vol: so. iIJiHiCAN VOLUNTEER. pMUSnBD EVERY THURSDAY MORNISQ BT JOIIX IB* BRATTOS. TEn M S : Bt>V!»crh'TlOK. —Two Dollars If paid within tfi* wr * ->nd Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid ►ltliin ho year. These terms will ho rigidly nd ro,l in *vory insUr.ice. ’No subscription dla tmtiuiiod until »U arrearages aro paid unless at [lto option of the Editor, AnvKUTisBMKNTS —Accompanied by thocA.sn, and >t exceeding one square, will bo inserted three iracS for One Dollar, ami twcnty-fivoccnta for each •IdiiibdAl insertion. Those erf a greater length in fjportion. JoU-Puixtino —Such as irand-bllla. Posting-bills ainphlot*, blanks, Labels, -A.c, ike., executed with eeuracy and at the shortest notice. fWiriTl. thu m&m. fhis h the Arsenal. From floor to celling, [l.ik'c a huge organ, rise,the burnislieit aridit; lat from t’l-nr .sHeat pip :a a » a ithonvpj vliilg Ktartifs tlio villagers with itrange alarms. i snip will rl sj, how wild ua I dreary, Vh cn tiic death-angel touches those swift keys! nut loud lament and dismlil Miserere Yill mingle with their awful symphonies I hear e’en now the infinite fierce chorus, ’lie cries nf agony, the endless groan, liicli through Mie ages that have gone before us, ii Imi'' reverberations reach our own. i helm an I harness rings! the Saxon hammer, ,r 11 -1 Clin brie forest roars the Norseman’s song id fold. nmol the universal clamor, •r dm i k Averts s m i li the T irtar gong. K'ar’tbc Flervitine, w'l * f-oru his pilaco. ', . : ;,t >o ni-i li it tlu-b :ll with drea I tut Jin, •I A/.tc* [iri-sN iifnji their*teoc.iltis .j,it the wild war-drums made of serpent’s jkiu. iu tumult of ouch sjwkcd and burning village, r.u -'i < it in it ev hW pr tv;r for m jrcy drowns, ii»sddi«'r rwols in the midst of pillage ; hie wail ofitimou in beleaguered towns. ic bur-ling -hell, the gale way wrenched ass tinder, h ‘ Milling mn-kol. and the clashing blade ; 1 v .T.cio I anon, in tones of thunder, nc di.iji.i.vHi of (he eaunuiiade. it, 0 man. with sn'di discordant noises, ith findi accursed instruments as these, .ui drowoiM Nature’s Mveut and kindly voices, n I .J.ir.'est th a celestial Harmonies ? ,•*»■* li.ilf'lh-,* jnwer, that fills the world with terror, Pore (i'll f the w j.illli, lies to Wad mi Rumps or courts, vim ( > roleum tbc human mind from error, flj.-re w-.-r: cm need : of arsenals nor forts. io w trn tr’s naui’* w m’d he> a name ahhored ! refcoery oaten that should lift again f hand against n brother, on his forehead Paiitd wear fur evermore the curse of OumL Bwn tin;,dark future, through long goneracio s, Siie echoing sounds grow lb inter, and Mien co.isc, ini like it hell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, Ilu ir.a.K-a ai uie!i woman hi<* nf a rielt K ilicnJain, merchant. iVini received an excellent cdncatinn. and | wliibl at Oxl'urd he was lempied lu go and am* Tli -.mas L ■£, a- Quaker." p: each.— I 1 iken-aa. in mir Him; the meekest uf (aiths, is m llm.se davs regarded hv churchmen ■>l di-scoters alike, as an active spirit id 1 ii. de-i-rvin-r tm mercy nr fbrhe.i ranee ; there ii'enntiuninnti'm and disgrace in everything ""•mcl with it. Lie’s ministry so allect- I iVim that he begun t> lliink id becoming; Quaker 'hlm>elf. .His father heard nf tin* "I'laulinir nmiam"r|dnj;is wiiii Imrmr, and ‘aulilm idf in Fiance, h» avert the change, ue pulley was successful. Penn snmi for* *'t die Q inker in tho gaity nf Paris. r«d ro ,riied, i.i his lather’." delight, a tine gentle- [ :m * \viili all the airs an I aeconip'ishnnM.f.s* ■ il ‘-‘"iirtfer. