IjffitICAMpIitJNTEER. iOBtMUKD KVEBY inDnSDAT MOBHINO BY : Jotliiß. Bratton. TERMS. Sbusoription. —One Dollar and Fifty Cents, said in advance; Two Dollars if paid within the voirt and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not naid within the year. These terms will bo rig idly adhorefl' to in . every instance. No suh scription ' discontinued until all arrearages are paid unless at the option of the .Editor. • Advertisements— Accompanied by the cash, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for One Dollar, arid twenty-dye cents lor’each additional insertion. Those of ajgreat ter length"in'proportion. , Joo-Pbintino— Such as Hand-bills, Posting bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &0., &c., exe cuted with acouracyiind at the shortest notice. I'ntiitnl. A WUBLD UP LOVE AT HOME. nr j. jr; Reynolds. The earth hath treasures fair and bright, Deep buried in her caves; And ocean hideth many a gem . With bis blue, curling waves i Yet not within her bosom dark,' ... Gr J nealh-th(ydashlng loamj JyUcs there a treasure equaling ■:), A world of love at home. True, sterling happiness and joy Are not with gold allied. Nor ban it yield a pleasure like A merry fireside. I envy.not the man who dwells In stately hall or dome, If mid his splendor bo hath not A world of lovo at home. The friends whom time have proved sincere, ’Tis they alone can bring ' A sure relief to hearts that droop, ’Neath sorrow’s heavy wing. Though care and jrouble may be mine. As down life’s path I roam. I’ll heed them not while still I have A world of lovo at home. WIIAT HAS BEEN, I have hoard him, ! have heard him, . Speaking words of deepest lovo; Swearing to bo true forever, By tho moon that shone above'!.. I have seen him,T have seen him, . Kneeling suppliant at my feet ; Praying for some word' or token 'That might his affection meet! I have listened, ! have listened, While those flatt’ring words were said; And allowed-bright hopes to brighten, Which as quickly were to fade! I havo trusted, I have trusted, With no feeling but of love; Never dreaming one so precious .E’er could so forgetful prove! I have.heard him, I have heard him. To another plight li.is'faith— .. In the words he spoke to.me once, . Swear fidelity'to death! I have seen him, I have seen him, Kneeling at 'another's knee; Suing both with voice.and gesture, As ho ouco had sued to mo ! I have listened, I have listened. Whilst within the church, he stood, To words that bound him to .another, Till death do pari them—one in blood! But, while life remainoth, never. Though a thousand suitors knelt, Can I trust,as I have trusted, < Can I feel as I have fait! • ffiisrtllanton,o.: OKPHAN MARY. BY ÜBS. M. A. DENISON. “ I wish you was with your mother.” _ Such was the cxc'anmtion of a cross, tired looking woman, as she snatched a bit of choice work from a little hand, and'ihen rudely push ing'the child from her side, she left the room. It was not a beautiful creature, that little wan child, with golden ringlets and soft deep ■blue eyes. Neither was her complexion daz zling, nor her cheeks round and flushed with a rich bloom. She was only a poor, plain, com mon looking child, whom nobody ever called sweet names, and gave loving kisses to.save the sainted mother, over whose ashes the mould gathered now. ■Quietljt ihe littleone moved away—but great, gasping'sobs swelled her bosom, and she breath ed hard as if it were a misery and weariness to breathe at all., , _ “ I wish I was with, my mother—oh ! don 11 wish I was with niy nqolher!” she said again •and again, holding her little hands tightly clenched upon her breast. *' If I was only up there,"she sobbed pitifu'ly, “my bead wouldn’t beat so, and; my eyes be so red and aphing. Oh! God, take me—take roe up there with my mot tier.” ' Never was uttered a more fervent prayer, and —it was answered. *. ’*■ * .* “ Mother says if you’re sick and can’t do nothing, you'd better go to bed. She sitys you rousn’t eat no supper, because sick folks.ought noteat anything. She says it’s'light enough to see without a candle, Upon receiving this-message, orphan Mary groped her way through the long dark passa ges, and entering a small and poor room, threw herself on the bed. Her strength was exhausted by the heavy tasks ihat had been imposed on her during the day, and her head ached so violently, that it seemed to her it shook with the pain. She had 'almost sobbed herself to sleep when a little figure stole in, holding in one band a slice of nicely buttered bread, and in the,other, n feeble light. ’ • ■ , *• Mary,"-it said, “ Mary, Ann told mo that you had gone to bed sick, .without any supper. Ain’t you hungry! Here’s something for you to'cat.” . . Mary sprang wildly up. her eyes glittering and a crimson circle on her cheek. Fever was coursing through all her veins, she was lor a moment bewildered, and gazed around her so strangely that the little figure shrank back fur ther in the gloom. „ • .. oh! I wish my mother waj_alive, she exclaimed, solemnly. “Ellyjiymi don’t know how I feel. I couldn’t eat It.” she added as the child stretched out its little offering, “ 1 teel as if I never should cat anything again—some thing is going round and round inside my heart as if I was dying.” There! I feel heller now." she said, a ter a lew heavy gasps ; “ but ph, do you know I think that I am going to die?” What makes you think so? ’ asked the lit-, tie girl, coming nearer and laying her hand upon Mary’s, “ bow queer and white you look!” ’• Aunt told me to night,” said the sick child. " that she wished I was with my mother—and then' I prayed to God that he would take me to heaven—and—l tliink lie will: to-night may be.” ... “Oh Mary !” exclaimed Ella, bursting into tears, and sobbing as if her her heart, would break, •• I'm sorry I struck you yesterday, and We’ve all been cross to you. I heard mother Bay it. and I saw her push you. and it mane me feel bad ; oh ! Mary don’t say you re going ‘o die, and we’ll all be good to youdon t die Mary. Do eat this piece of bread. , The chi|d shook her head. “Auntdidn mean to bo cross, I guess, or soy what made me feel so bad. said Mary, in a weak voice; ‘ i don’t fee' a hit bad about it now, though 1 think my heart almost broke then- -“■•*“ y°H so kind- to think of me, too, dear. 1 u te” Mttiffltt BY JOHN B. BRATTON. YOL. 46. of- it, be sure, in heaven, and Gad will bless yon, I know he will. And you’re cold and shivering, while I’m oh!—all burning up.— You must' go to the fitc again, only help me undress, because may be aunt won’t like it if I sleep in these clothes. Good night—stop, kiss me, Elia, maybe I’ll never kiss you again. : Ella stooped down and impulsively flung her arms about Mary’s neck. It felt burning hot —so did her lips and her breath ; but when the child told in .the warm, kitchen that Mary thought she should die that night, her mother laughed derisively, saying. “ that the child. must be broken of such nervous notions.” If she had come to her sooner, she would have made something of her—but sister with her re fined notions had utterly ruined her, adding. “ I rather think she’ll cotne'-m to her breakfast Ibis morning; .we shan’t save anything on her dying this year.” Slowly the sad hours crept along; and twelve had long ago struck front the old clock in the corner, when little Mary sprang again from her troubled sleep. The moon shone in-full and white ; its light struck out' all. the little objects of interest from the dark Wall—her mother’s furniture—a dingy portrait, and a high-backed chair with a white sheet thrown over it. She was now in a raging fever, and on - the very yerge of delirium. She threw aside the coverlid that almost scorched her, and the keen night air seemed grateful to her. She had waked from a dream—a glorious dream of heaven, the angels and her mother. — She had heard silvery accents sweetly singing out from some beautiful golden arch. . “ Come Utile Mary, come where your muthcr is.” “ And where is my mother?” she thought; dosing Iter eyes for a moment; “ she called rne, I surely heard her, I; saw her. Where shall 1 go to find tny niother ? tell me, dear Jesus ?” , Another moment;, she had flung her long black hair hack from her eyes—sought the door, nnd was gone. None saw her in her flight, save the. kindly moon that looked ‘down pityingly. The frost glittered on the hedges, the bare trees shook their lifeless branches above her head. Many a watcher sat in the pleasant cottage—some of joy, some of grief, but they knew not that the motherless child fled almost on the wings of the wind, past their joy.and sorrow, past warm and pleasant children snug ly sleeping, with their arms twined around each others necks—past loving, living parents—that poor motherless child flying to the cold bed in the church yard. , Her feet left. prints in the frozen dew, she felt not the chill, but with her widly bright eyes measured.the shining stars that glittered between her and the heaven she sought. The church wall gained, she glided by, found the little cross-bars: at the entrance, nnd passed theinl In her night-robes gliding ninong the grey head-stones, she looked like a spectre, wan and whittf. ■ At length she found the spot where last she had seen the brovy of her gentle mother upturn ed tt^ the pale sunlight. ' There site sank down as she shouted. “ Ihavo come, mother : I have come, motherand she would gaze and. listen, .While the crimson fever : spots laded into white on her cheeks. Pres ently-, she fancied that, she was again in her childhood’s home, and sweetly-and-lovingly,she talked, with .mother, twinning bey arms l as. if about her' necki .imploring in plaintiff accents that she, would not leave her. ” The lightest breeze made her frame tremble now, for the'fever of her delirium was passing away, though not the fancy that she was in her own dear home. Slill she babbled of .little childish things, and feeling weary, murmured that she would go to bed. ' ' Oh! it would have been a touching sight, even to the heartless, to see that motherless child put her little limbs on the co’d grave to hear her murmur as her parched lips parted faintly and slightly, “ Good night, mother ; I’m going to sleep, now, and if I die before I wake, I nrav the Lord my soul to lake.” ‘**** ». * * AM was in confusion in the family where Or phan Mary had suffered so much and so brave ly. Tim children went about weeping—the fa -.her had. gone to the crier’s, but meanwhile two men came to the cottage bearing the body of the dead child. Horror-stricken the conscious woman who had treated her tender charge thus harshly, moved hurriedly away fi cm the little body, muttered Vaguely. “ found—found—found in the death sleep. Found with her little hands clasped—her limbs stiff—her lips bloodless— her heart still. Found, and dead.” l*he children pressed about the little white form with bitter grief—but the parents stood aloof, henceforth, to know no peace. “ I wish you was with your mother! Oh how these thrilling words rang through her brain. Dear lamb! she was with her mother no more to bear wrong and insults. From the church-yard her patient spirit went tip : and it was an angel warning, that pressed from her heart the prophetic words—“ Oh! Ella, do you know I think I am going to die ?” . Sailing in tb« Air. Mr. Hyde, the reporter of the St. Louis Re publican, who was one of the voyagers in the balloon Atlantic, has written for that journal a narrative of the voyage. We clip therefrom the following extract: Every vestige of St. Louis had now vanished from our sight, and we were drifting at a won derful rate of speed towards onr far off destina tion. Ido not think I ever before experienced such exhilaration of spirit-such real joy. Our motion was perfectly steady. There was no rocking of the boat orcar, no rustling of the. silk—.nothing, indeed, but the receding forests and fields beneath, to tell us we were,not poised between earth and sky in a dead calm. To have been apprehensive of danger would have been next to impossible—to have felt fear would have been; not cowardice, but pusillani mity. My feeling was that ballooning, besides being the most pleasant and.swift, was the sa fest mode of travel known. Steaming down a rapid current in a boat on a lovely evening, with sublime bluffs, romantic cavcrens and green foliage on either side, glis tening waves bc'ow, and a mild sky above, is grand and delightful. Sailing on an unruffled lake, parting the placid waters, and skimming like' a gull with gentle flectness, is ineffably glorious. But these enjoyable methods of tra vel I felt,’yielded in point of dainty pleasurea ble'ness to the bird-like grace and impressive surroundings of serial navigation. With us no breath of breeze was stirring. The buoyant down of a thistle, released from the willow car. would hove fallen to the boat by its own speci fic gravity. In all this calmness, our mOnstcr bubble floated through the clouds, was on the earth, and gave to the color of the soil the appearance of Irozen lakes. y time the sun had set to the inhabitants of the earth, thojigh to us it was four or five degrees above the horizon. There are two good old English maxims which read as follows: „ “It is vulgar to live above your means, or “to dress above yonr station. To, amt this la 1- fudo (hey would have to be rendered thus s It is vulgar to live within your moans, or To dross above your elbows.” ’SVODLDN'T GET MAD. Old Harry Brewer, or “Hot Corn Harry,’’ as he wastnore farmiliarly known about the cast side of town, was for many years a shin ing light in one of our African churches; and was, by long odds, the mast powerful exhorter of the congregation. Old- Harry was, most' undoubtedly, a good Christian ;; and proved it by living up to the precepts he taught. His extreme good nature was proverbial, and many a bet was lost and won by the young men of -QramLstreet and the Bowery-pin-vain-attcmpts to make. Harry lose his temper. “Go way, boys, go way!” was his 'answer, when they played their wild pranks upon him. “De good book says; .When any smites on de one eheek, you must turn him de oder.” The nearest approach that Harry .was ever known to make towards losing his temper, was about ten years ago. He had a plan whereby he preserved his corn perfectly fresh and green till December or January : and at that season of the y£ar he would go out and make the streets resound with his cry of “hot corn, hot corn ! pipin—jus come out de biiin’ pot!” nnd he realized a handsome profit from its sale. During the year in question, Harry was un fortunate, and his corn decayed ; and out of a large quantity he had put away, he only saved enough to go out with one’or two nights; . In the early part of December, Harry’s voice was heard in the Bowery singing his, well known song; and in one of the bar rooms a bet Was made that Harry, could he thrown off his .guard- In a few moments Harry entered the bar-room, and set his bucket on the floor; but before he could gei ready Tor was pulled around in ail sorts . One pulled hint by the whiskers, anoth^prby the coat tail, and altogether he was being made any ihihg'bitt comfortable. But ail that could be .got from Harry.was: “Go way, boys, go way!” . All attempts to provoke him farther, failed; and, as a last resort, onF of the young-men took up his pail of corn and .said®. “Harry, I’ve a good iiBfaiijcj|jow all your corn out into the street !”_ '“Hush! hush!’’ ,saidfllM|PPdon’.e talk dat way, for you.make ilWeelibad! for if you. frow ray corn in de street now", won must ruin de ole darkey. Ain’t had no wood to.saw hardly this fail, and 'no whitewashing. My wife been sickdis two months, and iny corn's all rotted ; ,and I ain't got nufflui to ’pend on but de Lord!” . : ~ “Well, Harry!” said he et, “you have got a good the corn!” and suiting the aclrolnothe word, ho threw the corn into the street. Harry looked very Sadly after.his property ; and as he picked up his empty'bucket, he said: ‘•De Lord’s will be done!” and then started on a brisk trot from. (he scene of his. tempta tion, as be resolved not to give .way to the wrath hp felt rising within him. In Elizabeth street, a new building was in thecourseof erec tion, and into the cellar of, this, building they, descended, while the young men. who had' fol lowed him, crept stealthily, alter,,to see- what ho.would dp,. >-:■• - r 'V : Xway'hacktin aifar. of hearing fi pm tlie ytreet, and there, upon, his: knees; he gave' yent tohis feelings ini this, wise: ‘•Oh, Lord ! I'se most tempted to git mad, but I won’t do it’for the sake of a pail of corn. Dcm was. de wickedest' boys dat I: cber got amongst; but you made ’em, and I wont com plain. It’s a hard case, and you know I ain’t hab no work more dis fall, and Hannah’s sick; and I only hab a little corn, and dem wicked boys throwed it most all away. But I wbn’t git mad at ’em ; for you hab scid that jusiice am yourn. But give ’em jusiice, and make ’em repent for dere evil ways. Take ’em,.o'n Lord, and hold ’erii ober de bottomless pit, and shake ’em! and if your a mind to singe ’em a wory little;, but, oh [ good Loid, be, wery careful, and don’t let ’em fall in ; and when it feels so hot dey ’gin to repent, den let 'em go agin, and dey’ll be belter men !” His prayer ended, Harry came forth, look ing as good natured as ever: and the young men. who were in waiting for him, took him back into the bur-room, and the proceeds.of the bet, five dollars, was handed over to him, which amply remunerated him for the loss of his stock in trade.— N. T. Mercury- Franklin’s Son. Speaking of the son of Dr. Franklin, the New buryport Herald says; “ As the name plTranklin is prominently be fore the public; it may not be uninteresting to give some account of his only son, William, about whom we thihk little is known by Iho community at large. Unlike,bis lather, whose chief claim is lor Iho invaluable service ho ren dered his country in her greatest need, the son was, from the first to the last, a devoted loyal ist. Before,the Kcvolntionary war ho held sev eral civil and military offices of importance. At the commencement 61 the war, hb held the office ot Governor of New Jersey, which appointment he received in 1775. . When the difficulty be tween tjie mother country and the colonies was coming to a crisis, he throw his whole influence in favor of loyalty, and endeavored to prevent the Legislative Assembly of Now Jersey from sustaining the proceedings of the General Con gress of Philadelphia. Those efforts, however, did hut little to stay the tide of popular senti ment in iavor of resistance to tyranny, and soon involved him in difficulty. He was deposed from office by the whiga, to give place to Wil liam Livingston, and sent a prisoner to Connec ticut, where he remained two yeard in East AVindsor, in the house of Captain Ebenezor Grant, where the Theological Seminary now stands. In 1778 .ho was exchanged, and soon after went to England.': There he spent the re mainder of his life, receiving a pension irom the British government for hia fidelity. He died, in 1818, at the ago of 82. As might have been expected, hia opposition to the cause of liberty, so dear to the heart of his hither, produced an estrangement between them. For years' they had no intercourse— when in 1791, the son wrote the father. In his reply Dr.. Franklin says: “Nothing has ever hurt mo so much, and affected me with such deep sensation, as to find myself deserted, in my old age, by my only son j and not only do. sorted, but to find