IkERICA^YOLUNTEEK
ttmusalsfi evert inonsnAT 'hobnihq dt
Jonn B. tirattou,
‘"tER. 5I S’." ‘ r'"’'
ftriaoßimos-— One Dollar and Fifty Cents,
“VT ftfivanco; Two Dollarsil paid withintbe
Sofr and Two Dollars and Fifty, Cents, if not
hriul Within tlm year. Those terms will be rig
idly adhered to in every, instance. No sub
iKrinlioo discontinued until all arrearages are
baid* unless at the option of the Editor. ,
* ADVEajusEJiENrs—Accompanied by the cash,
-And not exceeding one square, will bo inserted
throe times for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents
'for eaoh additional insertion. Thosoofagreat
(or length in proportion.
Jou-i’ui.TriNa —Such ns Hand-bills, Posting
bills, Pariipblcts, Blanks, Labels, &c.,&c.,exe
cuted wsh accuracy and at the shortest notice.*
prifrnL
CODBiGE.
Keep up your courage, friend,
Nor falter, on the track—
took up, toil bravely on, ,
And scorn to languish back 1
'A true heart rarely fails to win—
. A will can make a way—
The darkest night will yield at last
tfnto the perfect day !
See yonder little 'flower,
o, You’ve crushed bcnoath.your tread,
The sunshine arid the shower
, Beat on its bended head ;
Though bowed, it is not broke.
It list’s up again—
And sheds a sweet perfume across
■The hungry desert plain.
Then like the tender flower,
■ Be ye, 0, weary man!
In many ways God blessoth you 1
Deny if if you can I .
You’ve love to cheer your heart,
You’ve strength and bracing health;
For those, full, many a lordly peer
Would yield up all his wealth.
Never despair! it kills the life!
And digs an early grave!— y
l'ho‘ man who rails so much at Fate,
But makes himself her slave !
Up! rouse ye to the work !
Resolve to victory gain !
And hopes shall rise and bear rich fruit,
Which long in dust have lain!
STICK TOGETHER.
When midst .the wreck of Are and smoko,
When cannons rend the skies asunder,
And fierce dragoons with quickening stroke
■ Upon the reeling regiment thunder;
The ranks cloke up to sharp command,
Till helmet’s feather 'touches feather;
Compact, the furious shock they stand.
And conquer, for they stick together.
Or when mjd clouds of woo and want
Our comrades’ wails rise fast and faster.
And charging madly on our front, '
Como tile black legions of disaster,.
Shall ivo present a wavering band, I -
And fly like leaves before wild weather ?
No ! side by aide, and hand in hand,
We’ll stand our ground and stick together
God gave us hands—one left, one right s'
The first to help ourselves, the other
To stretch abroad in kindly might,
: And help along our faithful brother.
Then, if-you see a brother fall
And bow his head beneath the weather,
If you be not a dastard all,
You’ll holp him up, and stick together.
■3oto?llattoiL
A Common Woman’s Experience?
A writer in some modern magazine, speaking
o f his heroine, lias Said : “ She had Tin ideal of
life'and loye, as alt women have ;• but; like al
most all women, had neither the courage nor
the integrity to.cleave to :hat ideaf.”
It is a truth. Hu was a subtle student, in
‘Woman nature.; , And, had he generously added
that woman may not go forth and search out
her ideal as man may, wo women would have
read his words without writhing.
I live in a quiet; inland town, and know no
people whoso histories arc called romantic and
thrilling. Still I know stories of common lives
which prove how difficult it is for women, un
less they be surpassingly beautiful, or wealthy,
or gifted, to obey their best impulses of action,
and to live up to the code of conduct.laid down
for them by men who think finely but have
never suffered. ’ .
If Amelia Hall had not the beauty; which be
longs to the complete woman, she had her na
ture and her peculiar geuius. And I hold it is
the most poetic order of genius which t makes
home a beautiful and happy place. The pain
ter and the writing poet have always exquisite
and abundant material with which to work.—
But woman ( we speak of her in common homes,
not of her in a palace,) has often dingy things
and doled supply with which to deal; but if
fihe has genius, she always creates a place to
which man comes for rest.
Alfwomcn are said to resemble some flower,
as ail men some tree. Amelia Hall was like a
rose, one of those roses which have a centre of
faint star color and sin-le circle of pink petals
as they spring up wild on road-sides and mead
ows, but which burst out with gorgeous, gol
den hearts and prodigality of crimson corolla if
they are transplanted to cultured gardens.
. She was an English girl,'an orphan, and a
dependent on the bounty of her unele, a rich
old man who lived in my native town.
, I think it is a trait of all girls, whether gay
dy pensive, to tell to each other : their aspira
tions and ambitions.
, “ How often I remeriiber what Amelia Hall
used to say,” remarked a friend last week, re
counting to me the fates of-variong dreamers.—
While some o( us hoped to be poets, and one
it queen, and one an actress, and another a trav
eler, and many content to be rich men’s wives,
with splendid wardrobes and jewel-cases, the
foreigner used to say : “0, American girls !
None of you speak of your homes nor of your
husbands, unless to say they must he rich and
handsome. Hear how I could bo happy. I
tvould-have a home in a village of white houses,
wide, cool streets, parks, and many gardens
and fountains. Half a mile from the village
each way, there should bo woods, and every
where streams of water, and rustic bridges. ’ I
wish I might have a husband dark, tall, fine,
find athletic as an Arab -chief, chivalrie as an
:6lden knight, tender in heart as a gentle page,
and gifted as the Grecian poets. And unless I
ban cave suclna homo and husband, I will al
ways remain Amelia Hall, and work in uncle’s
flairy-room.’ I remember how we used to
■ Weigh at the English gill for being prosy and
domestic.”
