americakxolunteeji.
PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY MORNING BY
John B. Bratton.
TEEMS.
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|toetwal.
THE COQUETTE.
Once loved, but now forgotten I
When the weary world sleeps
She sits within her cheerless room,
, And mournfully sho weeps,
As'she thinks upon the promises
The future held in store ;
But years have come and these have gone.
She trusts to them no more:
The pleasure of the moment
' Was the only aim she know,
w hen O’er her cheeks the rose of youth
Had Spread its softest hue";
And now the peerless splendor
. Ot her little.and gentle form
Hath passed.awayjief'oro the blast
Of pride and passion’s storm.
Then sho was loved and beautiful,
, Arid ucath her iron away
Sho held a host ot worshippers,
Young, middle-aged and gray;
While many lovely maidens,
0f beauty rich and rare,
Behold her conquests, one by one,
With wonder and despair.
Arid thus Tor years she labored ■
' On her deep, ensnaring toils,
While her’s were all the triumphs,
And her’s (he rosy spoils :
Brit surely they had purer hearts.
Although perhaps less gay,
For the young and middle-aged men
Have borne them all away.
And now, as wives arid mothers,
. With hearts brimful of love,
They’re happy ns the joyous birds
That warble in the grove j
While she unloved and wretched, (
In the hopelessness of years;
Jlonrhs o’er her barren victories
In silence and in tears.'
HE’S coninc.
He’s coming, the blushing rose
Whispers it.low to me,
And the starlight hastens with, it,
Over tlio twilight sea.
AH trembling the zephyrs toll me,
On light winds hurrying past,
And my own heart quickly beating,
Coming, coining at last.
The soft lipped wave oi the ocean,
(lathering at my foot,
Breezes borne from the coral island,
Munbars this secret sweet.
There’s not a dew-steeped blossom,
Or glistening orange tree,
But furnish its loaves glee-laden,.
To breathe,this joy to me.
List! that is the sound of rowing
Stealing along the air ;
I must gather round my temples
This weight of braided hair j
And trust to glowing darkness,.
And evening shadows dim,
To hide witlrtheir.wing the traces
OI tears I’ve shed for him.
Mijsrdlaiijfiiifl.
TWICE LOVING-.
[' '-Wilton, don’t you ever intend to get mar
| ried? I declare, I'm. quite in despair about
I . youi Here you are thirty-six years old next
st February,.anti a confirmed old-bachelor! Why’
t , you ought to have a wife, and two or three fine
i second editions by this time. Just think of all
? the truublcT’ve had about you, too 1 Eides in
* the country, and promenades in the city ; visits
at home and parties abroad, all to hq purpose.
It provokes me to think of it., .Once fori all,
Wilton Hughes, do you. intend to live and die
an old bachelor?" And the lady, still young and
blooming, put down, with an air of desperation,
| the jewel-case With which her fingers had been
■ playing; and confronted the gentleman, who sat
opposite her.
He, too, laid down his ’paper, but with an
air of- languid .tang J void. which was particu
larly irritating, for dinner was just over, and
; Wilton Hughes always devoted the next half
| hour to politics and bank stocks.
I "Eeally, Sarah," he replied, and his coolness
H was in strange contrast with his sister's vehe
£ inence. I cannot answer you, for, whether I
■ shall depart from this life in a single or double
is still an indefinite matter to' my-
H self. - You shall be apprized of my decision,
tI when I make it. Meanwhile. my r dear sister,'
I recommend that you give yourself no further
uneasiness on the subject."
‘■You are the most provoking being alive,
Wilton,” ejaculated the ofiended lady, as she
rose up. ‘I believe you are as heartless as you
are sarcastic; and I shall never put another wo
man in danger of breaking her heart for you;”
And the rustle of Mrs. Hill’s brown silk was
an emphatic peroration of her anger, as she
swept indignantly from the apartment.
S’ , \Vel ton Hughes leaned back in his chair, and
half closed his eyes. Now he sits there all
alone. Ins face brought into fine relief by the
~ - darlryelvct cushioning, we wtlHook at'ii ; for
I- his countenance is something more than a -book
with a date.’ ■
| It is not a handsome face -. and yet it will
win you strangely. The features are too long
S’ and thin for masculine beauty ; the forehead is
H broad and high, with thick masses of hair
i|about it; the lips are thin, and in repose stern
and grttve ; but you should see. them when
5 they are in the light of his smiles. “Thiity-six
: next February !" his sister said. You would
Si; never believe he was more than twenty-eight,
looking into his face.
Si But as the man sits there, his thoughts
iS?wander oft on a journey. It may be his sis
l.v tcr’s words —it may bo the dim, quiet room—
tive started them on a path which reaches
vay over the grave yards of many dead and
uried years, to afar country-—the land of his
It is an old red farm house that he sees now:
be sloping toof is covered with moss, and in
he spring the weeds take root among the cave,
nd makes a long green fringe on the edge of
he house. He has not seen the old house since ,
ISttiat night when he learned--look ! how the
vjold, proud man's mouth quivers, and his fin
mm* clutch the paper, for that night has come |
• Dflt to meet him. It was “laid out, andloqked
he thought, where it would never' find a
, . fadhinto the present; but now, as gome old
ftjtend—-over vyhose death we have wept and
PIW’A -conus back and takes our hand, and
our side, and looks into our'eyes
od “mile, and whispers, “It was all
' “ASm ’ wnq not dead !’’ So this night came
.-...-hack like a living presence, and took ilsseat by
h -,T?ilton Hughes- 3
t ’ lo on 'y woman who had
, ~ «er troubled the depth of his soul, as he saw
her then, with her shining golden hair, and her
oazel eyes, as sweet a picture as ever the heart
, , Of man framed and housed up in the past. They
iL-tad just returned from u long ride in the ooun-
HMO’ ? nd th >T s£ood by tbo gate. He had as--
»f' s ‘ ed „ hor 10 alight, and he still retained her
i.tli'siWttle fingers in his own.
s,%'vv
Ut
BY JOHN B. BRAXTON,
VOL 45.
A "O' - ,
A young moon-was mounting over the forest,
and the light lay soft and sad in the hollows,
and along the road side.
He .was only nineteen then, and it was the
tenth of July !■ His heart would keep those
two dates, till it took up the last one- - Eterni-
ty■
He remembered how,'Standing there, he
leaned down to her, and, putting away the
cluster of cufUs under her bonnet, said. “I shall
not be here again, till the hollows are ns full of
snow as they are now of moonlight. May God
take sure of my darling, and oh! you will be
true to me, my Mary ?”
She looked up to him, her eyes shining fondly
through her tears, ••.Wilton,”—how the memo
ry of her voice thrilled his heart still. ‘‘Wilton,
you may trust mo!” and it was not the words
so much as the look which filled his soul with
so much trust, that if an angel had spoken
from Heaven:, he would have believed no more
fully. He remembered the last kiss, arid that
his eyes were dim as he sprang into the car
riage. It was'the last time he ever saw Mary,
or the red house, with the weeds growing on
its edge.
He had never blamed her—not even when the
•blind'darkness of that great sorrow I settled
upon the morning of his life—when he learned
that she was another’s, and his heart grew dead
within him.
lie knew she was true, and that was a great
blessing ; her friends had deceived her, and she
had gone to the altar, believing that Wilton was
false to her.
Mary's family was a poor and proud one :so
was Wilton’s.
When the rich man came and laid his wealth
and social elevation at the feet of the country
girl, her parents looked off ori the little yellow
cottage.,which was Wilton’s homo, and said:
Our child shall be the wife of the rich man!”
But Mary was true ; God bless her ! and there
was a long web of deceit and falsehood woven
about her heart, before she yielded to their en
treaties! He learned it all too late!
And then Wilton Hughes went into the
world, and did good battles with it.. He edu
cated himself : he elevated his family ; and at
thirty five he was a rich man. ■
. He had but two sisters, arid when his parents
died, they came to the city, arid married rich
men. Proud, fashions ble. elegant women they
were, admiring their brother because the world
did so, and yet dreaming little of the stream of
poetry, whose clear waters gushed through and
kept green the heart, so hidden from them.
They called him odd,, notional, fastidious, and
could not understand why he was so indifferent
to women,, with whom his graceful,,hall -indo
lent manners, which made him an especial favo
rite.
Wilton Hughes lived with his sister, Mrs.
Hill.. She wus the younger, and. perhaps he
loved her the better, of the two. But there
was no sympathy between them. He was a
mystery, and a very provoking one, sometimes,
to her. and she was to him like" a-book which
one admires for the elaborate binding and gild
ed edges, but knows there is little inside, after
all; ■ ■
And so Wilton Hughes sat there alone, in
Iris sister’s drawing room. ill at winter after
nCG-n r and rtin u‘d ytars name tt,,
sang a Sweet song to him, a.song of youth,'and
love, and hope, and he found, after all. that the
past still keep some pearls with which to dower
the present. -
It was quite late,when lie came back again,
to the paper-and ■he arm chair, and smiled a
sweet, half mournful smile .to himself, as he
looked at his watch and murmured
: “What a lime stealer.these reveries are! I
guess I’ll finish up those letters, tpid not go out
till after supper.”
It was a raw winter night. -Wilton Hughes
stepped back for his umbrella; for ho knew, as.
the wind mot his face, it was “getting ready to
snow.”
When he returned, he found a young girl
trying to close the door, in the teeth of the
wind, and looking ruefully out into the thick
darkness. She was slender, and had pale,.del
icate features ; that was all he could make out
by the gas-light opposite, but her youth and
timidity appealed to his heart at once. Be
sides it was not a night on which a young and
unprotected gin should be out alone .
“Mrs. Hill is not in this evening." he said to
the girl; supposing She had come there on some
errand to his sister. “Have yon seen the house
keeper ? She should riot allow you to return
alone.” ~
“I have been sewing for Mrs. Hill to : day,
sir,” answered the. girl; and somehow, her
soft sweety voice thrilled - the heart that was
yet quivering to the old memory tune. “It
took me longer to finish the work than I tho’t
it would ; but I had no idea that it was so
dark.” And she shuddered, as she looked
down the street.
“Perhaps our paths lie in the same direc
tion ; it is not safe for you to go alone. I am
Mrs. Hill’s brother: will you allow me to ac
company you ?” asked he..
She turned, and looked earnestly at him
for a moment. It was a very fair, almost
childish face, that dwelt in that plain straw
bonnet.- - .
“Yea, sir,” answered the girl, eagerly. “I
shaljJjc.very grateful for your.._coinpany,.foc-I
am a sad coward.”
They had proceeded but a short distance,
when the wind’ blew tip fiercer and stronger
than ever, whirling up yesterday's snow, and
shouting along the street.
Wilton's companion stopped very suddenly,
and gasped. “Oh, I cannot go any further.
The wind takes away my -breath. It always
does." ,
“Don’t be afraid, my child. I shall lake'
care of you. Hold your shawl before your face
and keep fast to me. There,.it’s going-down!
We will proceed now.”
“What should I have done if it had not been
for you ? I should, never have reached my home:
never." And as the girl spoke the gentleman
heard the throbbing of the little coward heart
agairisi his arm.
“You should never venture out alone again,
on such n night,” replied Wilton. Have you
no friend to come for you ?"
■•No, sir.’-’ she answered, mournfully; “my
mother died two years ago. She was the only
relation I had on earth.”
-■Pour child 1" Involuntarily the gentle
tnan's hand closed over that which lay on his
arm, for helplessness made her seem to him like
a child.
“Arid with wnom do you live now ?”
"With a Mrs. Mason, who was a friend of
my mother’s after we came from England. We
went there when I was a little girl, and papa
lost his property, and died there. I was only
twelve when we came back. It is four years
ago. Mamma lived two of these, and I was
taking drawing lessons, and expected to teach,
when she was taken ill. After she died, 1 lived
a year with Mrs. Mason, and when the money,
we brought froin England was all gone, I learn
ed to do plain sewing of Mrs. Mason’s niece. 1
am hoping some lime to lay by money enough
to take drawing lessons again.”
This simple epitome of the past was mur
mured among the wind pauses, in ‘a low, sweet
voice, that seemed to Wilton Hughes like music
ho had heard long ago.
“May I inquire your mother’s name ?”
“Mary Willis Arnold.”
Wilton stood stilh Alt was the one name
burned into his soul. hen the wind beat
up hoarser, madder than before. He did riot
-hear it, for the louder wind was driving thro’
his heart. Vr
The girt clung to him and shivered. It was
the first thing that aroused him. .
“Don’t be (Tightened,” he said soothingly;
“we are almost home. I think from your de
scription, your mother and I were old acquain
tances.”
They were walking on again. She looked up
in unspeakable surprise. “Will you tell me
your name ?” . .
“Wilton Hughes! Did your mother ever
speak of it?”
“Oh. yes 11 am so glad ! how very strange!
She left ri letter lor you the very day she died,
and told rile to bo sure and keep'dt'till I found
you. Here we are at home. You., will come
in, Mr. Hughes, and get the letter 8’,.,
He did not Answer her, bu t followed the light
footsteps into the small Grown house.
' The girl entered the parlor. It was plainly,
but decently finished. An old but very plea
sant looking woman sat by the small cylinder
stove, and a lamp was burning on the table.
“Lena, I have been so worried about you,”
said the old woman, and stopped suddenly, on
seeing a stranger.
“ It is mother’s old friend, Mr. -Hughes.—
You remember, Mrs. Mason,” said Lena, as
she ushered the gentleman into the parlor.
Mrs., Mason received him with rapturous ex
pressions of delight, but. ns Lena threw off her,
bonnet, arid crime into the light, he could only
think of her. . The large hazel brown eyes, the
fair, pure features were so like those his. early;
manhood had loved, that he longed to draw the
sewing girl lo his heart, and rain down kisses
upon them. Lena’s father had bequeathed her
hair arid lashes iheir thick darkness, and given
the proud curve of her lips m their repose ; but
in all else she was like her mother.
Wilton's eyes followed the girl as she left the
room, and lie vainly tried to answer Mrs. Ma
son's inquiries with anything but monosylla
bles.
In a moriient Lena returned; and laid the let
ter in iris hand, Hqiv it shook ns ho openedltl
There were but a few words, traced evidently
by a faltering hand. So.ran the letter: ,
Mr iiEt.oviiD Wilton.— l am , dying to-day
and few must be the words 1 am saying to you
—Ten years ago, .holding, my father’s-dying
hand in mine, 1 learned all. We were both
the victims. Thank God, your heart was ris
true as. my own..' Wilton, ray child is father
- less'and motherless, and I have none with whom
to leave her, 1 give her to yon,, though I know
not were you are, whether . hiarricd or single,
for I Have never heard of you
‘I can hardly see the line, and I know the
darkness that is coming over me is death. To
morrow I shrill he at home, and when ihis comes
to you. you will take care of Lena, for the sake
of , , MARY.”
' Wilton read this letter - through, and then
the proud m m leaned his arms on the table,'
and burying bis head there, sobbed like a very
child, unmindful of hitVtnsivful listeners. v
-’•t-cnrmpincrraii wmuu toon"pTaceVTUar eve
ning in Mrs. Mason’s little parlor ; but when
Wilton Hughes had risen to leave, he put aside
Lena’s thick curls, and looking in her face said;
■very tenderly., , ■
“ My child, never go out id another day's
sewing. Your mother lias given you to me.—
I will lake good care of yon.” ..
A month had passed. .
“ What, is the reason that Wilton never
stays at home now-a days ?" said Mrs. Hills
to her; dull, but very stately husband, on one
of those unfrequent evenings which they were
passing alone together. ‘He used to be away
quite too much, I thought, but now we never
get a glimpse of himuntil eleven. Do, Charles,
hand me that magazine.”
“Perhaps he's out. courting: eh, Sarah?”
suggested the gentleman, as he passed the
pamphlet to his wife."-
‘ Nonsense ; it’s nothing of that kind,” re
plied the lady, quickly for she had no great
confidence in her husband’s discriminating fac
ulties. ‘ lid give him a lecture for leaving me
so ; but then what good would it do ?”
If Mrs. Hills could have known the new
life which the heart of her brother had been
living that last month, and if she could have
looked into Mrs. Mason’s little parlor that eve
ning, it would greatly have modified her're
mark.
Wilton Hughes had passed his evenings with
Lena Arnold, and his soul had drunken .again
of the golden goblet of its youth.
. Lena was so ohild-hke, so unaffected, that it
was a joy to the world-weary man to, be with
her.
' He might have been married years before:
but his sister's fineness and frivolity had sick
ened his heart df their sex; and then they
would never leave him alone, but wore always
trying to palm off some woman upon him as
false and vain as themselves.
But, Lena ! Lena 1 She had taken him back
to the golden dream of his youth, and- ho sat
watching her to night, as she stood by the ta
ble, her graceful head leaning over the drawing
he-had -brought her, her dark- dyes beaming
bright through their long, heavy lashes.-
“ Lena,” he said at last, “ will you come
and sit down by me, for i have something to
say to you ?”
She came, with a smile half curious, half con
fiding, for Lena had learned to know Wilton
very well during that month.,
“ Lena,” he said, stroking the little hand he
had' taken in his, and looking into her clear
eyes, “do you love me any ?"
“ Love you any I”, answered tho girl, with
that frankness which contact with tbb world had
never taught her to conceal; “to be sure X do.
Were you not my mother’s best friend, and are
you not my own ppw 1 Ob I I love you bettor
than any one in tho world, Mr. Hughes I”
“ Well enough to ho my, wife, Lena I”
She sprang up in her wild astonishment, and
her cheeks were incarnadined With blushes
“I your with I You do not mean it, Mr.
Hughes?’’ '
He put Ifis arm around- her.
“Yea, Lena, I should not jest on such asub
ject. Twenty years lie ■ between us, and ray
hairs may bo growing gray, while your cheek
still keeps the bloom'of, its youth. Shull you
love me less because I loved your mother first
—because I shall bo old before you, Lena?”
She drew up close to him. “No.no. I was
not thinking of that;.only I amsodifferent; I
know so little, arid I am so unfitted to be your
wife.”
“lamin no hurry, Lena. You are right in
thinking yoursell too young to marry now. I
will wait (or you throe years. I will not tram
mel you girl-liko with any engagement which
gratitude might induce you to make me. You
shall bo tree, and you shall pass tho intervening
throe years at one of the best schools in the
union.”
.The pride of Lena’s father, and tho delicacy
of her mother, rose in her answer. But to be
so dependent before I am married? Forgive
me I unit I cannot jjoar tho thought of if, Mr.
1 Hughes.”
“ I have looked out for all that, my Lena.—
The gentleman at whoso school I would place
[you, desires an assistant in drawing. In two
“OUR COUNTRY —MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT. RIGHT OB WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.’.’
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 1858.
months yon can ba this, land yourself defray
your expenses.”
“How can I thank you r^.said
burst of happy tears. Now!'will sfudjfi;sd you'
shall not bo ashamed of iu(| whon l am—” ; : •!
She did not fiiiisb her
she buried her burning iifj&.pn
there had beamed a
ming eyes, which told
loved him. .
Three years passed. Wilton had-just return
ed with Mr. and Mrs. Hits from:their annual
visit to Saratoga. Martha| his eldest sister,
rode up the next day to welcome them homo
again. . ' v:^ 1 ; - ’
“I hear you’ve had an unusually gay season
at the springs,” said the lady. “WasWillon’
as indifferent as oyer to the beauties ho found
there, Sara?” . ■
“ Yes, just, Martha. , 1 Wtlven liter Up now .
He’s a confirmed old bachetof.” ■ / ■'"
“No, ho isn’t cither, saldt.ho gcnUcmaiiin
question, as ho entered fniihlho next room,
where he had overheard theiremarks; /“ nndto
prove this to you, I expect
videnco permitting, four weeks frqin this day !”
“To whom? To whom'l”:cHcif both tho : la.
dies, as they sat down pald
“Do you ybung-gWJ.a
Miss Arnold, who, some tijrce yearsago,clid
plain sewing for you a few
my wife I” . >
“ Wilton Hughes!” shrieked,both the horri-
Dod ladies ; “will you so
family,? Wo will .never
speak to her.” ; ’
■ “ Martha’!-Sara I Bo stilhx The. tones’ were
so stern and commanding,,tlSit even fho. proud
women yielded to them. >&iston to.inoj” and
Wilton sat down, and told hphiisters the story
of his vouth—of his love for Mary Willis, and
the lie that had made her anMher’s, and how his
heart had holden that pnpinembry in silence
and tenderness for so many years. '
Then he told them of they winter night, and
his meeting with her child, and thus he conclu
ded : . - M '
“ Whether yon receive or Reject my wife, is a
matter perfectly optional wittCyourselves; but,
remember, alio is nevertoijo insulted in my
presence.” And ho;l?lMhein- ■'
Wilton’s words had'rcaclled the woman’s
hearts of his sisters. . Thertnyas something of
truth and beauty in this deep,' long enduring
love, which spoke to their soips through all the
pride and false shame whictj, had overgrown
them. i-';
Mary Willis had been fhoir .playmato in the
days they,had since blushed, ro remember and
her sweet lace came back td.,jlbsm once more,
and in that better moment they .said :
‘‘‘There is no use'in finding fault with him,
ami, after all, his love has befit very beautiful.
She will be his wife, and we Trill receive her as
such.” ' ■ ■
And they did not alter determination;
when Wilton brought Lena -.tpiifhonij and they
looked upon her. graoefijl:anjtfyiri.e-lik.e,‘.in l -alb
her rare bridal beauty; for shawns bapliy aSfew
wives are in the husband loved
her mother., ■’ - 1 '
The Lent Paj
•‘John, what has become i
per V' inquired Mrs. o—:—,
’• Yes, James brought it,home on Saturday
evening; but neighbor N——pnd his wife be-
Ung here, ho laid it oh the parlor table.”
1 Oh,.N— —has got the paper: Xremember,
now of lending it to him.’ ■ " "
‘lam very sorry for thatl think you do
very wrong, husband, in lending,the papers be
fore we have read them. .He who takes a pa
per and pays for it, is certainly entitled to the
first perusal of'it.
• Don’t N take a paper?’ .inquired Mr.
C——with surprise.
•No.’ ’
• Why not ? He is, as he says, always very
fond of reading.’
• Yes, but he seems to think himself unable
to take one.’
"Unable! He is certain!if as able as we
are. He pays a much larger tax, and is al
most always bragging of his superior cattle
and- ”
‘ Hush, wife! It is wrong:(o speak of our
neighbor’s faults behind their backs. Heprom
ised to return the paper to-day.” ,
• I hope he will. It contains an excellent ar
ticle which I desired very much to read.’
Mrs. 0 was an excellent lady, and prob
ably possessed as liberal feelings as her peace
loving husband ; but she could believe it to
be their duty to furnish a“frcq*aper to her
more wealthy and covetous neighbor.
N- had formerly taken a paper; but,
thinking it 100 expensive, to the no small dis
comfiture of his wife and little-ones, he had or
dered its discontinuance, He, however, dearly
loved to read, and bad for a year or more been
in the habit of sending ‘little Joe’on the disa
greeable errand of borrowing old papers of his
neighbors.
Mrs. Or — waited patiently through the day,
expecting to see little Joe coming with the pa
per. but the day passed, as likewise did the
evening, and no paper come.
The next mornirig, after breakfast, she was
heard to say:
‘• Well, John, the paper has not been re
turned yet.” ,
~‘jUi,.Jmieeci.:,_l_.gucss. neighbor N r - r —has
either forgotten his promise or is absent from
home, ’ replied C
• I think,’ she continued, ‘ Tfe had better send
James after it.’
• Would it not be best, wife, to wait until af
ternoon ?N— - may return it before that
1 As you think best,’ was t|»c reply.
They waited until nearly dork, but no paper
made its appearance. James, a smart lad of
ten years, was now instructed to proceed to
neighbor N ’s and get the paper. He soon
arrived and made known his errand. He was
very politely informed that it was lent to R
the blacksmith, who lived half a fnile
further on. James, unwilling.to return home
without it, notwithstanding the lateness of the
hour, continued dn to the blacksmith a.
' It was quite dark when ho arrived, but he
soon made his business known, and was inform*
ed by Airs. R —, that ‘ little sis got hold
of the paper and tore it up.”
* I’ll take the fragments, 1 said James, who
was for having nothing lost.
* The fragments, Jim!’ exclaimed Mrs. R.—
* Old Donk, the pedler, came along here to-day,
and I sold ’em with the rags.’ James, sope
what dispirited by his unsuccessful mission,
and not being very courageous in the dark, si
lently beat a hasty retreat for home, where id
due season he arrived,’and reported the result
of his errand.
* Ah,’ very composed remarked -Mr.,o
* X supposed R —asked neighbor N to
lend him the paper and he did not like to deny
him. We cannot, I think, accuse either of do
ing intentional wrong; and one paper,’ con tin
ned he, ‘ is of little value.’
“You may argue as you please,’
replied Mrs. C • But be assured of onto
thing.’
'What is that?’ asked Mr. 0., with evident
fear.
‘ Nothing. on)y neighbor N -will not long
bo at the inconvenience of troubling people for
old papers.”
OWE
1 olnntffr.
Inabout three weeks after this conversation,
N ; ■ -was informed by the postmaster that he
.had a paper in the office. He was highly plcas
ed at this announcement, but he could not think
was so very kind as to send him a paper.
After’ many conjectures, however, he came to
tbo conclusion that it was from sonic friend
Whom be had assisted in former years. _
One year had passed; the paper continued to
como/ind N-—-was still ignorant from whcmje
it came i' but ono-day at a hauling, he informed
his neighbors of his good fortune, and express
ed soldo;fears dhat he would have to do without
a paper soon.
• No you shan’t,’ said James C——in a loud
tone of voice, • for mother sent, two dollars for
you last week.” 7 1 ’" :
A Well done;'Jim!’ shouted a dozen voices,
while.a simultaneous roar of,laughter ran along
the line of teamsters. -
I=
N—, who had previous*to r this announce
ment bceii reritarkably cheerfuj and talkative,
-becatne suddchly silent, with a deep red color,
the emblem of Shame, mimtlcd his brow. This
was a good lesson fur N
Below will be found a synobsis of the De
partmental Reports accompanying the Message,
embracing all the important points of these pa
pers; y" “ ' '
naPOMV OF THE SEOItATATtT OP TUB IN'TEHIOR.
This coriiprises twenty-six closely-printed pa
ges, and embraces a great variety of valuable
matter. .. The Secretary first refers to the sub
ject of public lands, which he regards as a mat
ter of.greater magnitude than any other wilhiu
the administration’bf his Department. After
speaking of the excellencies of our public land
system, generally, which he regards as! the
most conducive to their rapid settlement add
reclamation"from a wild and uncultivated con
dition, that could be fratned, ho animadverts at
considerable length on the practice of .making
donations of public lands to actual settlers, af
ter a residence thereon .of a specified term of
years: aswas.tbo case with the lands of Ore
gon arid Washington Terri lories'and-the State
of Florida. This system was adopted with a
view to ensure a speedier settlement' of (ho
lands, than would obtain under the usual laws
for preemption and entries. Practically, how
ever, it has not had the desired effect.
The Secretary next presents a brief summary
of the operations of the General Land Office,
Which shows that during the fiscal year ending
June 30,1858, 3,804,008 acres of the public
.lands were sold for cash,yielding $2,110,708,
and 5,802.153 acres were located with milita,
ry bounty land warrants. The unexpected
diminution in the cash sales is accounted for by
the fact,that public sales in several of the Ter
ritories were, postponed, because the unpropit
uons season and financial disturbance had de
prived the'settlers cf an opportunity to raise
money to buy with t and to . have prosecuted
the Sales would have been doing them great in
jury. The quantity of land surveyed.and rea
;dy to he brought into market in September was
; -<51,051,049 acres, and that subject to sale at
, -Swfr’jtta'entW Was ,-river. ri'XQori (109 acres.-A
view of the operations under the bounty land
laws, and swamp and railroad grants, Is.next
given. The Secretary recommends tile exten
sion ot the land laws over Utah, and the resto
ring to market of land set apart for Indians,
but not occupied by them. He also.rccom-
I mends the passage of general laws respecting
the mineral lands, suggesting that those con
taining the precious metal he reserved from
sale for the use and occupancy of the people of
the United States, under wholesome regula
tions.- He also recommends that instead of
allowing pre-emptions to, mail contractors for
locations for stage stands, on routes through
the Trritories, that such stations be reserved; by
the Government for the use of successive con
tractors, The graduation land laws ol 1854
are disapproved of, as being a fruitful source
of fraud and annoyance.
' Of the Indian aflairs the Secretary mentions
that, with trifling exceptions, the tribes with
which we have treaties have kept their faith
and refrained from hostilities;. the difficulties
having been principally with those tribes, the
treaties with whom have not yet been ratified, i
The Secretary recommends that instead of large
reservations being set apart for the Indians of a
tribe,-in common, tho land be distributed to)
them invividuaily ; and that, rather than di
vide the annuities per capita among them, tho
money be spent for supplying them with stock,
implements of civilized life, and in teaching
them agriculture and the mechanic arts. The
removal of Indian tribes is spoken of dispara
gingly, ns it unsettles and disinclines them to
habits of industry, and the opiriion is advanced
that the experiment of civilizing the Indians
has been very imperfectly tested, and that the
substitution of other plans would not fail of |
having the desired effect. -
REPORT OF THE SECRETARY OP W^U
li
;l!isfr:ycek.Bf.p!v?;
. This is a very interesting document of six
teen pages. It starts out with the statement
that the actual numeroial strength oAho Army
was but 17,498 on the Ist of July last, which
is distributed throughout the Union, manning
all the posts, defending all the frontiers, proteo
ting, as_far_as possible, the roJUiea_noypss_tJie.
interior, and contending with the hostile Indi
ans. The demand for men at the stations, and
for what may be termed the police duties of the
army, leave only thirteen regiments, or about
11,000 men of this force for active Geld duty.
Within the year, this force has marched, on an
average, 1,234 miles, through nnninhabited
solitudes and sterile deserts, for the most part,
carrying with them every item of supply.
The report next proceeds to state the specific
operations of the army during the year, and
gives the names of those officers who performed
services especially meritorious. The war in
New Mexico with thcOamanches, the Secretary
regards as just begun. 'The report is accompa
nied by a map showing all the military posts
and roads in the uninhabited interior, thus giv
ing a more adequate idea of the " services per
formed than could well be otherwise conveyed,
and being convenient, also, for reference.
The chapter on Utah recounts the particulars
of the campaign to a limited extent, arid urges
that the Mormons are now in a condition of in
voluntary submission; and that the presence of
an'armed force is necessary to keep them in
check. They still continue their organization,
and the Federal authority is alleged to be ex
eluded from all participation in the govermen
tal affairs of the Territory, beyond a mere hol
low show. In this connection the hazarous
mach of Oapt. K. B. Marcy from Fort Bridget
to Now Mexico, is commented on at considera
ble length, and that officer arid his command re
ceive the highest encomiums for their intrepidi
ty and courage.
In referring to the Quartermaster’s Bureau,
the Secretary states that if the appropriations,
granted by Congress in Juno last, could have
been obtained in January, at least 25' per cent
Of the expenditures for the purchase of sup
plies for the Utah expedition could have been
saved. As it was, in order, to start the expedi
tion at a seasonable lime, the purchase had to
be made under the disadvantages of credit, or
with money obtained from private sources.—
The disbursements amount to nearly 510,000,-
Department Reports,
Ell
«!»
' - '- . .•:'! t f' ' ' , :' , ; ' ,... - :: :
:.::;r-_ 6`:::7i,,,.'i
AT 52,00 PER 'ANNtiM.
000 during the year; and yet every account lias
been closed, and the vouchers. filed, except for
$28,000, not. yet received, on account of the
distance of the officer making the disbursement
from the scat of government. The Secretary
takes occasion to relievo this bureau _from un
just animadversions, by stating that, whilst
payments are necessarily made through its
agency, it has no voice in direoting I when, how',
or to what extent they shall be made. In the
Commissary’s Bureau there was no inadequacy
of funds, and supplies of tt better quality were
purchased, at lower rates thari fpr years past; .
The Secretary recommends, as’d rilbasuro of
economy, the increase. of the army t and also
an increase of the national defences, by a grad
•ual process, but thinks that it is incumbent
upon the Government to secure eligible Idealisms
for their erection, as early as possible, before
private enterprise shall avail of them for other
purposes. Lengthy clidplers are devoted to
summaries of operations in the construction, of
military roads, and -conducting ' explorations
and surveys. The imihediate introduction of a
thousand camels, for transporting' IrOops'and,
baggage, over the plains, is recommended as a
measure of wise economy.
Highly beneficial results are believed to be
attainable by the conversion of thensylunj. at
Harrodsburg, Ky., into a cavalry depot, where
recruits in the cavalry arm of the service may
be drilled. The Artillery School at Port Mon*
roe is reported to fully realize the . most
guine expectations, and the purchase of ah ad
joining piece, of ground,is recommended, so as
to afford a sufficient range for practice with
hcavy'guus. The appointment of an addition*,
al Inspector General is recommended; as is al
so the consolidation of the Corps of Engineers
and,.Topographical Corps, that staff officers,
from the'heads, of. bureaus down, be required
to serve periodically in the field that three ad
ditional Brigadier Generals be appointed ; that
the biiil.dings at the Washington Arsenal bo
improved, and that volunteer claims be settled.
REPORT OF THE SECRETART OP TIIE KAVT.
This document, which fills fifteen pages, is
also highly interesting. It opens with an ac
count of the arrest ot Walker in Nicaragua,
and follows this with a sketch of the operations
to prevent the visitation and search of Ameri
can vessels by British war steamers, and a
statement of the progress made in the Paraguay
expedition. The Secretary recoriimcnds the
purchase of the steamers now chartered for that
purpose, as the additional cost, beyond that
which will have to be paid for their charters,
will be only $149,200 for the six propellers,
and $217,000 for the three Vide wheel steamers.
The fitting out pi the'expedition under Lieut.
Brooke, to survey the routes across the Pacific,
from San Francisco to China, and to preparb
charts thereof, is next noticed, and then fol
lows short notices of the capture of the slaver
Echo, the laying of the Atlantic cable, the cap
ture of the ketch of yacht “ Brothers,” the re
turn to Africa of the Echo cargo of slaves. &c.
The five steam sloops of war authorized to
be built by act of March 3,1857, it is stated,
will soon be completed.- They, - are all of the
first class sloopsj and will be. swift and clfeo
■ live fotjho...Service. The seven steam, spreyf
■m O „ mlteid Htrnmor.- au
thorized by the act of June, 1858, arelusom IT
slate of great forwardness. Five of them will
be launched this month, and ready for sea in
May next, and the other two will be launched
next spring, and ready for trial by June. The
side-wheel steamer will be finished in August
next. The plan of construction of all these
has been with a view to make them most ser
viceable and of the highest speed.
The Secretary urges the importance of a fur
ther increase of the Navy, and recommends
that authority bo given for the construction of
at least ton more steamers of light dralt. The
enlargement and improvement of the Naval Aca
demy at Annapolis is also recommended, and
the deficiency of midshipmen and officers in the
service urged as an argument in its favor. Se
veral recommendations are made, among which
may bo numerated the addition of 2J Surgeons,
20 Assistant Surgeons, and 15 6r 20Fursers,
and the increase of the Marine Corps to 2,000
privates from 1,508, the present number. After
stating various other matters of interest, to.
nearly rill ml which, However*; allusions have
already been made -in - the newspapers,- the re
port concludes with an account of the expendi
tures of the Department, Eorlho fiscal year
ending Juno 30, 1800, the estimates are §lBj>-
500,370,80, including §074,000 for completing
the eight light draft steamers, and not including
tlie usual compensation of §935,850 for .steam
ship mail service,- which is loss than tho esti-1
mates for 1850 by about §1,100,000.
REPORT OP THE SECRETARY "OP THE TREASURY.
This is R lengthy document, nnd contains a
large quantity of statistical matter. Owing to
the depletion of the Treasury, there has bean
no little speculation concerning it; and the moo
ted alteration of the ,tariir law has excited a
great deal of interest everywhere, and genera,
ted intense anxiety in some circles. From the
array of facts presented by the Secretary, it
seems evident that there has already, been a
sufficient revival of trade to instiro, under the
existing tariff hiw, an adequate revenue in a lit
tle time, hut the estimate for the ensuing year
apprehends a deficiency of $7,914,570. Deem:
ing a loan inadvisable, the Secretary suggest
that the only remedy Is,a modification of the
tariff and adds that the same principle should
apply'in malting these m edification s”l bit t'AVOuUI
have influence in framing an original tariff law.
The Secretary estimates the whole expendi
ture of iho Government for the year ending
Juno 30, 1800, at $73,217,947 40; of which only
$52,211,315 08 aro for the regular expenses;
$8,497,724 50 for specific appropriation, such ds
the collection of revenue, mail services, arming
the militia, civilizing the Indians, and payment
of interest on the public debt, and $12,478,907
28 lor existing appropriations for' Iho present
year, which will not be drawn from the Treasury
until alter Juno 30, 1800. Those estimates
compare with those for the present yoar’as fol
lows :
For 1859,
For 1809,
Diminution for 1800, 840,808 51
When it is recollected that tho expenses of
tho Utah and Paraguay expeditions, and the in
terest on the new public debt, have to ho de
ducted from the aggregate for the year, it will
appear that there has been an actual decrease
in the expenditures under tho. present adminis
tration.
POSTMASTER OEHERAL’S REPORT
To this document we can only refer in a brief
paragraph at this time. After alluding to the
creation of several now postal routes and a go.
neral increase of tho service, the Postmaster
General comments at length on the expendi
tures’6f the Department. There is shown to bo
an increase of the expenses, which amount to
$12,722,470 01, and leaves a deficiency to be
made up by appropriations of $4,534,813 70.
Last year the deficiency was about J 52,814,000.
Tire estimate's of receipts and expenditures for
next year are—expenditures, $14,770,520 00;
means, $11,004,303 00; deficiency, $3,082,127.
■ If it,bo desired to relievo the Treasury from
the requisitions upon it for the service of-this
Department, it will bo necessary not only to re
i duco expenses by disconnecting tho madslroni
tiro transportation of passengers and freight, hut
to increase the revenue by tho imposition of
rates of postage approaching more nearly int
value or cost of transportation and delivery ol
loltetsandprintcdmatter. He also cocoinfflonds ’ ■
• changgiutbo franking privilege.",
intend future reference tothe subjectmatter of
tho reports, wo will leave the subject for the
■present. •' ... . •>'
MN
EEPOET OF TOE COJtItISSIONEiI OF tUE OEjnCStAC
The report covers d pdriod'of. five qnftHors •
coding Sept. 80, 1858. During that .period.
thote_woro surveyed of the public lands ;J6,-
209,376acr05, which with former survftyi.innko
, a quantity ot 01,951,040 acres of {lie pnlilld
landssnrvoycd ondsready for market on the 80th
of September, 1858, which had never been of-,
fored at public Sale. During tlic.saino period,
there were sold for cash 4,804,11!) :acr«V'|i'Om ,;
which §2,034,102 was’roalizcd. . Located prltli%
' the .military land warrants 0,983,110, dud. re-■.
ported tinder swamp land grants !,401,'6<$ l nsfeV'*
king an aggregate of cash sales, landwaitants, ■■■':
locations and swamp selections of 18,188,094,' ; -
, The cash realized seems disproportionate.to r
the quantify of lands sold, bnt this is accounted ■;
for by the very large sales at reduced prlcdk,:
under the graduation law Of August 4;
Under tho acts of 1849 and 1850, grantlng tho
swamp and.oycrflowcd ‘ lands to tho distriCtsin ,<
which they aye situated there have beonseleot--
od and reported to tho General Land Office
55,129,492 acres, upon which warrants hayfngt ,
tho effect of patents, have isshed for
acres,- , ■, ..
. The Commissioner reCommerids.amendlaenfs;
to tho preemption laws,' with a'ylew ttf
raity In the System, and to settle dlshuledrJg|Wß)i ,'.
and to terminate controversy in litigated
’ 'NO, 28.
REPOUT OF COMMISSIONER OF IfiUtAX AfFAJBS,';-
Tho Commissioner states that the whole ntimi',.
her, of Indians within our limits.is
about 850,000. The whole number, of tribes
and separate bands is 175, with 44 of which wo' : ;
have treaty arrangements. The number ol rats,
tied . Indian treaties, since the adoption.of thb /
Constitution, 1 898, nearly all of Which contain
provisions .still in force. The quantity of J4hdL:
acquired by these treaties is about 581,168,188 r
acres. The entire cost of fultltling those treat
ies will bo 949,816,844. From apart of these, ’
lands the Govofnmohi received i\o pecuniary"; :
advantages because-they wore, ceded to there? 1 ;
speclivo States, within whoso limifs they were,
situated. .From (hose sold, tho Federal Troa?;
siiry received not only tho whole ,6f the expdtif,
ses incurred for their acquisition, sOrvoy,a'h6( j;< : .
solo, bnt a surplus of at least sloo,ooojooo. v,;,*
.Theamount applicable for tlio fulfilment of;' T
the treaties,'and other objects connected with.
the Indian policy lor the present fiscal year was, . ,
$4,852,407, pi which sum $204,662 wos derlvfcd ■
from investments of trust futSda held on Indian
account is $10,590,649, ol Which $3,502,241 has
boon invested in .stocks of various S tates ’ and
the United States : the remainder, viz: $7,088,-.
407, is retained irt the Treasury, add tho intei
rest thereon annually appropriated by Congress, ;
;TTie Commissioner thinks it worthy of consid
eration whether it will not bo advisable, when .
the National Treasury, shall lib in a Conditian id
admit ol it, also to Invest Iho above amount of -
$7,088,407 In like manner with the other Indian -
trust lunds. . , ;
, The Commissioner,: points odf thrqo fatal eri
rofs which have marked our policy towards tho
Indians from tho very, beginning, viz: Ist;
Their removal from place to place, as our popn. .
lation advances: 2d. The dssigniiioDt of tpd
groat an extent of territory to be Hold by thetd
in comhion : 3d. The allowance of largo annul
of money as annuities. ■ • -
Ho recommends that tho tribes should Be per
manently located upon reservations embracing
not more than is necessary for.nfctiiai oocnpah; -
cy; to divide the land among them in severally}-;
to require, that they, should live upon and culli- ■
vate the land' thus assigned ; tti give thfcto in lieu .
Of money annuities, stock animals, agricultural ,
implements, mechanic shops, manual labor;
schools, &c. Ho recommends tlio ratification
of the treaties made in 1855 with the Indians ot ■
Itaahington and Oregon Territories, &i a moans ,■
of preventing the rccurrency of, hostilities. Ho ;
gives a general statement of tho condition of ;
tho Indians, and calls attention to the urgent ;
necessity for a complete and thorough revision '
bfjtho laws.rolating to Indian affairs. ’ 1 ” 1
Gov. Deliver, though not having time, since.,
the roSiirnption ol his duties to examine closely (
tho facts statpd.iri jlie report, concurs generally /;
■ln tlie reromi»‘-‘a-.i i ->‘".' -r
porary predecessor. ■
I Wat ere hover did betray the soil that loved
her,-and nature tells men and women to mafry.
Just as the yoitbg man is entering upon lilb—
just as ho Comes to independence and man’s es
tate—JuSt the crisis of his being when it is to
be scon whether ho decides with the good, and
the great, and the true, or whether he sink and
ho lost loi-ovor—matrimony gives him ballast
and the right impulse. War with nature and
she takes a smo revenge. Tell a young man
mot to have an attachment that is virtuous, and
ho will have ono that is vicious.' Virtuous love;
the honesty o( man for the woman lie is nboirl
to marry, gives him an anchor for Ids heart—
something pure and beautiful to live and labor
lor. And the woman, what a pure light is shed
upon her path; it makes life for her no day
dream, no idle hour, no painful shadow, no
passing show, but something real, earnest,
worthy, of her heart and hand. But moat folks
aro cowards and daro not think so ; sb wd lack
grace, and. we are of little faith; our inward
ore is diin and dark.
The modern young lady must marry in stylo
—the riiodern young gentleman marries a lor
tune. But in the meanwhile (ho young girl
grows an old maid, and the 4’ohth takes Cham,
hors—ogles at the nursery niaidS, and becomes
a man about town—a man whom - it is dangerous
to ask into your house for his business is in
trigue. The world might have had a happy
couple; instead, it gets a fretful woman, a pla
gue to all around her. ' Ho becomes a sceptic
in all virtue; a corrupter of the ycfrtth of both
sexes; a curse in whatever circle he may enter.
Even worse may result. She may be deceived
and die of a broken heart. Ho may rush from
one folly to another, associate only witb;tbO
depraved, bring disgrace and sorrow upon him
self and all around luuV, and sink into an early
grave. ~■ , , ~
Our great cities show what becomes of men o
and women who do not marry. Worldly fath
ers nnd mothers advise hit to marry till they
can support a wife, and the beys wickedly ex
pend double the amount in bad company.—-
Hence it is, all wise men— like Franklin—ad
vocate early marriages; and that all our great
moTq"wlth“feW~oXcep(ions;' woro,'men who inaf.~'
riod young. Wordsworth had only ono hun
dred pounds a year when ho first married. Lord
Eldon wgs so poor that ho had to go to Clare
market, London; to buy sprats for supper. Co
leridge and Southey had no incoiOo when they-,
married. We question 1 , at any time, whether o
Luther had more than fifty pounds a year.. Wo "
blast humanity in its very dawn. Fathers, you
say you teach your sons prudence—you do.
nothing of the kind-rvour worldly-wise and
clover son .isalready ruined for life. Yon will ..
find him at the faro-lahles and froo-lovo circles.
Tour wretclidd worldly itisddm (aright him to .
avoid tire share of marrying young; and soon,
if ho is not involved in embarrassment that will
last him.for life, be is a blase fallow—heartless,
false, without a single generous sentiment or
manly aim—ho has “no God, no Heaven, in (ho
wide world.”
$74,004,755 97
73,217,947 40
A correspondent of a Boston paper vfrrites the
following in reference to the wife of the Ecv.
Alfred Cookman, late pastor of Christ’s Meth
odist Church, at that place:
“Mrs. Cookman, the wife of the eloquent
Methodist clergyman who was lostin the Pres
ident, has never givqn up the idea that he is
safe, and will yet come home. It is now eigh
teen years since the President went down, but
her faith in his ultimate return has never been
shaken. His plate is regularly set at the table,
his chair awaits his coming,-and the ring of the
door-bell rouses the Hush to her cheek, and each
step on the outside seems to s ay the long-ab
sent one,has come home. Those years of™'"'
tal anguish, who can tell the woe crowded into
them ! who can fathom the sorrow of that hope
so long deferred! But it presents a bright
view of the happiness of that home m other;
days, from which the husband and father has
been so long away,"
BTT'AgAm we say, if yon wish to find an- «
intelligent mam just look for one yvith features'
so rough that they might use his face for a nut
meg grater.
IASD OFFIOB.'
-• MBRI4GE.
Mrs. Cookman.
■V
ill