him taking up arms against mo in a cause wherein my good fame, fortune and life were ail at stake.” In his will, also, he alludes to the part his son had acted.. After making some bequests, he adds: “The part ho acted against me in the late war, which is of public notoriety, will ac count for my leaving him no more of an estate he endeavored to deprive me of.” ■ The patriotism of tho father stands forth aft the brighter when contrasted with the desertion oi his son. An indoscrect person is like an unsealed letter, which everybody canpernso. Love of children is always an indication of a gonial nature, pure, unworn, and unselfish heart. nr? - 'A correspondent wants to know whether, considering tho great utility of the occan poets are not wrong to call It a «waste of water ? ear Isn . t it Singular that an ill-natured shop keeper should ever offer to soil his good-will, when 1 all tho world knows ho hasn t any 7 "dSi OoWteT —MAT.IT ALTTATB-SIIsiRIOIIT—BOT EIGHT dit #E() NO, dim OOUNTET.” CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, Ml 28, 1859. The whole country.,ere this, has learned that Hon. Daniel Sickles has become reconciled willt his wife and is how liying with her in marital relations as before the death of the late Philip i Barton Key. Astounding as this intelligence 1 may seem, it is, nevertheless, true. A dispatch | to the Cincinnati Co'rtihierti'al gives the follow- i ing particulars in regard- to the reconciliation 1 ofMr.and-Mr3^Sicklcerj, < - —: 1 — New Yoek, July ll.r-The Hon. Daniel E. , Sickles has sent' his most intimate i friends, informing them that he has resumed j bis marital relations withihis wife. The letters i were written yesterday and to-day, and in con- ' sequence that months ago: he resumed the rela- : lions in the most intimate form. The story, , for which we have excellent authority, is this: Mrs. Sickles, during aind since the trial, has ' resided at her outraged;! husband’s country house. situated on Private avenue, leadingirom Bloomingdale road, between Eighty-fifth and , Ninetieth streets, and.pveVlooking the river.— ] Thomas C. Fields, the Public Administrator of , the city, took a house about June Ist, which is , three-quarters of a-mile-or.so above Mr. Sick les’ villa, and on a privateavenue leading froth Bloomingdale road. Mr. Field had not been long in his new qtiai'ter.before his friend Daniel requested the privilege}o|.. occupying a room there, which request was gcnnied. ■ It was. however, soon: observed that Mr. S. was.in the habit of leaving the house where he lodged, late st night,-ahdr returning early in the morning. How ofien he did this it is im possible to say. But at: length suspicion was aroused, and fixed in thejright direction, A few mornings ago- Mr.-; Fiqld happened to be with Mr. Emanuel B. Hart,'-whom you remem her as a fast and tearful frjehd of the homicide during the trial; wham should they meet hut Mr. Sickles,on his:,returri ,irom his morning .walk. They asked him where ho had been, as ft lends do. He. fired up, and gave an answer, importing tliatjt was norieof their business. — •■But,’.’siiid Mr. Field,‘-it .-is my business, if you have been having clandestine intercourse with a dishonored wife; arid-living in my house the while, because it suits.your marital conve nience.’’ upshot of the (natter was, Mr. Sickles informed his friends'}.that that was to be done openly henceforth which had been hith erto doae 1 V; f The Evening Post has also an editorial on the subject, as follows: ; Several of the morning papers have simulta neously, announced a. fact, which has been, known for some lime in this City, namely, that the hero and heroine of “thf'domeslic tragedy” at Washington had concluded to forget the, little affair of the house in Fifteenth ’street, the ex torted confession, the murder, of Key, the vari ous incidents of the notorious trial, and live together again as though nothing had occurred. But there is one small discrepancy in the ao } counts of the matter, and ; jjiat relates.- to-the manner in which the happy event is received by I i Sickles’friends. The Tribtff??, Said;. , {.... :<'We<re as^rti^'flfkrthlt^ih'gl’thitfVeihafk-, able step, Mr. Sickles 1 -has’alienated himself . from hibst if hot'all of those persbnal'arid .polj*' licit friends' who 'devoutedly- adhered to hiih during his recent imprisonment and trial.’’ But the Tribune is not very good authority in such cases, and the public generally give credit to the counter statement of the Herald , more farmiliar with topics of this sort, which said: “Both parlies have agreed to this step, and it is said their love is greater than ever.' There is immense, rejoicing among their friends, who have written letters of warm congratulation.” Not having the pleasure or the honor, it it may be called either, of the acquaintance of the persons referred to in this difference of statement, we awaited the appearance? of the Times', a’liind of official organ and defender of Sickles, to see the difficulty cleared up. Ac coidingly, this morning we are furnished with what may be termed an authoritative-determi* nation of the question. We copy the paragraph in full: . “PBBSONAr,.—One of our contemporaries has been at the trouble of sending to Washington for intelligence of the reconciliation of Mr. Sickles with his wife, and has ascertained, what we believe to be thfe truih, that the most reso lute of avengers has approved himself also Uie most relenting of husbands, and is now living once more with the victim of the late Philip Barton Key. This, of course, is a purely per oonnl and private matter, with which the public have nothing to do. But it is duo to the lead ing personal and political iriends of Mr. Sick les, who honestly believe him to be a man mad dened by intolerable wrong, and in that belief interposed their influence between himself and the hasty rage of public feeling at.the .time of his trial at Washington, that they should not be made responsible, os by the journal in ques tion they are, for a step taken entirely on the impulse of Mr. Sickles himself, without their knowledge, and in the face positive re monstrance and disapproval.” Death from the Bite of a Rattlesnake. James Wright, an old citizen of Cincinnati, while in the woods near Vanceburg, I n d•, on the 4th inst., getting out timber, was bit on the hand by-a rattlesnake. The Gazette says. Alarmed, at the probable consequences, he immediately started for the town, and ran the entire distance. The beat, fatigue