VOL. 49.
AMERICAN VOLUNTEER,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MOANING BY
JOHN B. BRATTON.
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fmMl
" ■ JLL-
Tho apples aro ripo in tho orchard,
• ' Tho work of tho reaper ip done,
And thegolden woodlands reddou,
In the .blood of tho dying sun.
At tho collage door tho grandalro
Sits piilo iu hia easy chair,
.While Iho'gontlo wind of. twilight
Plays'with hid silver hair. •
A woman is kneeling bosido hiuij
’ A fair young hand is prosapd, ’•
In tho. lirst wild passion
Against hia aged J ‘
And far froiirovortho distance
;Tlie faltering cohoes come,
Of thc-dying blast of trumpet, -
Ami tho‘'rattling , roll of drum.
.Ami *.hegnimlsiro spc;iks iu'a vliispor—f
•‘ Tho cud no man can ace;
Butwe give bim to his country,
And wo.givo our pi‘ayoid to Time,.”
Xfio violets star the meadows, ■
Thu rosu-b.uds irliigo the door,
• And over the grassy orchard
The pink white blossoms pour.
But tho graudsire’a chair is. empty,
• Tlio cotiago is dark .aud still-U-•' '
'There’s a munoless grave oh the battle field.
And a new one under the hill.- '
And a pallid, tearless woman,
• By the' cold hearth sits' ulono,
And the old clack iu tho corner
'•Ticks On, with a- steady drone.
ffiimllanmia;
iIiEMYSTE®U3 : WATCH
You have no faith in tho'supernatnrai ? • I
have., You do not believe in necromancy or
astrology,.or in tho power of the evil eye?—'
I do. 'tho reason for this.is you are Amori
a.us. descended from English ancestors, while
.rW-d. Oeimau in ,viuy.joins, and iit
liiorit a rovorendo for, what, yon siieerat.—
'Were a disembodied spirit to rise at,my bed
side to-night, .1 should question it, and own
to being frightened, while you would throw
.a candlestick at its immaterial head, and in*
: sistko tlio last upon its being a burglar in
.disguise. Yet mark'me, iu spite of yourself,
your hair would rise, and yyur blood curdle,
.and you wduld feel, what you would not ac
knowledge f6r the world. Bail! If such
tilings have no existence, what do our strange
shiverings and shudderings mean? and why
,do we look about us with awe-stricken eyes
•When wo,pass grayo yards after dark? You
..do not, -you say. Are .you sure of it ? I have
. never seen a ghost and.l cannot say.l desire
-the spectacle. , There must jje an uucomfprt
.ahlo heating of the heart at such a sigtit. I
.doubt if many could retain both lifo aud rca
;»un through such an ordeal. . ■
lam u doctor. Years ago I was poor and.
young., I came from my own Country with
\my diploma and nothing else. I found that
'the great cities of the new world were full of
doctors young and poor as I was.- I left them
and went westward., I settled in the State
Of Indiana. It was then one great forest
with, olearings iha-re and there for Colds of
■corn and rude ipg houses. Any one led a
hard life there,, aud ii doctor’s, it scorned to
me the worstof aU. .Miles and miles of hard
lidding, through rain .and hind, to visit pa
liicnls who,could pay"nothing; miles hack
again, to steal a tow moments of repose be
fore another announcement of some one being
•‘very had.’ I was skin .and hones in a
•twelvemonth; but that was nothing uncom
mon in that part of tho world.-. The only
■wonder is that ,1 did not'have • what they
(Called ‘ fever’u ager.’ . I-was' the only person
'free' from it-fiir fifty, square miles. However
;I.prospered after a certain fashion, -and in a
•year or two made;a considerable' local repu
tatiun. The place was growing and my spir
■ -i*s began to revive. -,
It was about this time when I first saw my
watch, to which all I have now relates. A
cold niglit_ iu November had sot in. I .was
: ii‘ supper in my little home, and enjoying it
i.s only a hungry and weary man can enjoy
JooJ. J-Kju’t mk what I had ; it was out west
•remember. Ot course there was 1 a prepara
tion ot corn, and a preparation, of whisky;
.corn -mijgl. pork and whisky are the staple
;articW'oftcred out West,* X, was enjoying
my supper, as I have, sail), and a loud knock
.at my dour, was not the" most delightful sound
•which could have broken the silence. How
,evcr, I .said ‘ come in!’ with as good a grace
■.as possible, and a stranger entered. lie was
a tall, broad shouldered man, in the dross of
at backwoodsman,.and his large features wore
a troubled expression. 'I saw at oneo that
something sofious had occurred.
‘ It’s a bad night to trouble you to come so
•nu’, doctor,' ho said, looking at mo from un-
Aer his fur cap ; ‘ but there’s a bad accident,
aapponed over at our clearin’; and if you
■km do anything for the poor chap, I’ll bo
$ , . to see it done, more particularly as I
.helped to shoot him.’ .
, Helped to shoot him !’ I said, with a start;
■ what do you moan ?’
*.V® touk him for some kind of a critter ;
lat s how it was,’ answered my visitor ; ‘ not
'.a purpose, stranger. Wo think heaps ofhim.
A a eounof Lev shot myself.’
i ~ thtit the man spoke the truth, and
“6 ln y l J °k of surgical instruments under
i £ lui !b followed him to the spot whovo his
W »tied. Mine was. already saddled;
birr;,? i 0 durk °y knew well enough what the
Wa P or i. e . ude d, and had made him ready,
o w ore off m a few moments.
•thrm,'m' V . C ! lt * tl , wore spoken as wo rode along
1 U, ° dllr kuess. !• asked whether the
• i)lt 0 .i B ''’ oro serious, and my eom'papion ro
. if tin, • 111 feared they bo, doctor.’ I asked
answerci| Ul °‘ i? ll - n w ? a y° un S or 9 ld - and ho
•few ivnrt ■ Bln l= forty;’ and then, after a
b K o‘eo. ba^03a ° f th ° r ° ad ’ W °
*• last a glimmering lighltold that wo had
approached a dwelling, and with a..short
‘ We’re thar, doctor,' ,my company sprang
from his saddle and eihtored the door. _ I fol
lowed him. Tho room was feebly lit with
flickering candles. About a bedin the centre
were grouped four or five men and a woman,
large and broad shouldered *as any of her
masculine companions. A child, too, lay
crying in its cradle, but no ona seomed to
notice it. They make way for my approach,
and'T saw a figure stretched upon tho bod.—
It was that of a man with sinewy limbs and
weather beaten face. Ilia shirt was unbut
toned, and the breast and sleeves were soaked
with blood.
‘ 'Taint of no use, doctor,' ho said as I bent
over him; I’m ogono good. Debtor’s stuff
aint no account to mo now.’
I did not believe him, IJis face was not
that of a dying mail and tho wounds scarcely
seemed dangerous. Those, bullets a're bad
things, to have. in.one’s side,’ I said, ‘ but
men have lived-through more than that.—
Cheer up!’
.‘I ain’t down-hearted, doctor, ’ answered
the man. I shan't leave no children nui' no
wife to .fret after mo and suffer for want of
my rifle. I never hev boon much afeared of
death. But I tell you'all you ean do’s no
use. There’s a. sign that Can’t be mistook.’
, , -
The group about the bed glanced at'oaci
other, and the -woman shook hoi- head at me
as though she .would have said, ‘Never miud
his words.’
I did what I could for him. The bullets
•were extracted and the wounds bound up.—•
.Ho was weak, but not desperately so. I look
ed at him and siuiled. ‘ How now, said !?’
"Taint no use—the watch isvatoisp'lug'fjibi/
he answered.-
Then for the .first time, I noticed that be
side him on the .bed liiy.it gredtoldfashionod
silver -watch,;tho. case, battered, tho face dis
rolorud, and Unit it ticked, with tv strange dull
sound, ail though it .were, very’old .add feeble.
.. ‘The watch has been injured by the bullets,
I suppose," said I; • besides all, watches stop
at. I hues.’. - .
■ • Not this one, stranger,’ said the wounded
man. ~' ■ They’ve laughed about that watch’a,
hundred,times ■; now they'd find my story’s
true, X reckon,./ That watch aud X will slop
at the "same ‘minuted
The woman at tho bedside shook her head
again. ' ‘ It’s an old ■ fancy o’ yourri, Mike
Jiavlmy,’ she said; ‘ you’ll live to-300 the fol
ly of it.’
‘, ij.i they talk,’ said tho man. ‘ Now lis
ten, d ictur, _ You’ve come to sea me and done
all you could. I’ll give you.that watch. Its
money value . aru’t much, but it’ll do. you
service. ; It was give to me by auojd.l’relieh-'
man, out o’ Oanady, wlibn-bo was layiu’just
as I lull lavin’. 'lt had Leon his father’s, and
his grandfather's, and Ids groat .grandfath
er’s, and Jus great grandfather's before that;
and tins is ‘what- be- told ineabout'it; and this
is what-you’ll’find to bo true. That watch
will tick slow and steady, reg’lar as the sun,
a--, lung .as whoever it belongs to is. >voil, sale
and thriving. When • there's danger coming,'
it begins to go fast, faster,, and faster and
faster, until it is past and so loud that you’ean
hoar it ae.rosa r’uo in nnaspiain as if you held
it in y.uut' hitjid; .AjVllinrdeath.ia coining; tliat
w’atph' begins to stop.' It goes slower, and
slower. Its voice grows hollow, and when
the breath leaves the body, there’s no more
sound to ho hoard, and all you can do won’t
make it go. (or a'year. At the end of that
time it, will start all of a sudden, and after
that time,yon can road your fate by it .an(l
know your death hour, it was so after old,
Pierre died. It will he so now. Keep the
watch when I am gone, doctor.’
I. could not help looking with somo interest
at the baits rod time piece, A strange story
had been woven, about it,- aud the marvelous
.always had g chat-ip forme. I'eat besidomv
patient until he sunk.to sleep.,' Ho seomijd
to -be doing well .still, and I hud no doubt hut
that the morning light would see him greatly
better.. • But :M r oste,rn hospitality .would not
permit of my departure at that hue hour, and
I was lodged in uu upper chamber upon a hod
as clean and slid pie as it was fragrant. I
slept-soundly,- At midnight, however,'! was
awakened by tho nows that my patient was
iworao. ■ lie.hud awakpriod-in mortal agony.
.Sonic inward injury, impossible to.'diseuver,
Innidond its work. ' I.stud nothing of hope
now,.and the dying man looked at mo with a
ghastly .smile, ■
■ '/Tiikct the. watch,’ he said, •
me ; you will find mo right.’
These were tho last words he uttered. lie
muttered,iueuhorbiitly after this, tossed his
aims about and struggled for his breatli.-r-
At last ho 'seemed to sink into a slumber.—
iMy haud’was on his heart. I felt its boat
ing grow faint,, faiutor, fainter still; • At last
.there was no ihbtion. He was dead. ,1 lift
ed tho'wnfeh to iny oar—that- had- stopped
also
There wore tears in the oyos of thb.rqiigh
men about me, and the .woman wopt as she
might for ouo of her own kindred. . I could
do no good now,'and I turned away, leaving
the watch upon the coverlid, but ono of the
men came after mo.
'.* Ho give it to. you,’ - ho* said, -t and it’s
your’n. Ho had nobody belongin’ to hipi so
you naodii’t bo afeered to take it. Ho must
liev taken a likin’ to you, for ho thought a
heap of it. Take it,- doctor.’ And so the
watch was mine.
It was duin b and motionless, and, rerpain
ed so. I took it to a watchmaker and ho
laughed at the idea of its over going again.