Until she was twenty-four, Amelia Hall wai
ted for her noble husband to arrive from the
picturesque village. She was content the while
Jo'makc butter and cheese, and to chat with
the rustic youug men of the adjacent farms.—
Until then she was content, sandalled with the
fairy shoon of fancy, to walk in the folding par
,tots of her porticbed and balconied future
nqmo, to arrange the flowers, pictures, and
furniture, and at twilight to sit in the white
pillared portico or to go down the avenue of
trees and watch at the Gothic gate for the noble
one beloved. As firmly and coolly as ifalrTadv
affianced, she refused oiler after offer from the
wealthy and honest farmers.
At t his period her undo lost his property, and
then his wife. Then they two were penniless—
■he an invalid old man, and she a poor orphan.
On her twenty-fourth birth night, as she walked
m the orchard at sun-down, her undo, lame
and querulous, joined her and leaned on her
arm. She saw hope on his poor old face. His
voice was cherry as he began: “ Well, Millie.
J-cd : old and maid-like ? Twenty-four this
aDd . no loser ! It is well, lassie ?”
Willie smiled’in’ her subdued fashion. She
•
BY JOHN B. BRATTON.
VOL. 45. *
looked down at her face in. the mirror of the
brook. It was oval, smooth, and delicately
rosy. ' , . „
“ I see, I see. You English keep well," said
the old man quickly. “ But you’ll alter, las
sie, when you have to work night and day for
bread and calico. What do you mean id do to
get these two things V and ho eyed her cunn
ingly;. '
“ I shall work at something, and take care
of us. I could teach, I think,” she replied.
“ Keep school for eight or ten shillings a
week ? Starvation, wages, girl. It wouldn't
keep us both. If I . was out of the way it might
do. Bqt I’ve a much better way, Millie. Old
Yale’s son—the one with horses', and chariots,
and farms, and mills, and houses—wants you
for a wife., He’s been to-day talking with me
about you. •' Why don’t you smile, girl ?”
“I never could marry a man like Qeorge
Yale,” she said.
“-He’s the comelicst young man in town,”
the old man continued. “ He’d worship it lit
tle lady-like woman like you. You could wind
him around your little Huger easier than you
can that ribbon. He’ll always be a home man.
Consider him.”
She considered the stalwart farmer, six feet
high, with his sunburnt face and still, constrain
ed demeanor.*l dislike to think"‘of him,”
She said.
“ Consider him, I say. I can’t bear to see'
you a slave for me; youfil sdou' be a miserable'
old woman. Marry him and have a home, and
let me have a quiet room to die in. Yes, I’ve
heard the girls tell how yoq was going to mar
ry a grand talking gentleman. But I’ll warn
you you’ll live a disappointed old maid, if you
wait for this fancy man. Stop, riot a word.—
Think -of it, think of it, before you make a
vow,” and he hobbled to the . house, muttering.
■lnstead ofFanoy, Reason spoke that evening
to Miss Hall. “Roniaulic young woman,”
Reason said, “ do you know that you have nev
er yet seen this man whom you’ prettily call
‘mate ?’ There are no such men in your town,
arid T assure you, you will never be known be
yond its boundaries. Better accept the most
eligible offer,you have while it is open.”
•• But it is hot in me to guide a mail to beau
ty and wisdom,” the heart earnestly plead ,- “ I
would be led to higher summits. I shall only
go, back into the lowlands if I,obey you, for I
know lam infinitely superior to George Yale
and all his comrades. ”
“ Don’t talt metaphysics to me, ’’ said Rea
son, coldly, “■! had, rather know what you
think of working day and night to support
yourself and your uncle while yon ,wait for this
fancy man. What do you think of becoming a
faded old maid, eh?—a faded old maid, at
whom, if he should meet her, the great gentle
man would not look ?”
Millie sighed wearily, .More softly Reason
continued “Is it not belter, to be mistress of
that comfort-full establishment I Is if not bet
ter to give yOur poor uncle a home,, even at the
.sacrifice of a few fine sensations ? Would it be
■ too mr.ch for his years of. care for you I Be as-,
I sured,” Reason concluded, in an awful tone,
“be assured I have looked every way, and there
is no wonderful knight on the road coming to
rescue you.” ■
Amelia Ilallnvalked once more “sad and slow,
sad and slow,” through that portiooed and bal
conied house of the future ;.sho paced once more
down the avenue of maples, and bathed in tears
the,hand of the prince-like one who wouldhavo
led her back to sit with him in the white-pil
lared portico; Sire looked the gentle gate, arid
brushed from the mystic sandals the dust of
the cool, wide streets of that lovely village, and
laid them away in a lonely room of her heitrt,
whose doors she barred.
Then she prepared to marry George Yale,—
She wore no sacrificial air. Her old uncle
laughed like a boy, and blessed her with tear
ful eyes. She was womanly and sympathetic
with her lover. She interested hcrscif in his
roughly-told plans. He lost some of his rug
gedness of manner, under her touch, and a lit
tle poetry, latent in his heart, flamed into fife
beneath her gentle breath. With some pleas
ure she mused: *• I can change him. May be
my life will not be so dreatlfnl.”
She was married to him, and smiled, as some
.intimate friend reminded her of her ideal home
and husband. ■ .
In beautifying and keeping her homo beauti
ful, in infusing her delicate tastes into her hus
band’s nature, Mrs. Yale found a real and
womanly pleasure. , But she ever grew pure
and .angel-like. She was not strengthened: she
did not develop into the luxuriant double-rose.
They had been married three years when
they were visited, by a distant kinsman of lllr.
Yale. Sianwix Mason was a professor in ’a
Souterri academy. He was a man of . genius,
and also a thorough man of the world. He
was like Amelia Hall’s ideal husband.
Of course he at once read the peculiar dispo
sition of the husband and wife. Then 'he No-
ticed the lady’s still blue eye kindle at a picture
ho drew of. a Southern scene; He watched the
veins throb in the white, swelling temples, as He
talked on in the pi’eturesqe style which charac
terizes his temptation glided to his
He saw how little her beautiful arts of house
keeping were appreciated by her husband,
(who, though he did love his wife, was extreme
ly malter-of-faet,) and he dared to talk to her
in this wise as they, sat in the parlor one day ;
11 1 think you are an exquisite artist, Cousin
Amie: Do you know I have been admiring the
drapery of your rooms and your vases ever since
Icatne? j seldom see their like, .save in pic
tures. I can read dreams of yours in every
honquet you make for mo. Poets compose
other things than poems. I know something
Of your nature, and your history, perhaps’, from
that special little library in yon white-draped
cabinet, that looks like a cbapcl where a-lovely
and lonely lady might go to weep and.pray.”
