• . . v -) w fIS^IIICMTOLUNTEEIi : . BVERY TUDBBBAV HOES'INO BY Joliult. Jli-attou. TERMS. Ono ; DoUnr arid Fifty Cents, paid in advance; jCtvo Dollars it paid within the yeiirtV and Two poilacs.andFifty Gents, if not naidWlthln the yoar.'Theso .terms will bo rig idlyaah&red to in every instance. No' sub* soriJJtlon discontinued until all arrearages are jMid.urilessat the option of the Editor. • . Adveutisesients— Accompanied by the cash, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for One Dollar, nndtwenty-flve cents tor each additional insertion. Thoseofagroat ter length' in proportiofi. J 00-FniNTiNO— jjtich as Hand-bills, Fosting billaj Labels, &0., &oV, ezo cutad.with accuracy and at the shortest notice. Notice. '• 'TQIICE ia hereby given that on .application v wiil bc made to the Legislature of Ponn 'lvatiia, at its next meeting, for the Incorpora. on ot a Bank of Issue, with discount and do. posit privileges, to bo located in the Borough Of 'Cumberland county,' Pa., to be culled “ The liank'of.Carlisle,’’with a capital of one hundred thousand dollats,'with the right to increase the same to three hundreu thousand dollars. (Signed.) .William Ker, John B. Parker, , .Thomas Paxton, John Noble, . Benjamin Givler, jr. Enoch Young, Richard Woods, Christian Stayman, - William Bontz, John S. Sterrett, A. B. Sharpe,, Wm. N.‘Russell, John 0. Dunlap, Joseph D. Halbert, Robert Gfvin, . John uunlap, James Hoffer, Robert Moore,. H. A. Sturgeon, , Robert Wilson, ” Samuel Groason, ■ Goo. W. Sheafer, Jacob H. Neisley, Benjamin Ncisley. JunoSO, 1859—6m*... Notice. VICE is hereby given that application will ~ob made to the next Legislature of Jfenn ivania, to alter the charter of .the Carlisle De lOdit.Bunk, located in the Borough of Carlisle,, himberiand county, so as to confer upon said unit the rights and privileges of a bank ot is le, and to change its name to. the Carlisle ink ; also to increase the capital of said bank vhicli is at.present seventy-two thousand dol irs, with privilege of increasing the same under ts present charter to one hundred' thousand lollars,) two blind red and flit v thousand''dol lars. W. M. BEETEM, Cashier. June 80, 1850—6 m B3:i( iiml Mtore. AT ICEL-LEirS old stand, North Hanover Street, nearly opposite the Hardware store <* J. I*. Lyiio & Son. , ' A full assortment Just received; to which con stant additions will bo made of city as well as vdhoiue manufacture. The stock now comprises ■Mb/csfcia, Cussimere , Beaoer and Felt j-g. A, JJttfcff.dT'S, of 'air stylus and colors, the cheapest to the best quality Straw Hats, ■a largo variety of all prices and styles, together with a neat assortment of children’s Fur and Straw Huts. Also, Men’s’, Boys’and Children’s CJIPS, embracing every kind now worn, both plain and dress Caps, to which the Attention of the public is respectfully invited. Don’t forget ■Keller’s Old Stolid. Carlisle, May, 1869—1 y • Bargains! Bargains! SAVE YOini MONEY 'T calling at the store next to Kline’s Hotel, North Hanover Street, Carlisle, where you can buy Goods at a saving of. 26 per cent., as the subscriber is determined to sell his large and well selected stock of Domestic and Foreign ’ ory-«oo«ls, .without reserve, at cost'br city prices. and unbleached muslinsaf city prices, muslins and Sheetings “ * : Xpron and Furniture Cliecks “ abcklngs and Point, Stripes <• Cotton, linen and woolen table cloths “" ' ' Domestic and Mancheator Ginghams « '.'be.iH.-st calicoes nt lO cts. ami the rest “ ' ■ 'aiicy and black Dawns, : “ .avella cloth andDebeges \ “ lareiges and Pongeemixture « ’lain and figured mrinslin-de-lalns “ Ihaliios and barege de ( lains . “ ■ • lilk Poplins and Alpacas “. ’arasolls arid Umbrellas “ Itclla, printed and plain Shawls ’ <«. ’ine embroidered collars Ikeleton and other Skirts “ Iwiss Muslin, Cambric and Jaopnet “ linen Cambric “ Hack and col’d Silks “ Hack and col’d Clbth « lassinferes and Merino Cassimeros “ entucky Jeans and Cassinets “ lain and striped cotton pant stuff “ lain and twilled. Linen “ bite and col’d Flannels usiory arid Gloves “ links and Carpet Bags v,; Country merchants will do well by calling, as : ffifhey will save expenses, and any one wishing to business will secure himselt by buy.. King the entire stdek—one of the best stands in ffi'iown. So every one cari make money by call. ||np on S. L. LEVI. June 23, 1860. ■ ‘,l • •; Foreign and Domestic Liquors, NCH & CO., successors to Lynch & Wca uul, respectfully announce to the public, ley continue 16 keep,constantly on hand, r sale, a large and very superior as'sort ■f ■ eign and Domestic Liquors, old stand. South Hanover street, three south of Inhoff’s Grocery store, and dl. opposite, the Volunteer printing office. 'HIES, All of choice Brands. S, Sherry, Port, Maderia, Lisbon, Claret, Native, Hoclc, Johaimfsberg and Bp - derheimor. , ■ ‘PAGNE, 'Heidsick & Co., Geislbr & Co., and imperial. Bolden, Lion, and Anchor. IKEY. ' _ Superior Old • Monongahola, Choice Old Pnmilj’ Nectar, Wheat, Scotch, and Iriah. iTCH ALE, Muir & Son’s Sparkling irgh,. Allsopp’s East India Pale Ale, t’s Brown Stout. Also, a large lot of igahela Rectified Whiskey, PARKER’S ID, for sale low. lers and others desiring a PURE AHTl will find it us represented, as their whole lon will be given to a proper and careful in of their STOCK, which cannot ho snr ahd hopes to have the patronage of the LTNCH&CO. April 21, 1869—6 m IJARGAINS! 15 BARGAINS 11 Jjist received and.for sale at reduced prices, a large lot of Silk dusters, Sliautilla and French Lace Mantillas, Napoleon Barcgos, Lawns In great variety of style, cheap; Delaines, Chintzes, Erillianta, Embroideries at less than city prices, ace mitts, Sun Umbrellas, Douglass & Sher wood’s unequalled Skirts for Ladies, Misses and Children’s wear, Hosiery of every descrip tion. . ' Please call at Leldich & Sawyer’s new store. East Main )St,,. . June SO, 1859, , . TO BE HAD AT EBY.’S Grocery Store, some of tho choicest .No- 1 Mnokeral (without heads,) ever offered in Carlisle. The public is fnvltcd to cull 4nd exuminethom and jiidgo for themselves, ‘ Feb. 24, 1859. li/rANTILLAS.t Those in want of a Mantilla XT.J. Will f|m} the largest, and cheapest' aaaort thent ,tf. the cheap store of June-28. J. A. HUHERIOH- Jr. Work done at this office <ib wort notice. ~w*: —: ~ ' —■ ■ ■ •" ■ r - .. 1 ■ s ft.,, , ... , IniMffli BY JOHN B. BRATTON, VOL. 46. I(Mx4* i SUNG OF LIFE. A traveller through a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea ; And one took root and sprouted up, And grew into a tree. Love soughUts shade at evening time, To breathe its early vows; And age was pleased in heat of noon, . To brisk beneath its boughs j The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, The birds sweet music bore ; It stood a glory at its place—• A blessing evermore I A little spring had lost its way Amid the grass and fern j A passing stranger scooped a well Where weary man might.furn j He wall’d it in, and bung with care .A ladle at-tho brink, — He thought not of the deed ho did, . But thought that all might drink j Ho passed lo ! the well, , By summers never dried, Had cooled ten thousand parched tongues, And saved a life beside I A dreamer dropped a random thought, ’Twa'a old, and j ot ’twas now— A simple (ancy ol the brain, But strong in being true; It shone upon a gonial mind, And lo! tho light became A lamp of light—a beacon ray— A mpnitory flame; The thotight was small, its, issue great— ‘ A watch-tiro on the hill— It shed irs radianbe far adown. And cheers the.valley still. A nameless man,'amid the crowd , ,- That thronged the daily mart,. Lot fall a word ol Hopo'ahd Love, Unstudied from the heart j A whisper on the tumult thrown— A transitory breath— It raised a brother from the earth, It saved a soul from death. 0 germ! O fount! 0 work of love! O thought at random cast! Te were but little at the first, But mighty at the last.' Mmllnmwß. ‘•WALKING THE PLANK.” The history of the West is one long,record of bloody and atrocious deeds. Not'the least in the dark and interminable catalogue is the little event we, are now about to lay before pur kind renders. We heard the story from the lips of one who professed—and we had no reason to doubt his word—to have played.a prominent part in the thrilling occurrence, and we give it lo the reader just, as we heard it. “Some j-ears ago,” said the narrator, “a. friend and myself "agreed to take a tramp, hun ter fashion,' through the great'Wilderness of the Northwest. Having ..provided- oursel^s:- withi rwjmt thjtiga wc.th'ought nothing more; we started tipori our'perilous journey : for that it wits perilous we were fully aware, and every reader wilt admit. ; “ After encountering innumerable hardships and many dangers, we found ourself in the wil dest kind of a region, many miles distant from the haunts of civilization. Already we had passed through enough to have discouraged most of men, but we were young and full of blood, and not easily put out or frightened.— This was particularly the case with my compa nion, whose name was Andrew Huff “ Both of its were perfectly healthy, as strong as iron, and considerably experienced in the use of such articles as rifles, pistols, and bowie knives. In all these respects we could hold our own with the best.; had it been otherwise, we should never have lived to reach the point at which we finally arrived. “Just about dark one evening in the latter part of July, after a hard day’s tramp, we hal ted for the'night. A darker, deeper, lonelier solitude than that which surrounded us, it ’would be,hard to imagine. Silently we built a little tire and supper,; silently we ate it. Worn out, and for the time being slightly dispirited, we were in no humor for conversation. I *;• For some time we sat by our camp-fire without uttering a single word, and almost Without moving. I was thinking of home and ftbsent friends, and it is only reasonable to sup pose. th'at;Huft was similarly occupied. ; “After.the lapse of some time, our fire burnt low, and,l arose to replentsh-it. The bark of a Wolf startled mo, and I involuntarily addressed my companion. “ Huff did not answer mo, however, bfit, without noticing the circumstance. I threw a quantity Of faggots on the fire and addressed ' I him. •• Take a few hours rest,-Andy, and. I'll keep watch," said I, “ and after that you can do the same by me.” "Still I got no answer, and then I began to notice my companion's unusual taciturnity. ' " Anything the matter, .Andy ? said I, re garding him closely. No answer agaip. . " That’s a little strange,” I muttered, mo ving over toward my companion. s « , Huff was sitting facing the fire, with his head bent upon his knees I shook him without arousing him. Finally, I raised his head, and at once became conscious that he was soundly, deeply asleep; r . , ’ “ Laughing off the fcars which had for aiew moments oppressed me, I left Huff to.enjoy his nap, and settled myself down as comfortably ns the circumstances would permit. " I was dreadful drowsy, and despite our pa rilous.situation, despite every effort I made to the contrary. I could not entirely resist the overpowering' influence of sleep. Occasionally I started up suddenly, and found that I had been dozing.■ The last time I. was aroused, I vvasawoke by the bark of a wolf. Jumping to my feet. I beheld the fierce animal not a dozen paces distant, his ravenous eyes glaring upon me from the darkness. Seizing up a brand, I flung it at the rapacious monster with all my strength. It struck him full in the face, and with a terrible howl be darted oil' into the for est. Huff did not awake, did not even stir, so sound was his repose. “ After that I did not feel much inclined to sleep, though nothing more was to be seen or heard. I examined my rifle and pistols, piled more faggots on the fire, and kept on the move, my eyes aud ears open for any more nocturnal visitors. . , , T , . “Some time passed quietly, and I began to grow insufferably weary. Eycry muscle re laxed, and a drowsy torpor gradually stole over me: 1 My‘eyes dosed unconsciously.