This was after I had loft tho West and dwelt
iu a largo and populous city in tho Eastern
States, some eight or ciuo months after poor
Alike Barlow’s death. The watchmaker on
ly confirmed my oy/n suspicions. It was a
strange coincidence that it should last exact
ly its master’s lifetime,- but that -was all. So
I hung it upon my chamber, wall, a memento
of those days of toil and struggle in the far
A'/est.
Ono morning I awoke early. The blushes
of dawn weVo just breaking over the earth.
It was the month of November, but still the
day was lovely. Therm was an unwonted
sound in my room. Atlrstl could not guess
from whence it came. Had the sky been
cloudy I shoula have imagined it to bo the
rgiu upon tbo roof. Then I began tp fool,
that this sound I heard was too delicate for
tho patter of ruin. It might have boon tbo
clang of fairy hammer, or tho tapping of tho
beak of some minute bird save that it was
.too regular. But tho mystery of the sound
was that it soomed to appeal to me—to re
proach mo with forgetting it.
I sat up and looked about mo. In an in
stant I un'derstootl tho spmid, It wps the
tick of tho old watch pn tho wall. Silent fer
a. twelvomenth it has suddenly found voice,
as though some spirit voice had touched its
springs. I looked at my memorandum bopk.
Twelve o’olook of tbo past night was tho ap
nivorsary of Mika Barlow’s death. His words
had como true at last, lie had said that,
whoa it oaoo began to move, it would bo as
jay monitor of safety or. danger. All clso had
happonodas ho had foretold ; why should not
this oomo ,to pass ? I wore upon my guard
chain a dainty little Geneva watch. I un
fastonod it, and put tho battered silver mon:
stor in its place. Tho budding devolopomont
of tho mystery made’it morn precious to mo
than if it had been set with jewels. .
It did not stop again. I heard tho soft
clear ‘ tick, tick, tick,’ all day, and when I
awakened in tho night. Once or twicO it heat
more rapidly than usual,.and always before
peril—the first time when a fever threatened
mo ; the second as I stood upon a broken
bridge, which was swept away one hour af
terwards; ,p.ad at other moments which I
have forgotten, hut which served to keep
alive the fancy that I have loved to. cherish.
Never was,its voice so clear and soft as oh
that evening when I first met llosa Grey. I
loved'-her from the fust moment, and she
loved mo in return. Wo had neither of us
any friends to interfere,, for she; was an or
. phan,. brothoiioss and sisterless ; and so, after
a hi-ief.courtship, wo wore married.
I had no secrets from my-wife, and in a lit
tle while she 1 learned the story of the ■watch.
■Shehad.faitliin.it, and thought or ■ fancied
she cuulddotoet tho very shades of difference
in its utterance,, when T was weary, , she.
said the watch was weary ton; when I was '
glad,, it hadA joyous echo. , I know that on
that night when a feeble breath flattered in
a feebler’frame, ami the -little creature to
whom our love had'given existence struggled
vainly for its life,, there was a■ piteous ; oa
, deuce hr the voice of that bid watch I .hope
never to liber again. . ' -
So wo lived on together.. J.t was God’s
.will that, wo should he childless, but .wo loved
each other all tho murin' I grow rich and.
prosperous, and our only grief was -tho miss
ing of-those baby eyes and voices which wo
■'had hoped .'to have about oiir hearth. . .
It was my fortieth.birthday—l shall never
forget tho day—when ' tlio watch heat its
warning. My wife and I hoard it atone m'o
nunt. Never, before hail the voice 'of. that
watch.boon so loud'or rapid.' All day' long.,
iifL.ll l o next, and jll ’tlio- next,- that warning
continued.' The strong pnl.se within the'
watch - shook tho table on -'wbiph it rested
'when-I drew.it frum. my pocket, and made
.the trin’inoutd'on my bosom vise and Tull when
I replaced it. . Worcjve threatened SviUt ill
ness’? No ! her chock wad blooming and-my
pulse was regular. What oould-it mean !
After foar days I- began to 'laugh at ,'my
own credulity, and,oven llnsa began to loose
her;faith in the monitor
her," and woutiilqne in a little, room whore.l
kept ray''medical works and some faro, drugs
and curiosities. It-was j;ij purpose to, .'study
for a lecture which.l was' to,deliver t)mt eve
ning.- I soated myself at my desk and pom
inouced to read, blit after li ,’fo\V" moiucnts I
began,to experience a singular faintness and
to inhale a disagreeable,odor.. ;I recognized
■ the smell in a moment. Ju one ..of the .jars
upon‘my shelves was arare essence.of great
use in cases where a ■suspension .of conscious
ness was necessary, but excessively danger
ous save in skilfulbauds... Some one—-a ser
vant probably—lliad boon meddling with the
stopper, and tho room was full .of tho, power
ful.odor. I mast leave it if I Would live. I
staggered to the door put niy.haml. upon the
hick, when horror'of horrors !it rouminodim-
i had' happened" to! the
catch.' , I strove in.call aloud, hut! roy voice
failed mo. I clutched the tahfa for. support,
but lust my hold,' and foil heavily to thefleor.
I cduld sco nothing—all grow dark about nio.
Mechanically I placed .1113'. hand upon tho
watch within .my besom had stopped;!
mil! 1 remembered nothing more.
Consciousness 1 name back to mo, as it may
come back to a new born babe, fir aught I
know.- I felt v;ithouf understanding ; was
conscious of facts for which.l cared nothing ;
1 was iii the dark ; I was very cold and my
.movements were constrained ; bnt’it did not
seem-as though that wore any affair of mine.
■Hunger at last awoke mo ; the animal aroused
tlie mental, and I began to wonder whore I
had.boon and where I was. I put iny hand
lip as well as-I could..'.There was a low roof
over my head, folds,of mUsliri'lay about .mo,
and something was on my brcast wliich omit
ted a sickly fragrance—a bunch of dowers
seeming half withered. I knew this by the
touch. Whatwas the matter, with me!—
Why could-1 hot breathe freely? Was I blind
am] deaf, thatXcould neither see or hear?—•
Suddenly tbo truth, flashed across me; 1 had
.been Untried alive! —I 1 lay in my coffin'!
And all tins time you ask whoro was my
wife', how had she born the blow which had
fallen so suddenly upon her? She it was
who found me senseless upon my study floor,
and she it was who hoped for returning con
sciousness after all others despaired. At last,
they told her I was dead, and shrouded mo
for burial. Learned men decided that .the
strange .preservation of my frame was caused
by the manner of my. death,.,and at length
my body was committed to tbo tomb,-
I bad often made hiy wild promise mo that
if I dled first she would tako the watch into
her own possession,' and wear it while she
lived ; and so, now that all was over, she took
it. voiceless aS it was,.and laid it next her bo
som. l ? or three days, and nights she never
slept but at last exhaustion did its work, and
slip fell 1 into a heavy ■ slumber. She was
, awakened by a sound as strange as it was un
expected.' The watch, silent since that fatal
day, bad begun to tick—fast and furious, as
it never ticked before; loud enough to arouse,
her—loud enough to make, her-spring from
her pillow in agony ofbopo and fear. ,
Those about her thought slio'was a mad
woman ; but, nevertheless,' the strength of
her purpose bore nil. before her. Through
the streets of the deserted ,town she passed in
her white nightgown, liko a ghost, and they,
dared not hold her back. Slip reached the
church door at last, and boat wildly at tbo
old sexton’s door..
‘ Wateh.it and
' I am coiiro to toll you to open my hus
band’s vault,’ sbo spid, ‘he’s conm to life
again.’ -
llo.also thpught her mad, and yet dared
not disobey her, and all the while tho furious
ticking of tho watch was board by each ono
-there. It softened, it stilled, when the doors
wore opened and thebhick coffin stood upon
•the turf, it grow musical whciimy wife bent
over me and caught mo to her heart —no
corpse, but a living man, and it bus had no
change iu its regular beat since that mo
ment.
it is before me ffow, battered and worn ns
it was when it first came into my possession ;
and you may laugh alike at.tbo watch and
tbo superstition with which it is 'connected.
But my wife believes it firmly, and loves it
ns though.it wore a living thing; and, for the
matter of that, so do I.
|jy ‘ Julius, did you attend do last mootin’
ob do debating society;?’
‘ Yes, sir.’
• Well, what was do fust thing dat ouip
before de house V
i 4 Why, it was a charcoal carti’
O* According to tho Black Republican
papers and orators before tho election,Breckin
ridge has earned six of tho principal Nor
thern States. lie seems to bo much more
popular trow than in 1860.
“OUR COUNTRY— IT ALWAYS,BE EIrfHT—BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY.”
CARLISLE, PA V THURSDAY,..XOyemBE 11 20,1862.
In n beautiful valley, close beside the rail
road which ran along-tho whole length of it,
there stood a neat little station-house, bfu
body lived in it, and tile young man who had
charge.of it lived in too village which was
situated about a half, mile distance. ft
was built in- the Qotlyo. stylo. A groat oak
Shaded it,'and a larg-piivy-vino climbed up,
its sides and all along,the roof, so that in the.
distance Iho house looked as green as an-elm
tree. This was the home of the station-keep
er through the day, late at night, after
all the trains had passed, ho would go to his
home.in tho village, where his aged mother
lived. Early in tho morning he would be off
again to hisbeantiful station-house.
It was. a bright morning in the latter.part
of July, and not very warin,'because of tho
fresh breeze from.the mountains.
iVow, Jlo'thor,’ said John, tho station-keep
er, ‘I want you .to get .ready to go with mo
to-day to the station, com- loot b very lame,
but I will take you ill-my baud-wagon. , I
think iho change, and-tlm excitement of see
ing the.passengers and. hearing the cars going
will do you a groat d--al of good. Hurry,
mother, f.n- you know i:>l miss tho train I lose
inyplacp.’' ■.; V-. - ’
Tho proposition wastoopepted,, and it -was a
luxury'to. the.'old. ladyttii -see- the; cars pass
along. She whs almost frightened out of her
wits' at lirst, as the trains -camp up,'making
such a.crashing noise.' ■ -She declared, as she
sat On 1 the long.-bench in front of tho slation,,
and looked up'from tho'slocking which she was
knitting, that'tho ears would surely run over
her; but John assured- her that she was as
safe there as In their little homo in tho village!
.Train after, train oamo and wont ; aud-aftey'
bach one had gone, Joljn.wjmld.como and sit
lio.ddo bor;- and read to.-hcr a magafciiie which
,hb had bought on the day hefoio-in a book
store'. All- at once bo noticed that she stopped
knitting,.and.was leaping her head on her
hands.. 'She was thinking about something,
and looking down.upon the ground. John
.observed her eyes,- anebaaw tears .roll down,
her pale, wrinkled .'..checks. .At last she
could; restrain her feelings no longer, and said'
these words to him. .
About noon I left.
I have for a long time .been intending to tell
you. I think,'as you i|ro now a man, that I
ought not to keep it fipim .you any longer.
Yourfather died when you wtra a Hltlo child,-
only two . years old,--'and you have, never
■ learned" anything of his' history., .When ho
first went into Imsinossf be'wiis wealthy, -and
owned a very largb-maiision in 'the great-city
which is five miles distant from our village,
lib went into busineas.’-witb the great book
seller, Sir. Nugent, a time liis.prnfits
wore very extensive. 'f- But by 'and by .ho
noticed that things wotf! not looking sb favor-,
able, and when ira; wr.4 bif to Berlin-, on' bis
animal business tuuvjand returned homo
again, -lib found that notes wore coming
due. They must be'paid. Sir. Nugent took
oath befuro tho uiVi.nir lit-.at bo bad no money
except what, was iwy-e,vriv--bns>lr .Btbve.' So
your fittber ibad to let (Kl.liis private property
and bis splendid mansion bo sold to,pay too
debts which wore caused by Mr, Nugept’s
imprudence. When it was all over, yourfath
or had hard thoughts toward.him, for ho was
very sure that bo'bad secretly taken tho I
profits of their business for bis own iise, and
then made oath that he'was .worth .nothing.
