YOL. 48. V MIMIC AN VOLUNTEER. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY JOHN B. BRATTON. TERMS. SnnscniPTios. —One Dollar and Fifty Cents, paid in advanco; Two D"llars if paid witliin tho year; and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid within tho year. Tl’Oso terms will be rigidly adhered to in every instance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages are paid unless at tho option of,tho Editor. . Advertisements—Accompanied by thooAsn, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted throe times, for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional insertion. .Those of a greater length in proportion. Jod-Puisting —Snob fts Xland-bills, Posting-hills, Pamphlets! Blanks. Labels) ;A6. Ac., executed with icournoy nnd at- tlio shortest notice. LOSS AND GAIN. BY ADELAIDE A. PROCTOR; Thou hast done well to kn**cl and B{iy Since Ho who gave can take away And bid me suffcr-rl oboy. And also welt to tell thy heart That,good lies in the bitterest part, And thou wilt profit by her sirmrt* But'hitler hours come to all When even truths like these will pall,. Stale-hearts, for humbler comforts call, Then I would have thee strive to soq That good and evil come to-thee As one of a great family.. And as material life is planned, , That even the loneliest one must stand, Dependent on his brother’s hand. So links more subtle and more fine Bind every other soul to thine, • X'x one groat brotherhood divine, Nor with thy share of work ho vexed j Though incomplete, and e’en porploxt/ It fits exactly to the next .What seems so dark to thy dim sight ; May bo a shadow, soon aright, Making some.brightness doubly bright. The finch that struck thy tree—no more To/aholtar thee—loM Heaven’s blue floor Shine where it trover shone before. Thy life, been dropped aside Into Time’s stream may stir the tide •In rippled circles spreading wide. ' Thy cry. wrung from thy spirit’s pain May coho on some far-off plain, And guide a wanderer homo again., Pail—yet rcinlcc. Because' no less The failure that rmkes thy distress May toach_ another full.succ.ese.v It may bo that in some. great need . Thy life’s poor fragments arotfoorood To'hcip build up.a lofty deed* Thy heart miirht throb in vant,content, Tims knowing that it was but meant i\B chord in o 10 great instrument, That ovon tho discord in thy.goal May .make cnmplotor music roll - From out tho great harmonious whole. It maybe, that when all is light, . Deep pet*within .that deep delight, Will be to know why all was right j To hear life’s p"rfeet music rise. And. while'it floods tlio happy skies, Thy feeble* voieo to recognize. Then strive'more glndlv to fulfil Thv little part., This darkness still Is light to every loving,will. “ Yes, I shall little deserve her love,” said Carson ; “ little requite her faithfulness, if I waited till npirning, Gome on, my friends, we shall celebrate the happy New- Year yet.” They were about departing through the front-door, when Saunders again saw in his mind that weired phantom beckoning to him through the moon-light, over the snow. He cheeked them, saying: “ There is something which tolls me we shall find her in no house to-night. She wont forth, to my idea, in desperation ; and if wb do not follow hard upon her. something ter rible will bofal. There has been rashness on all hands.” " Sir,” said Carson, “ it is too late to blame now. Had we dared to correspond, or had ncit sickness detained mo, this had been avert ed. She has been too faithful to onr secret. But bow shall wo follow her, except from neighbor to neighbor?” “By her foot-prints in the snow, We can trace them by the moonlight.” “You are right, Saunders, you are right. Through the fields, then. Gome onl” said Browning. So saying ho turned to the back-door, fol lowed by the other two. They could distin guish with ease her foot-prints in the light snow. . It was a small, delicate foot that had ghno that unusual way, and, by the unequal distances between the prints, they saw that in l*7 7 \ it had borne a weary frame. . , onc u ec *-i And they saw, too where at short inter- Browning then continued: vain, she must, with a breaking heart, have “The rest you may have gathered. She turned and stood looking atthe home she was refused to name the author ot her disgrace, leaving. No fed-man of the forest could nor could threats or entreaties for or induce have watched,more narrowly or judged more , e 'V ? 10 °. n , s 10 .. wnR a wife ; but said correctly of those tracks than the father and she had promised.net to declare her husband, husband; and a groan escaped them ns, one' •Oh . she was the true woman in her suffer- after another, the evidences of the wander mg ; my own sweet daughter Susy, spoiled er’s agony were • revealed to them. They .and dishonored as she was ; nod my father’s They kept on, saying nothing; for a dread heart was wrupg-and strained to the utmost. ful suspense began to harrow up and chill X told her of it ; she saw it arid knew it. But their spirits. They kept on in silence. The to all my prayers she turned a doaf ear. So keen air smote their cheeks, the snow chir whon her strength had been perfectly restored, rupod under their feet, and over them rolled .and twas but this afternoon, I led her to the on the descending moon. Lot them make door and showed her the wide, wide world, haste, for the pale orb will not much ' las delt sorely with me and my longer pour her light for them ; and if wim, Harry ; but I will not fall to cursing.” Susy, poor sweet, and faithful Susy, has Hero a knock at the do ,r startled the in- sunk in her journeying, the terrible Frostr mates. “ ’Tia she 1” said Browning, in a King will lay in his icy hand upon her heart whisper ; and Saunders shuddered as he and still its beatings for ever ; or if despern thought. of the_figuro he had beheld heokon- tion has seized upon her, a single moment mg to him. There was no answer to the nay a second, may lose her, to them, and summons. In a moment a hand tried the homo, and Heaven! Ay, let them speed floor. It opened. None of them looked i and to be wary lest they miss those foot-nrints around, as a man closely muffled up entered, iirtbo snow. But what is it Saunders sees ? Iho newcomer, m his over-shoes, made no There is a broad river yonder, and through “ 1,0 entered; and they all thought it the centre of the enshrouding ice lie can see i . the glitter of the dashing waters; and Those cal voice ® d “ de ° P ned ’ musi - B , to p£ he can see then, faltering down the Had a serpent stung him. Browning would ' ■T**? ‘i° "'“a "‘"T"-., Antl not have atnrtod more Bpasmodio'a"fy7°Ho I a "? laid . ? n0 sprang from his chair, and with one iionTrl-l P , Carson's shoulder, gazing with a reached the rifle hanging from the joists and and thn 6 ! I ™*- 1 '"' 1 P 0 5° tlle foot-prints before any one was aware of his pul o ! "’ at °'c ° n beym,d ’ Parson pulled the trigger. Its harmless ilink com P rel,o . mled V lO significance of the father's ever, announced his “V" ““ V? d Soaking away, vanoed upon the stranger- with the clubbed 0 0010:0^111 '** de ° lvlty ’ Pursued by his gun. Saunders rushed up behind Ln^S •• ssrtts S y r d i ß crr g i : F aj v?r^ f JSttiS shall Lid that man my te who shall dare to I Th» IT' . Th ? traokB lod on to a.tand between mo and my revenge I” *„° n ° » ‘|. l,oy /““owed them toward the rnc aim my revenge I 1 opening, whore the rapidity of the current 1 And trust—as if already plain Hnw inst thy share of loss fl,ud pain Is for another fuller,gain. I dare not limit tlmo or place Touched by thy life ; nor dare I trace Its far vibrations into space. Oxrc only knows. Yot if the fret * Of thy weak heart; in weak regret, Needs a more tender comfort yot, Then ,thou mav’sfc take thy loneliest fears, The bitterest drops of all thy tears, Tbo dreariest hours of all thy years. And. through thy anguish there outspread May ask that God’s groat love would shed Blessings on ono beloved head. And thus thy .soul shall learn to draw Sweetness from out that loving law, That sees no failure and no flaw, - Where all is good.. And life is good*. Wore the ono lesson understood Of its most sacred brotherhood. HimllnnEim - FOOT-PRINTS IN THE SNOW. A NEW-YEAR’S STORY. BY C HA R L E 8 A. HUNGER. Saunders replied, without relaxing : .You are rush, George. Would you add murder to your misery ?” . The stranger, a young man,, then came up, and after a little struggle wrested the gun from - Browning, saying, “ What doei all this mean, and what this reception ? Explain yourself, ■ Mr. Browning, while I keep this weapon os a. pledge of my safety.’’ “ Explain 1 How dare you cross my thresh old ? Have you come to gloat upon tho ruin you hove wrought ? The snake that stung me in ray heart of heart, comps ho haoH to coil arid hiss around his victim ? Hal hit! ha ! but you have missed it. Look in. the highways and hedges for her. Go 1 the world is wide enough for us both, and tjevenre hereafter how you cross my path I' 1 “Mr. Browning,” said the youug man, whose name was Frederick Carson, “J do not comprehend all this. Of whom, or what do you speak? I have come here after a long absence to see your daughter Susan. Is she here?” Here 1 Ask the winds where she is, - Ask the ravens that feed her. What I you aroy al bird of prey, stooping to such garbage I” . “ (ioud Uod I wliat'ylb'ca all thTs T" Susan is ray wife “Thank Heaven!” shrieked Mrs, Brown ing, staggering forward. “ Thank Heaven for that, Fred Carson. I knew she could not lie* I knew we wronged her, husband.” “ And here I am come to make her public ly my wife, and to keep the happy New- Year, and you. tell n?e she has gone m shaipe and dishonor. Has she become 0. mother, and concealed our marriage? or has she told you, and you have not believed ? Alas! wo must nil suffer,enough without sleeping in nocently 1" “ You say she la-your wife,” said Brown ing ; “what evidence is there save her off spring ?” ‘ r . ‘My own avowel. If you need more, the certificate and witnesses,” “ May Heaven forgive me-for the wrong I have done her I” said the father, with, a choked utterance : “ hut she persisted .in naming no one, and turned away from all en treaties.” “’Twas my fault.” said Carson, “Uwas mine. A few days before I left for the South, we were privately married c for I fenced my payouts, and she feared you. We promised never to name, each other' as husband and wife, till we meet again , jinfeil I might claim her without fear, and she me without re proach. And hero lam now* and .sjbe, noble giri—tell mo where she. Is, old man. I de mand her at your hands.” . “I am a bruised reed now, Fred.. Demand her of the winds.” There was a pause, and Saunders, who had let go of the subdued Browning, saw again in his mind, that same day wild phanton beck oning tb him oyerthe glittering snotv, through the keen moon-beams. :X .Gap:yau.hot.tell mo whefelmay find her? Where did she go from here’?” Mrs, Browning replied ; “ She bds been here ■to-night. So cold, and pale, and pitiful, with her'sweet, .baby! But’she dare not stay, for her father’s return. -Oh ! ,if she has died this cold bight, wo arc her murderers !” “ Heaven and earth !” exclaimed Carson; “ can you 1 no. guesti whither she has gone ?” .“No,” said the mother; “she wont out the back-door, through the fields. Her heart wasbreaking?” . “ Let us search for .her,” said Browning, “and bring her back, and ask her Through she has not been filial, she has been loyal; and I have done her a grievous wrong. Let us go back about it this moment. We shall doubtless find her at some of the neigh bors. Let us disperse at the forks of the road, and inquire dt the house tiji we find her.” - « ODD. COUNTRY—MAT IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.” had beori too great for concealment. Along the edges of the ice for the width of from fohr to six feet, the water had overflowed in a very thin sheet, saas to . melt the little snow, of the evening,and frozen again, leav ing a long border of pegrl- like glare. There they beheld, tho foohstops terminate. The dreadful truth fell upon their giinds as an avalanche:--the plunge, tho shriek, the splash of the closing stream, the rising of the white face twice to the surface, the final dis appearance and the death-gurgle, the subsi dence of the waves : all these passed before them. Oh I the agony of that husband. Oh 1 the depth of that father’s despair. Oh! Whift a scene, as they stood .'gazing upon the vanishing foot-steps, with clasped hands ;. ns they stood there nit the ice by the glittering waters, in that winter night, under the des cending moon. This was the New-Year’s ■Em. Would the New-Year’s Day he more cheerful to those two men? Would their hopes and joys kindle with its rising beam ? Would their faith and charities plume their sail and wearied .wipes, and spar away, to newer and nobler flights,-with its full-orbed splendor? Alas! alas 1 . T~Ttfß~ scoiTe - was too' : soTSthirnTra - aTiectrng for, Saunders, and he walked down the river, leaving the two standing there. Ho, howev er,'kept a' look out upon .them, as well' ns upon the stream, to notice any traces of the suicide’s death-struggle, which might be visi ble. . lie had proceeded but a short distance, when he again'discovered that same small foot-step leading from the water, with the current, and apparently.to the. shore. Like an arrow he sped to his companions, shout ing : " The track I,the track! I have found it again t She is not drowned 1 The track • this way, this way : oouje'l” -. The. twain started up, and.rays of hope flashed over their pallid- countenances like ligntning. They joined.him, .crying: “ Thank Oon! we shall find, we shall save her yet !” They arrived at the place where the' foot prints .came but from the glare of ice, and 'knew them, and followed thein. For a short distance the tracks diverged to the’shore, and then they turned and led to-the water again; What l. hud she repented of her last resolve, and indeed sought refuge irom her woes - in the cold and glittering element? No she bad but hesitated there for a short while. In a little ways the diieotion of her path changed to the shore. But what, if in that bitter night, instead of drowning she had frozen 1 How the terrible alternative obtruded itself, upon their minds; for if she had sunk, her fate was already sealed. ! And now the moon was , dipping behind the western hills, and they would lose the foot-prints ere long. They hurried on, shout ing her name. She had. taken her way to a long line of ehesnut and oak that skired the high bank of the river,- They reached the shore, and tracked hertalong under the shclv ing banks ; and thoro as the rim of the moon trembled a moment oii the horizon ero .it dis appeared, beneath the tangled roots of a hngo' oak, and superincumbent thorn-hushes, whore the snow had. not penetrated, they discovered her. A cry of joy issued Irom the lips of the three: but she beard,it not, for that fearful stupor and warmth consequent upon intense cold was creeping over her- A little later and they bad found her a stiffened corpse! Yes, there she sat on that cold winter night, pressing her child to her breast. ’ Oh 1 deep, enchanting, and abiding mother-love 1 What was the keen air to her, but that she might keep it from her babe ?—-what all tbo world to her, in comparison with that little lifo ? what were all the pangs she had suffered, the agony she bad undergone, the dishonor that had fallen upon her, and. the scoyn that would point it? slowly-upiying linger at hoi ks she should weep through the garish would ? .Nothing, nay, less than nothing, while the smile of hor little one should gladden her ; nothing, while in its eyes she could behold the coming glory of the spirit she had lit-for eternity; nothing, nothing’; fordespito all the pitiless, pollings of the mortal storm, those oheruh-hnnds would nour oil upon the troubled waters of her soul. True, there would he times when her vexed heart would fret, when reproach would lift up the waves of hate, but mother-love, like the Master awakened, would say, “ Peace, be still 1” “ Poor, poor girl 1” said Saunders, for Ife was the first to discover hor, Carson saw and sprang to her call ing her na». o. She heeded him not. Ho bent over, elapsed her in his arms, and im printed a kiss upon her pallid lips. Still she heeded him not. A deep sleep was falling upon her, and they must rouse her from that lethargy i or a deeper slumber, ono in which there are no dreams, would fall upon her. They carefully unwound hor arms, which were conclusively yot cautiously hugged about her babe, and took it from her. Tho littlo one was warm, and as the cold air struck, its cheek; it opened Us eyes, and com menced crying. Saunders covered it and stilled its complaining ; for ho hold it. The father and husband then drew,the girl from her hiding-place, and shook her very roughly. Finally she opened her-eyes, and their wild and wonderoua lightmet tho gaze of Saunders. Then he knew who it was that had beckoned to him through the moon-light, over the snow. True, she was clothed in-black ; but tho small pallid face, the same lurid lips con fronted him : that same dark and soul-thrill ing oyo.was upon him : ho,shuddered, spnko to her, but she understood him not. She was, however, alive and awakened ; and sup porting heron each side they compelled her to walk. Tho influence of tho exorcise was magnetic ; slowly her muscles relaxed, and her wandering senses returned. Faster and faster they urged hor on toward tho house, Saunders following aVUIi tho babe. They had more,than balf-accompliahpd tho way, when Carson, who narrowly watched her countenance, saw returning consciousness j and in another moment, and ere they were aware of it, she broke from hor father's hold, and shrieking, V Fred I v threw her arms about him. Fred, you have come at last!" Carson, with a flood of tears, strained her to his bo som. “ Thank Heaven, Susy, your are yet .alive I" Suddenly recollecting, she disengaged her self, and inquired for her child. ■“'Tia safe, dear Susy," said her father. ** Father, is it you speaking? 0 father 1 I am a poor, sinful girl, and hava not loved you as I ought I" w You have loved me better than I deserved," said Browing, winding his arin about her nock, and kissing her. ".I have wronged you I" f* Say not sg, say not so, father. I was at fault." ‘ Hero Saunders, who, unaccustomed to the transportation of children, had trudged along slowly and carefully, fearing lest he should fall, approache I, shouting : “Go on, go on as fast as you can. I’ll bring the baby safe ly. Go on, and keep the blood stirring." So they proceeded. , " Fred," said Susan, “ I am so glad you have como. I dreamed as I grow warm and CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 18G1 sleepy, under the tree by the river, that you had come back, that our .parents had sanc tioned, our union, and that wo jvoro living happily together. ’Twns a wild, strange dream for me, for one so dospairihg, Father had cast me off, and I had begun to mistrust you. Forgive me, Fred ; hut my brain was little turned I” '‘Heaven he praised, dear Susan, the dream shall soon prove true. I should have, been home two mouths since; ;but I have been jalob; very, sick, even to the point of death. I dared not to inform you of it;. It has wrought a change. I- shall- !f'figuFT6ow it crept into every nook and, cranny, and fell in glory through tho.windows, olv.the'.floor,'.filling the silent room, even up to; the great hearth stone, with a flood of warmth and exultation 1 The ligh tin the window-of the old blacksmith was relumed, and the fire on his hearth re kindled. Yea, and the all bounteous hud life-giving orb smote with bis swift beams that thin,' light snow, and it molted ; so that when the sleepers arose to the music of a caged rphin hanging in tho window, those small and delicate foot-prints, coming, going and returning, had vanished, wore oblitera ted for ever. So beneath the snnshine of loyo, charity, forgiveness, from the memories of the inmates of that house, were all wrongs, all rashness, all blame, all bitterness, all harshness, and all hardship bl itted out for ever. They thaaked .Heaven for it. Susan still' slept; but her sleep was free from all care and pain, and they know when she awoke she would be fresh and fair, and halo ns ever ; save in respect of fatigue, and the effect of mental suffering, The children, who had soon her depart the night before, glad to learn that she had returned, would just ■ open the door and,peep through’to see sister Susy as she slept, and then coiue away on tip-toe clapping their hands, but so softly that they made no noise. Mrs. Browning hustled about with the greatest importance, for there was to be a New Year’s dinner in the house ere night-fall ; and there was the best room to bo swept,and set in order for com pa ny. There were chickens and turkeys to roast. Then Mr. and Mrs. Carson (so Fred, who had been to the village forvarious articles, ■and purchased presents for- the children, said) wore to bo there in the afternoon—and, they were the richest people in town. Susan awoke about noon, quite well, and dressed' herself. There were traces of her sor row that with her utmilat care she could not efface. She wished, noble girl, that not a single trait or lineament should remind her Idved-onos of what had passed ; and no she felt stronger than she . was, apd went about the house singing snatches of her old songs, and tolling the children with merriment by her pleasant and funny ways.. But strong as she thought and said she was, by two o'clock it was necessary for her to keep her chair. At about throe o’clock, Mr. and Mrs. Carson made their appearance. They were very grand and formal people, and the children were very shy ; but Fred was with them, and a right royal fellow they said he was, and so they were not afraid. lie