of sorrow Woke a piercing pain, tPhfch wrung out the drops of anguish Like a shower of rain, From the glazing ey ea that never Would shed team again. For Scatted shadow, gently falling On his brow or snow, 'Told us he was surely passing From all earthly woe; ho whispered: "God is calling: - I mud quickly go." Widowed wife and orphan children— Darlings, do not weep I For the last time let me bless you ; Slay the angels keep Sacred watch beside you ever, While in death I sleep." CROSSING THE CREEK. An Adventure in the Freshet. BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR I went up from New Orleans to col lect some heavy demands which our house had against a few of the Arkan sas planters. It was early in March when I started; and I took this season for two reasons : First, we were anx ious for settlements, as it bad been whispered that one of our creditors, at least, was about to sell out and move to California; and, secondly, I wished, if possible, to avoid the spring freshets, which would be sure to come in a few weeks at the furthest. At Napoleon ' I had the good fortune to find one of our creditors, with whom I made an easy settlement. I then went up the Arkansas River, to Belleville, where I found another. From hero I was obliged to go across the country to wards Manchester. My intention had been to follow the river up as far as Little Rock, and then strike down from there upon the Arehidelphia and Wash ington highway; but the meeting with the man at Napoleon had rendered it unnecessary for me to go to Little Rock; so I decided to take the shorter route, trusting that I should make my way without. much trouble. I pur chased a good, stout horse, and set out from Belleville, taking nearly a west ern course. The road was bad enough, being wholly unfit-. r f 0 INI - 11 grea ct r 0 bl eon the first day. On the second day the weather was very warm, and towards the middle of the afternoon it began to rain; it did not rain hard, however, and I kept on, reaching a hamlet of some half-dozon dwelling-houses before dark, where I found accommodations for the :night. Between that time and morning it rained considerable, as I could hear the heavy drops patter upon the thach es above me. Thesun did not rise clear, but as the day broke it had ceased raining, and I determined to set forth on my journey, When I told ray host which way I was bound, he shook his head, and told me that I might find trouble before I got through. I replied that I should go on until I did find it; all of which he said, I had a perfect right to do. At noon I reached a hut, where a rough specimen of humanity, named Binks, kept a store, a post-office, and a tavern. I saw no other dwellings, but supposed there must be some not far off. Here I got dinner, and had my horse fed. It had been lowery all the forenoon, with some slight attempts at rain, but not enough to wet me.— As I called for my horse, after dinner, Binks asked me how far I was going. I answered him, by asking another question. I asked if he knew how far it, was to Col. Mortier's. "Yes," hereplied, "Mortier lives just beyond Big Indian Creek. Ye aiut coin' thar, be yer?" I told him I was. "'Taint safe, stranger," he added.— The colonel's place is a good twenty mile away right over the lowest of bottom,land." "But why isn't it safe ?" " Why, he repeated, seeming to wonder at my question. "" I'll tell ye why, stranger. It's been a raisin'; and it's been warm; and I'm rather of the mind that the snow's been a melt in' an' iunnin' on the mountains and bluffs. Ye see we don't catch it here right Off; but when it does come it comes with a•rush. If you don't find water enough afore ye get to Colonel 3Lortiees ' then my name aint Torn Rinks, that's all." There was some reason in what the fellow said, but still I did not appre hend the danger - which. he .pictured; and I resolved to keep on. He ,told me that I would find but one more house before I came to Mortices. " And," he added, " it'll be a lone some road after ye leave that. The path's plain enough, if ye can - only keep it above water • but the trees are big and plenty on the low bottom,,and I'm afeared ye'll find it dark enough afore ye come to the creek. Howsum ever, once over the Big Indian, and ye'll be safe enough; for the Colonel's house is on a bluff, an' out o' the way o' danger." I thanked the man for his informa tion, and then set forth. In an hour I came to the house which had been mentioned, where I found au old wo man alone at home, the men having i gone off with their guns. I got a drink of water for myself and horse, and pushed on. Half an hour afterwards the rain began to fall in good earnest; and by and by I come to a small stream which which, from the appearance of the banks, and the color of the water, .....