—ray knees bent beneath mo, and I was abourdropping to the ground, when I was suddenly aroused by the sound of a man's voice:—„ ■ "Hello, fclors. how d’yer do!” were the words which fell upon my ears. and aroused me 10 full ooiisciouspesa. . ' : ■ •• I looked around in .bewilderipcnt. Our lit tle camping ground was encircled by a dozen or more brawny, fierce looking desperadoes. It was a complete surprise, and'on spur of tffb : T'V> yt tj»t ' :• r.p/v** .>VVfh(v-AC-r;«-t.Uj moment, I yelled aloud: “ Andy. Andy, wake up!” “ Yes. wake up, Andy!” echoed the outlaw’s loudly and derisively. “ Aroused at last, my comrade sprang to bis feet, and the next moment was standing by my side. " Instantly a dozen or more rifles were level ed at us with deadly aim. “ Ter ain’t goin’ to show fight, ar ye!” de manded one of the outlaws, a brutal looking wretch, and the leader of the band, as it after wards appeared. “That depends on circumstances respond ed Andy, unhesitatingly. “We're two good men, afraid of neither man or .beast—and if your intentions are hostile, ns they appear to be, you may take my word for it that we’ll give vou all the trouble we can.” “Ter won’t now, will yer?” rejoined.the desperado, tauntingly. “ Guess ye’il have yer hands full cf yer try that sort riv a game.” -“ Well, what do you want. here, anyhow?” I demanded,.boldly, fully'satisficd in my own mind, that if we got out of our present scrape wo bad to fight it out. " What do we want har?”.was the rapid re ply. “ T guess the forest’s as free to us as it is to any one else. Don’t kalkelate that you’re boss here, stranger, do yer?” " No !” was Andy’s quick reply, and he took the words ont of my mouth, “ nor are you.— But that’s not to the point 1” he added ; “ what do yon: want with us ?” “ Yer money an’ yer traps! Uunderstand that sort o’, talk, don’t yer ?” “ Yes. we understand that you're a gang of thieves and cut throats !” resonded Andy, fierce, ly ; “ but if you get anything from us you’ve got to fight for it. though we are but two against a dozen." Give ’em a shot, comrade!” added the fiery fellow, addressing himself to me, •; We can’t make the matter worse!” “ I thought so 'oo, and raising my rifle, An dy and myself fired simultaneously. “ Immediately 'wo of the outlaws fell dead to the ground, and the rest uttered a concerted yell, thal .sounded.more fearfully than the howl of the wolf I had so recently driven away. “ Now. give ’em the pistols !”shouted Andy, his whole soul in the deadly conflict. '•Each of us carried a brace of double bar reled pistole), which.gave <ss eight shots between us. and quick as lightning we were discharging the loads in- the faces of the outlaws. Six more of the brigands fell before our aim. while wo remained uninjured, notwithstanding a number of scattering shots whistled around pur ears and over our heads. “ Now charge upon the thieves!, yelled An dy, in stentorian tones. “I followed roy comrade’s lead.- and together vve charged upon the remaining five outlaws; for .that p umber were, left., A fierceand bloody fight ensued. Andy performed miracles, and.l did double duty ; but as fate would have it, we were both rendered hors du combat: my comrade by a pistol wound in the side, and I by, a bow ie cut in the right shoulder. .. . < “I knew .nothing more after that; for the next moment I became unconscious. ". When I came to myself/!; found I wastin' a' cave.;; ai|d it ;wasnotlon^;berore.rdise^n'r^-Ji^bihe: : cavc was tho haoiji of ihff■ robijera. -'/Shis Itnich f learned by jistening. forll'cojßld, see’ nothing.;- the bright light of day seemed nev.cr jjV.pene-' trate that dismal cavern. It was -the glootni est. chilliest place I was ever in. arid from the bottom of uiy heart I wished myself well out of it. “I thought of Andy, you,may be’sure, but could see no way of finding out tvhat had be-’ come of him. , 1 “ After a while, however; an old and outrage ously ugly Indian Squaw made her appearance. She brought me food and medicine, and a tem porary'light..--My wounds had entirely been dressed. Of course I was eager to question her “My good woman,” said I very pleasantly, “I shonld like to know wliercl am—will you tell mol" " She shook her head.negatively, and to all I could say or do I got no other answer. I in quired about Andy, and other matters, but re ceived no satislaction. Finally, I gave up in despair, and let the old hag.go. " A week passed, and I was comparatively well. About the expiration of that time, the old squaw came to mo .one dayand beckoned me to follow, hpr. Having, no reason: to refuse obedience. I complied with tier directions, and after traversing, a number, of dark passages found myself in the open air. It was a bright; sunny morning, and despite my situation, I in baled.tbe pnreatroosphere with delight. " Assembled q'n the spot,l beheld a gang of a score or more of .the worst 'looking'men .1 had ever encountered, arid in the midst my friend and comrade , Andrew- Huff... Andy looked frightfully pale and emaciated, and appeared'to have suffered much worse than myself. We had barely time to greet each'other, and say ‘God bless, you, comrade !' rthen We were sud denly and roughly seized and gagged. At the same time one of the outlaws, whom Tat once recognized as the leadcr , 'ot,..the party which we had first encountered,, stepped forward and ad dressed us. “Now, cuss yer!" cried ho, passionately. We'll make you. pay. for your handywork t’other night. Strip ’erij '”.' ' . . , “ In a few moments we were stripped ,to the skin, and we had neither the power to resist or expostulate. " Out with tho plank, bosses!” yelled the same fellow. " Fust show 'em the way they’re goih’ to travel.” . .. “ Wo were separately led to tho brink of a chasm near, and made to look down.into,the.al most unfathomable depths. A stream of water dashed.along over the rooks at the bottom. It made me dizzy to look down. We were'then stationed a few feet from the brink, with a guard over its. I began to