I do not know why you talk to mo so
strangely,” said Mrs. Yale, coldly, her pride
starting up in arms before the looked doors -of
her heart.
. *’Pardon me, fair cousin,’* he responded.—-
“ Become aeqainnted with me, and then, if I am
worthy, confide in me.”
Theie were many evenings in which the three
sat together on the stoop, Mr. Yale balancing
his books, and tfao cousin rending aloud to the
lady of the house from the Greek of Homer, and
from Shakspearo and the Brownings. The
voung wife was exhilarated in the new almos
iphcrc. She grew gay and beautiful. Her hus
band was happy of the change, and the guest
grew more gonial.
One night, when this cousin had read and
talked to her until she was bewildered by the
beauty and light ho poured upon her soul, and
when at parting for. the night, ho raised her
hands to his mouth and kissed them, and mur
mured : “ Poor, poor little Annie that night
the thrilling truth burst upon her. She was
beloved by her cougfn.
_ “ Too late, too late!” she cried sharply, as
she fled along the passage to her room.
Au hour later, Stauwix Mason, pacing up
and down tho garden walks, as was his wont,
saw through the open casement Amie kneeling
by her bed side in prayer. Ho saw her rise
serene and kiss the swarthy brow of her hus
band. Ho understood tho peace in her eyes,
and turned away with a thwarted face. The
next day ho smilingly bade them adieu for tho
South ; and the husband and wife took up again
the even tenor of their still gliding lives; the
honest huhband happy and'contented with his
home and wife. living his best possible life, and
she with half her nature in chains and, dark
ness—her greatest happiness that she has made
others happy.
And multitudes of women like Amelia Hall
are called cowardly and mercenary, while they
are really brave and unselfish. They are true
to what they deem duty, if not to the instincts
of their hearts.— Knickerbocker.
Front the, Boston Fast.
Canvassing my District. ,
BY S. OLDCOOK, ESQ.
“Lives of old cocks all remind-us
We can make our lives sublime,
, And when chawed up leave behind us
Bird tracks on the sand of lime.”
Inspired by the beautiful poem, the "Sam of
Life," from which the above appropriate verse
is extracted, I set out from my cockloft to can
vass my district. I whs well provided with
snufi, peanuts and sugar plums for the women
and children; bin was in doubt what to do for
the voters. Being a temperance and Maine law
man I was opposed to “treating"'on principle,
although of course I have no objection to taking
a little of the pure branded article myself, if
somebody else will pity for it.
My first attempt was on a Democrat,! desired
to see if I could convert one of the enemy them
selves. Mr. Schmitt was the man, and he had
imbibed certain erroneous notions of govern
ment. He thought that laws were for the bene
fit of the people, instead of the makers of the
larva. And he also had an idea that a while
man was as good as a black man, if not'better,
and that the people of Kansas had a right to
take care of their own affairs without consulting
the Legislatures of New England.
Another strange idea he had was thafliquors
are property, as much 'as wheat, tobacco, or
anytbing else. I combatted these ignorant no
tions to the best of my, ability. I told him that
if we could only force the Maine law and my
hen law we should root out crime, destroy sin,
and put the devil out of employment; we should
find the millemum.,and make everybody rich
and happy.' I toldhim that all criminals drink;
and, consequently, if we take away their rum
there would be bo more crime. He replied
that they cat as well as drink, and wanted to,
know if it would.not be better to take qtvay
their food. Thereupon, I retired in , disgust.
Schmitt, I am sorry to say, has the same ideas
that all Democrats have, and I have, therefore,
them all opposed to mo. But it is not so with
the Republicans; they are all with'me, so I
am sure of an election; then won’t the feathers
flv ?
I went to see my friend Black ; ho is a re
publican to the backbone, and goes in for the
rights of women and negroes, so I.felt sure of
him. He objected, however, that my hen law
was unconstitutional. * “Ajil my dear Black,”
I replied, “you don’t know us legislators. We
don’t trouble ourselves about the constitution;
I’ll show you how we shall fix that. We have
turned out Judge Loring; that establishes a
precedent for the dependence of the judiciary.
So if the supreme, court don’t decide as we wish
them to, we shall turn them all out. What a
splendid chance’that will be to dispose of the
remaining citizens of Waltham who have no
officeHoiv would you like to seo your friend
Oldcock on the bench 1 Worse appointments
than that Have been made. Eh I Mr. Burn
ham—-beg pardon, Black, I would say." Black
was so well pleased with this idea that he
brought out a little old Bourbon, stamped, of
course, with which we drank the governor’s
health ; drinking health is, of Course, a medi
cal purpose. Subsequently, at a late hour, I
do not recollect exactly when, we adjourned. I
find, however, that all the republicans in my
district are for me. Hurrah ! down iyith rum
and shanghais, and up with negroes and mo
nopolies !
Improvements at the Capitol. r
As the time for the meeting of Congress is but
two months off, workmen are busily engaged in
repairing, cleaning and furnishing the Halls of
the Capitol. In the Hall of Representatives
artists are painting the panels and the inside
walls, which were left vacant, with but one
exception, last year. Instead of filling thciq
up with historical paintings ih fresco, as was
originally intended, they havo/been painted in
imitation of a deep red of figured satin, which
is highly ornamental to the interior, and per
haps much more appropriate to the fresco pain
tings. ,
. The finishing touches are being given to the
gallery walls, and sundry minor improvements
are also being made on the floor. In the hail
corarannioating with the ante-rooms in the rear
of the Speaker’s desk, the ceilings are being
repainted and ornamented. The post-office to
the House is,also receiving some additional im
provements, and in itself will compare favora
bly with the post-offices of any. city in the
Union. In point of convenience and ornament
it is undoubtedly superior. The halls sur
rounding the house are also being finished, and
at the opening of the next session everything
will be in readiness for oedhpanoy. Many lit
tle inconveniences to which the officers of the
House were put last session, wifi bo entirely
done away with ensuing one.