$1 60 1 ,, , ...- .;,-.. ~... •t . 'WILLIAM LEWIS, Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XVI. I knew must be considerably swollen. However, I forded it without difficul ty, and kept on. The land was now lower, and the trees, as Biala had said, grew thick and large. It was a low, dismal forest, and the great rain-drops came down with a pattering anything but comfortable or musical. Still, the path was plain, and I urged my horse forward. I had noticed that the wind and rain had come sweeping down from the northward and westward, and I wondered what might be the re suit if the snows had broken loose away off among the peaks of the Massernes. But, never mind—if I was lucky, two hours would bring me out upon the bluff beyond the Big Indian, and I should then be safe enough. In half an hour more I came to an other stream, which I found much swollen; but my horse forded it with out difficulty. The rain now fell in torrents, and the water lay in great pools along the hoof-beaten track; and in a little while I found several small stream° washing across m3r way which had no particular bed. They must, I knew, be streams of very recent for mation ; but I did not then see, their full significance. On I went, the wa ter increasing in my . path, .and the new-made streams occurring more fre quently. I began to wish that I had listened to Binks; for it was very dark and dismal in the woods, and the storm was on the increase. But the Colonel's plat 9 could not be over an hour away, at the outside; and, per haps, not over half an hour, for I could not well judge how fast I had travelled. Ere long the sound of rushing wa ter broke upon my ear, and soon I came to a point where a broad sheet was washing across the road; but I could tell by the trunks of the trees that it was not deep, and I waded my horse through it Shortly after this I duet two men on horse-back, and learn that they belonged at the but where I had last stopped. I asked them how far it was to Col. Nortier's. " It's only a couple of miles away; but ye aint a goin' filar to-night, stran ger," replied one of them. " Yes, I told him. "If it's only two miles off I'll soon reach it." "It can't be did, I tell ye. The creek's riz an' the logs en' trees are sweepin down awful. The biggest hoss that was ever made couldn't cross that creek now. Turn-back with us." But I was not to be turned back so easily; and I told them. that I would push on and run the risk. " We can't stop to argtzfy," returned the' one who had:fpoken before, "for thar's a heap o' danger afore us; but IgrwlitttarTel 6 And With this he rode on to overtako his companion, who had been jogging along: For a few moments I hesitated; Wit I was too near the end of my journey. Only two miles. No, no—l would not turn back yet. I would go as far as the creek, and see for myself. If it could not be crossed, I could return then, and make the best of my way back. So on I went, and ere long the sound of rushing water struck my car. In a little while I came to the margin of a turbid stream, which came sweeping down from the gloom of the deep for est. I wondered if my horse could breast the current. It was not wide —not so formidable as I had expected to find it from what I had heard of the creek. While I was reflecting upon 'the matter I cast my eyes up and saw, at no great distance above me, a place where several litre trees and logs had heroine jammed in a narrow part of the channel, forming a complete bridge across the stream. If I could reach that point, I could walk across, and . guide my horse by the rein while he swam. As I moved along toward it I glanced over my left shoulder and saw, in a distance made dim by the driving storm, a high hluff, with buildings upon it. It could not have been over a mile away, and was, of course, the habita tion of the man whom I sought. I took courage,.and pushed on. When I reached the jam I at once dismount ed, and having •slipped the rein f”om my horse's neck, 1 grasped it firmly in my hand, and stepped out upon the logs. At first the horse refused to follow, but finally he plunged in, and, as he was under the wake of the jam, he swam without much difficulty.— The rushing water bore heavily upon the frail bridge, and swayed it to and fro with fearful power, while the white foam dashed over it the whole length. I had reached the middle, trying every stop before I made it, when I thought I felt the fabric giving way beneath me. Another step, and the surging and. creaking of the logs told me that they were going. On the next mo ment the part behind me went with a crash. A huge log struck my horse in the breast, and swept him _away. I could only look out for myself. With a bounding step I leaped forth, reach ing the shore just as the last log of the jam went tearing away. I looked for my horse, but I could not distinguish him amid the, mass that bore him down. The poor beast was gone, and I was left alone to battle my way. I murmured a regret at the may • have been a prayer for the noble ani mal—and then turned my face to the westward. In a few moments I saw the bluff again, through a vista in the trees, and the outlines of the house were marked against the murky sky; but it wag not so plain as before. It was not so light as it had been. Night was coming on apace. ' I said, when I escaped from the logs, that I reached the shore. Ah, but it was a treacherous sunken shore, The water was almost knee-deep among the great trees, and moving down with much force; so that every step had to be taken with the utmost caution ; and at times I was forced to catch at the drooping boughs to steady myself HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 13, 1861. against the rush of water. But there was high and dry land ahead, for I had seen it. I heard a loud roar, which seemed to increase in volume as I advanced, but at first I did not pay much attention to it, as I thought that the stream behind me was rising. At length, however, a terrible truth began to break upon me. The roar not only increased in volume of tone, but I was assured that it come from the direc tion in which I was going! A Jittle while longer, and I saw it all. A large stream was before me ! 1 reached its margin and found it to be a broad deep, dark river, plunging its mad flood along, bearing trees, and logs, and snags upon its foaming bosom! - How sadly had I been mistaken ! This was the Big Indian Creek, and the other was oily a course which bad been made by the freshet ! The night was now close upon me, and in a little while it would be dark. I could see the bluff upon the opposite side, and the dwelling of my friend looming up against the fading sky.— ; The water was growing deeper, and I had to struggle hard to move against its tido. What miracle was to save me? By and by I came to a point lvhere a huge tree, close upon the bank of the creek, bent its great branches far over the stream, while upon the opposite side grew another tree, the meeting branches of both forming an arch, below which rolled the dark wa ters. ' When I saw this, I saw my only hope, I reached the tree upon my side, and finally succeeded in climbing it. I went up as high as I thought necessary,and then worked my why out upon one of the longest limbs. I went out as far as I could, but the prospect was a dubious one. As the branch bent beneath my weight, I found that the connection of the arch was broken. The branches of the tree upon the op bositc bank were not far off, but I could not reach them with my hand. The thought of leaping out over the tide, gave my heart such a throb, that for a few moments, I was , almost power less. And yet, leap I must, if I would be saved. And, moreover, there was no time to lose, for the gloom was fast gathering upon objects about me, and shutting them from my vision. I was two-thirds of the way up the tree, and, as near as I could judge, some sixty feet above the water. I could make the leap, and I might catch some branch of the opposite tree. :[ placed my feet carefully, and mada sure of my hold upon one of the boughs above me. Then I waited a moment to get breath, and to utter a prayer. Then, with all the nerve I could si a branch of the other tree—l grasped it with the energy of a dying man— and _my hold was good. But my weight bent it down—bent it down, down—until I hung suspended so near to the boiling, hissing flood, that one huge log grazed my feet as it went sweeping down. In the startling agony of the moment, I cried aloud to God to save me! With my death,grip upon that limb I grew calm again. It did not break —it only bent. I summoned my strength back to me, and pulled my self up with my hands. Higher— higher—until I could use my feet. I gained the body of the tree; and then, when I had again taken breath, I low ered myself to the ground. A few steps brought me to land which the water did not reach; and in a little while longer I had dragged my way up the bluff to the door of the dwelling I remember that the servants picked' me up; and that Col. Nortier came and called me ~by name. In the morning , I had so recovered that I was able to arise and dress; and when I told