• . . 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.