comprehend that some frightful death awaited us, and my feelings were dreadful. ’ 1 ■ ' “ A plank' about a dozen feet tong and a foot wide was then brought forward and placed half way over the precipice. My blood run cold at the preparationa. I ' , On one end of the. plank two men stationed themselves. V Now, drive the chap forward!” shouted the leader pointing to Andy. “ T’other fellow shall see him drop, an’ then' lie follows arier him Drive him on'thar, bosses!" ‘•Every effort was made to move Andy, but the poor fellow continued obstinate. The out laws pricked him with their knives, and beat him with their rifles, but he refused to stir. “Carry the man !” shouted the leader madly. “Despite his struggles, Andy was picked up and earned to the plank. As the outlaws let him down they gave him a violent push which sent him forward to the end of thp; plank over the precipice. Andy swayed from side to side, and struggled wildly to regain his balance. Ho failed, however, and fell over, in his fall desper alely olmching at the plank. There he held with his finger nails buried in the wood. It was a horrid scene, and my blood funs cold - at the bare recollection n( it. , “ Let him go !" shouted the fiendish leader. “The men who were standing on the other end of the plank jumped off. and plank and An dy whirled down into the seething depths be low. Despite thft gag in his mouth, the poo “OUR COUNTRY —MAY IT ALWAYS BK RICIIIT—BUT RIGHT OUR COUNTRY.” ? CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, DEC! uttered a loud, ahdterrifying shriek be fore he disappeared frotn: sight forever. The cry rings in iPy-cars' now; though years have passed since then. .. 1, shallncvcr forget it. >, , “The outlaws sprang to, the edge of the cliff, and with a savage exultation watched Andy's ■descent. "■ , ‘ Now fur t’other one!’ .shouted the leader, after the lapse of a few minutes. . • At that instapt a loifdreport of firearms suddenly I'cverberated fafland pear.and half of the bandits, at Icasti felffidead to the The balls whistled around me as thick as. bail, but T escaped uoh&Ct, , |fnsl»ntly afterward a party of trappei»yVu&ed>pon; the scene and charged at'ttio, ’The fight was short but desperate,!. In thtt end hot an outlaw of them remained-.altfe, though they fought like incarnate, devilsi 1.., ; “In the’first) moments of the melee I got away out'of the reach of’harm. Pinioned and gagged, I would have been of no use to myself or anybody. After the-i conflict was over I made my appearance' and (gave a statement of all thatfhad transpired. From the trappers I learned that the cry of Aptly had directed them to the spot Jibuti poor fellow, they came too late to save hiui. " I thanked God. and pie mountaineers for my own preservation, and quitted thn scene with a sense of relief mingled with a feeling of sadness. ■ r ‘‘ Gentlemen, that was "about the worst situ ation I ,was ever placed in,, and may you never have a similar experience! The expressions used; as salutations among different nations, have something characteris tic and interesting, even ifor the actual obser-, ver. in the East, some of these expressions savor, in a more or less degree,.qf the Scriptures and of the serene and patriarchal sentiment of the inhabitants.. The salutatfpfismsed by the Aral), “ Salem,” means peace, .and is found in the word Jerusalem. THo Arab salutes his friend thus: “May you have a happy morning.” The Turks have a formula which can only bo used : in a sunny, olime.*-“ May y'our , shadow never he less.” . .The"climate bfEgypt-iS feverish, and perspi ration is necessary to health, hence tho Egyp tian, meeting you, asks,. “ How do you per spire'.” ' “ Have you eaten ? iSyour stomaoh in good order ?” asks the Chinaiprin,a touching solici tude, which can ohly be appreciated by a nation ol gonjjnands.. ';t: : \ “GoocT cheer,” says the modern Greek, in nearly the same language that tho ancients were wont to greet their friendsk - The Romans, who were-tohnst, and laborious, had energetic salutations, expressing force arid notion; Salvo—tie strong,: be healthy, and Quid facias? What do you? or, What make you ?” ■ ■ ‘ The Genoese, of modern times, say, “Health and wealth,” which is very appropriate for, a commercial people. ' 1 , The. Neapolitan devoutly says, “ Grow in sanctity.”' T)io “ How stand you,?’’ of almost rill Italy; forcibly indicates, Jhe, nonehaljnco el, . flio-smitiy lartd. ""'I ont; wfßhos yofi <, t 'faod, mornfngi , '4»' wifc!r ; w* respond, “Atyour Service, sir.’? : >i; .The ordinary salutation of ..the-German is, “ How goes it ?” To bid one'adieu, he says,’ “ Live quiet and happy.’? This last plainly ex hibits his love for the simple joys o( life. 1 The travelling Hollander asks, “ Hoe waart’a go?” “How do you go?” The thoughtful, active Swede,'demands', “0, What do yon think ?’? while the Dano. morc placid. uSes the German expression, “Live Weil—Live well,”— But the greeting of./the Pole is the best of all: “ Aio you happy ?” The English have the “ Good-by,” a corrup. tion of the words, “ God; bo with yon,” and some others; hut that which exhibits best tho character of the English, is. “How do von do ?” The comment “ youz. portez vous?” of the French, “How do you carry yourself,” is equal ly characteristic'of the free and easy French man. •‘Why can it be.” inquired a person one day,' ihotso many young men make shipwreck ol heir hopes, when their sisters becomo useful, "virtuous; and respected ? There is Mr.