The changes in the old hall are distinctly vis
ible. The Speaker’s old desk, and its sur
roundings, have been raised to the floor, to
gether with the stationary desks used by the
clerks and reporters. Chandeliers have been
placed between the massive columns around the
galleries, while the spirit of improveriicnt, in
the way of ornament and convenience, is al
ready made manifest. It has been generally
supposed that the old hall was to be fitted rip
for iho uso of the U. SI Supreme Court, but we
learn that this is not the present intention of
those having the control of the Capitol. It has
been deemed necessary to fit it up for a picture
gallery, m which the paintings owned by Con
gress are to bo properly displayed. This col
lection, of course, will not include those in the
rotunda.
The improvements in'tho north wing or tho
hew Scuato portion of the Capital, are progres
sing very rapidly; but it is hardly possible
that the new hall will bo ready .for occupancy
by the next scssioji. The foundations of the
galleries are now being put up, and tho ante
halls are being finished. The ceilings to one
of the ante-rooms of the Senate certainly excel ■
anything of the kind at the Capitol,and perhaps
in the whole country. The committee and other
rooms arc being finished as rapidly as time will
permit. The main flight of marble steps lead
ing to the Senate is completed, with the excep
tion of putting up tho railings. Tho sides of
this grand stairway are finished in Tennessee
marble, while the steps are of tho purest while,
making the contrast highly ornamental aud
tasteful. ■ ‘
There are many more improvements constant
ly being made, which renders the Capitol ah'
object of interest, even to tho daily visitor.—
Wash, States.
Woro it not for tho tears that filled our
oyes, what au ocean would fill our hearts.
“our country—may it always be mam—but bight or wrong, our country.”
I=
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1858.
THE PERPLEXED HOUSEKEEPER,
I wish I had a dozyajpairs
Of hands, this vefyminnto s
I’d sooq put all these things to rights—
Tho.very deuce is Ih it.
Here’s a big washing to be done;
One pair of hands'to do it,
Sheets, shirts and stockings, coats and pants
' How will X o’er get through it I
Dinner to gel for sixror more.
No loaf left o’er from Sunday;
And baby cross as ho can live—
. He’s always so-ontAlonday.
And there’s the cream, ’tis turning sour,
I must forthwith bo churning,
And hero’s Bob wants a button on—
Which way shall ©be turning 7 /
’Tis time the moat was in the pot,
The bread was worked for baking,
The clothes wore tatfon from the boil—
Oh, dear! the baby’s waking.
Husb, baby dear! there, btisli-sb-sli!
I wish he’d sleep a little,'
Till I could run anchgof some wood
To hurry up that kettle. •
Oh, dear! if Henry',does come homo,
i And find things iq this pother,
He’ll just begin to tell nio ail
About his, tidy nidiher!
How nice her kitchen need to be,
Her dinner alwaysheady
Exactly when the noon bell rung—
Hush, hush, dear little Freddie.
And then will come/somo hasty word ■
Eight out, befordil’m thinking—
They say that haslyiwords from wives
Sot sober men to drinking, ,
How isn’t that agctat idea
That men should take to sinning,
Because a weary halt sick wife
Can’t always smile so winning 1
When I was young?! used to earn
My living without trouble,
Had clothes; and packet money, too,
And hours of leisure, double,
1 never dreamed pi such a late,
When I, A-Las’s; Was courted—
, Wife, mother, nursed seamstress, cook, house
keeper, chambermaid? laundress, dairy-woman,
and scrub-general, doing the work of six,
For the sake of poing supported.
Two Children Cqrricd'off by a Saloon,
Our correspondent- af the Illinois Fair, at
Oentralia, acquaints ; tis with (he following most
thrilling occurrence :
Mr. G. W. Brooks, an aeronaut of considera
ble distinction, was advertised to make an as
cension from ..a . spot contingent to the Fair
grounds, on FriclayLcvcning, after the closing
; exefcises of life FaK“J'![nsfcad, KoWcvorv of go
ing;up himself, to the solicitations
, of-a young maa wnAiad been travelling around
' with him learning.the theory and practice of
ballooning, and who Eegjjyd that as the evening
whs so fine, ho jnirJit jw allowed to tost the I
value of his knowledge by a little experience.
The young man, whoso name has escaped the (
recollection of our informant, made the ascen
tion in beautiful style; in the presence of thou
sands of wondering and admiring people.
The atmosphere was so quiet that he rose
almost vertical to tf great height, and then,
when it was supposed that ho would descend,
the ballqgn passed into a current of air, which
bore it gradually away,to the south-east, and
finally carried it out."of sight. It was said that
Mr. Brooks was much annoyed at his pupil for
refusing to descend before striking the current
of air which bore him away from the scene- of
the asoention. He did not return until Satur
day morning at daybreak, and ihen communi
cated an account of the most thrilling experi
ences. The currents of nir which bore him off
to the south-east.carried him a distance of about
twenty: miles before ho thought of descending.
By means of his grappling ironsthe descent was
made with safety and ease, and he found him
self alighted near a Arm house, the inmates of
which regarded hirawith the greatest wonder
and gratitude.
The Balloon was made fast to the fence, and
after a short conversation with the farmer and
his wife, they were persuaded to make an as
cension of a few hundred feet, one at a time.