Wo struggled bard with poverty., but in two.
years’ time trouble' and anxiety brought your
father down, upon a hod'of. sickness.- One
week rolled on.after another, until finally tho
phypioiiiFt told him that ho must soon
could not live, more than a week longer. Ho
did not want to die, and feel that any one had
hard thoughts toward him; So ho sent for Mr.
Nugent, and asked his pardon for all that he
bad said and,thought about bind I.beard
every word that passed between thorn, and it
was”a. strange .conversation. .Your father
■said.this to him, among other things-:—.
‘ Mr. Nugent, I am sure that you.defraud
ed mo biit of my wealth; for . immediately
after I-gavoup all my property for the debts
of tho concern, and wo had dissolved parti.or
ship, yon engaged very extensively ,rii luisi
noss again, and bought largo .houses.- .Even'
now, the house you live in was the magnifi
cent mansion that .was ,my own house, and
which I gave up to bo sold for.debts which
wore caused by yoii. But I forgive you.all
this. I have not a bard thought toward you'.
1 love you, though you liavo wronged mo.
And now I want you to forgive mo. I hope
you have no liardieeling against mo. I have
only spoken the -truth,* and you cannot blame
me for that.’
‘ Mr. Nugent was silent.' Ha was.grotilly
troubled, and' tears came, in his eyes. lie
liad not wept, before, since Ud was a boy. Ho
took your father's band, ami whispered to
your, father, that if bo bad wronged him, be
would restore .everything to bis* son. You are
that son; John, and not one word have I
board from Mr. Nugent about bis promise;
from that day to thus, ilo is a very old man
now, but lives ini the same, house, and_ still
drives fast horses iti this beautiful, shining
coach. But every time I boo him, I think of
the last words.your dear father spoke; and
ho said them you, John;— I ‘l
have not seen the righteous rbrsakoe, nor his
seed bogging broad.’
.The station-keeper was greatly affected by
those strange' words of his mother.. But just
tlteu the train 1 whistled around the curve, and
ho hail, to jump .up and attend to his.duty.
few weeks afterwards, while he was
alone in his little station-house at niglit, a
man came running down from the village, in
the direction ivliero he was. As saunas ho
reached him,, ho said:' ‘ Y our mother is very
sick, slm may die any moment. She has the
heart disease. Come right homo and see
her.’
What could John do? In n half-hour the
express train would ho duo; and If ho was
away from his post of duty, the cars would
run off the track, lives would .bo lost, and lie
would ho turned out of his situation. But ho
know that if ho fan all the way homo and all
tho way haojc, b° ooplu return in time. Even
then fio, would have only about five minutes in
which to seo his mother. Ho concluded that
ho would.dp it, sooner than not soo her ht all.
So off he ran, ns fast as ho could. She
soomed to ho dying. 110 kissed her, and loft
.again. -Tt.wivi.a hard thing to go away then
but • lie must get hack and attend to tho
switch, or tho cars, would run off tho track,
and many persons might ho killed. .
He got hack in time, hut no sooner digd tho
train .passed than ho started off again to seo
his mother, ffho night was very, very dark.
If ho' had not known tho road so well, no
Would certainly have lost his way. - . ■
onoo ho heard a noise like horses running
away with a carriage. » ll ‘ cno n d^.g, “ t
flash, as bright as day. saw a■ «a
drawn by two horses, which wore runiiin at
a fearful speed. They wore very no. i the
lake, and running that directum. In
minutes it would bo too lato. Ho rushed with
all his might, and suodjodod in catching ono
A STORY FOB TllE LITTLE FOLKS.
Tlic JLluio B.tilroiid Station.
1 John, I luivo something oiuny in hid, which
of tlio reins, for the driver had already fallen
from his seat. Ho turned the horses’ heads;
they wheeled around against a largo hay
stack which happened to bo standing there;
The carriage was already broken, but the,
horses were still holding to it by the harness.
There was a young lady inside, who had
fainted away from fright, and her face was
bleeding a little from a cut under her.right
eye. After John had tied the horses to a
tree, ho took tho young lady to a house near
by. By this tilno ho recognized her ns Mr.
Nugent’s beautiful daughter, Gertrude. She
revived in. about a halfduur, and John told
her that he would send her father word of
tho accident, but she. must.not inform him
who had siived her from being thrown into
the lake and drowned. ■ She promised that
she would not tell him and then ho left her.
Ho united the horses and took them to tho vil
lage, placing them in care of the hotel-koep
•or. Immediately ho sat down and wrote a
noto'to Mr.. Nugent, which read thus;— .
* ‘ Mr. Da.tr rir :— r An accident has
happened to your daughter. The-horses'
seemed to have lust llieir driver, and wore
.running at full speed, until they had'run al
most in the. deep lake. If Providence had
not interfered, 'your Gertrude wyould have
boon drowned. •. As it is, you will'.find her'at
Mr.- fund-your horses, at tho Blue Star
Hotel. .' Tho carriage can.bo found near the
lake shore.
‘Very truly, An Unknown.Friend.’'
Julia sent the note to Mr. Nugent by u'
young man, who rode n-borsobaek, -as fust as
be uould. Now, who, ecnvld believe tbut tile
young station-keeper could da snob an met of
kindness .ivh.ijc his mother was so ill, and
might oven then bo dead ? But bo bad a good
heart, and- was ready to give a helping band,
to anybody who need ids assistance. .Fortu
nately, whim lie got'home, lie- found bis
uiot!ier.bcttcr,"and it turned out that the Lord
spared- her for several years afterwards. ■
-The next morning bo could go to bis sta-.
lion house again; and attend to .his duties as
usual. ,A week after, this bo received the
following note from the President of the rail
road : • ■
‘ Sia I have been informed by a gentle
man ,ol wealtli and respectability, I mean Mr.