— all his boys are profligates. wliile his daughters are patterns of propriety and goodness;” .. This remark touches ah important subject. Let us reply to the interrogative ■ The answer is not very difficult. It is a very clear case. Sons are parly brought into contact with the world. In their youth they, form companion- 1 ships in the streets, and engage in pursuits which bring, them . into intimate relation to wicked men. They meet temptations of socie ty every where. All the vices of men appear from time to time, and all the coarser pleasures of life to lure anti destroy them. To this they, yield and go to ruin. It is not so dangerous with daughters. They are within doors at home most of their time. A different class of employments occupy their time and thoughts, and they live under a mo therms watchful eye from year, to year. Among the largo number of girls wbo.are Oast house less in the 'streets of out populous cities, a few, only, ooide out of the severe ordeal as gold tried in the fire. It is doubtful if there would be more sons than daughters ■ ruined if both were equally exposed-to thy temptations of the world.' j Hire, then, is, the differchceV The watchful care and blessed influence of homo saves the dials, while many boys arc destroyed. The fact should deeply impress bur hearts with two truths: First there is a great power in' the al lurements of the world. How many bright, intelligent, beloved young men are ruined every year by these appeals to their social nature 1 Second, the restraints and influences of home are indispensible to preserve the ohafacters of the young unsullied. Home —home—there is nothing like it, if it be a home of the right stamp, to make sons and daughters what they ought to be. —Happy Home. Legislative Eloquence. —Some years ago. in the New Hampshire Legislature, a new mem ber, somewhat noted for''pumping thunder,” made a speeohr-it was upon a bill for taking bank dividends—in which lie attempted to be very pathetic in favor of, widows-Who owned bank stock..,. “Yes. Mr. Speaker,” he exclaimed, with in dignant energy, “the gentleman -from'Dover, who introduced this bill, deaf ‘to ! the. cries of her orphan children, wouldstrip thcwidow—” But before he could conclude the sentence, he was interrupted by a laugh. Astonished, hot undaunted, he a profound feel ing: .“Gentlemen, it is not a subject of derision, T appeal to you in'all candor to sayif it is not worse than stripping. Put on this tax. and you will drive the widow to her l»st Snouts of laughter here petrified him in his place, and he spoke ■ no more' during l the ses sion. . IE?” “What animal has the most brain?” ■•Give it up.” "The hog. He has a hogshead full of’em !” SALUTATIONS. Oar Sons and Daughters. Boluutfcr. IMBER 1, 1859. SONG OP THE NEWSPAPER. I am a U ewspaper j I carry the nows To all of your dwellings— Wherever you chooso; A more faithful servant Can hardly.be found— Almost omnipresent I’m scattered around. Like stars in the heavens, And sands on tho shore ; Like leaves that have fallen When summer is o’er, I fly o’er tho land, X pass o’er the sea, I brave every danger— It’s pleasure for mo. I gather the news from The steamers and cars, And telegraphs, sparkling Will trace; peace and wars; I fill up my mission, -Defending the Truth, , And teach useful lessons, For old men and youth. The Wife’s Sacrifice There. Mary—now don't you think I deserve to be called a pretty good husband ?" laughed the young man as he dropped down in the la dy’s hand half a dozen gold' pieces. "Yes you are, Edward, the very best hus band in the world,” arid she lifted up hersweet face beaming with smiles, as a June day, with sunshine. ‘■Thank you, tiiarik you. for tho very flatter ,ing, words. And now. dear, I want you to have a cloak by next Christmas. I’m anxious to know how you will look in it.”' "But, Edward.” gazing anxiously at the shining pieces in her rosy palin, "you know we ,or§ not rich people, and it really seemsa piece ■of extravagance for me to give thirty dollars for a velvet cloak.” ' "No, it is not, cither. You deserve the clonk! Mary; and I’ve set pay mind upon s’pu having it. Then, it’ll last, you So many years that il will be more economical in the end than a less expensive article.” It was evident the lady was predisposed to conviction She riiado no further attempt to refute her husband’s arguments, and her small fingers closed over the gold pieces, ns she rose up, saying, "well, dear, the supper has been waiting half an hour, and I know you must be hungry.” Edward and Mary Clark were the .husband and wife of a year, lie was book-keeper in a largo establishment, with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars. His fair young wife made a little earthly paradise of his cottage home in the suburbs of die city, for within its walls dwelt two lives that were set like music topoe try, keeping lime to each other. And here dwelt also, tho peace that God giveth to those who love him. Mrs. Clark came into the sitting room sud- Idenly, and the girl lifted her head, and then cptiokly,; butndt.uru'l the first glance iKat the fair- jaco^-a^, swtollej l’and staioeit'h jtii’Vears; - ■ ' ■ "Jihet'-Hili was a “young seamstress' whom Mrs. Clark had occasionally employed for the last six months. She was always attracted hy her young, bright face, her modest yet digni fied manners, and now the lady saw at once that some great sorrow bad smitten the girl.. Obeying, the promptings of a warm, impul sive heart, she went to her and laid her hand on her. arm, saying, softly, "Wonk you tell me what is troubling you, Janet V “Nothing,that anybody cap help,”answered the girl, trying still to avert her. face, while her tears swelled in her eyes from the effort which she made to speak. “But, perhaps I can. At any ral*e, you I know, it does us good sometimes to confide our sorrows to a friend, and I need not assure you tha t I sincerely grieve because of your distress. And so with kind words and half caressing movements of the little harid. laid on tho scatm stress’s arm, Mrs. Clark drew from her lips the sad story. ’ f She was an orphan, supporting herself by her daily labors, and she had one brother, just six teen, three years her junior. He had been for some time a kind of under-clerk in a large wholesale establishment, where there was every prospect of his promotion i bu t ho had serious ly injured himself in the summer, by lifting some heavy bales of goods, and, at last a dan gerous fever set in, which had finally left him in so exhausted a state that the doctor had no