to my host the story of my adventure, he could hardly credit it. When I ooked in the mirror I saw the reflection of a ,pale, haggard face, looking a score of yearS older than the face with which I had set out, from Belleville. When I gazed out upon the way by which I had come the night before, I saw a wildly rush ing stream,' tearing up great trees in its mad frenzy, while beyond lay a for est seeming to grow up from the bo som of a great sea. The waters cov ered the bottom land as with a deluge, and the work of destruction was fairly commenced. I saw it all; and as I shuddered again at the sight, I firmly resolved that I would never undertake another journey across the bottom lands of Arkansas, anywhere near the the season of the spring freshets. OLD NEWSPAPERS. Many people take newspapers, but few preserve them. The most inter esting reading imaginable, is a filo of old newspapers. It brings up the very age, with all its genius, and its spirit, more than the most labored description of the historian. Who can take a pa per, dated a half a century ago, with out the thought that almost every name there printed, is now cut upon a tombstone, at the head of an epitaph ? The doctor, (quack or regular) that there advertised his medicines, and their cures, has followed the sable train of his patients—the merchant, his ships—could get no security on his life; and the actor, who could make others laugh or weep, can now only furnish a skull for his successor in Hamlet. It is easy to preserve news papers, and they repay the trouble; for, like that of wine, their value in creases with their age, and old files have sometimes been sold at prices too startling to mention. le' Let a youth who stands at the bar with a glass of liquor in his hand, consider which ho had bettor throw away—the liquor or himself. Vir The only persons who really en joy bad health, are the doctors. -PERSEVERE.- ABOUT EGGS. All the world and his cosmopolitan wife and family like new laid eggs.— Nor do we deprecate their taste; the contrary, we share it. The relish of eggs is honorable, and to prefer them fresh evinces a duo appreciation of the " fitness of things." Tradition runneth not back to .the time when eggs, in this condition, were of evil re pute, although the use of the stale va riety as a missile has never been pop ular with the recipients. Probably the antediluvians were fond of eggs, for we are given to 'understand that, they feasted high, and what would a banquet be without " the fruit of the hen ?" The Patriarch of the Deluge, and his wife, sons, and daughters-in law, doubtless had omelettes for their breakfast occasionally during their providential cruise. That the Egyptians were fond of eggs is beyond peradventure, for one of our archmologists brought home with him from Egypt some dozens, which had been at least 3000 years in the catacombs, having been placed there for the accommodation of the mummies, in case they should wake up and feel peckish. These eggs, cack led over by the hens that flourished in the time of the early Pharaohs— laid, probably, before the children of Israel returned from their exodus by the way of the lied Sea—we have seen, and many of them are as perfect externally as if they 'had been bought in market yesterday; but although Egyptian wheat of the same date is said to have germinated and re-produ ced itself; we are not aivare that any of the eggs of that ilk have been set upon and hatched. To leave the ancient heathens and be practical—this is the season when well disposed hens are expected to commence their oviperous operations. Our country friends are either expect ing or already receiving these delight ful tributes of affection from their fea thered dependents. Perhaps we may be able to put them in the way of "hurrying up" the dilatory Dame Partlets. Hens cannot lay unless they can have access to material wherewith to manufacture the white shells in which the golden globes and the albu men in which they are suspended, are enclosed. That material is carbonate of lime. A certain quantity of chalk or lime phould * therefore be scattered with their food, or old egg shells will do. Professor Gregoro, of Aberdeen, in a letter addressed to a friend, and published in an English newspaper se„, -,s, • 4g ) ascertained - ascertained that if you mix with their food a sufficient quantity of chopped cum shells or chalk, which they eat greedily, they will lay, other things being equal, twice or thrice as many eggs as before." CHILDREN'S FACES, It is interesting to study human na ture in children's faces—to see the effects of different modes of education upon diverse developments