had. told Ilia pa rents of his marriage to Su an, of her faith fulness, and hor patient sutfering, and of his own love and reformation ; and they embraced hor, and kindly kissed her, and'called her daughter. And old bachelor Saunders was thoro, laughing and talking, rubbing his hands with glee, and blessing bis stars that ho had fallen on such happy times. Then, in the great kitchen, whore great logs wore piled and blazing in the great chimney, the table was spread with all thingsgopd of rural cheer At five o’clock they lit the candles and sat down to the blow-year's dinner. Yes, all—r the blacksmiths, tho children, mother, those grand and formal people. Fred, and Susan in the largerocking-chair—allsatdown together. Did Browning always say grace so fervently 7 And while tho fire roared and crackled, the knives and forks clicked and rattled; and they eat, and talked, and laugh, and wept together ; blacksmiths, children, those grand and formal people, mother, Prod and Susan—all togeth er. So when they rose from tho table, old things had passed away; all was forgiven, for gotten, and confirmed. Thus they kept the Happy New-Year's Day. And Fred, ns he laid his head upon his pil low by the side of his wife that night, felt, as ho pressed her to his bosom, that without a fond and faithful heart, \vhoroin all the affec tions may be garnered pp, this world is noth ing worth; and that pure pud fervent love, the one thing (lon-like which our first parents brought out of Paradise, is for more, and ex ceeding all its pomp, power, and magnihceno. And ns she told him of her hopes and fears, tho alternating trust and despair that ho came not; how she had ' “Stralvbd hor inner oyos till dan, To 800 the coming glory awitn Through tho rich mist of happy tears; of her pangs; of tho entreaties and throat- nings, tho shame and sorrow of her parents; of her short but terrible wanderings in tho winters' night; of her woes and sufferings, her desperation and suicidal resolutions; her walk upon tho ice ; her lingering by the glit tering'wnter; the final triumph of her faith in him, her husband, and in Heaven ; her shelter beneath the roots of the tree; her drowsiness, and the fearful comfort of the be numbing cold, arid her dream,: so timely bro ken and so happily fulfilled ; ho thanked Gon who had made her his—so good, so beautiful, and so true, and wept like a child. Mingling their tears they fell asleep. So closed the Happy New-Year’s Day. H Touching Incident. In the champaign of Napoleon in Russia, while tho French army was retreating from Moscow, there lay in a poor low cottage, in a village, an invalid hoy. This village, was exactly in the course of the. retreating army, and already the reports of its approach had reached and excited the terrified inhabitants. •In their turn they began to make preparations for retreat; lor they knew there was no hope J/eU-Alram-lmron UtAJka mla-AfjJia ofilfljorxr pooV- ing their own preservation, and gave no quar ters. Every one who had tho strength to fly fled; some trying to take with them their worldly goods, some to conceal them. The little village was fast growing deserted. Some burnt their houses or dismantled them. The old were placed in wagons, and tho young hurried their families away with them. But in tho little cottage there was none of this.hustle. Tho poor crippled hoy could not moyo from lushed. Tho widowed mother had no friends near enough to spare'a thought for her in this time of trouble; when every oho thought only of those nearest tq him pud of himself. What chance of fliglitvwas there for her and her young children, among whom one was the poor crippled boy. r v r . It was evening, and the sound of distant voices and pf preparation had died away. The pomjhoy was wakeful with terror, now urging his. mother to leave him to his fate, now dreading least she should take him at bis word and leave him behind, ■ “The neighbors are just going away ; I-hoar them no longer,’' he said, “I am so selfish, I have kept you here . Take tho little girls witli you ;it is not too late. And lam safe ; who will hurt a poor; helpless boy ?’’ , “We are all safe,” answered the mother, “God will not leave us, though all. else forsake us.” ‘ .. . ' . “But what can help us ?” pvesisted tho hoy, “Who can defend us from their cruelty ? Such’stories as 1 have, hoard of ,the ravages of these men 1 They are not men, they are wild beasts. Oh why was I made so weak—so weak as-to. be utterly useless? No strength even to fly.-’ ■ ; ; “There'is a sure wall for the defenceless;” answered the mother. “God will buUd qs a sure wall - .”' : ...... “You are my strength now,” said the boy ; “I thank God that you did not desert mo. I am so weak, I cling to you. Do not leave me. Indeed I fancy 1 can see tho cruel soldiers hurrying in. Wo are too poor to satisfy them, and they would pour their vengeance upon us !' And yet you ought to leave me 1 What right have Ito keep you here. And I shall suffer more if I see you suffer” , '■God will he Our refuge and defence,” still said tho mother; arid at length, with low, quieting words, she stilled the anxious boy, till he, too, slept like the sisters. The morn ing came of the day that was to bring the dreaded enemy. Tho mother and children opened their eyes to find that “a sure wall” had indeed been built for their defence. Tho snow had begun to fall the evening before. — Through the night it had collected rapidly.