hope of his recovery. . “And to think I shall never see him again, Mrs. Clark,” cried the poor girl, with a fresh burst of fears. . “To think he must die away there, among strangers, in the. hospital, with no loving face 'to bend over “him in his last hours, or brush away the damp curls from the forehead which mamma used to be so proud of. 0— darling, bright ' faced, little brother George,” and litre the poor girl, broke down in a storm of sobs and tears. “Poor child, poor child,” murmured Mrs. Clark, her sweet eyes swimming in tears. — How, much would it cost (or you to go to your brother and return ?” she asked at last. “About .thirty dollars. Jf! bavn’t so. much money in the world. You see it’s nearly four hundred miles off: but T could manage to sup port myself after I got there." A thought passed quickly through Mrs. Clark’s mind. , She stood still for a few mo ments, her blue eyes fixed in deep meditation, Aflastshe said kindly, “Well, my child, try and bear up bravely, and we will see what can be done for you,” and the warm, cheerful tones comforted the sad heart of the seamstress. The lady went up stairs and look the pieces from her ivory port monnaje. There was a brief, sharp struggle in her mind. “Somehow I’ve set .my henrl on this velvet cloak,” she thoughts “and Edward will be , disappointed. I was going out to select the. velvet this .very afternoon. But then, there’s that dying baby lying there with strange faces all about him, and longing, as the slow hours go' by, for d sight of the sister that loves him. and would pot this thought haunt me every time I put on my now clonk ? After all, my old broadcloth Is not so bad; if it’s only turned. And, I am surd, I can bring Edward over to niy. way of thinking. No. you must go without the cloak this time, and harp tho pleasure of knowing you've smoothed the path going down 10. the valley,of the shadow of death; Mary Clark.” And she closed the port monnaio resolutely, and went down stairs. “Janet, put lip your work this moment — there is no time to be lost. . Here is the money. Take it arid go to your brother." The girl lifted up her eyes a moment, almost in bewilderment, to the lady, and then, as she comprehended tho truth, a cry. of suph joy broke from her lips, that memory never faded from the heart through all the alter years of Mrs. Clark’s life. “George! George!" The words leaped from her lips, as the sister sprang forward to the low bed where the youth lay, his white, sharp ened face, gleaming deathlike from aipdst his thick, yellow curls. , i He opened his large ores suddenly—a Hush | AT 52,00 PER ANNUM passed over his pallid face. He stretched out his thin arms; “Oh, Janet! Janet! I hare prayed to God for the sight of you once more, before I die." “His pulse is stronger than it has been for two weeks, and bis face has a better hue.”, said the doctor, a few hours later, as he made his morning visits through the wards of the hospital. “His sister came yesterday, and watched with him.” answered the attendant, glancing’ at the young girl, who hung breathless oyer the sleeping invalid. “Ah, that explains it. I'm not certain but that the young man has recuperative power enough left to recover it he could have the care and tenderness for the next two months, which loVe alone can furnish.” How Janet’s heart leaped at the blessed words ! That very morning she had an inter view with her brother's employers. They 1 had been careless, but not intentionally unkind, and the girl's story enlisted their sympathies. , In a day or two, George was removed to a quiet, comfortable private.home, and his sister installed herself by his couch, his nurse and comforter. - Three years have passed. The shadows of the night were dropping already around. Mrs. Clark sat in her chamber, humming a nursery tune, to which the crad'e kept a rhymio move rnent, Sometimes she would pause suddenly, humming a nursery tune, to which the crad'e kepi a son of rhymio movement. Sometimes she Would pause suddenly, and adjust the snowy blankets around the face of the little slumberers, shining out from their brown curls as red apples shine amid fading leaves in Octo ber orchards. Suddenly the door opened. “Sh—sh.” said the young mother, and she lifted her linger with a smiling as her husband entered. ' ' ' "There’s something for you, Mary. It came by express this afternoon he said the words in an undertone, placing a small packet iu her ■lap. ■" The lady received the packet with eyes fried with wonder, while her husband .leaned over her shoulders and watched her .movements,' A white box disclosed itself, and removing the cover, Mrsi Clark descried a small, elegant ly cased hunting watch. She lifted it with a cry of delighted surprise, and touching the spring, the cose flew back, and on the inside was engraved these words: “To Mrs. Mary Clark, in token.of the life she saved.'' ‘•0, Edward, it must have come from George and Janet Hill.” exclaimed the lady, and the quick tears leaped into her eyes. "You Itnow she’s been with him ever since that lime, and she wrote mo last spring that he'd obtained an excellent situation as head clerk in the firm. What an exquisite gift, and how I shall value it. Not simply for itself, either.” “Well. Mary, you were in the right then, though I’m sorry 10 say, I was half vexed, with you for giving up your velvet cloak, and you’ve not had one yet.” "No. I’ve not had one. but I've never regret ted it.” She said the. Words witli her eyes fas tened adinuingly on the beauliful gift. “Nnrl, Mury'.