of mind and body. Many children look sour, willful and ugly; some sad, oven; While others look sweet, pleasant and happy, as children should. Ruch as perfect or deceased physi cal natures, proper or improper diet, may have to do in producing these appearances, home discipline and ex ample, as a general thing, have more. Mothers do not realize that they ths ten their own feelings, so far as ex pressed in their offspring. She who scowls and frowns habitually, must not expect her child to look joyful, but gnarled or surly. Like mothe?, like child; only she who "sows the wind" in the heart of her daughter, may expect to see the whirlwind gath er and burst forth, as our harvests are generally more plentiful than the seed we scatter. Select a very pleasant looking child, and notice if it has not a pleasant-looking mother—one who answers many of its.thouSand and one questions with a warm, loving smile, instead of turning away the inquiring mind, and fretting at its endless teas ings. Who of us, amid continual irritation, would preserve the same benignity of countenance ? and can children be ex pected to do better than their seniors and teachers in this respect? _,How I pity the half dozen offspring of her in whose house there is no acknowledged ruler, save, perhaps, the youngest child I These youth do not look very happy—much less so than though they had been taught obedience to parental authority, for their mother neither feels nor looks very joyful. But displeasing as is a surly-faced youth, a. sad child is indeed a very sorry sight. If its body has much vi tality, a sensitive soul breathes an incongeniql atmosphere, probably in the very heart of home. Childhood should be laughing, rosy, sunny, and when it is thus, how attractive ! 1 had almost said, how beautiful are they who represent it, though their features be very unsymmetrical!— Many a mother is overburdened with care and sorrow, whose,' is a, continual struggle' with the heavy artillery of life, it is true, when it is too hard to wear smiles; yet chafing and fretting cannot lighten her burden. She must look to God, who will do all things desirable for her—He who loves to see his creatures happy. Airlf falsehood paralyzed the tongue what a death-like silence would per vade society. • It is very possible to be "too witty to be earnest,and too earnest to be witty. Kier The virtue of others is always a terror to the wicked. • ~... ~,, .. ''..;:ii.'i..-i.)04•;::-:-t., MISFORTUNE AND FORTUNE. AN EVENTFUL CAREER John North Fenwick, Bart., now of Fenwick Hall, England, is the subject of a strangely romantic story in the Chicago Democrat, from which we con dense an account of the fortunes and misfortunes connected with his wan derings through the world. He is the child of Sir John Fenwick, who, in 1837, married Clara Seymour, a poor clergyman's daughter, against the wishes of his two sisters. The latter revenged themselves by-falsely accu sing Lady Fenwick, of infidelity with ,a certain French count, whom Sir John had introduced to her at - Venice, during the honeymoon. Lady Clara swooned at the charge, and her hus band, completely carried away by passion, and convinced that the story told him by his sisters was true, or dered her and her boy to be expelled from the hall, and immediately hurried to the seaboard, and embarked for the continent. The unfortunate wife be came insane, passed some time in an asylum, ultimately recovering under the careful kindness of Capt. O'Neil, who had long loved her, and now be sought her to leave her cruel husband and share his fortunes. For a long time she resisted his appeals, but ti mdly, aseertdning that her husband had takenl steps to obtain a divorce from her, and that Capt. O'Neil was her only friend, she consented. They went to Galway-, Ireland, where they were married privately, and took up their residence. Her son, in the mean time, manifested a desire to travel, and his mother furnished him with one thousand pounds, which she obtained by the sale of her jewels, and placed him on board the steamer Adriatic, with instructions to sail to Now York, and from thence to Texas, to visit a cousin of her's, named Somerville, who resided there as a wealthy planter.— Without any misfortune, our youth arrived at his cousin's rancho, situated on the frontier of Texas, where he re ceived a cordial welcome. His cousin had a daughter, named Estelle, of about his own age, and very handsome, with whom he fell in hive, and in whose society ho passed six months. But on one fatal night, the ranch was attacked by a party of Camanche Indians, his cousin and Estelle were murdered, and ho carried off into captivity. He re mained a captive for three months, when, seizing a favorable opportunity and a tomahawk, he killed the Indian j w --s ith whotros m bute vitstialATalftlf—dbi9llBf. • kq termined to return to Fenwick - Hall, mid claim his rights as son and heir of its lordly occupant. By the aid of the British consul at Chicago, he became introduced to the Prince of Wales, during the latter's stay in that city.