1 Nugent, that, some evenings ago you wont
homo at the -time that the express train was
expected, and that it had to wait about fifteen,
minute's for you to return. We cannot allow
.such' neglect on'bur road. The mattor is too
clearly proved to allow any excuse. You
ne.od not answer this note, hut .will vacate
your station tonno.rrow,. as .another, and, I
trust, a prompter young man has been cm-',
ployed to take year place.’
John could hardly believe'his awn eyes!
fie know that lie got back in tlmejfrora bis
sink mother. 'Why should Mr Nugont try to
injure him? True, he had mot Mr. Nugent
oh horseback the night-ho .was-running homo
to see. his. mother,.lint the .train- Was not yet
'duo's .and lib get back in time too.. Besides-, it
■ jyas on that very sanve night, but afterwards,
that he had {saved the life of Mr. Nugent’s
daughter. ..If was a very hard thing to lose
his ,place bn a false charge, and especially
. through,a man whose only daughter ho had
’-■eivved-.from sudden death.. .
John left his, little station-bo.use, but could
get no situation, Until last be Was hired for a
coachman in a rich man’s family. When
Gertrude grew'bettor, her father asked her
who it was that had‘'stopped the horses and
saved her life!- She told, him that she bad
promised not to toll, and she must keep
her promiSoT Once, about two months after
she bad .completely recovered, they wore
riding in the ears, when the train came up to
the station which John bad formerly -kept
Some one came out whom Gertrude bad nev
er seen before; ,
‘ Why, father, what has become of. John ?
.Wasn't ho a good station-keeper ?’ -i
•‘■No, my child, he'neglected his train one
night, and'eame very hoar destroying a train
of cars and many lives; I mot him running
.homo at nightjnst as fast sis ho cjilld, when
ho ought to have boon (it his station, ft was
the same'night the horses fan .away with you,
and d suppose.it could, not have been more
than an hour before that accident happened,'
, f informed the railroad president of the affair,
and f.o was very promptly dismisSod. J
■ -‘ Gh my dear father,! you don’t know what
you hove done. You are wrong about bis
neglecting his train. -He didn’t do it. His
poor, old mother was almost, dead., with tho
heart disep.se. He ran homo to see her, and
then got hack again five minutes before the
train arrived. , And what do yodf think bo
did, after the train wont away,.and-he started
homo again to see bis mother ? It was be who
saved my life. Ho. turned the horses aside
from running into the. lake, and bo didn’t
. want mo to tell you.’ . ■.■
‘ Can it bo possible'that I have done that
young man so- much' injury'?■’• .replied Mr.
"Nugent.- He began to weep bitterly.
‘ I will make it right with him;’ replied
Gertrude’s father. And bo did. His heart
was touched for the first tinm • since ho had
been a child. I will toll you what ho said 'to
John three days afterwards, and .it will form
a good conclusion to my .little history :-r
-‘ I have wronged you, John, as I did your
father. Hero is tho deed for the house in
which I live. It is yours,.and your mother
shall live with you. Tho house is yours be
cause it was your father’s.l never owned it
justly. liefo_is a chock for fifty thousand,
dollars; I give it to you, as a-present for
your kindness in risking your life tosnvomy
daughter. Yuu shall have my thanks as long
as you live. John, your kiudnos has mado
me a bettor'man. You have taught mo the
truth of Solomon’s words: —' 1! thine enemy
be- hungryi yire him..bread to cat ; and.if he
be thirsty, yice him ■water to drink ; fur thou
shall heap coats of fire upon Ins head, and the
Lord shall reward the.’ —A r . l r . Methodist.
O* Talking to hoys in public meeting, is
pitting to bo ah art and science. Billy Boss
is a great temperance lecturer, and at ilush
villo, 111., was preaching to the young on his
favorite thomo. Ho said •;
• Now, hoys, when I ask yon a question
you mustn’-t.bo afraid-to speak right put and
'answer mo. When ypu look around mid see
all these fine houses, farms and cattle, do you
ever think who owns them now ? boar fath
ers owu them now ? ...
■ ‘Yos sir 1’ Bhouted.fi hundred voices.
‘ 'Well, where will your fathers he twenty
years from now ?’
■ ‘Dead !’ shouted the hoys. .
• That’s right. Aud who will own all tine
property then?’
•Us boys!’
‘ Bight. Now, tall mo did you over, in go
ing along tho streets, notice tho drunkards
lounging"around the saloon doors wafting for
asmohody to treat thorn!’
‘ Yes sir, lots of ’em.’
‘ Well, where will they ho twenty years
from now ?’
‘ Dead 1’ shouted tho urchins..
‘ And ivho will ho drunkards thou ?’
‘ Us Ilian /’
Billy was thunder-struck for a moment ;
hut recovering himself, tried to tell the boys
how to escape such a fate.
“ Der Snail Pol.”
Tho writer sat alongside tho driver ono
morning, just at the break of day, as ‘the
stage drove out of Blackberry; ho was a
through passenger to Squash. Point. It was
a very cold morning. In order to break the
ice for a conversation, the lino points of the
off horse was discussed. Tho driver thawed.
‘ Yaas, she’s (t good boss, and I know bow
to triye him !’
It was evidently a case of mixed breed.
‘Where is Wood, who used to 'drive this
stage ?’
‘Ho bes laid up mit tor rumatiz, since
jester week, and I trivo for him.’
,1 went on reading a newijflbper. A follow-,
passenger on a back seat, not'having' the fear
of murdered English on his hands, coaxed
tho Hutch driver into a dong conversation,
'milch lo the delight of a very pretty Jersey
blue belie, who laughed so merrily that it.
was contagious; and in a few.minnlos, from
being like a conventicle, wo were as wide awake
as ono of Chidaty’s .-audiences. By sunrise
wo wore in'excellent spirits,up to all,sorts of
fur.,, and when, a little . later, our stage
stopped at the first watering place, tbo'driv
er found himself in the centre .of a group of
treaters to the distilled juice of apples. .