-lbr I cannotdoubt that youc .sacrifice bought .thp.yoling man’s life.’; "0, say those words again, Edward. Bles sed be God for them,” added the good lady fer vently. The husband drew his arm around his wife, and murmured reverently, “Blessed be God. Mary, who put it into your heart to do this good deed.” . HOME WITHOUT A MOTHER. nr WAKNCLIPF, “Mother, mother, mother!” sobbed a sweet voice, in agonizing touos. It was dark and cold in the low dismal attie; but close pressed to the frosted windows lay the face of Sammy Hauntz. tils' soil hair hung over his tearlul face, and his hands clasped the rough window sill, and whole frame shook, as the keen blast found its way through the crevices around the stone chimney,. It was a sound you would never target; those half-sobbed, half-moaned words—“ Mother, mother, mother!” You I would have felt that the little heart was ready to hurst with its unutterable weight of sorrow and that giiof might bo the companion of child hood, as well as old age. Below slairs the lire leaped and. sparkled, and crept gaily over the logs in tho fire-place, lor you may tind fireplaces in Inglehook even now. • Everything was in order, and Mrs. Hauntz— tho stepmother of Sammy—was sitting placidly before tho fire, smoothing the folds of a clean apron and in a 'self-satisfied manner stroking a tabby cat which lay in her lap. Her three.children were silting cosily in lit- tle chairs by the fire side, and Ur. Ilamitz was [ talking with a brother who had just arrived to ' spendThanksgiviiig with them. The wind blew fiercely without, and once ! when nu unusual tempest scorned to shake tho 1 foundation of tho bouse, tho father turned sud denly to his wifd, and said : “ Whore is Sammy 7” “Gone to bed,” said she tarl'y. “ AFh'ait made him go so early 7” asked Mr. . Hauntz. And in a tone which prcciu ;cd furth er inquiry, she .answered :. “ Because ho was too Jazy to sit up, I sup pose.” For a fow.moments Mr, Hauntz looked oil' vacantly into a'corner ol (he room, and then of fering a pipe to his brother, seemed to forget that Sammy had been mentioned. Eight years before, Mr. Hauntz had boon sit ting by tiie same lire side with bis wile gentle Sarah Hoc. Sammy was upon bis lather's lap, and Surah with hhr bead upon her husband’s shoulder was talking o( what they would do when Sammy was old onough to have n Thanks giving of liis own. JPorhaps Mr. Hauntz was , bringing out those old pictures in a fresh light; and ho may bavo paused to wonder if lie bad changed since that wife of his first choice and purest love sat, beside him. How 'it a was,.no ono knew. Men are often ashamed of their best and noblest thoughts, and hide them for fear they ho called unmanly. Whether tho old adage may be true or not; fhat “A mother’s the same, all the days of her life, but a father .changes when he gets a new wife,” wo do not protend to say; but it was a fact that tbo stcond Mra.Jlauiilz and hur children were apparently first in the thoughts and affec tions of Mr. Hauntz. Tho morrow w'aa Thanksgiving; and from early room had Airs. Uauntz been busy preparing Cur a big dinner t>P the doming day. Mote than two months' before, she bad partly promised Sammy that l * if ho was a good boy, arid behaved himself,” ho might goto hiagrand lather Leo’s, to spend Thanksgiving. And the motherless child had planned and hoped, and been happy upon the events of tho day. Ho bad.many a time gone to bed supporjesa, never criod at all, because ho fell asleep thinking of tho dinner he should get at his Grandfather *, Although but two miles away, bis step-moth, or seldom allowed him to go there, because as she averred, •• They, set him against her, and j made him uglier than aver.” But once In a • while, she was obliged to let him go for fear that‘'peaplo woujd talk about it. She was a first class member of the ohnroh In Inglehqok, and her praise for charitable deeds, and kind- I ness to tho poor, was in all-tho neighborhood, j She was ono of tbooc chi istikns, whose « right j I hand knows what the loft doelh,”and whpia&o liglon was fpr the praise or man, rather tntnrtho approval of-God; andyvhoso judgmontJrJaavo fora just Judge to pronounce; at the iApptng day. .. Many a lime had poor Sammy had i boxed car, while, the. minister looked ont or. the wln dow, and been sent supperless to bedJ whllO filo fold the visitors that <‘ he was sick,’* and'vilsbUo be slept shivering under a few old biankptain the garret she displayed a snugwarm bed-tropin below, ns “Sammy's room.” Througb alt 1 IS glehook she was very proverbial .as a.“ ippdel step-mother,” and norio but he who jwajphps over motherless children, knew of cllpborSath my suffered. No human friends knew of tfia harsh repressing all exuberance and joy ; £ and the bitterness which grew up in his heart to wards all but his grandtalher. He was like hIS mother; and sitting upon, her father’s knee,'So had been told by the old man how gentle and lovely she was, and that she was with thoangols now, and ho a motherless hoys>. -r •; So the young child’s heart clung to the old . man who was kind to him, and the greatest hbl lidny cf tho year was that upon Which he could get away from the sound of his mother’s V.olee, and the fear of her hand—When bo could teaya the chill fireside at home, whore ho behind the now family group, and would 'climb NO. 25. upon the lap ol did Mr. Leo, and with his Solt curls lying close to tbo while hair of the old man, listen to the stories told of his mother, and .then have a nice supper upon the round tablo drawn close to the fire. This year he had ani iously wailed (or the dry loaves to drift through the woods in October, and for the first Novem ber snow to come, because at Thanksgiving, tyo should visit his grandfather. ' ", And tlic day before had come at last. Do was up before tho stars were out of sight and had a blazing tire upon the hearth ; tho (pa-'ket tlo boiling, and the “ potatoes in.” All dir long Iris little toot had pattered busily boro and there—to the barn, to tho well, down cellar, up stairs, to tho pantry, and there surely never was a Jjonsewife who needed more waiting undo than Mrs. Haunlz, and Sammy did it all. -His fingers smarted with tho cold when he picked up great baskets ol chips; his back ddied when he lugged in armful' after armful ol great hard wooa sticks for kitchen and “spare room” hre place ; his hungry stomach-craved a piece of the smoking pies, which ho had to drag frqm: the brick oven j amt he longed for one doughnut from the heaping panful he had,to carry away; His little feet and slender arms wore tired; bht he hover complained a word; and to all his mother’s provoking (aunts, and needless fault finding hit was silent; biit when all was-done— ■and it was nine o’clock—ho could not help ask ing her if lie was to go his grandfather’s to-mor row; and when ho heard her say, “No! I want you at home,’’, he could hardly (otter up'stairs, When there ho dropped into an old chair, nitij moaned, oh; so sadly I “ Mother, mother!’’