— A high wind had blown tho snow in drifts against the low house, so that it had entirely ! covered it. A low shod behind protected the way to tho out-house, where tho animals were, and fora few.days the mother and children kept themselves alive within their cottage, shut in and concealed by the heavy barricade of enow. . . - It was during that tinjo that the dreaded scourge passed over the village. Every house was ransacked ; nil the wealthier on.es de prived of their luxuries, pad the poorer qnos robbed of their necessities. But the low?roofed oottago lay sheltered beneath its wall of snow, which, in the silent,.night, had gathered around it. God had prfiteoted the defenceless with “a sure wall.” A Maulv Youth.—Last week the “Grab, town' Boreas Sewing Society” held th oir an; mial meeting, and on motion it was voted “That ohr Parson Wait on Tony Jones, and see if nothing ean bo done to improve the man ners of young Tony.” •The nos't day the Parson called upon I'mir ny, Sr., and informed him respecting the ob ject of his visit, to which he replied <■ “Parson, I’d let Tony go to mootin' every Sunday, if I only kmny’d you’s goin’ to preach, But, Parsim, there ain’t a boy in the village of Criibtown what’s got more manners than my Tony, and.l can convince yon of that in just a minit. Yon see Tony out thero skin nin’ them niffers?” The Parson nod led assent. “Now, see, I’ll call him.” And raisinglus voice to the highest pitch ho shouted— “ T-o-o-ii-y 1” The response was quick and equally loud. “Sir?” “Do you hear that, Parson ?” said the man Don’t you call that manners?” “That's all very well,” replied tho Parson, “so far as it goes—” “'What do you mean by far ns it goes ? That boy, sir, always speaks respectfully to me when I call him.’’ Then raising his voice ho again called— ’ ' “T-o-o-n-y!’' The boy dropped a half-dressed fish, and shaking his fist at his sire, yelled out— (The Parson shook his head.) “Yo miserable, black, old, orunken snob, I’ll como in there in jist two minits, an’ maul ye like blazes.” The Parson was astonished. Tho old man was disconcerted for a moment, but instantly recovering himself, ho tapped tho Parson on the shoulder, saying— “ You see, Parson, my boy has got ynt as well as manners. This chap will make an ornament to your society some of ’em days, Tho Parson shook his head and mizzled. Modern - Definitions. —Oversight—To leave your old umbrella in a news room and carry away a now one. Unfortunate Man—Quo born 171 th con science, ' Progress of time—A podler going through tho land with wooden clocks. Bight Justice—A.juror on a murder cas.e fast asleep. Independence—Owing fifty thousand dol lars which you never intend to pay. Honesty —Almost obsolete ; a term former ly used in tho case of a man who paid for his paper. 017“ A witty man can make p. jest; a wise man can take one, Republican Intolerance. Tho Republican party bus bad a very brief existence, but brief as that existence has been, it has exhibited more bigoted intolerance to ward nil those who differ with it on.questions of National policy, than any other party that ever bad an existence in this country. This is the more inexcusable trom the fact, that it commenced its career with loud professions in favor of the largest amount ofliberty to all classes, conditions lind' races of men, taking into its freedom loving arms “all the world and the rest of inandkind;'* It battled through its first Presidential Campaign with “Free Speech, Free Press, Free Homes and Fremont” ns its motto emblazoned on its ban ners alt over thecountry.' ' ■; • It passed,through its second Campaign, if possible, with even greater professions of love for freedom. Members of this freedom lov ing party were seen to turn up their eyes.in ■holy horror, at tho idea of Southern men.pro venting abolition, fanuctics ivom preaching se- : nnTroirvffnimgsc .to insurrection,- pronouncing it a terrible out rage on free speech. . ' Well, this, party got into power hy gulling the people with these lying professions., And now, how do they proceed to carry then).out? By making good their profession and granting unrestrained'liberty of speech and the, press t Not a hit of it. But if same unfortunate lol lnw—in fin unguarded moment happens to criticise sonm uctof the administration in pew or, he is immediately “spotted’' as a traitor, pud Mr. Secretary Seward- has him arrested hy telegraph and lodged in Fort Lafayette,— Or if he express the opinion that the Repub lican party is net and best party the world over saw, ho is denounced ns ft seces sionist by a pack of .newly fledged patriots and “Union Sliders," who never felt a genuine patriotic emotion stir in their breasts. Or of a.Nowspapor Editor intimates that the man agement of tho War Department under the administration of Simon Cameron - has - not ns scrupulously honest ns it might have been, ho is put down ns.an onepiy of the-gov ernment; Or if ho presumes to suggest, that this is not exactly the right time lor inaugu rating the “first ball ever given in the White House” ho is politely informed by some idiot ic fanactia that his pstablishment is to ho torn down by vioh violence, dud his paper sup pressed by the government. Such, gontlp redder, arc ft fpw ot the practical illustrations of the Republican of "freq speech and'a free press.” But, thank God,, a better day seems to ho dawning upon us, the reign, pt terror and fa naticism id rapidly drawing to a close—-reason Isbeginningto rosumo her sway, sensible and • intelligent Republicans now