The balloon, relieved of all extra weight, rose
readily, and was easily pulled down again by
means of the anchor rope. The farmerand his
wife were highly pleased with their trips, and
while expressing their gratification, two of their
small children, one, five and the other three
years of age, who had been looking on witlp as
tonishment, scrambled into the car and cried
out, “Let me go up—let me go up.” Tht mro
naut proceeded at once to gratify them, but
from some carelessness, or accident, ns he was
letting them up, the rope slipped from his hand,
and the balloon mounted upward with the ve
locity of b rocket. The frantic agony of the
parents, and. the consternation of the mronnut
may he imagined. In a minute or two the bal
loon had passed entirely out of sight;■tfntLwas
lost in the blue depths of the sky. Nothing
could be done but to hasten back to Mr. Brooks
at Centralia, and ask his advice. Our infor
mant learns that Mr. Brooks expressed His
opinion, tfint the baUuon-wouJd remain in,ehe
air about an hour before commencing todescend,
and while at its greatest attitude, the children
would probably freeze, to death, unless in their
fright they had precipitated themselves from
ihe car; Mr. Brooks, early on Saturday mor
ning, set out in the 'direction the balloon had
taken, in hopes to recover it, and find some
trace of the lost children,.' We have, up to the
present writing, heard nothing of his success.
Beuue of the Children from the Balloon,
_ We learn from the St. Louis Kepublican of
the 21st that the balloon, with the children of
Mr. Harvey, which had escaped from its fasten
ings on Friday afternoon, came down on Satur
day morning at day-break, hear Carthago, 111.,
some 43 miles distant from Mr. Harvey’s lesi
dence. It was discovered by a fanner suspen-,
ded in the air, atlaohed by the grappling rope
to a tree in his yard. Ho immediately hauled
the balloon down, and found the youngest child
asleep in the bottom of the basket, and the el
dest carefully watching over her little, brother.
-They had been wafted about by different cur
rents of air throughout the night, and had come
to a halt but a little while before they were re
lieved.
The story the girl told was, that as the bal
loon .ascended she cried piteously to her father
to pull it down. She said she passed over a
town where she saw a a great, many people, to
whom she likewise appealed at the top of her
voice. This, place was Centralia. The balloon
was scon to pass over there, but the people lit
tle imagined it carried two persons in suclfdan
ger. Her little brother cried with cold, and the
heroic girl took off her apron, covered him and
got him to sleep. In handling the' ropes she
happened to pull one which had the effect to
bring the balloon down, and although not un
derstanding thophilosopby of the movement,
-4milLT|(J INCIDENT.
a m
■ I J&bJ ■ 'Jk A Jbt Atf
: W )P -IKi|ICTJt-j|^Jfd^
she was quite content to. keep the valve open, so
long ns by doing so she found she approached
the earth,,
The ytmthfui terial voyagers were in the
balloon about thirteen hours and a quarter. It
may easily be imagined that among the neigh
bors where they landed they were the objects
of much curiosity’ and interest. The girl’s
presence of mind and loving consideration for
her brother may well entitle her to remem
brance, while the incident itself was of such a
character that we opine it will not spon be for
gotten in that section. .
How Ik Major “Blew” on llimself.
There is a class of men who, by ; oinc peculi
arity of disposition, acquire so fixed a habit of
paying .no attention to what is passsing around
them, that they become prejudiced agaiustknow
ing what is going on in the world, as well ns
against seeing anything that .can be avoided. —
To a member of this class of the community the
streets are all the same, the buildings are all
alike, and in walking about town a half a day,
not a single spot is sufficiently noted to be rcc.
ognized again. If one of these good old fash
ioned gentlemen wants to ride ih an omnibus;’
his chances are twenty 10 one that he gets in
the wrong one, for they are precisely alike to
him: and if ho proposes to himself to go up
town on the cars, there is a strong probability
that he would get on board a steam train for
Carrol ton.
We give the above as a sort of rough-hewn,
production to an estimable character, whom- we
shall call (he Majar, who has for many years
resided in the most flourishing of our vis a vis
villages, and who has ever been distinguished
for taciturnity, except he met an old chum in
the evening, when the day’s work was ended.—
The Major is an. Excellent mechanic, and much
esteemed by his friends; his most serious diffi
culty with the latter who reside near liim being
a habit of occasionally becoming totally ab
sorbed, walking into some neighgor's house, pul
ling off his coat, and asking if dinner is most
ready. Some few years since, a couple of ac
quaintances dropped into the Major’s shop and
astonished him with the announcement that
■their mutual friend Jack ; , the skid builder,
had suddenly slipped his painter and put oiit
into the unknown sea ol eternity. The funeral
had been fixed for the afternoon of the same
day, and as Jack- -bad been, one of his
chums, the Major, swore roundly that he would
follow him to his last stopping place and see
him stowed away.
In the afternoon, the Major, having probably
been urged on by grief from the loss of his
friend, paid some attention to getting himself
up.so as to be presentable, and sallied out lo.at
tendthe fqiveral. He had not proceeded far
before he met a mournful, pageant wending its
way to the ferry, and he at once joined in. It
is related ol the Major that when the procession
marched into the St. Louis Oeinetary, he at
one instant was struck with the fact that it
was’iit Girod-strect.Ccmolary, but this impress
ion failed to fix jtsclf upon his mind, and. ah:
sorbed in grief and meditation. he gazed ab
stractly at the ceremonies which were being
. conducted by a Catholic priest. He thought
this was all wrong, as he knew his friend Jack
was not-a .Catholic, but these thoughts were
incapable of making an impression, and 1 al
though he had expected with as mu,eh certaintv
that he would go to the funeral, that the
Rev. Mr, 1.- -would officiate, he made no at
tempt to solve the problem of.why it was not
sol When all was over and the Major was
again in the.street on his way borne, ho sud
denly remembered that he bad not seen any of
his acquaintances. Cogitating upon the'vari
ous'matters connected with the death and bu
rial of poor Jack, he airiyed on the other side
of the river, and met some of his friends who
had just returned from another'funeral. The
Major at once pitched into the delinquents, ns
he regarded them, and for an uninterrupted
term of. five minutes, ho gave specimens of the
tallest kind of swearing, as ho charged them
with neglecting, to attend Jack’s funeral, and
allowing him to be buried by a Catholic priest
instead of Mr. L ; —. At this juncture a
perfect roar of laughter caused the Major’s
throat to fill with indignation and he was
chdked off. The case, was. plain at once: He
had followed the wrong funeral, and devoutly
assisted at the last obsequies of an entire stran
ger, while his friend Jack was being quietly
entombed at the foot of Girod street. The Ma
jor has been,more taciturn than ever since that
occasion, ana it is not particularly safe to at
tempt a conversation with him about funerals.