•>. How many childish hearts'moan mother, mother / How many hearts ucho and break for want of a mother’s love ? All over the world orphaned'children send up a wail for Mother! Love! and Heaven! Bitter indeed,is the cry; but does not God bear it, and shall ho hot at lust justly reward the oppressors of little children 7 Thanksgiving morning dawned clearly add brightly upon Ihglohouk ;, but Mrs. HauUta “waited upon herself’ that day, for after calling the poor (ioy many times, /die went tip stairs, and found him silting, white and chill, by the window, with tears frozen upon his cheeks, .and his soft hair woven with the frozen work on the glass. , , Little, Sammy had gone to hold his Thanks giving with the angels. ... The New York Tribune states thijt Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his lecture at the Temple, Boston, on Tuesday evening, the Btb inst., apostrophized John Brown, the leader df the Harper’s Ferry affair. as .“ the saint, whh;e fate yqt hahgs in suspense, but whose martyr dom, if it shall be perfected, will.make the gal lows as glorious as the cross." Such blasphe my needs no comment. It is characteristic of the rabid fanolacistn from which it emanates.—. Hero is something, however, Irom a quarlep professing, to be far less ultra. A .writer in ihn’ Congregational paper’at Chicago, Illinois, spea king of Brmvn, after .calling him :n Puritan , of the Oromwtlh'nn stamp, says : v;; ••For thirty years he secretly cherished the idea of being d lender of a servile; insurrection ; the American Moses, predestined by 'Omnipo tence to lead a servile nation in our Southern Slates lo freedom; if necessary, through the Red Sen of a civil war, or a fiercer war of faces. ‘ It was, no ‘mad idea,’•cpncocicd at a fair Jr( Ohio.’ but a mighty purpose, born- of religions convictions, which be nourished in his heart for half a lifetime.” Such is the testimony of ono of Brown’s friends and admirers. If this be tru.e, thim let us hear no more of executive clemency and th'e commutation of the death scotence. To affirm that “religious convictions,” in any. proper sense, could have led this unfortunate n;an to concoct a plan for fomenting a .servile.war, with all its untold honors, is a shacking perversion. Whatever fanaticism might have had to do with the insane attempt of Brown, religion surely does not recommend wholesale murder. The extreme abolition views of this man hart brought him to a fearful fate, together with a|l who bad i lie hardihood 10 (allow him. Inno cent men have been murdered, and the guilty perpetrators are awaiting the scaffold. Gerrjt Smith, of New York, who won supposed to have, been involved in this terrible affair,,and who was once a man of high respectability, as "well as great wealth, was first led to adopt these ex treme views of abolitionism, then to renounce his faith in the gospel, and is now an inmate of an insane asylum. It 'is said also that. Dr. Chcever. who has wholly devoted his ministry to -anti-slavery, is now appealing to the British public for material aid (a carry on his crusade; Tho sad eflect of a]l tins is, that the slaves of the Snnthi instead of being henefitled, arc ne cessarily in a worse condition through tilts false philanlhrophy.— Presbyterian, Gov. Wish as a Penman*. —A letter-writer from Richmond gives (he following information ifi regard to Gov; Wise’s rapidity of 'pitmuatP ship;. > “Gov. Wise, in the character of a scfihcj surpasses, perhaps, any man living. , In point of rapidity he can only he .paralleled th Short*, hand, while Ilia writing is almost its legible aa print, t had occasion some lime ago to copy, some writing of his, and I did so page after pajje as ho produced them. I slat ted when, ltd was'two pages ahead, and though he had to compose while I had tncrely lb copy, at flic close of the tenth page he was still two in ad vance.. At litis stage hew.as called od to dihi. ner, and I availed myself of this opportunity to procure a.pcculiar style of pen, which I thought, would facilitate the operation. We both set lex work again simultaneously : and though he’ stopped occasionally to mend Ins pen (he writes with .a quill pen.) aitd now and then walked rapidly vobntl the room, while I meanwhile wrote with all the rapidity of which I was ca; . pable, be wound up at the end of ilio29ih page willi the two pages ip advance which lie had at the Start. I understand lie thinks nothing of answering 25 or 30 letters a day, or rather within the three or four hours,ho spends in InS, office, besides attending to Other duties and re ceiving visitors, who occupy much of histime.' ' What a reporter ho would make !" ■ A Man Wearing' Hoops.—A person sup posed to he a female, giving the name of Ann* Page, was arrested in Savannah, Oat, on Men day, wearing very cxlendfd hoops. An exam ination, however. showecOhnt the person wys.a ma)o On his examination no stated Ins ifitaie to be Charles Williams. ’ The Savannah Repub lican says lie converses freely and with all. thf action and. delicale-toned voice of a woman, He is an exquisite counterfeit, and seems up td the arts of the sex, assumes the female admira bly in his manners and deportment, wears he*. ololbes gracefully, and they are arranged With, a certain degree of taste, wholly inconsistent with tbebabitsol males. The mayor sentenced him to prison for ten days. It appears by the action in this case that the exclusive use of hoops is one of -Womin's Rights.” Blasphemy .and Fanaiacim.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers