VOL. 48.
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%M\ml
A COMMON STORY.
BY THE AUTHOR OF JQHX HALIFAX
So, the truth’s out,. I’ll grasp it like ° snake—
It,will not slay me,- My heart st* llll not break
Awhile,'if-only for tho chil'k’Oß 3 sake. '
For his too somr—nnt. . Lot him stand unblaUicd
None say-, h" gavo mo less'than honor claimed,'
j; xc( ,|,i dno.-.triilo scarcely worth being named,' ;
Thoheurf.- Tlmfc’sgono. Tho cornipt deed might bo
As easily raised up, breathing, fair co see,
As he could bring bis whole heart back to mo.
I never sought him in .coquettish sport,
Or courted him as silly maidens court, .
And wonder when thp iohgcd-for prize falls short.
I only loved liim, any woman would;
But shut my love up till ho came, and sued,
Thou poured it o’er hia dry Ufo like a Hood,
I was so happy I could make,him blest!
So happy that that I was his first and best,
As' ho mine, when ho took mo to his breast.
Ah mo! if only, then he had been true!
If for one little year, a month or.two,
Jle had given mo love Tor love, as was'my duo !
Or had ho told mo, ere. the deed was done,
Ho only raised mo. to his heart’s dear throne;.
Poor substitute!, because the queen was gone \
Or, had ho whispered when his sweetest kiss
Was warm upon ray mouth in fancied bliss,
Ho had kissed another woman like to this,.
It wore less bitter ! Sometimes I could weep
To bo cheated,;like a child asleep.:
Wore not the anguish far too dry and deep.
So I built my house upon another!a ground;
Mocked with a heart just caught at the rebound ;
A cankered thing thatlookcd so firm and sound,
And'when that heart grow colder, colder still,
I, ignorant, tried all duties to fulfil,
.illuming my foolish pain, exacting will.
All, anything but him. : It was to bo
Tho full draught,others drink iip carelessly
Was made this bitter Tantalus-'Cup forme.
' I and my children never shnil be sbamedi
Ho is a just man; ho will live uublamcd. ■
Onty, 0 God, 0 God, to cry for breacl,
get a stone! Daily to lay my head-
Upon a bosom where the old love’s dead I
Dead ? Fool! It never lived. It only stirred ’
Galvanic, like an hour old corpse. None hoardj
/3o let mo bury it without a word. '
He’ll keep thnt.othor woman from my sight,
I know not if her lace bo foul.or bright;
I only know that it was bis delight—
As his was mine : I only know ho stands
Palo, at the touch of their loug severed hands,
Then to a 1 ■ flickering smilo his lips commands,
Lost I should grieve, or jealous anger show.
He need not. When the ship’s gone down, I. trow,
Wo little rock whatever wind may blow.
And so ray silent moan begins and endp,
No world’s laugher world’s taunt, no pity of friends
Or sneer of foes, with this my torment bicuds.
JNone knows ; none needs. I have a little pride ;
Enough to stand up, wife-like, by his side,
With the same smilo as when I was a bride.
ffiimllaiimiH.
THE VEILED PICTURE j
THE MYSTERY OP THE LIBRARY,
No searching eye can .pierce the veil
That o’er my secret life is thrown.;
. No outward signs reveal its tale,
But to my bosom known.
Thus like the spark whoso vivid light
lu the dark Hint is hid from sight,
It dwells within, ajouo.
“ What have you concealed hero ?” I said,
taking hold of the heavy silk drapory’attaoh
ed to a rose-wood cornice, and falling in
graceful folds to the llnor.
“ Lilian 1 Lilian, don’t raise it 1” exclaim
ed Mrs. Thornton, springing from the easy
onair.ip.whioh she had been reclining with the
listlessneasofa dreaming child, and darting to
piy side she pressed so heavily against the
viol that I could discern the outline of a pic
ture-frame, r
. “ A picture 1" I exclaimed. “0, I must
see it, for I can never rest whore there is any
thing mysterious.’' '
“ But this you can not —mttql not see.’*
I did not reply, for having been an inmate
of the house only a week, and this being my
first visiWo the library, I did not give utter
ance to-the thoughts which rushed through 1
my mind. Perhaps Mrs. Thornton divined
my-thoughts, ns after a moment’s silence she
said :
“You are to have access to tips library at
all times ; every hook is ai your service, and
you are at liberty, oven, to rummage the draw
ers and pigeon-holes of my desk, if your cu
riosity demands-it; hutyou must not look be
neath the veil that hides this picture and
■or pale lips trembled, her dark expressive
were fixed upon mine.
Hl ,*' „ 8t °P° glance." I said pleadingly ; but
101 beild n °gatively, and I wont
J, , °an I study with that mystery
H befuro „ mo iu l d tjiontoo 1 shall never
nieht np U u?- y “S' 11 ! 1 ’ ljut dream the livelong
some «t- thlB ra - vst . ioul veil > and that it hides
C°nie asomnn’ i To ,l rd ' in ? n «° ; or "' orso - bfl --
vant (wl,™?‘ lmbullBt ‘“’d ‘frighten every sor
houso i )v * n PP on s to fear ghosts) from tho
'vanUepi n^8# »)y mi^l i*Kht ant]
veiled pic\u but, O l! . no every looks upon this
relic I have n’i-n„t tIS ” n orod. fur it is tho only
‘hat I hav e t P O °, 3 ;. r '; ed /’ f my past life all
br 'ght to last—of”,, i- m S 0 ! m PP-V days too
pathway was c i,.„ n JU '°! period when life’s
dreamed I notthnii"' 11 'V 11 ' lowers, I and
flowery petals slin 01 * 011 - 1 th( - )3 ° bl| r,perfumed
liidtltm.’’ ‘ 8 ’ Bl,a T> Piercing thorns wore
Her face was pule as death, and those deep,
dark eyes moist with pearly tears. •
I saw that her heart was deeply pained ;
that welling from memory’s fount came pain
ful remembrance, and truly penitent, I said,
“ Forgive my thoughtless words, and I prom
ise never to raise the veil from this picture,
nor pain your heart by thy questions.”
An intense smile stole over her pale fea
tures,, and kissing my cheek, she murmured,
“Dear child ; perhaps some day I may lift
the veil and toil you all.” Then turning
away to hide her tears, left trio standing be
fore the veiled picture.
It was rather curious how I camp to ho a
dweller in tho home of Mrs. Thornton. Two
years before, when but fourteen years old, I
came to Now Haven to attend school,.and
soon after my father leaving homo for Eu
rope, where he expected to remain three years,
intrusted mo to tho guardianship of Mr. Howe,
an old friend of his college days. It was at
tho house of Mr. Howe (hat I first met Mrs.
Thornton. She went hut little into society,
and my guardian’s was one of the few fami
lies she visited, .Her pale, expressive face
attracted, mo, and than',.(no. there was an in- 1
definable something iu' her dark, liquid eyes,
now so srid, ami now glowing with an intense
smile, that woke an answering echo in my
young heart. She always-called mo to her
side to ask ino about my studies : and when
a now book was announced which she thought
would he suitable for tno to road, she placed
it in my hand with my name engraven upon
the.fly-leaf in'her own handwriting, AV.as .it
strange that my heart warmed toward her ;
that her.coming was looked .forward to with
pleasure, or that I often hegired for the privi
lege.of visiting her in her quiet; pleasanthome.
My visits there were not very frequent ; and
when there'wo sat in her boudoir which was
fitted up with artistic taste, and hnving never
been admitted to'the library Iliad never seen
the veiled picture.
I had a pleasant home with Mr. Howe’s
family; yet it. waaa glad surprise when ho
said that I could board.with Mrs. Thornton,
if I wished, and thought that I could be hap
py thero. Mrs. Thornton; had proposed it,
us. Mr. Howe’s family anticipated being
absent .from .the city most of .the. summer ;
and tho following Saturday I removed to her
home.
It was my first holiday in my new home,
and I had gone to the library with Mrs.
Thornton to select a hook, when, on passing
around, my eyes fell upon the silk drapery
shading the wall in the furthest corner, and
was about to draw it aside when her excla-,
motion prevented. I, had promised not to
look beneath, the mysterious folds of. that
silken veil, yet I was not satisfied; curiosity
prompted mo to try.to catch a hasty glimpse
when Mrs. T.hornton was occupied] but hon
or forbade.
. Summor.and autumn passed, and tho long
winter evenings were spent in tho cozy, cheer
ful library ; and, though ! cast many a furtive
glance toward tho veiled picture, X dared not
question Mrs.-Thornton,, and-began to.des
’ pair of tho dawning.of that day when she
would relate the history of the. picture,' It
was n mild evening in spring, and wo wore
H.T;..ill;rar.-pa-I.AVaiah.
ing the fast dimning coals that'had burned
low, while Mrs. Thornton, with closed eyes
sat near in the easy chair. My reverie was
broken by the tremulous tones of her voice,
saying's ... , *
“ Lilian, do you remember your mother?”
Then. I answered that, though, I turned
leaf lifter leaf of Memory’s hook, yet I could
find no record os a mother’s love. She died
when I was about two years old, yet my fath
er had been kind, and, ns fur ns possible,,
filled the place of both father and mother. My
childhood had passed happily ; my father
was. both friend and instructor, and my first
groat grief had boon when I was sent to school
and my father sailed for Europe. ’
“ Was your mother’s name Lilian?” and
there was something in the tone of her voice
that startled me; . 1 ■
“ Her name was May. Was
it not n sweet name ?”
Very pretty," and the glowing intensity
of her eye, ns I met its gaze, made my heart
throb with a strange sensation.
“ I can’t tell whore she was buried. Once
when I asked my father, he said it was far
away, ami wo would go to the place of mv
birth when I was older. My father was so
lonely after mother’s death that he,sold his
home in New York and removed to Ohio, X
have no recollection of my firstborns, hut shall
ask my. father to take mo there before wo re
turn to Ohio.”
“ And your father loved his wife ?”
“ What a strange question,” I said. Yet
she appeared to. have spoken without thought.
11 If he had not loved her, do you think ho
would have remained true to her memory fif
teen years?”
“I have a headache, and shall retire,” Mrs.
Thornton said, rising I and coming to my side,
she kissed me tenderly, and with a flushed
cheek left the library.
lias. Hbmans,
For a long time I sat gazing into the dy
ing coals. Wore her questions the magic
key that had unlocked the casket where the
memories of my childhood were stored ? I
could not toll. Yet there came a dim remem
beranco of a time win n I was playing alone
in the garden and a strange face peered into
mine,-as some one clasping mo in her arms
kissed mo again and again,, while my face was'
wot with tears. I never know whence she
came or whither she wont, and it seemed
strange that dim memory should oome hack
then. It passed, and a bright dream flitted
before my waking vision-—my father would
return in a few.months) ho would moot Mrs.
Thorton; she was so gentle and winning ho
would not fail to bo pleased with her, and I
might he permitted to call her mother!