OCT” James Rodgers, a youth of seventeen,
left a country village to go to New York city.
Arriving there ho was led into evil coursos r a«d
one night While on a drunken frolic witli two
associates he met in Tenth avenue, Sir. Swans
toh, a respectable old gentleman, walking in
the street with his wife. Some of the parly
jostled against Sir. Swanslon, a few* words
passed between them, and Rodgers without
more ndo drew’ a knife and stabbed the man,
inflicting a mortal wound. For this crime lie
was sentenced in New York on Saturday to bo
hanged. His youth and iipfeposcssing appear
ance excited a great deal of sympathy, and' no
efforts have been spared to avert his impending
fate. The Governor was petitioned for pardon,
but it was refused, and he will expiate bis
crime on the • 12th of November next on the
scaffold.
A Singing Mouse.—One of these little ani
mals inhabits our office, remarks the' editor pf
the Cumberland (Md.) Telegraph: For several
years past, ho has made his home in it. He
has become very familiar with all hands, and in
broad daylight he ban be seen playing around
the feet of the compositors, of dancing about
the cases, seemingly as little apprehensive of
dagger as if snugly away in hts nest. The
paste-cup is his delight, but he never objects to
a bit of cake, or fruit, with which his admirers
occasionally supply him. Ho is a most remar
kable little animal. A piece of cake puts him
in high glee, and when he has it devoured he gets
in a corner and sings like a canary bird, hiis
notes being sweet and melodious. Sometimes
he will sing for an hour without intermission.
He is a general favorite—does what ho pleases
with impunity—and is regarded as a sort of
fixture in the office. JEven while we arc writing
ho is playing on the table, and is so tame that he
sutlers himself to be handled without any show
of fear.
Forty-nine of the camels belonging to the
United States are now at Camp Verde, sixty
miles from San Antonio. Only one of those
imported has died, while ten.havo been added
by birth. These young American born camels
thrive well, and promise to grow up equal in all
respects to those imported. Notwithstanding
the successful trial lately made by Captain
Beale in his,explorations across the continent,
there are some officers of the many who doubt
whether anything is to bo gained by the use of
camels. This, however, might be expected.—
There arc always persons opposed to all sorts of
changes and innovations. Wo hope, however,
that experiments in their use will not long bo
confined to the army officers, but that as the
huraber increases they will pass into the bands
of private owners;
AT $2,00 PU& ANNUM
The Brown Silk Dress.
“ 'Y by, Kiiza! what a strange choice for a
wedding dross ! Tour other dresses arc in very
good style, and you have plenty of them, con
sidering the changes in fashion—hut a brown
silk dress to bo married in !—wind a fancy in a
girl of eighteen !”
“ ’Tis true, my flnnf, that 'my choice may
seem somewhat sombro, but you know very well
I am about to become the wife of a poor me
chanic, wild depends on his daily labor for sup
port. As (lie wife of such a man, I must neces
sarily limit my expenditures to my, circumstan
ces, and have thought it hotter to purchase
something which would bo useful for sometime
to come, than to consult my appeal ance as a
bride lororie short evening—especially as I see
no strangers.”
“ There is something in that. There is in
Maria's wedding dress. She will never wear
again Jn the world.. 'She'had a white satin,
with a lace dress.over it. Oli, she did look
bountiful! I dp admire to see a handsome
bride." -
“ Yes, it is very well for those who can'.af
ford it. But it wohld .be quite absurd for me
to purchase an expensive drbss for one or even
,a few evenings when by tlic expenditure of half
*the money, I can procure that which will be
serviceable for years. But come, c put on your
bonnet and step over to our new house. It is
all furnished, at least all that is to bo.furnished.
I value it more hijhly tfian’l should if it were
near my mother's."
<{ There, William hns'icft this small parlor,
.this sitting room, nud three chambers, to finish
at his leisure, when ho is out of employment.
See how everything is arranged—so handy for
nay work.”
“ You don't say you are going, to do your
own work !*?*
r “ Certainly, I do! . There is hut one appren
tice, and I should think.it strange il l could not
do it with,ail ease.”
J My heart, what strange fancies you have?—
To bo sure,.it id well enough if you cun bring
your, mincMo it, but then folks do §o different
now-a-daya. There" is myAlariajSho has moved
into an elegant, house, all furnished from top to
bottom. She keeps.a great girl to do the work,
and a little one to waif and tend. Oh, things
do go on so beautifully, I promise you.”
“ Her husband, is a young lawyer, is he not ?
Is ho wealthy 7” ,
“Oh ho is very well off. Ho does not gel
much practice yet, hut ! dare say he will in
time. Helms a thousand dollars at interest;
besides, Maria would never have married a me
chanic —their hands get ?o hard and black, and
their complexion, especially if they are exposed,
gpt so brown. I would not wish to hurt your
toolings, but I do think that for pride’s sake,
for the sake of the family, yomuigbt have made
a different choice.” •
Ob, aunt—excuse my laughing —J have yet
to leant that a man’s honest occupation whe
ther it produces hard hands, whether it.giye tho
ciicok a brown or pale hue, .is any disparage
ment to him. -You .must get acquainted'with
William, and hear, hint convulse; Von wlll.hot
think of hjs hard hands, and his animated, in
telligent countenance will drive his bronzed
akin quite out of your head.’ But come, you
don’t : say any thing about "my
you .must see my nice closets.”
“ Oh, -your furniture is well enough. Tho
less you have, the loss you will have to take
care of, you know.”