‘ Here’s a package to leave at Mrs. Soud
der's—the third house cm the left hand side
after you .get into Jericho'. What do'-.you
charge ?’ asked, a iaau who soomod to know
tho driver; , . '•
Pout a leffy,’ answered hoi:'.
Kopelving the silver,, ho gathered up the
reins, and put the square package in' the
stage-box. Just as ho'started the horses, ho
loaned his head out of the stage, and looking'
■hack to : tho man'who gave.him tho bundle;
'shouted out tho question—
‘Ter .fired haus on ter'left hand out of
Ycriko V. ■
.The man didn't heal’ him, but the driver
was satisfied. On ho went at-a very good rate
considering how heavy the roads Were. An-
other trtvurn, more, watering, nioro apple
jack. Another long stretch of sand, and wo
were nearing Jericho. '
.‘ Any polly know dor Miss-.Scutter hairs ?.’
■asked the drivei 1 , hrnehjg his feet on the mail
hag, which.liiy in front of him, and.serowing
ids head round srt, its to face in;.
There seemed to he a'consultation going on
inskle the stage. ■ ■ ■ ,
.‘I don't know nobody o’ that name in
Jericho, do yon Lisb ?’ asked a weather-bea
ten. man who apparently wont the sa.m.o
wav.
■ - ‘ There was old Srpiiro G row’s da’ter she’s
married a senddor, and moved here some two
years hack. Come to think on’t,' guess .she
lives nigberto Glosshouse,’ .answered. Lishe.
■ The driver finding he could got no light
out of the passengers, seeing a tall, raw
honed woman washing some clothes in front
of a house, and who flow oat of sight, as the
stage flew in hand mo the.veins as ho jumped
.from bis . seat, and. chased the fugitive hal
looing--- , /
‘ I’i'e got der small pox; I'fd Rot der——
. llovo his. voice was lost as lie dashed into
tlio open door of the house. But in a minute
lie'.reappeared, fdirowSffity 1- !! bi'oaln, with (In
enraged woman annexed, and a loud voice
shouting out— •
‘ You git out o’ this I Clear.jonrsclf quiet
I er. I ain’t going to have you diseasing honesi
I folks, if you have the snmll pox ?’
( ‘ I dells yon I’fe got der small pox. Ton’t
you versoteth ?—dor small pox ?’. This time
ho shouted it out in capital,letters. • ,
‘ Clear out! I’ll call the men folks if yOu
don’t clear 1’ and at once shoutodin a tip-top
voice, ‘ Ike—you Ike ! Where are you’?’ -
Ike made his appearance on the full riin.,
‘ I doll you’ onst more, for der last dime—
I’fe got do' small pox, and Mister Ellis ho
.gifs mo a lolly to give der small pox to Miss,
Seutter, and. if dat widow is Miss Scatter, I
promised to gif her der small pox.’
It was Miss Seutter; and I explained to
her that it was a box he hud for her. The
affair was soon settled as regarded delivery ;
but not as regarded fho laughter and shouts
of the occupants oftbo old stagecoach as wo
rolled away from J ericho. The driver joined
in. although he had no earthly idea as to Us
cause ; and added not a little.to it, by saying
in a triumphant tone of voice— '
‘ I vas pound to gif ter old .vomans tor
small pox ’
- Voted-it Upside Down.—Wc have hoard
of a good story, told by ii son of Erin’s Isle,
which is worth repeating: .
Some two 3'ears ago there was quite a
struggle Between two cortain prominent Dem
ocrats of Woavcrvillo, as to which should go
as -delegate to the .state Convention. ' The
evening prior to holding the County Conven
tion, Judge M— r—r and Squire J- ,
each had ballots printed, with the names of
their Irionds upon them. She Judge’s dele
gates wore-beaten, and before retiring ho
consoled, himself by loading his hat with
hrielts. Next morning, in good season ; act
ing upon the principle that ‘ a hair of the
dog is good for the bite.’ Just as.ho called
for the decoction, Billy Mulllarney, stepped
into the saloon and saluted the. Judge, tYheu
the following dialogue ensued:'
‘ The top o’ the morning to yo Judge. And
the moutherin’ (haves hate us intiroly—the
curse o’, tlie-.w’urld liglit on them.’
‘Gcal morning,' Billy.’ Yes the Squire
was rather heavy. But I say Billy, I under
stand- you voted against mo.. How is. that?’
‘ Billy Mcßlarnoy voted against yo. The
lyinf spalpeens !- By mo sotvl,-Judge I’d
rather have my whiskey stopped for a, year
than do that sumo thing.’
‘ What ticket.did you vote, Billy ?’ I
1 And sure I voted the ticket with yor
honor’s namo on the top uv it.’
■ But, Billy, my name was last on the , list
—at the bottom.’ „ .
ll’bis was rather a puzzler to Billy, no
sera tolled It is bead, for an instant, then sud
denly exclaimed: i ' , ,
< Bad luck what a fool lam 1 1 voted my
ticl-et upside dofon !’
!fbo Judge immediately ordered an oyc
oponor for Billy ; ' he had fairly boat him on
tho examination.— Triaiiy (Cal,) Journal.
(£7= ‘ Sauiby, i’s got a conuiubus to pro
nmlgato to you.'
' Propel, darkey7
‘Well, .lliou, why am you like a tree?’
‘ Why mu I like a tree? ! gib that up.’
‘ Thu reason you am like a tree is because
you mu ther given! Yah !..yah !’ :
■‘Julius, I’so got a conuiubus to propound
to you.’
‘Expatiate, den, Sambo.’ '
‘ Well, dou, why am you like a troo V
‘ I gib that up darkey.’
‘ Ben, darkey, I can demonstrate do fact.
The reason is, you am a low cusa
‘ Good-bye, darkey, I exchange no more
salutations wid you.’
C Z/~ How wb cling tp every soft October
day that dies, knowing that afterward noth-,
ing can come, nothing will eomo, nothing
ought to come, but wiutci' and snows..
Drops of Wisdom. •
Too much com puny is worse tlmn none.
To sot up for it critic is bullying mankind-'
The.modest man is seldom tbo ohioot of
envy. T , • '
Don’t judge by one view of person or thing.
'Truth endures ■man’s purpose With some
what of immutability.
Thought is the wind, knowledge sail,
and mankind is the vessel.
Fortune may favor fools; but that’d a poor
reason why you should make a fool of your
self.
8411110 woman are born to scheme and some
to love, and I wish some respected bachelor
that rends this may take the sort that host
suits,him.. ■ , •
'Women never truly command until they
have given their promise to ohey. ~. .
Death, to a good man, ia the coining of the
year’of its'blossoming time. Do wo call it
dying when the buds burst into flowers ?
There arc some points on which 110 man
can he contented to follow the advice of attf
other, sump points till which ho uau consult
his own conscience only.
■ To have turtS for your wife soeyoif
kiss tho waiting maid. A - sore thing. : -
■ To prevent a headache when getting sober
keep drunk.
To tell if you love a girl—have some tallow
'.beaded chap'go'to seu-her,-
Below will he found an interesting
letter, 'picked -up on the street and handed
us for publication. It is Tull of the affection
ate, arid,.,wo hope,: will have the .effect of
winning Many
Carlisle, Odoher 28,1802,
Dean Mary
I have been long in love wiih you, but was
afraid to tell yoii'. go wiihyou to'
the , I am almost like a fool, altogether 1
unfit for company, I think, of you all .day,
and all night I' dream of my dear Mary. .1
am woll settlod in Work, and my wages-arp
eight dollars every week. You and I- can
live on that; and I shall brin.a; it .home un
touched every Saturday evening,- I.will not
go to any tavern, hut. as soon an -ray work in
done,, return horiio to niy dearly, '-beloved
Mary. I hope my dearyou will not he angry
for I am really in.dove. I cannot be happy
unless you-aro mine. I was afraid to'mon
taon'this to yon, hut if you will leave an an
swer. at-ray lodgings, ,1 will meet .yon next
Sunday after dinner, at the , when we
will take a walk,to —— and drink tea.. How
happy shall Ihe to hear from my charmer;
hut a thousand times more to.think she, will
he mine. . ■
I am, my dear, your real lover,
COIIPOUAL.
P. S.—PJoaso lot mo knew hy the next
mail. • i
, .Vert Moral. — A few days ago a mission
ary visited the Camp of thodOtli regiment, in
Hartford,.Cohn., for the purpose Of giving
the soldiers souio, spiritual advice.' Ho-wont
to one tout where stood a private,'and said
to him l
‘ My friend, do you love the Lord? I ''
‘No.’' '-■■■■
‘ Don’t love thq lord V . ' v .
No.’
I Whereupon the missionary gru e the young,
man some.excellent and appropriate advice,
and loft with him a tract. Passing on ta
another, tout, ho came upon another member'
of the regiment. : .
■ ‘Do you loye the Lord V
' ‘ Yes.’
M have some tracts ; would you have aomo
:o distribute?’ ■;
‘ Yes, I should bo very glad to receive them
and pass them around among niy. compan
ions.' ■
1 1 am happy to find so true a Christian gen
ic-man as' yourself, At a tent just below
10re,. 1 mot a yOung man, and asked him if
io loved the Lord,.and ho said No.’
‘ Said what ?’
‘ lie said No.’
‘ lie did, did hoi why Ithovyhl the d -~d
foul knew better!’ ■ •
■ The missionary was understood to say that
Hartford county furnished some very doubt
.ful Christians tor her regiment.
Advantages or Women,— A woman says
what she thinks without being knocked down
fur it;
Sbb. can: take a snooze .after dinner .while,
her'busbijnd goes to work. .
She can go into tho street without being
asked to ‘ stand' treat’ at,pyery saloon.
Slio can paint her face if it bo .too pale- and
powdor .it if too red.
She can -stay at liQrpo in .time of war, and
get married again if her husband bo killed..
■■ Slid, can -wear corsets if. too thick—ether
fixins’ iftoo thin. '
She epu got divorced from her-.husband
whenever she sees one she likes better.
She can got her husband in debt .all over,
util lid warns the public not'to trust herfa
is account. '
Vaipjable Heceii’ts.:— To make a .nice-jam
-lay your head under a descending jpqe dri
ver. '
To see if a man is your friend—make love
;o bis wife 1
To get the frost put .of your —pus
loin in hot water. '• i.
To spo if a girl is amiable—‘ear her
in a ball room.
To keep yourself warm iu bed—set it im
fire. ; •
Tp'seo how hard a man strikes —tell hi pi
he lies.
To keep poor relatives from troubling you
-commit suicide.
To keep from being dry : —stand out an tho
To do away with spectacles—ppt your eyes
GooDGancN.ns fok Exemption.— A scene in
Surr/con Haller’s d//ice,—‘Pc etor, if the loot
won’t answer, I have another all sufficient
rqasptl—one that you cannot refuse mo ex
emption for.’
‘Whatris it? asked the doctor.
‘ 'Why, the fact is, doctor, I have not got
good sense—l am an idiot,’ soberly replied
liiohppliemit. ■
‘Ah!’ said the doctor, ‘ what proof have
you of that ? What evidence can you bring,?’
‘ Proof conclusive,’ said the applicant.
‘ Why, sir, I voted for Abo Lincoln and if
that isn’t proof of a man’s being ad— d
idiot, 1 don’t know how idiocy could be
proven.’— Vandalia Democrat.
CSy‘Man proposes, and God disposes,’
said a pious aunt to her over confident niece.
‘ Lot a man propose to me if ho dare,’ was
the response, ‘and I’ll dispose of - him ac
cording to my own views, as ho suits mo.’
[T~r* A young lady was thrown from a car?
riago, and on being asked whore she was in
jured, most innocently replied ‘ Down at
the surprise party, when ’.'.'em Skillmun wont
homo with another girl,’
NO. 24