and excite ment of course allowed the poison to'Circulate through his system and make sure of its deadly work By the time he reached Vanceburg. he was entirely blind, and his body.and head were covered with spots of the same color of those of the rattlesnake. The usual remedies were immediately resorted mand every , efiort made by the attendant physicians to neutralize the poison, but without effect. He continued to sink rapidly, and expired between three and four o’clock next morning* .. In preparing the body to be laid out, a sin gular phenomenon presented itself.: In oddi non to the spoisfrcferred 10. there was a picture of the snake itself-perfect m shape and color, and as distinct alif daguerreotyped there-ex tending from the point on his hand where the fangs had struck, up the arm to . the shoulde. , and then down the side to the groin. To ths truth ot this, our informant assures us notorrfy himself, but some four or five other citizens. who saw it, can positively testify. . Immediately upon learning the oCcufretfeb, a number,of persona started to the place where it had happened, and. upon examination found the snake in the identical spot designated, when they came near having another tragedy, a young lady of the party having stepped over his lurking place, from which a moment after be made a savage leap _at the party. but was immediately dispatched. - He proved to have six rattles and a.vbutton, indicating bis age to be six years and a-haif. ._ Or- After all, the most natural beatify in the world is honesty and moral truth. For all beauty la truth. True features make the beau ty of a face; and true proportions the beauty of architecture; as true measure that of harmony and music. In .poetry, Which is all' a' (able; truth still is tlxo perfection. THB SICKLES AFFAIR. 1 0 luntffr. i'roni the ” democratic Mirror”—Leesburg, Pit- General Joseph lane, Senator Irina the Jew Stale iff Oregon, a Representative Han. The advent of Oregon into the Union placed in the Senate of the I) nited Stales, as one of her representatives, Den, Joseph Lane, one oi the most remarkable men of'the age, whoso career is aflno illustration of the genius of out institu tions, arid demonstrates, that the high places -of honor and distinction, are accessible to all wlio Gea. I,ane descended from revolutionary an cestors, was born in the State of, North Caroli na, was reared and educated in Kentucky, emi grated to Indiana and settled on. the banks of the Ohio, in the county o( Vandonburg; where without the adventitious aid of fume, family,'or fortune, he worked his way from an humble plow boy and Oat-boatman. on the Mississippi, to the high position of a distinguished soldier and statesman. At the ago of twenty-one, when barely eligible, lie was elected a representative in the Legislature of Indiana, ai d continued to represent his people, atintervals.of one or two years, cither'in the House or the Seriate, Cor about a quarter of a century. ; Possessing a clear, strong, and practical mind, be took a lib eral and correct view of ail questions affecting State or National interests, which ho enforced with an eloquence and power, which placed him in the front rank of the ablest men in the Legis lature. His name is indissolubly connected with some of the most important measures, which developed the resources, advanced the prospe rity, and improved the finances, of the Slate, especially his successful efforts to preserve un tarnished the public faith, and to prevent the repudiation of the public debt, which was bold ly advocated by some of the strongest men in Indiana. . When the Mexican war broke out, Gen. Laho was a member of the State Senate; and when a call was made upon Indiana, to lurnish volun teers for the war, with that devoted patriotism, which has over characterized him, he immedi ately resigned his seat, and volunteered as a private in Capt. Walker’s company. When the companies rendezvoused at New Albany, he was elected from the ranks as their Colonel; but he was not permitted to hold tl.ie commission but a very lew days. That sagacious statesman, Jus. K. Polk, then President of the United States, discerning m Gun. Lane the qualities to make a successful warrior, sent him a commission of Brigadier General, a compliment as unexpected, as it was unsolicited by him. The opponents of the Administration and of the war, throughout the State, denounced and ridiculed the appoint ment; declaring that he might make a good General of the flat-boatmen on the Mississippi, but that the idea of Joseph Lane, who had nev er commanded a companj’ in his life, taking command of a.Brigade in war, was simply ridi culous; that he would, disgrace himself, his State, and the nation. Never did a man’s achievements jn war, more •completely falsify the predictions of his enemies and realize the most sanguine expectations of his friends, or more triumphantly vindicate,the wisdom of the appointment. In less than three weeks after the receipt of bis commission, ho was at the seat of war, with I all his troops. In communicating hisatrivaUo Gep. Tayl<« he. wrple thus— ‘‘ The .biigade I ■ hatfo she : 'to6por'to command is generally in good • health and fine spirits, anxious to engage iu ac tive'service.”, * >The indomitable energy, tlie soff-sacrificing spirit, the sound Judgment, and firm purpose which he displayed in the active service of civil life, were eminently conspicuous, in the stirring scenes of Jialtle, blood, and carnage, through which he passed, illustrated by a daring bravery and heroism, which placed him among tbo most distinguished heroes of that memorable war.— To recount the battles, in which General Lane was engaged, the dangers to.which ho was ex posed, the brave deeds he performed; the skill and judgment with which he planned his battles, and the unvarying success with which he fought them, would„consume more space than we have Such was the celerity of his move ments, the skill and stratagem ot his plans, the 1 ‘ boldness and rapidity of their execution, and the enthusiasm and courage with which lie in spired bis men, by his impassioned appeals to their valor, as they visited the most fearful slaughter upon fho enemy, the name of Lane struck terror to the Mexican heart, and by com • mon consent he was styled the t( Marion of the Mexican War.” Of all.the battles fought in Mexico, the battle of Bueno Vista was the seve rest and most hotly contested, and one of the most remarkable in fho annals ol the world.— There the American Army, consisting of about five thousand, mostly raw militia, met twenty thousand of the chosen troops of Santa Anna, in deadly conflict, and after a protracted strug glo of two days achieved a glorious triumph. In that battle General Lane performed a most important part. No officer contributed more by his gallantry and generalship to win the fortunes of the day. Upon the left wing of the Ameri can army which Gen.’Lane commanded, Santa Anna directed his most obstinate and deadly as saults. With but 400 men Gen. Lane repulsed a large body of Mexicans 0000 strong. While nothing could exceed the fearful array of the assailants, ns they moved towards the little band o( Lane, with their long lines ot Infantry, pro aenting a continued sheet ot fire; nothing could surpass the undaunted firmness and bravery with wliich Lane and bis men maintained their position and poured their volleys of musketry into the advancing columns of tho enemy', which made them break and fall back. Throughout tho varying fortunes of that trying day', Gen I. Lane with his little band of heroes, maintained his position and repulsed the enemy' at every point. On the second day of tho battle. Santa Anna finding his strength defied and bis most skillful manoeuvres defeated, as the day was drawing to a close, determined to make a most desecrate effort to turn tho tide of battle in lus favor. Collecting all Ida infantry, he made a charge on tho Illinois and Kentucky regiments. Gallantly did these bravo troops resist the onset until seeing their leaders full and overpowered by numbers, they began to waver and fail back. At this critical moment, the eagle eye of Gen. Lane observed tho movement, when ho hastened with his Brigade to the rescue, in time to cna. hie the retreating regiments to form and return I to the contest and drive hack with great loss the ( advancing columns of the enemy. This was i Santa Anna’s last struggle. On (hat bloody and < hotly contested field, night soon closed over the , sanguinary scene, and when the morning sun , arose, it shone upon tho battle field, deserted by | Santa Anna with his shattered legions, while tho t Star Spangled Banner waved in triumph over ( the American army. . ... i Wo officer went into the Mexican war with ( fens pretensions, than Gen. Lano, none came out of it with a brighter famo-tbe testimony of oyo witnesses, historians, and official records attest tbo fact. Tim Now Orleans Delta, of May z, 1847, recorded the popular estimation in which Gen. Lane’s conduct was hold in tho Battle of ■; Buena Vista, as follows : . • “BbioXdier Genebau Lane. —Tho bearing ot j (his gallant officer in the battle' of Buena Vista, as described by persons who were present, was ( in tho highest degree gallant, noble, and soldier 1 like. When his brigade, composed of tho tn'b j Indiana regiments, was exposed to a murderou g' (fro from tho Mexican batteries on their flanks, I and a front tiro from a' fargo,body of the enemy’s : infantry—When' tbo grape and musket shot flow , as thick ns hail over ami through the lines of our volunteers, who began to waver before the flyry i storm, thoii' bravo General could bo soon tiny yard’s ih adVaneb'of the lino, waving Ms »'«“ , with ah aim already shattered by a musket top,, streaming with blood, and mounted n, ohkrger, which-was gradually sinking unde , AT 52,00 PER ANNUM. loss of blood irom five distinct wounds. A bravo sight indeed has Ibis I” - This brave man whoso cheek never blanched with fear or eye quailed amidst the hottest con flicts of battle has a heart of tenderness which melts at human woe. Ills solicitude and caro of the sick, the wounded, and the dying, was manifested on many occasions. . Numerous in cidents and anecdote? are narrated illustrating his kindness aha tenderness, in relieving their sufferings, and administering to their comfort, in the Hospitals, and on tlio battle fields, which so endeared him to his troops that it made tilth always llirmeible when ttieir leader. Oh bis return home, wherever he stopped, citizens of all classes, vied to do honor to the distinguished hero! Whilst in the City of Cincinnati, the guest of Gen. Moore, an incident occurred il lustrative of his native kindness and tenderness, and the gratitude of the recipient. “A German citizen ushered himself into the presence of Gen.'Lane, amidst the guests in the parlor, Ho asked If Gen. Lane was in. The General arose and answered that he was. The German with emotion asked. Do yon know me General ? I do" not, said the General. German. Well, sir, I recollect and thank you, and will recollect and thank you to the last day of my life. Do you remember after the fight with the Guerrillas nt Mungo do Clavo, in which -wo routed thh scoundrels so finely, you found a soldier'dying by the way side, exhausted by. the heat of the sun and the exertions of the day, and dismount ed from your horse and placed him on it, walk ing by his side until you reached the camp, where you did not rest till you saw him well taken care of.” The General replied that lie recollected the circumstance very well. “Well,” said the German, “lam the hoy, and by that act of kindness you saved my lilo. I am hero to thank yon. How can I ever forget or cease to pray for you f God bless you, you were in deed the soldier’s friend.” In his own State of Indiana, it was a perfect ovation, wherever he went.. The masses—the hardv sons of toil turned out from all the coun- try, and'from every hamlet and village, to wel come and do honor to the main of the people, lie was feasted and toasted, and congratulatory addresses were made Ip him in the name of the people, by the most distinguished men of the Stale, lie bore all, the honors and compliments showered upon him meekly, and with charac: (eristic modesty, claimed for himself nothing more than having tried to do his duty. In his emphatic language he said—To the brave vol unteers under ,my command, 1 feel that the honoris justly due ; without.their aid, I could have done nothing. ‘Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war.’ A few days after Gen. Lane reached his home, he was called to a (lidecent scene of duty, where he could exercise liis sound judgment ami practical knowledge, in organizing and putting in operation , a civil Government, on the shores of the Pacific, for a remote people, who had been long neglected; and unonred for. In August.4B4B, he received a commission as Governor of Oregon Territory, another compliment as unexpected, as it was unsolicited, from President Polk. In less than one month from the time he returned to the the bosom of his family, from the stirring scenes of war. he was tin route for the distant shores of the Pacific, with hardships, perils and privations ip encounter; in,crossing the Rocky Mountains at Ihit season of the year, to reach his post of duty, which required an energy, har dihood and self-reliance to overcome, which but few men possess'. Col. Fremont, who followed him a few weeks afterwards, taking a different route across the mountains,-lost almost his en- dre.party, amidst ihe cold and snows in the gorges and'defiles of the mountains, and nearly perished himself. . . # , A narrative, of the hardships aqd sufferings endured, and the perils encountered, by Gov.J Lane-and his party, in crossing the Rocky | Mountains, would fill a volume. VTc can now,; no more than quote from a speech made by Mr, I Voorhies of Indiana, lasi winter, to the citizens I of Washington, who had. assembled to congra tulate Gen. Lane upon the admission of Oregon into the Union: and himself into the United Stales Senate, as one of her Senators, he said : “There is a history of events connected with ■ the Pioneer movements of Gen. Lane to Oregon, not generally known-io the American people. On the Hih Sept. 1848. at the foot of the eas tern slope of, the Rocky Mountains, with acorn mission from President Polk as Governor ol Oregon Territory in r his pocket, he, to whom you tender the honor of this demonstration, gave evidence to his country and to the world, of a will and a courage, in the discharge of du ty, surpassing that which Napo'eon displayed in his immortal passage of the Alps. The great hero of Ausireliiz and Marengo was told by his guide, that the route was barely passable and the order came from that hold spirit to set, forward immediately. Gen. Lane, in consulta tion with Col. Dougherty, a mountaineer of 20 years experience, was told that the passage of the Rocky mountains at this season of ihc year with certainly of spending the winter in their midst, was a human impossibility, “we w T i.l set forward in the morning.” was the reply ofg the American hero and patriot, who never knew fear in the achievement of public duty, lie and his little band moved in the morning, and for five weary and desolate months, were lost and buried amid the gorges and defilqs and snows o! the monnldins. Fancy may paint, but the tongue cannot sketch even the faint outlines of i hat expedition. On the 3d of March, 1849. Gen. Lane reached the Capitol of Oregon, and before he slept put the lerritoiial Government, in operation, and strtrlcd a commu nication to the President informing him of the a( jn the discharge of the duties of Governor of the Territory of Oregon, and ex-officio superin tendent of Indian affairs, Gen. Lant evinced the highest order of ability. His messages to the Territorial Legislature, abound in sound and practical views relative to the wants and inter ests of the Territory, and in the recommenda tion of wholesome and judicious measures, cal culated to develope the resources, and promote the prosperity of the people. He found the In dinn aflairs in a most troubled condition the troops disbanded, the various tribes in a hostile altitude to the citizens—bad committed depre dations upon their property, and murdered sev eral families—the murderers unpunished, and no restitution of stolen properly. As soon its he put the government in operation : yf-ilhont troops he proceeded to the scenes of depreda tion, robbery, and murder, and by his superior address, tact, and judgment, he quelled ali dis turbances, bad the murderers arrested and punished, and w'illiont vfar or bloodshed, ac complished what both had failed' to effect. An incident occurred in Governor Lane's •* talk with the Rogue River Indians, a tvar-likc and -predatory tribe, which illustrates his remark*- bio self-possession, coolness, and judgment, in imminent peril. He entered their country tvnh twelve or liftcen men ; ih'ese Indiana had lAicv ly rejected attempts by the whiles at coneilia lion/ The safety of the border cil.zeos m,uned 1 ~ nors m C ®“” CI L „ lzed ® ITO horses’ stolen from ! h of .ho Indians, and two 1 n smls then in tl.o belts Of two chiefs. Iho Governor demanded restitution of the property. , stored, he said, would evince the.r wtl : iTngness to treat and preserve peace. Ihe head Chief ordered-restitution,- but the possessors re- fused. I'ho Governor thertsteppedfor ward and ; todk bno of the stolen pistols from tbo Indian’s belt find gave it to iha.oStiehtind was about to lakb the other pistol, when the Indian Abo had U, presented his giin, and raised the war whoop. Instantly four or five hundred guns and arrows were pointed at Gen. Lane sad hissmaU party, a single false,step would have led to- tub fndfic disastrous results, but (Jen. Lane’s coolness, and promntness, was ctjual to tho'cfisis. Ho said, I hahe cdWe (iet-p to mSkc i treaty 61 piabb; not to have a fight, promptly stepping to the mdc of the principal chief with his firm eye fixed on ins, pistol in hand, he told 'him, if a drop Of blood of any of the whiles was fitted. It should bo avenged by the destruction of theen tire tribe. This Well-timed move had the de sired effect. . The chief told his terriers to cease their hostile demonstrations. The Gover nor then advanced among the foremost, look their arrowsfroto their bows and returned then! to their quivers, and unlocked their guns, and knocked the priming from their pans, Gen. Lane did fibt hold the office of Governor of Oregon more tliiin about fifteen mtfhihs ,be fore'he was removed by President Taylor. He, who “hod no friends to reward or Chernies to punish” ns he declared before he,,fas ,elebtett President, signalised His administration by pro scribing his fofmtf- fcoiiirarfe in arms; who stood by him so firmly on the field of bttttlfi; and contributed so largely by his gallantry and generalship to win the battle of Buena Vista, which placed hirq in-ihc-Presidential Chair.