“Yos, wo could not get much furniture. I
insisted upon William taking, tho money which
my grandfather leit mb, to pay off a few hundred i
dollars which ho owed for this place, in order
to enable us to begin even in the world. Wo
have both such a,horror of debt, that wo are
determined never to incur any if wc can help
it. See what a nico press lor bod clothes this
is ?”
“ wliat « quantity of bed and table li.
non! it is really nice, too. You have more
than my Maria has, 1 declare,”'
,c Yes, I always want an abundance of such
things. This .drawer is filled with towels; this
is my ironing sheet and blanket, and this closet
contains my tin and wooden ware.”
“ 1 declarOj Eliza, yon are a strange, thought
ful child. I must tell you.one thing about Ma
ria that made .113 -have a good hearty laugh.—
The Monday morning alter she was married, tho
girl, came to ask her where, the tubs were, and
don’t you think the child had actually forgotten
to buy a tub, a clothes Imc,‘ or pins! She said
it never popped into her head. But la! it
was’nt strange—she hud never been used to do
anything of tho kind,”
s I be/ieve, mint, X have shown you all now,.
Wo will go-if you pleaso. 1 hope you will not
lot my brown dress, or William’s brown hands,
frighten you away this evening.
<‘.oll, no ! But as I must take the stage tor
Maria’s, early in the morning, you must allow
mo to retire early,.
“ U’bat fellows these Yankees are for com-
bining elegance and usefulness,” said a south
ern gentleman to himself us ho stood on the pi
azza of the hotel in Hie town ol -. “Sir,”
said lie, addressing liimself to a venerable look
ing man near him, “cun you tell me .who resides
in that elegant cottage, where tho grounds are
laid out with so much taste f” ■
“Ob, tbatis Squire Bill Thorndike's. Ton
must, be a stranger; in these parts not.to know
that.”
“ I am, sir ; and since ho seems such a promi
pent member of society, I should be happy to
inow something oi-his history.”
“ Oh, there is nothing remarkable in it, noth-
ing at all, sir. llis_i'ather was a man of great
learning, but ho nearly run through a fortune
trying to live in stylo, Hu died, and loft throe
hoys. Their mother, who Wont from tin's place,
was, a woman of strong sense. She sold the
property, paid otf the debts, and had'enough'
left to buy. that little house to tbo 1 left. It has
but two rooms, ,and there is a garden attached
to it. Here slip put her hoys out to trades.—
One. to a mason, one to a whcelright, and this
Bill to a carpenter. Bill married .the widow
Pony’s daughter. . Slio was a rigid good scholar
and she made an excellent'wife. They got
along wonderfully.. Everybody wondered bow
it was. Hu did not make better wages than
other men. It was no mystery to mo, though,
'for I watched them pretty, sharp.'
“ Vou never saw a great display of (incry—
such as laces, and flounces, and furbelows; you
never saw him, before he kept a horse, riding
much for pleasure.- No, they both pulled one
way, and took their pleasure in being sober. In
dustrious and useful, and now they reap their
reward in being universally respected. Now
there ain’t a man that has so much money to lot
as Squire Thorndike, and ho is never hard and
screwing about it as some are. Ho isn’t stingy
cither. -Ho has taken the two children of one
Lawyer Willis to bring up, and ho does as well
by them as ho does by his own. Lawyer .Wil
lis’ wife was a kind of cousin to Squire Thorn
dike’s wife. She was a dasliy, showy gal,—
You’d, have thought the richest folks on earth
wqro married when they had the knot tied.—
Poor fellow, ho had a hard time, notwithstand
ing, to support his wife in stylo. Ho took to
drink, and died, I have heard say that she
turned up her nose at her cousin’s match, but
she little thought that her boys would bo glad
to take up with the little house that Squire
Thorndike’s mother lived in.
“ Ah, sir,” continued the old man, “this is a
changing world; but, to my mind, if folks would
bo more prudent and industrious, and give up
hankering after things beyond their means,
there would bo more real good done in the
World, and fewer changes.”
fry- Some one has defined an editor as being
a poor follow who empties his brains to fill Ids
■stomkeh.
“ Wo live for those that love us.— •''
. For those who are kind .and tnlo j .
For tho Heaven that smiles above us; 1 • f
And which wo are hastening to.’** ' ■
Soslng tho Hulchlnsons.in cite of. their
Jng-,Aeanraengs t
ment arrest the attention of a few .who listen to
its utterance In melody, hut the masd hoar nor
head it not. They seem to livo as though, jifa
had no great purpose—no higher aim,than tfio.
gratification of'self. Those in tho Crowd aro a
jostling each other fiercely, almost treading"
down each other,.to teach ilieir particular goat.
Tho pale face of sorrow, or tho wail of disfteis's,
aro unheeded. Gain—gain—is the madencd
cry. .Gold and land 3 for to-day, for to-morrow:
wo die'. Let fhodogs'lick the sores of thepOof
and despised. Samaritans turn aside to, bind
up, tho bruised and wounded unfortunates.—:
Stock in heaven brings no direct dividends ,in
money. Lending to tho Lord will hot add two ’
6 NO. 18.
percent, per .month to the yearly accumulations.
Such seems to ho the common unde‘ibtandip&.
Men act as if life wero an eternity. Butastho
night comulh, there are graves to fill and worms
to fatten. Wealth finds no exclusive privileges
under tho sod, or'” over tho river.” . Bonds,
mortgages and stocks aro not current .in the
“ hereafter.” No ‘-sharp practice,” no “slifewd
business transactions” there. No extraordinary
per cent, for those who have entered into an ih
lieritanco which t'udeth not aVvay. No poor fa
ces to grind, for, all aro rich. '.They nrpjjoint
heirs with J6sus Christ to an eternity ot bliss.—
Sorrow and pain ; the crutch and tattered gar.
inehtsj the braised and injured heart, have been
left in tho grave, and the paupers on earth .be
come tho owners of Heaven I Ohl how ollea
wo have thought of what might ho the feelings
ol the rich, the pompous and tho proud, when
they See those they scorned here, robed in tho
unlading and dazzling fabrics ol eternal angel
mo •••■ ° '
THE BOKEIt AND DEAN CASE OUTDONE.