look nt things move calmly and that kind of work is left-fil most entii-e'.y -Who reached their maturity at- ten .'years of] ago. With a Democrat at tho head of, tho Wat Department, a Democrat at the head of the Andy and Democratic Generals commanding almost every division, wq may .uxpeot an en ergetic forward movement, with negro eman cipation in the hack ground, and the restora tion of the Union and the preservation of tho Constitution ns tho Pole Star for tho guidance of every patriotic heart. With patriotic and conservative officers, to. lead on our brave troops, such as McClellan, | Ilallecki Dix, Butler, Sherman, McClernnnd and the gallant Col. John A- Logan of Illinois who, at the battle of Fort Donolson, when his men were fulling thick and fast around him. and ho himself fearfully wounded, rode along the Jines, waving his hat and eryingout "snf fe death, boys, hut disgrace never.” _ With ■such men > n the .field, wo say, there is hope for tho country yet. • , ■ , ‘God speed the day, when Northern fanati cism end Southern treason shall find a com mon grave,.when tho glorious Stars and Stripes —tho banner of tho Union—shall wave in tri umph from Maine to Texas, when sectional hftte and animosity shall he banished fronj the country, we trust, forever, and when wo shall again “know, no-North, no SoiUh, no East.no West, but a,common bond iy a common broth erhood”— Valley Spirit A Hero. Wanted Tho Republicans are in a.desperate strait for a'hero, Since tho collapse of Jim. Lime, they are bleating about like sheep without a shepherd. Their first hero in this war was Fremont. He achieved the defeat of Lynn, tho surrender of Lexington, the “freedom” of a fiiw niggers, and squandered millions of" public money. We hardly know which ex ploit most commended him to their favor.—■ When Fremont was retired from command in disgrace, they fixed their hopes upon one Si mon, surnamod Cameron, who, it has been said, “ was a thief from the beginning,” and did not hesitate to sell bis country for a few pieces of silver. But Simon wanted the big-, gera set -at liberty—-bo wanted arms put in their hands so they could butcher the, women and children of the South. This exalted him in the eyes of the Republicans and they loved him ns they loved their own souls. Rut Si mon is dismissed from the council table which ho bad disgraced. Just then dim Lane turn ed; up and the Republican journals turned their eyes upon him and sew that bo was good at stealing niggers, and they proclaim ed that bo was to do wonderful things in that lino—rit just suited him. But General Jim is suddenly squelched”—his “ expedition ” vanishes, and ho is left before the publio n miserable charlatan, a dirty jack that has brayed his- own fame, a tit object of scorn and anathema from all patriotic people. Who will bo the next boro of the Republican jour nals?” —Ex cfittntje. ■ ■ A Contrast.— Decidedly the most brilliant military campaign in which nnr country over 1 engaged, was the Mexican War, during the administration of President Polk. Ex-Pres ident Buchanan was, at that lime, Secretary of-State, and the late Governor Marey, Sec retary of War. The most extensive means had to bo provided fur the maintenance of a largo army in a distant country, and millions of money passed through the hands of the government officers. But wo do not remem ber that any one of them was ever charged with peculation or dishonesty. Certain it is that not a whisper was over hoard affecting the integrity of Mr. Maroy, and he retired from office enjoying the respect of the whole country. The Democratic administration of President Polk, in that campaign, apt an ex ample which might have been profitably fol lowed bv those holding, high places under Mr. Lincoln. It certainly is not necoaa yv to the successful prosecution of a war that all concerned in conducting it should turn high way robbers. —Easton A^r/ns. 835“ A great toper, who had drank noth ing stronger than brandy, called for a goblet of water on his death hod, saying!“When a man is dying ho ought to make up with his enemies." %iroltorQl Ifjiartmmt; HINTS ON PIBM IMPROVEMENT. Farmers are generally anxious to improve their farms, or ,at least to reap the results of such improvement in bettor crops and greater profits, but very many of them have yet to learn the most direct road to prosperous ag riculture. It lies rather through careful management of abundant labor and capital, than in stinting these to the lowest possible amount —the saving is in the prudent iise of every means of progress, rather than in .the miserly neglect, of nl| which scent to be indi rect aids, but ‘which are really the trifles which ensure that increase above thfe cost of production which alone counts as profit.^ Let us look at one of the simplest axioms of the better farming. “ There is no way," says John- Johnston, “ that land- can bo BO profitably improved ns by grass kept in a vigorous state, of gtowth." f J,'o grow large crops of grass wo must have rich, drained land —naturally fertile or enriched by: mon ..ULe-Ond thorough culture before seeding down and by frequent topKlrcssing afterwards, IfT must 150 drained land—artificially drained if subject to stagnant water—or the beat grasses . cannot be grown, nor can it bo brought into profitable rotation with tho grain crops. It must he thoroughly seeded—economy in gross . Repd “ saves at the spigot to lose at the bung," in tho loss quantity and poorer quality of the product. And it must not ho overstocked,— 'flip begt pasture land, especially while young, pap bQ ruined by feeding too closely and un seasonably-^—late. in. autumn and early id Spring time. J3ut fanq improvement by thito method re quires Ij>bor and care. Autumn top-dressing comes at a busy season, and requires previous attention to provide the requisite composted manure. Hence too many neglect it, even though convinced of its importance and of the greatly increased crops which follow tho practice'. * Our better farmers do not practice economy of lahor\ striving to ,gqt along with as liille as possible. .They have found that plenty of help for all the operations of tho farhxia'tho only way of productive and prof- i table farm management. A hint or two on getting hotter grass from our meadows gnd,pastures next season. Let no mild weather tempt us to allow a hoof up on them during the winter.' Bettor buy ad-, ditional forage fop our stock. Where a mix ture of- clover prevails \ye,should give a top dressing of plastey in the ft has been found profitable toniix ashes with plaster for, this purpose, and wo should never sell a bushel,of ashes from the farm, but rath er buy. ipsthad. If intcnljed fur pasture, let start before turning .on stock litffiijpJ'oduc t will be much larger than during the whole season.--- mjjstprpsinjay be fed early with :leS» grasses;’ IWo have fou a'd tj> kood'pblioyj'til change pastures'quite frequently, benefitting both the pasture and the grazing animals.— Farms so situated that they may be irrigated at small expense, should'enjoy this great means of enhanced productiveness. Mead ows should ho top-dressed iyith fine manure after haying—oortij.inly whenever the crop falls below twq topg per aero. If land is to pc plowed up fop tillage another year, top.drcssihg in autumn'will he found the host means of applying manure for the future product. Jjut we need not exten I these hints farther in this connection—wj have dwelt u'pq'p them freely heretofore. , ! The farmer, anxious for improvement, is never at g joes for employment, upon hit farm in winter.' There are a thousand things ho cun do to enhance the comfort and thrift of pis stock, and to increase the amount npd value,of Pis'mO-buro. And it'should not be forgotten that the richer and better our stock are fed, the more rapid and profitable their growth, and the far greater value their ma nure. Preparations for the labors of tho coming seed jimo can be largely made—fences, tools, sheds, gird, no less important, plans for the work cp.il bo. got in readiness in this time of comparative "leisure.. Too m any are engaged off (heir farms at this season, —in work, per haps; bringing in more ready money—but practically of far less advantage to themselves as farmers. Others idle away the winter to grumble at bad crops and the burry of farm life during.tl)e summer and autumn. .With the hi;w year there is room for all to “ turd oyer a now loaf” in the volume of progress. ■r-Oo'untnj Gentleman. The Care of Horses, A late number of the Maine Farmer con tains the following practical remarks on the Care of Horses, a matter which we fear is still much neglected by many : As a rule adapted to general npplioatioja, farmers do not take sufficiently good oape.Jpf,; their farm horses, although we believe they receive better care than the other stock of the 1 farm. In speaking of care wo do not mean 1 to hq understood that watering and feeding 1 is all that is requ'rcd of tho funner in tending ■ his stuck; albeit, clear water and good feed 1 are most essential matters in the business.—• ■ Lot any of our every day farmers go into it i livery or hotel 'stable, and see the rubbing, * attention and kind usage given to a horse ■ that lias been driven eight or ten miles, and 1 ho would staro in astonishment, ask if they 1 always gave horses the same treatment, and ' after much questioning and talk conclude that they would feel better for it. There are many fanners, who, if they have occasion, to use their horse during a snowy day in winter, when they reach homo, never card or brush him down —although in moat cases ho is blan keted—and with snow upon hisdegs and an kles put him into a stall to pass the night,, I with no bedding hut the manure of the pfe- I vinus day. The horse is of'course fed, bat this is about all. If a person thinks this is taking proper care of a horse, let him work hard all day in a ruin storm, go to bed at night with wot shirt and stockings, and-he will probably arrive at tho conclusion that it is more comfortable to go to bed with dry feet than with wot. and lie will find"quite a difference between sleeping in good dry bed clothes and lying down in pis own wot gar ments. The care is pn oven one. The horse is an animal, the man in this instance, is no more. Both need kind treatment; and the man who goes to bed without humanely at tending to tho wants of Ills horse, yet not ne glecting bis own, is only in part a man. Having alluded above, in a single word, to an erruy in the care of horses, we now refer to an error in feeding. It is in feeding them when fatigued from hard work. No horse should bo "fed, either with hay or grain, on being put into tho stall after work. They should ho allowed to rest at least half an hour, then fed with imy, half an hour after wards watered, and then grained. By this method, they will ho healthy, and loss liable to suffor from attacks of disease. Regularity in feeding is by all moans indisponsiW*. ' i NO. 40.