My hand was on the knob to open tho door,
but I hesitated. It was late, and the house
was still. How easy it would be to solve tho
mystery, and Mrs. Thornton never know it
For months that veiled picture had haunted
iny waking and sleeping visions, why should
I longer perplex my mind with vain conjec
ture : and crossing tho library, I placed the
lamp so its light would fall directly upon the
picture. W.as it the, rustling of tho silk or
tho faint echo of goiitlo footsteps that startled
me; but, listening intently, I found all silent
within and without. Ah I it was the whis
pering of tho still, small voloo, and should I
heed its promptings? She would not know
it, curiosity whispered ; so I raised the veil';
but, ns my eye caught a glimpse of a gilded
frame, the drapery fell from my hand! I re
membered my promise never to raise that veil,
and I turned away wondering why so costly
a frame was hidden' beneath those dark folds.
From that night tho mystery of the library
deepened. I had a nervous dread of being
left alqno with tho veiled picture, and my im
aginative mind pictured a scene of horror that
would thrill every nerve and freeze m v heart’s
blood !
My father returned, and when I told him
how kind Mrs. Thornton had been, ho called
to thank her in person, but she was ill and
(tould Pot leave her room, Wondering what
could agitato her so, I returned to my father,
saying she would be hotter in a day or two,
.and he must not leave the city until ho had
scon her. But he was firm in his decision to
leave the next day, and I must accompany
him. Then I expressed a wish to vfsit my
mother’s grave. Ho drew me to his side, and
with his arm encircling me, and iny head rcs
tihg upon liis bosom, told me of my .mother.
To him the memory of tho past was painful,
and I mingled my tears with those of my fath
er, while again I scorned to hear that strange
voice, and spo that strange_faoo peering into
mine,
In two hours I would leave my kind friend,
and I whs going without tho mystery of the
library being solved; so I ventured to hint
that, when I camo to visit hor the next year,
I hoped to see the veiled picture unveiled.—
She did not reply, hut taking my hand led me
to tho library. She would toll me, all, she
said; for, perhaps, we might never moot again.;
Mrs. Thorton told her story briefly. - She
was tho only child of wealthy parents,, and
married at the ago of nineteen. For three
years she was happy in the pleasant homo to
which her husband took hor; then a cloud of
midnight darkness overshadowed that homo;
Some one envying her circulated reports inju
rious to her reputation, and those coming to
her husband’s ears,he,being naturally pfajeal
ons disposition,, believed them. The wife
loved her husband devotedly, and being in
nocent, 'how could slip, hear patiently his
taunts and uncalled for surveillance? So she
proposed to her .paternal home, and
the husband said, “Go,” only she must leave
her-child. She'did go, and three years after,
her parents being dead, she went to Europe;
where she remained eight years, .Returning
to America, she came to New Haven, whore,
under the assumed name of Thornton; she had
since resided; sho visited tho home of
hor husband during.lds absence, and bribing,
the housekeeper by tho prosout'of a.well-fiUed
purse, procured his portrait; and in all her.
wanderings it had hoeti her companion, though
closely veiled, lest some one should recognize
it, and thus her earlier history become food
for idle gpssip. Then, too, sho had seen her '
child, and for a brief moment pressed it to hor
bqsom, but words could not express tho agony
of her breaking heart as she turned away from
her child.
“Your husband’s name,” I said, sinking at
her feet and gazing wonderihgly into her pale
■face and the dark liquid eyes, bent so loving
ly upon me, for a strange hope made.my.heart
throb wildly.
“I cannot repeat his, name, but you may
look upon his counterpart,’’, she said,, rising.
Slowly, almost reverently,' she put back the
Odds of that silken veil, while I stood, half
breathless, beside her. Was it a dream, or
was it reality ? ’X'horo was no mistaking that
likeness ; and involuntarily the words; “My
father!” burst from my lips. Then, like a
swiftly-moving panorama, it till passed before
my mind, and throwing my. arms around her
nook, I called her; ■
“My mother—my long lost mother 1 My
father told me all. yesterdayX said,' when
she had become more calm, “He learned tho re
ports worm without^%fndmipnjjiyd hearing
yrMpfiad gone- tin JmWjpo, for throe yiM'sTiifs
he sought you there, and now bis heart is sad
because, ho can find no trace of you. Will you
see him ?’’
She did not reply, hut I read her answer in
the beaming eye,, and hastily donning bonnet
and mantle, ran to the hotel, whore I surpri
sed my father by rushing, breathless into his
room. <
“ Como with me; Mrs. Thornton will see
you now,” I s.aid nervously clutching his arm,
and pulling him toward the door; huthe, re
sisting, asked what had occurred to excite me
so. It was not there that I would explain, so
ho followed my rapid footsteps along the street
and up the shaded walk; hut when I throw
open the door loading to the library, ho
paused.
“She is here—come,” I said, drawing him
into the library. - She hud risen ; how Lively
she looked theiwhor pale brow, her bright
eye, and a crimson spot horning on either
cheek. One moment my father stood ns
though chained to the spot, then advancing,
he.exclaimed;
“P|or i, my wife!”
“ Herbert I” was the soft loply. and she was
clasped in his arms.
“Forgive and forgot the past,” I hoard a
manly voice murmur ; and then my name was
repeated in soft accents. I went to my moth
ers’ side., and'the happy husband and father
■pressed 'his wife and child to his heart, as in
reverent tones ho implored God to bless our
reunion.
The veiled picture was unveiled, the mys
tery of the library solved: and returning to
our Western homo, onoii more a happy family
group-dwelt beneath its roof. A gentle, lov
ing wife and mother was the guidiug-star of
that home.
ET” Life is made up, of little things. He
who travels over a continent must go step by
stop. lie who writes a book must do it sen
tence bj’, sentence. He who learns a science
must master it fact by fact, and principle af
ter principle. What is the happiness of our
life made up of? Little courtesies, little kind
nesses, pleasant words, gonial smiles, a friend
ly-letter, good wishes, and good deoils. One
in a million, once in a lifetime, may do an
heorio action; but the little things that make
up our life, come every day and every hour.
If wo make the little events of life beautiful
and good, then is the whole life of beauty and
goodness.
After an evening of friendly talk with
a party which included tho Into Douglas Jor
rold, tho two friends Charles Knight and Jor
rold, (between whom a close friendship had
existed for many years,) walked homeward
together. In the course of the evening tho
conversation had turned upon epitaphs, and
Knight, half in jest, half in earnest, had
asked.tho great wit to write his epitaph fol
ium. Tho incident escaped Knight’s recol
lection, hut on arriving at the point where
they were to part, it was recalled to his mem
ory by Jorrold himself. “ I have got the
epitaph for you,” said ho. “Well, what is
it?” “Good (K)night.” And with that
they parted,
JBgyr Sheridan once succeeded admirably
in entrapping a noisy member, who was in
the habit of interrupting every speaker with
cries of “ Hoar, hear? ” lie took an oppor
tunity to allude to a well-known political
character of tho time, who wished to play
the. rogue, but had only sense enough to play
tho foul. “ Where shall wo”find a more fool
ish knave or a more knavish fool than this?”
“ Ifcar, hear,” was instantly bellowed from
tho accustomed bench, The wicked wit
bowed, thanked tho gentleman for l|is ready 1
reply to tho question, and satdbwn, amid the
convulsions of laughter of till but tho unfor
tunate subject.
KT” Ties of choice are closer than ties of
blood, unless the hearts are kinderod as well
as the bodies,
“ OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS'BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.”
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, MAY
there for the first time, beheld liis own image
reflected in tho water; Ho; became so fond
of himself, that lie. would never. leave the spot
whore his beauty had been, revealed to him,
but-gazing till lie had wasted away, was
changed by.thc gods into th-. flower that bears
his name.
Ilyacinthus, bein" beautiful and accom
plished, was so highly esteemed by Apollo,
that Zcph’yriia, incensed at the youth’s cold
ness and indifference, detei'inihed on his do,-,
structipn. One day, when Apollo- and Ilya
cinthus were playing quoit's, Zephyriis, hid
den among the fleecyblonds, directed with
his breath tho quoit flung by Apollo full up
on the head of the unfortunate prince, who in
stantly fell dead. Great was the grief of tho
sun-god, who, to .commemorate his victim by
their, grace and beauty, caused hyacinths -to
spring from his blood. :
on thp- Nysiah plain, accompanied by tho
ocean nymphs, was plucking flowers. She
culled tho rose, the. violet, t ie.crocus, the, hy
acinth'; and beholding anatoissus of rare si/,e
and- beauty, she stretched' -out. hop band to
gather it, when tho -earth chehed, and Pluto,*
uprising in his golden oharV\ seized her and
[ bore hei (..way. • Cores, lic' V'jntlier, heavdher
[• ai‘! cs;"bu cjKffOTytrnW'Vn o -
j whither she had fled. IleljrSywovcv, (tho
sun), betrays the secret, and"?ells her that
Jove permitted it. “Then Ceres, disgusted,
deserted, heaven, arid dwelt among mortals."
But she would not allow; the corn to sprout,
and. threatened with the destruction of his
subjects on earth, Jove.beseeches..her to r.o-|
turn to heaven, to which she consents on one
condition—the restoration of her daughter,
who at length returns, but not till she has eat
en a pomegranate given, her by Pluto, through,
which she was compelled to'return and pass
a third of the year with her. infernal husband,
“for Pluto dwelt in Hades.” - And . what is
Prospprpine but seed corn, which being east
into the ground, remains hidden there till it
appears upon the surface, and though not de
laying to sprout for a third of a year, yet it is
about that time from the sowing of the grain
to : ts ripened fullness of the ear.
, Turning.to the Christian era, we find that
die priests of the early church enlisted flowers
into their service. They compiled a catalogue
of flowers for each day, dedicating each to
some particular saint on account of its flower
ing about the time of the saint’s festival.—
Every one .knows the aspen, ever moving, ev
er trembling in the calmest .summer day, the
legend of which runs as fellows :
As the angel of death neared the cross on
which lie hung, who “considereth the lilies
how they grow,” ho dashed the cup of bitter
ness full at its foot ; and the aspen that grew
near, for out of one of them the cross was
made, shuddering at the daring of the deed,
inherited forovCr the trembling throes of the
dying Deity.
The Shamrock, the national, emblem of one
of Britain’s fairest isles, has its Christian le-
gend thus: St. Patricius, unable to make his
bearers comprehend the meaning of the word
Trinity, desparingly oast his oyes on the
ground in prayer for some means whereby ho
might “lighten the Gentiles," when spying
the little trefoil shamrock at his feet, ho
plucked it, and holding it up on high, pointed
to throe leaves on one stem ns the emblem.of
his doctrine, to the easy comprohonsiou of his
listeners.
To tlio beautiful little flower the forget-me
not, with its blue, like the tint of a summer
sky, and its golden eye, .bright as'hope, is at
tached a legend known to most of uur readers,
though it will not be amiss to repeat it. A
Gorman knight, with his lady-love, wore walk
ing on the banks of the Danube, when the fair
one saw a tuft of the myosolia in the stream,
and expressed her wish for it. With all chiv
alrous alacrity, the knight, in full array,
plunged in anil gathered the prize; but the
eddies of that treacherous river drew him down
in their fatal grasp, and sinking, ho throw the
flowers on shore to his distracted mistress, with
the well-known words “ Veigriss mein niohtf”
—“Forgot-mo-not.”
jgy An amusing sword presentation was
made by the ollioers of tlio 78tli Pennsylvania
to their Colonel, William Sinvell. The pre
sentation speech of Captain Gillespie was:
“ Here we are, and hero it is, This is a- bally
sword, and comes troia b’dly follows, lake
it and use it in a bully niaunor. Col. &ir
,roll's reply was : “ Captain, that was a bully
speech. Let us take a bully drink.”
ngy? A poor man gives his mite to the cause
of benevolence, which is scarcely noticed, and
a rich man out of his abundance gives hun
dreds of dollars, and the contribution is par
aded in the public journals as evidence of his
wonderful liberality. And yet may not God
see more in the gift of the one to p case him
than in the largo donation of the other?
HT A peasant, being at confession, accu
sed d.imself of having stolon some hay,- the
father-confessor a deed Inin how many bun
dles bo bad taken from the stack. ? J-bat is
of no consequence," replied the peasant,
“ you may put down a wagon-load, for my
wife and mo are going to fetch the remain
der very soon,”
FLOWER LEGENDS,
Among the ancientn, the qualities of a tree
tho attitude of- a flower, tho etymology of its
name, inspired the lively imagination of the
men of-old with a fable, or embellishment of
a simplo history, which received from themn,
kind of pleasant acceptance, a willing cre
dence. . All tho poets with sing well of flow-,
era liavb scoured a good hearin ;g the very
names of. plants “smell afreet and bloom in
the dust” of old literature, and in almost for
gotten songs. Tho Persians press, their sen
timents into tho mouths bf' Dnwersi and nr-'
range'their boquotagramatienlly. In pH c ; v .
ilized natiokis they are the types and sybols
ot loveliness, innocence ami fre-hnoss, of un
questioned and unquestioning beauty.
When Venus first appeared rising from.tho
froth of tho sea, roses are said to have sprung
simultaneously, from the earth, and the grtw
ces hastening to ;attcnd her, crowned them
selves with the novel flower in honor of'the
now,,divinity. , Tho roses which then appeared
were white; and none displayed any other tint
till the death of Adonis, when Venus hasten
ing barefooted tothe assistiijioo of her beloved,'
trod upon a rose winch wounded her with its
thorns, and being stained frith her blood, oyer
after retained the crimson hue..
Associated with tho Narcissus, wohavo the
following: . ..
Narcissus was a youth of.BoooHn, of whom
Tirosins, tho soothsayer, /foretold that he
should live happily Until hosaw his own face,
hut'that would be fatal to. him. On account
of his surpassing beauty, the nymph Echo
became desperately .enamored of him, but ho
slighted hor love, and sh.o pined away With
grief, till nothing remained of her but hor
voice, and -even that lost the power of utter
ance beyond repeating tho last syllable of a
sentence, .Narcissus, heated by the chase,
went to drink from a clear calm' rivulet, and -
In connection with flowers comas in tho
lovelylegond of tho Rape of Proserpine, who,
i, 1861.
political.
From tho Philadelphia *6umlay Mercury.
TUB WORST ENEMIES OP THE UNION ?
The worst enemies of the Union are those
that prate the most incessantly about its pres
ervation. Mark them 1 Look at Phillips,
Grcoly, and men of that stamp, They are as
loud in lauding the Union as were tho Phar
isees in the time of our Savior, in lauding the
Mosaic law; yet Christ frowned upon them ns
the worst enemies of that law ; cursed them as;
the vilest oppressors, and denounced them as
a “generation of vipers.” And do not our
modern Pharisees of tho Tribune order deserve
tho fate of their foul-tongued, long-faced, hyp
ocritical predecessors? Are they not the most
determined enemies of the Union ? Let facts
speak for themselves. Review the cqnrso of
these men for the last twenty-five years.—
Have they not, during that period of time,
been most sedulously ,engaged in , spreading
“fire brands, arrows, and death,” throughout
the length and breadth, of the land 3 Tho
great idea they have endeavored topropogiito
is, that one of the primary objects provided
for by the Constitution, namely: the rendition
of fugitive slaves—involves an aoc which is
morally, religiously and politically wrong.—
livery mode which ingenuity could invent to
propagate this position, has boon put in ope
ration. Societies, have been formed in order
to raise ample funds ; papers have been estab
lished in. the most prominent points of the
country.; books bavo been published; lectu
rers have been sent forth; who, from their am
ple compensation for tboir services, wore able
to devote all their time, to their mission ; in a
word, no stone has been left unturned, the mo
tion of which was in the slightest degree cab
'ciliated to disseminate the .sentiment common
to those propagandists.- . '
.. How can any mari .be the friend of tho Con
stitution who denounces its objects ? As well
mighfit be said that he is the bosom friend of
a man, who “ever and anon” denounces his
character. Can bo love an individual, Who
continually subverts his interest? . Words of
affection are, a dangerous reliance when acts
of opposition dire met at every, stop. Yet, in
defiance of principles!'.thus self-evident, those
men are loud in proclaiming themselves the
especial friends of tho Union. They, have fur
tho last year bowed, the. kaeo seven times a
day to tho Constitution and thp Union; and
for,tho lastjpmii'ter-of a century they.have,
never existed n day without denouncing the
former as a “league with hell,” and doing all
in their power to destroy the latter, by con
stantly ousting the spoils of discord broad
spread over the land. God save ns from such
friends, Tho loveofsuch men is like the fang,
of a viper! Thoreis poison in their very
touch ; the sting of the asp is beneath their
tongue; their habitations are tho abodes of
cruelty ; peace is a stranger to their councils.
It is the vilest hypocrisy for snob men. to talk !
1 of maintaining the Union, while they pnmuil
-1 gate ideas that are 'adverse to its objects, of
alien, to its spirit., During Mm entire period
1-Pj:tkelr,hj.atery»tlwy bave..ueye.p placed; them.
selves in such a ridiculously foolish pbsitioh
ns that .which they now so pertinaciously
maintain,' in claiming to ho tho exclusive
friends of tho Union. .
At one time, those so called philanthropist
canie out plainly and said “tho Constitution I
I provides for wicked objects ; it sanctions sla
very; dtallows tho masters to retake fugitives
I from Southern thraldom. In ■ doing those
things thoro is a violation of every principle
of morality and religion, , As tho advoci)tos
of!Christianity, we therefore are compelled to
denounce that instrument; it is a vilo com
pact, formed to minister to the lusts of had
men, and calculated to- sustain an abhorrent
system of inqury and outrage. • We consider
all slave-holders to hb inon-stqalera—worst by
far, than thieves—more abandoned 1 than rub
bers—deserving a fate as horrible as pirates.
From such inch «e turn with unutterable dis
gust, and we consider them us not having re
ceived thoir duos until they dangle from a
scaff ild! Since we cannot properly carry out
our views, while tho Constitution is in force,
wo deny its obligation in morals, and contend,
as'politicians, for its utter abrogation. We
are openly for a dissolution of the Union.”—
Such were tho sentiments which wore pro-
mulgated some fifteen years ago by Ahhy
Kelly and a vast group of kindred spirits that
spread like locust over the land. Yet, strange
to say, these people are now the most violent
and uncompromising friends of the Union 1—
Gracious heavens! what a summerset they
have turned! But can any one, in his sen
ses, believe that the Constitution is‘strength
ened'by the support or friendship-of such-peo
ple f They are just what they always were.
They bless or curse for a dollar 1 Out of place
or out of power, they hurl their anathemas at
government ns if they possessed a Divine com
mission to denounce vengeance and designate
the. objects upon which it should fall. Put
them in .office, the lion is at once transformed
into a lamb; the lips that cursed, curse no
more ; Government is an ordinance ol God ;
passive obedience and non-resistenco arc du
ties which every good citizen owes to men in
authority! Well- may every American ex
claim, lieavon save us from ultraisin 1 If ov-
er a nation in an ago of- the world wont
through a more fiery 'ordeal from the preva
lence of this evil than, has the United States
f America, wo should like any one to point
is to it. M r c have felt the scourge in every
fornp It has scattered its ills in every city
and State, village and vale. It has been
ceaseless in its action ; there has been no re-
peso under its pressure. Years have inoreaseif
its intensity, until its accumulated evils have
burst in a mighty torrent upon the land, bear
ing away in its dreadful surge all that was
delightful in social ties and national recollec
tions, And yet, li.ko the hideous monster of
the roman poot, who roared for prey, though
liis don was full, it cries aloud throughout tlio
land to tho battling hosts of brethren, to burl
sharp and swift the instruments of death, and
never stay tlio fatal work of destruction while
dying groans can rend the nir, or gushing life
blood soften the earth 1 A l ' o wo men or arc
wo demons? If mon, lot us stand up in hon
est truth to our Constitution,' never doubting
that it is what our forefathers designed it
should he an antidote and cure fur all the po
litical ills arising from our peculiar condition,
as a people and a nation, , If demons, let ns
nhiuro it at once and forever, and go whole
sale into bntoliory, until we shall have got a
surfeit of carnage ?
Per heavoids sake let ns cease patronising
political quackery. It has brought us to the
brink of ruin. Wo tremble upon tho very
edge of the acclivity. Nothing can save us
from the hideous precipice below, but the
abandonment of past delusions ; tlio abjura
tions of false teachers; and the resumption
of common sense principles. One grain of
common sense is worth more, under any cir
cumstances of human life, than an ocean of
transcendentalism. This is no day for.abstrac
tions. The American people, of all people,
in tho world, are tlio least calculated for them.
Their habits and their history render tlmm
eminently practical. Lot them take up Na
tional affairs, just as they build a steam-clad
vessel, and they will not fail to come to prop
er and successful conclusions. There is not the
slightest difficulty on tho subject. Tho troub
le is in the way it is managed. If wo would,
es a nation derermine to do tho best we, can,
under tho circumstances of the ease, and drop
ping all speculations about possible evils, eim-,
ply take tho Constitution and laws, ns our
rule, and a good oonsoionoo as our guide,
peace would bo restored to our land and pros
perity ulietl its blessings on oqr borders.
There never wasa time inour history which
called for tho development of those principles,
to ns groat sin extent, as tho present. Tho old
enemy is now more active nnd.dangoroqs than
ever. Instead of tho contracted sphere, iu
which he formerly moved, ho now exerts his
influence in camps ; reigns supremo in high
official positions ; and threatens to control
the notion of both Houses of Congress. Of
course, ho is every whore clamorous for tho
I; nmn,_lint, at the same time, as of old, ho is
constantly advocating or originating measures
inimical to tho Constitution. Instead ol sim-.
ply to crush th.o rebellion by tho
moans provided in that instrument, and res
tore tho Union, by rendering the Constitution
triumphant, he.puts first and formost his nots
of confiscation,.Congressional emancipation,
and territorial tyranny ! Can tlio Union over
he restored by dividing the hearts Of,tho citi
zens, who compose it? Is it, not foolish to at
tempt to accomplish an object, by the iiutho
tv.of law, whom tho moral souse of the nation
docs not sustain tho spirit of.the. enactment ?
On' the 4th of March, 1 Senator. Cowan
administered a scathing rebuke to the advocates
of .these disunion measures. Pennsylvania
hns reason -to ho proud of such, a reprosontn-.
tivd, Tho course which that go'ntlenmn coun
sels lymild not.only ond tho rebellion hut for
ever establish tho Constitution. Our hearty, i
wish and firm belief are, that it will finally i
bo adoptod,.despite.tho opposition with which i
it is- assailed, The Constitution, for a period I
of hoar a century, has provodutself sufficient 1
to bind all parts of tho land together, and I
to protect each, What moro caniye roasoha- .
bly want ?
From tho Bbii. Inquirer—Republican paper.
The Cameron - fifgime* in Ihe .War Depart
ment.
A startling exposition of the mismanage
ment of the War Department under cx-Secro
ta'ry Cameron and 'A'sistant Secretary Scott is
furnisliod by Executive docmpept, hfo 0.7, re
cently printed by tbe House of Representa
tives, It appears by this,, that these two
functionaries were busily engaged, during’
last, surmnorand fall m.akihg’oontraots formus
kpts and other small arms, until the aggre
gate of their operations summed up one mil
lion nine hundred and seventy-six thousand two
hundred and forty muskets, rifles and carbines,
seventy-two thousand four hundred and forty
pistols, and one. hundred and forty-two thou
sand live hundred swords ; for which they oh
’• ligodtho Treasury to pay the trifling amount
. of §40,14-1,005, Those arms wore to ho ,de
■ UyereA according, to thd convenience of the
‘con tfacVorst at'almosf any Time along in; thO
next two years, the delivery of hundreds of
thousands of them being accommodatingly |
disposed over periods'extending from July,
1803, to December , 1803 1 -
\ While thd public will'bo astounded at the
' vast, magnitude and wild improvidence of
these operations, there-are other, attending
circumstances .that will leave them hardly
loss amazed. ’Whatever we consider the ex
orbitant prices agreed upon, or the appa
rent privity with the bidders, or the censura
ble favortism to defaulting and bogus con
tractors, or the miserable inferiority of the
arms thus procured, or tho character of the
contractors {who were in largo part neither
manufactures of any kind nor dealers in
arts), or tho impolicy of the Department bring
ing into tho field so many bidders to compote
with itself in the markets of Europe—-all
show a reckless system of extravagance and
jobbing, and a want of foresight and admin
istrative ability', shoekjng to the instincts of
ovory honest citizen and well-trained busi
ness man, Every part of the book is filled
with eases illustrating’the justness of these
remarks, hut from thorn all wo select nno ease.
which, ns it has boon recently before the
public, may bo taken us a sample :
On lh<! 4th of September, 11. linker & Co.,
of Now York,'offered to furiilsb “ upwards of
one hundred thousand stand of rifled percus
sion muskets,” at eighteen dollars each.
These ri/tcil gqnsthcy represented as being
within their >‘ control,” from having made
‘‘advances thereon.” Next day this offer
was accepted by Simon Cameron, with, the
condition that the rtrst instalment of the arms
should he rcaily for inspection- in Europe on
the 12th of October following, and none to be
taken that were not submitted for inspection
before the 12st of November, They-were to
be of of two specified bores, 58 inch and 09
inch. Those are the material points in the
agreement. In the lioxt we hear of this In,iso
transaction is from Mr. linker, who writes,
after his contract time had expired, from
somewhere in Kurupe, thafafter an examina
tion of thoyi/ns in the market he linds it diffi
cult to furnish “rilled minkoN.” and coolly
asks the Department to allow him to furnish
•‘smooth bores” of the calibre of 7!) inch and
72 inch.
Tliis modification was granted, but with no
roil action of pried, the muskets to bo nil of
one calibre (70) however. This proposition,
bo it remembered, came from contractors who
hail written the Department that they had
control of “ upwards one hundred thousand ri
fled percussion muskets,” upon which they
j had made advances. On the twenty-fourth of
November, nearly two weeks after the final
tern; of the contract had expired, Mr. Wright,
the Government Inspector, writes that those
arms wore Iving in arsenals undent different
places in France, Belgium, Prussia and Aus
tria, and that but a portion had boon inspect
ed. Next wo hoar from Captain Crispin,
the Ordnance Officer at Now York on the
thirteenth of February, throe mouths after
the expiration of the term, that 11. linker it On.,
had sent sixty-one thousand four hundred
and eighty-five rifled muskets, of eleven varie- ;
ties and seren diflbrent calibres. Of those :
seventeen thousand eight hundred and thirty
nine were altered inUskefs of the abandoned
Austrian model, and of inferior workmanshiy ;
seventeen thousand throe hundred and-ninoty
four more wore “ open to grave and serious
objections and of the whole lot but twenty
five thousand throe hundred and, seventy-six 1
were what might bo called fair arms, coming
anywhere near the contract. The fitting de
nouement of the transaction above briefly re
cited was placed before the public a few
weeks ago. lion, dosopb Holt settled this
businsos, which footed up two million nine
hundred and tep thousand dollars, according
to the old arrangement with the War De
partment, by reducing the bills to one million
throe hundred thousand dollars.
No one can road such exposures without
seeing that those parties had no '‘ control"
of tbs muskets they agreed to furnish—that
- the whole affair was a sheer- speculation—and
1 that the War Department was utterly reck
• less, or worse, in its purchases of arms. Yet
i this book is filled with such transactions, foot
ingupin the aggregate over forty-six millions
. of dollars. From an inspection of the names
upon the pages of the document; it would
seem that any one “ in the ring’' could get a
contract to furnish guns, and tho man farthest'
removed from the business Stood the best
chance of a fat job. In this way ox-mem-:
bors of State Legislatures, printers, lawyers,
editors, jobbers and speculators of all.kinds,
who know. no more of manufacturing or. buy
ing arms than they do of tho erection of the
pyramid of Cheops, ‘-'got their hooks’*
into tho national treasury through the wido-t
-open doors of the War .Department;.
There was one officer, however, who stood
up manfully against the course of wild and,
insane’managomont Of the Department, and
that was General Hi ploy. On all occasions,
wo find him throughout this report intprpbs-;
ing against the unwise and wasteful transact
tions of his two superiors. Secretary Came
ron and Assistant Secretary Scott. He re--,
minds them that the prices are too'high, that
the orders are unnecessary, that there are
too many bidders brought into tho market,
the effect of which was to raise the price of
arms against each other and against tho Gov
ernment. The files of the Department give
ample evidence that this was tho direct re
sult in the markets of Europe of such a pro,
fusion of contracts and orders. The Govern*
ment itself had one of its own agents at tho
same time buying in Europe, and these mul
titudinous operations embarrassed and raised
prices on him* All this General Kiploy
Warned the Secretary as a certain to opepr, ,
hut.his.advioo and admonitions werenn avail.
Tho motto waslet contracting thrivo!" The
protests of the Ordnanoo Bureau were over
slaughtered by brief and curt, endorse
ments like these :—“The Secretary dosirat
done to-day. “Thomas A. Scott." “ThoSecror
tary desires this to be arranged. Thomas A.
Scott." “ Tho Secretary desires the guns re
ferred to shall be secured. Thomas At Scott.’*
And it was “done" and it was arranged,
In this fact, that General Ripley opposed
such a mode ofdoiug business foot and branch
with all its might, is to. bo found tho secret of
all this vituperation of which lie was tho sub
ject arid the victim last Summer and Fall.
We close this very imperfect notice of Ex
ecutive Document No. G 7; with the remarks
that the Government never needed more thaii
three or four hundred thousand stand of arms
from Europe, although two millions,wore con*
tracted for. It is duo. also, to justiceand the
truth of history to say’.that this whole system
has been crushed put,by Stanton*
who appointed for the purpose Hon. Robert
Dale, Owen, Hon. Joseph Holt and Major
nor,
, Popping live tyicslion, ,
Fair Sally and her lover, Mat,
Close by the fire In sllance sat j .
A dish of apples, rosy-faced,
Was.’tween them on the table placed,
In'vain poor ‘Mat essayed to speak, .•
Wliilo blushes mantled Sally's cheek; ■
For n;cU shokmjW: vvbafc Matwould say,.
If lie could only find the way.
To him sho cast a side-long Joqjf, •
Thoii from the dish an apple took,
And deftly slicing it in twain,
She passed half to tbo silent strain,
Mat looked confused,-then brightened up.
And said, as ho tbo apple took :
u Now, Sally, dearest, unto mo,
As kind us to tbia pippin bo—
You’ve halved the' apple—pray liner mo! **
A Ladgiiadle French Miracle. —The *
well kpowri Froneli.'missionary, Father Bri
hain, was always, poor, for tho simple reason
that he gave away everything that ho had, .
One evening ho asked for n night’s lodging
of the curate of the village through which ho
passed, and the worthy man haying oulyono
hod. shared it with him. ,'At daybreak leath
er Brihain rose according to custom, and went
to say his prayers at a neighboring church,
ilotniming from his sacred duty, he met a beg
gar, who. asked alms. “Alas, my friend, I
have nothing” said tho good priest, mechani
cally putting Ins hand into'his breeches pock
et,.where, to.his astonishment, ho found some-
thing hard wrapped up in paper, which ho
know ho had nut loft thoro. 110 hastily .opens
cd the paper, and seeing four half crowns in
it; cried out that it was a miracle. lie gave
the money .to the beggar and hastened to
•church to return thanks to God. Tho enrnto
soon after arrived there, and after Brihain re-
lated the miracle with the greatest auction,
tho cunitc.turned pale, put Ids hand his pack
et, and in an instant perceived that Father
Brjbain, in getting up in life dark, had taken
tho wrong pair of brooches ; ho had perform
ed a miracle w.ith tho curate’s orotyns,.'
The Umrreu.a- —Tho umbrella lias been
used from a very remote antiquity, as it is
evident from carvings and representations
found among ancient ruins, of Persia, Arabia
and China, Nevertheless it was not used by
men in England until during the last centu
ry, and is said that Jonas Ilanway who died
in 1780, was the first person who used au
umhrolla ip tho streets of London. Even at
that late period a .man carrying an umbrella
was an object of ridicule, ami excite the Jeers
of tho people by his “ effeminacy." Previous
to the introduction of umbrellas, the
eoach was the shelter of unfortunate pedes-:
trians who happened to he caught iu _ a show,
er ; but it was customary, after their intro
duction, to keep a single umbrella at each of
the coffee-houses, which, in cases of emer
gency, was lent, together with a boy to carry
How to Fouuive a lliv.u.. —Resolve that
you will love and wish well to the man who
has failed. Go to him and get acquainted
with him ; if you and ho are both true men
you will nut find it difficult to like him, It is'
perhaps asking too much of human nature to
ask you to do all this in the case of the man
who has carried off the woman you loved ;
but as regards anything else, do it all. Go
to your successful rival, and heartily congratu
late him ; say frankly you wish it had been
you ; it will do great good to him and to
yourself. Dot it not bo that envy, that fast
growing fiend, shall bo suffered In your heart
for one minute.— Boyd.
035“ Life is a continual struggle after that
which wo cannot take with us, riches ; which
seem given to ns as the nurse gives the child
a pretty ornament or shell, from the mantel
piece to keep it quiet until it falls asleep,
1 when it drops frim its helpless hands, and is
replaced, to please other babies in their turn.
BQyr A grocer advertises in the following
manner: '‘Ham and cigars, smoked and un-.
smoked.’ 1 .
O'An Indiivn-rubber omnibus is about In
bo invented which, when jam full, will hold
a couple more. '
[ty Ignorance is a much more quiet, man
ageable, and contented thing than Imlf-kuopvli
edge,
NO. 47.