— The prince took an interest in young Fenwick, allowed him to accompany him through the States, and to return with him to England. The wanderer returned home at a most opportune time—just as one of his aunt's, seized with remorse, had made a death-bed acknowledgment of his mother's inno cence, thus establishing his legitimacy. Sir John folded his long-lost son to his heart, shedding tears of joy over him. The health of Lady Clara greatly failed after the departure of her son for America, and Capt. O'Neil took her to the south of France, in the hope of restoring it. But she soon died, and not long afterward the Cap tain was killed in a duel. By a will, he bequeathed his property, which was of great value, to his wife's son, John N. Fenwick. The young man is now in Fenwick Hall, whence he has written to his American friends, thanking them for their many kind nesses, and sending remembrances to his former companions. With such a varied experience of life, aristocratic and democratic, Sir John Fenwick, Bart., may yet bo a man of, mark among his compeers. THE HEART, Let any one, while sitting down, place the left leg over the knee of the right one, and permit it to hang free ly, abandoning all muscular power over it. Speedily it may be observed to sway forward and back through a limited space at regular intervals.— I Counting the number of these motions for any given time, they will be found to agree exactly with the beatings of the pulse: Every one knows, that at a fire, when the water from the engine is forced through bent hose, the ten dency is to straighten the hose; and if the bend be a sharp one, considerable force is necessary to overcome the tendency. rust so it is in the case of the human body. The arteries are but a system of hose through which the blood is forced by the heart.— When the leg is bent, all the arteries within it are bent, too, and every time the heart contracts, the blood rushing through the arteries tends to straighten thorn; and it is the effort which pro duces the motion of the leg alluded to. Without such ()ocular demonstration, it is difficult to conceive the power ex erted by that exquisite mechanism, the normal pulsations of which are never perceived by him whose very life they are. Ee" It requires great virtue to sup port bad fortune—far greater to sup port good. Zi`n The youth of friendship is bet ter than its old age. Never waste a long explanation upon one who cannot take a hint, "Inordinate demands should mee with sturdy denials. TERMS, $1,50 a year in advance. [Vrom the Washington Confederatio.] • PENNSYLVANIA DELEGATION. We published on Saturday, the res. olutions adopted by the recent Demo cratic State Convention of Pennsylva nia. A committee of thirty4our mem bers was appointed to - visit Washing ton and present a copy of these resolu tions to the President of the United States, the Vice-President, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and the Peace Congress. The committee consisted of the following members; HENRY D. FGSTER, Chairman. S. MORTON ZULIOFI, J. DENNIS JAMES, - F.. W. Hughes, James G. Campbell, G. W. Cass, P. C. Shannon, W. H. Case, J. W. Maynard, Richard Vaux, Ellis Lewis, John N. Hutchinson, Thomas T. Roberts, John A. Marshall, Michael Mylert, John Creswell jr., A. J. Dull, Steuben Jenkins, Ephraim Banks, Robert E. Moneghan, Ira C.• Mitchell, Henry MeMiller, R Bruce Petrekin, I. Y. James, C. L. Lamberton, Thomas Chalfant, S. E. Taylor, George H. Bucher, W. Patten, Samuel Wetherill, Philip Johnson, R. A. Connell, John D. Roddy, Asa Packer, Adam Ebaugh, George, W. Brewer, Lewis S. Coryell. The committee, immediately on their arrival on Saturday morning, addressed a communication to the Hon. John Tyler, president of the Peace Congress, enclosing a copy of the resolutions of the convention, with the request that he should lay it before that body.— They then called on the Vice Presi dent of the United States and were received in his private chamber in the Capitol. The Hon. Francis W. Hughes, of Schuylkill county, presented, in be half of the Committee, the resolutions to the Vice President, and took occa sion to make some appropriate and el oquent remarks, which were happily answered by Mr. Breekinridge. The committee then proceeded to the Speaker's room of the House of liepre- - sentatives, where they were cordially received by Mr. Pennington, and by several members of the Pennsylvania delegation in that body. The Hon. Ephraim Banks, of Mifflin county, was deputed by the committee to present the resolutions to the Speaker, and this duty was performed bran impres sive- and appropriate manner. Mr. Speaker Pennington expressed his grat ification at meeting so large and re spectable a delegation from a State so nearly identified in geographical posi tion, in interest, and, in - patriotic, and they were warmly re ceived. The committee then proceeded to pay their respect to Senator Crittenden, to whom the Hon. Lewis'S. Coryell, of Bucks county, addressed a becoming tribute as the author and advocate of a great and noble proposition for set tling the unhilppy difficulties which now agitate the country. Mr. Crit tenden•acknowledged the compliment and made a glowing appeal to the com mittee to throw aside all minor consid erations, and unite cordially with all the friends of the Union upon some plan of conciliation. , In the evening the committee visit ed the Executive mansion,• and were received by the President in the East Room. The Hon. Ellis Lewis, of Phil adelphia, late Chief Justice of Pennsyl vania, in behalf of the delegation, com municated to the Chief Magistrate a history of the proceedings of the con vention, explained the object of tho visit, and presented Mr. Buchanan copy of the resolutions. We regret that our limits will not permit us to give at length the remarks of the dis tinguished and venerable speaker on this occasion. The President respon ded briefly and feelingly to the re marks of the chief justice, approving in general terms of the spirit and tenor of the resolutions, and then spent some time in cheerful conversat'on with the several members of the committee, in nearly every one of whom he recog nized an old personal friend. It seemed that the interview' had proven as agree able to him as to them. 'lt was one of the least formal and most pleasant re unions that we have witnessed for many years. From the White-House the commit tee proceeded to the residence of Gen eral Cass. That venerable statesman received them . ' kindly, and in reply to the able address of Mr. Henry McilTil ler, of Montgomery, said a few words so touching, se truthful, and so full of import in relation to the existing trou bles of the country, that many eyes were filled with tears. They next visited the rooms of the Attorney General, where they were introduced to him and other members of the Cabinet by the Secretary of State, the lion. J. S. Black. From thence they proceeded to the rooms of Senator Bigler. After some time spent in agreeable conversation with that gentleman and his estimable lady, the object of their visit was announced by Mr. Ira C. Mitchell, of Centre county, in a neat speech; to which the Sena tor replied in one of his happiest ef-' forts, and concluded with expressing a, belief that the efforts of the friends of the Union would be sod!r crowned with success, and that before forty-eight hours the glad announcement would go trembling over the wires that' the cause of compromise and concession had triumphed, and that the Union would bo restored again to its prestine glory. After a handsome collation, the com mittee called upon Senator Douglas at his residence. The call was unekree ted, but the members were none the less hospitably or cordially entertained. The lion. George W. Brewer, of Frank lin in a brief but beautiful and eloquent address, .explained the object of the visit, and paid a high compliment to NO. 88. COMMITTEE the patriotic ofroks'of the distinguished Senator in behalf of tho Constitution and the Union. Judge • Douglas , responded in his usual happy and ready manner, and expressed a wish that party differences and factional controversies should.be . merged In an earnest effort for the Common good of the country and for the preservation ofour institutions. His remarks were received with heartfelt enthusiasm; and the committe, delight ed with ths .reception, proceeded to call upon Senator Cameron, as a mark of their approval of his expression of a willingness to unite with conservative men on some plan of conciliation.-- That gentleman was, however, not to be found at his residence—probably in conference with the President' elect— and the members, after a kind recep tion by the ladies of his family, re turned to their rooms at the National Hotel. They have expressed themselves highly gratified by the Uniform kind ness with which they have been treat ed since their arrival in the city. We believe that the course of the conven tion in sending this able and intelligent body of gentlemen on so worthy, a . mis sion has been productive of many good results. It was a very happy concep tion, and it has been handsomely and faithfully executed. RECEPTION of the MAMMAL IN THE VAIIIOUB CITIES. AT CLEVELAND. . Cleveland, March 5_.--:-The 'Republi can press ' are highly pleased with the Inaugural, while the Dernotratie• pa pers consider it certain to causetho secession of the Border States. AT ST. LOTUS St. Louis, March s.—The President's Inaugural was published in extras yes terday afternoon; and sought after with great avidity by persons of 'all parties. The - Republican (Douglas • Democrat) newspaper says : We fail to see in it any disposition to sweep party platforms ,and party politics away, but its guarded - words and stud ied sentences some to have been prompted by some idea of meeting the expectations of the Ropliblicans, who elected him: We hoped for a more conservative, more conciliatory ex presSion of sentiment. Much will de pend upon putting into practice • the' ideas advanced that will test the ques tion, be it one of expediency or right, whether the forts can be held Or re taken and the revenues collected with out bloodshed." The _Democrat (Republican) says : "We can only say this morning that meets,tho highes expectations of, tho country, both in the point of states ,manehip and patriotism, and that its effect on the public mind cannot bo other than salutary in.the highest degree. The' News (Belt and Everett) defers making any comment. AT CINCINNATI Cincinnati, March s—The Inaugu ral was received by telegraph and published in extras at 4 o'clock, P. M., yesterday. It is well received by all parties, and with few ox,ceptionq, re garded as a very sensible and judicious document, producing a meat : 'WAN • •11nral . .1k 41,1 be consistent with his duty and his official oath, and in doing so he has mingled mildness with firmness admi rably. AT WASIIINGTON, Washington, March s.—The Border Slave States' men almost generally condemn the Inaugural. There is, however, a difference of opinion among them, some saying that it is capable of two constructions—war and ,peace —and that it remains to be seen what policy Mr. Lincoln will pursue. -The Republicans endorse the Inau gural, nearly all enthusiastically.— Other classes regard the Inaugural fa vorably. IN TENNESSEE Louisville, March s.—The opinions in relation to the Inauguria, at Nash ville, are unfavorable. It is believed that the .President is determined to retake the forts forcibly, and .collect the revenue. Opinions aro unsettled by the manner it was received at Washington, and the people are await ing the document in fall. • Knoxville, March s.—President coin's Inaugural is universally con demned, and, if correctly reported f will induce Tennessee to fight .him to the bitter end. , IN MISSISSIPPI AND AtADAMA. At Jackson and Columbus, and Tescumbia, Alabinma, the .people consider it to be a declaration of war. , At Vicksburg, Mississippi, it• is re-, garded unfavorably, And generally considered a silly production. IN LOUISIANA. New Orleans, Mardi 5.--.—Tho'lnaug ural is most gonerally condemned. IN KENTUCKY Louisville March s.—The Union men are rather fa' VorablY inipressed by the language of the Inaugural; while sym pathizers with the Southern Confeder acy think it a declaration of wars TN vikapria. Alexandria, March s.—The Gazette (Union) says that the Inaugtiral is not such a one as it wished, nor such as, will probably conciliate or Satisfy those whom the President speaks of as dis satisfied in the South. • Tho Sentinel (Secession) says that the positions taken are a dechiratithi of war, laying down doetrines" which would reduce the Southern eention to the unquestioned dominion* of the North as a section. - - - - - - - - The Richmond Whig,(ConServatii.e) says' that the policy indicated towards the seceding States will mast 'lO4 stern, unyielding resistance by the united South. . The Enquirer (Secession) says that no action of our Convention can now maintain the peace, and Virginia 'must fight. The Richmond Dispatch, remarks that every Border State ought to go out within twenty-four hours. • Despatches from 'Staunton, Va., say that the Inaugural is received with universal dissatisfaction, and resistance to coercion is •the feeling of all rn,rties. Petersburg, Va., March he re ception ofthe Inaugural has created intense excitement. Hundreds, hith ertb for the Union, avow boldly for revolution, if the Convention does not immediately pass a secession ordi nance.