—-- Whereupon the Legislature qf dregori passed resoiulions expressive of their highsense of the energy, ability, and success, vi'hioh' chpyablbi* ized his administration as Governor of Oregon; find superintendent of Indian affairs, and their •• sincere regret that the President of the United States has deprived the Territory of Oregon.of the future services of one so eminently pseiuti and whose usefulness was enhanced by tbe un bounded confidence of the people over whom ha was placed.” The people whoso representa tives they were, seconded these resolutions, by electing .him by an alufdSt drianittloua vote, (heir delegate to represent them in Ihe Congress of tha United States. NO. 7. Upon the eve of General Lane's departure from Oregon fur the National Capitol, as thtif delegate 19 Congress,,l He pcb'ple ibiOWtil dis tinction bf party, held a mass meeting-to ted der •• hiht a public expression of opinion in ret gprd to his distinguished talents and services,” Among other, things resolved, “ th'at efs friendd of Gen', ifos. Lane without distinction of party, we tender him our hearty and entire approba tion of his acts as Governor of Oregon Territo ry.' 1 and that "•* the ability, energy, fidelity," and purity of purpose, which has characterized all his public acts among us; it is but fitting: that we express our approbation and admira tion. of his course, Slid “ that General Lanej came, to tiS covered with military glory, and leaves us upon the business of the Territory, clothed with our confidence and attachment that confidence and attachment the people qf Oregon have-ever since manifested, towards him, by continuing hint Cs their delegate in Congress, until the Territory was admitted.aid one of the Stales itild the Uniorf lalst winter,' when, iri 'obedience to the unanimous voice of his parly. Ho-became one of the Senators froni that State. , - All the responsible positions to which Gener, al Lane has been called, Were litisoUcited ana unexpected % A/Pi, what but few public men can say, and he has filled them with signal ability and success. Endowed, with a sfrong and practical mind, stored with the'most use ful knowledge acquired by extensive reading and aCdlßote observation, sound, liberal, ana conservative in his views of life pttlitty and prin ciples,of our government, he combines personal traits of character, eminent'y calculated to win the popular bran, with a warm, generous, and manly spirit, with a kind,- frank, and .social disposition, with a demeanor so modest and un-, pretending, that he excites no one's invy. jVS, has.acquired an influence and popularity which but few men seldom attgjn. In Indiana, in tha Legislature, and with the people, be was uni-, veracity popular and one of lift leading mtti of i the Slate, and styled “ her favorite son.” On ■ the battle fields of Mexico! the.soldiera viewed him as invincible, and he was the pride of th# officers of tha army. In Oregon Ins name is a tower of strength. In the ha/ld 6f Congress, his popularity and influence, are unsurpassed,’ iifdeed. it was chiefly oWiftg to his influence' and exertions that the bill to admit Oregon in!- to the Union passed the House at the last ses sion. . The passage of that bill was attended by great excitement. It was violently opposed by' the ultra men. North and South—the Aboli tionists and Fire-Eaters. When the final vot6' was token, a breathless silence reignefl through' the Hall and the crowded galleries, broken on ly by the emphatic onswet- of yea or nay, aif the members answered to the call of the clerk lor their vote; as.the vote was being taken, members were to be seen, in all , parts of the Hall, keeping count of the vote, when Felix If/ ZoUicoffet- responded to the last call,,members 1 of all parties, from all parts of the Hall, sur rounded Gen. Lane with their warm oil'd hearty f congratulations, which indicated the result, and 1 when formally announced by the speaker front (he chair, round’aftcr round of applause arose' from the members of the Hslh which Wai. caught up and repeated by the crowded galle ries of anxious spectators, with waving of hand kerchiefs by the ladies and clapping of hands by the sterner sex, which showed that “he lives in the hearts of bis countrymen.” When the news of the passage of the bill; and that a seat in the Senate Was thereby secured to Get/. Lane, spread through the city, there was a gen eral tejoicing by the citizens, and the demon-, strations of honor paid to Gen. Lane at his' lodgings that night, were of the most cnitihsiaSj tio character. A band of musicians serenadttf ifanwwiUt the most delightful music, the peopltf aSsSiWetl in crowds,'the strong men of I lit!, na tion were there, and made congratulatory speeches frotn The portico of Brown's Hotel,- which were received with the enthusiastic tihCerp. of the assembled masses, which made the wet-, kin ring. Gen. Lane appeared and responded to the unexpected compliment, in a chaste, ap propriate. linci eloquent speech, then opened his rooms and Itis heart, to receive his friends, and gave them the best cheer that could be provided, nt so short a notice. ~ The past history of Gen. Lane is a .guarantee, that ho will ably, and faithfully represent the' interests of his State in the Senate tjf the United States, and uphold and' support, by his judi cious counsels tfad effective aid *.* litis Constitir-., tion and the Union, the richest political Wed sings which Heaven has ever bcaTifi'ed uphnf any nation. . . , The life of Gen, Lane will stand out promi nently in History as that of it remarkable man, illustrating the (ac't, that the humblest individ ual may, tinder our free and liberal institutional attain the.higlWSt pfiint of distinction, by pit* severance, zeal,and industry, and ttyll furnish, rtn example to incite the aVdciit and ambitious minds, to the cultivation of their noblest ftoul* ties, with the confident asSuVahce of' the roost triumphant success. Success nor always HAi'injiKSS.—lVe 61fe« see nil Old, weather-hdiifep marf. whf defer ilaff any success in his life, who always knew more; ami accomplished less than, Ins associates, wh6 (mile the quartz ami dirt of the enterprise, vflnW they' look the gold; arid yet, in old ago he w (lie hsippter nuin—aH his hlo lortg lie was (bo.. Imunier mnn! Ho has a sum of hope, and (hoy of desire and greed ; and amidst ail his " tone, and these mysterious providences, ho has upofa^lm^dehigm 3 It waslho deltlgo that gave —uot (he aifc.* 05-At. Italian bishop, who had endure*, mrith persecution with a Calm and unruffled, temper, was asked , how ho attained such a masr . tery over himself. “By makfng a right usp, of rny eyes,” said lie. “ I first look up to Ilea von, ns tlip place whither X am going to Uvfta forever. I next look down upon the earth, and consider how sthall a space of it will soon be hll that I occupy or \Vnnt.- X then look around nw,il and think how niany aro far there wretched that!. I-am.”
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