Sir. Lloyd, a highly respectable farmer of
Wick Idle, arrived in this city last evening in
an excited state of nijnd. lie sought out Mar?
shall Gallagher and told him that his' two
daughters find eloped on Monday night with
two-hired mem-brothers, and named respective
ly Chaurioy Lewis and Watson Lewis. Mr.' It.
said he thought they were in this city. The 7
marshal put on his seven league boolsahdcom-:
menced walking rapidly round the' city.' He,
found the enterprising parties at last at the,
Franklin House, on Pearl street. Watsort;
Lewis had already married one pf the sisters 1 :
and retired Jor the night. Chauficy Lewis was
making arrangements to marry the other sister,
when the marshal appeared and took him and
his intended to the police station.. Looking C,
Lewis in the watch house, Mr. Lloyd took his
daughter to the Commercial House and looked 1
her up in a room.
Mr.'Lloyd, in addition ,Ip bring hp extensive
arid nourishing farmer, keeps a tavern in Wick;
bile, which is Very favorably, known through, -
this section, it is located near the lake shore;
and hear Where the ill-fated steamer Griffith; -
was burned some years since. Mr, L. owns "
some four hundred and lifty aoros. ot-land, in-
Wlbkliflo, and is guile wealthy. His daughters
are named, Mary, and Laura; Mary is. about'
twenty years old and Laura about 16. I'Uey
are splendid-looking girls, and are fashionably
'and richly-dressed. They are: both well eduf,
catcd; having enjoyed superior, advantages ,ia ■'
this respect. . ■ '
The Lewis brothers are uncouth, hneducated,
and overgrown specimens of humanity-, and can'
neither read nor Write.' They hircd out to Mr.'
Lloyd some six months ago. He paid Watson,
tire eldest one, §l3, and OhaunceySlO a monthr
Chauncy Lewis, the young man who didn't get ,
married and who passed the night in the watph
house, is a very sleepy, and stupid appearing
young man. We doubt if he knows enough’to
exercise the sagacity of a common Shanghai
chicken, and go under cover when it rainS. ■He ;
was released this morning at the suggestion of
Mr. Lloyd, and requested to “scoot,” which he
hastily did. He promised, whh tears in his .
eyes, never to come within ten miles of Wick- ,
like again. The married brother, of course,
canndt be interfered with. '
The parlies eloped about 11 o’clock on Mon
day night, and.were not missed until yesterday,
morning. The brothers luted a horse and bug-*
gy at 'Willoughby, and went to. Air. Lloyd’s
house, where the girls were awailisjg them with
their trunks all packed. The girls left the housa
noiselessly, and got into tho buggy and the pal - -;
ties moved'Slowly'lownrds Cleveland. One of
the brothers walked all the way.here (about 1(5
miles) and the other rode amf droyc. Arriving
here they stopped at the Commercial House.—
In the evening a justice was called in and Alary
and Watson were married- Chaunceyand
Laura postponed theirs till the next morning,
which enabled Air.. Lloyd to. prevent tho 'cere
mony. ’ . .. ■
This is the most remarkable case of elopement
that we ever heard of. It utterly, eclipses the
Bolter and Dean case. What two handsome
and cultivated girls like the Aliases Lloyd could
find in two fellows as these is more than we can
imagine. Air. Lloyd and bis wife are over
whelmed with giief at the conduct of; their
daughters. —Cleveland Plain Dealer. .
Vautadi.e Stock.’—The 17. S. Mining Jo\tr~
ml, of New York,, in its issue.of tho 18th ult. ti
contains the following article relative to the
dividends of the Alinnesota Alining Company:'
The Alinnesota Mining Company has declared
a second semi annual dividend out of the profits
of 1857, of njne dollars per share, or eighteen
per cent, payable at the office of the company
in this city, No. 187 Greenwich st. The sales
of last year’s product having been closed, the
net earnings of the company are now ascertain
ed to bo about §306,000, of which §120,000
were divided among the stockholders '.in April
last, and $lBO,OOO now announced for payment'
or. the first of November next. This makes the
large nmountof $9BO 000 net profits earned and
divided among the stockholders of the Alinneso
ta Alining Company in-the first six years,.from
1852 to 1857, inclusive. , ■ i .
The~Cincinnali Enquirer strings together
ie following political gems, which we-copy fof
ic endorsement of our readers
Tub Pautv that mg stood, nr the Codkt
nv in ai.l Eubhoekcibs.—ln all great control.
vcrsies'wiltvforeign powers by our own gov
ernmeot, the Democracy have Invariably!,sus
tained the Administration, and in war have
been for their own country, against-, the com
mon enemy-while the Opposilon took the part
of the enemy against their own Government,
tind oven earned their enmity so far as to refuse
to vote supplies to those who were fighting our
battles. ;■
0“ The popular belief that there is mort) gel
jug on in a day in New Tork than in some cit
ies in a forinight seems to bo forcibly demons
trated just know. There are races for a very
lofty ligurc—slo,ooo—sparring matches, lec
tures on love, political meetings, operas in eve
ry known language, n. tHal lor murder, tilth
tres, “hops” at hotels, suicides, and in fact'eve
rylhing but virtue, order or decorum.
DC?" A mail was walking quickly down tho
street tho other day, when lie was suddenly
struck by a thought and knocked into the gut-
. DCx" Perhaps men are tho most imitative ani
mals in tho world of Natfire- Only one ass
spoke like a man, but hundreds of thousainlii of
men aro daily talking like asses. / ,
oc?” Marriage resembles a pair of shears, says
Sidney Smith, so Joined that they cannot So
separated, often moving in opposite directions,
yot always .punishing any ono who comes bo
(woon.thonn- ‘
DC?’" There Isa town in Michigan where tho
icll is rung oyory day at twelve o’clock, for tho
icoplo ,to take thoir .quinine, as they,have tho
iguc all round. • • ■ ■
. Wiiat ffe live FoK
DOUBLE ELOPEMENT.' '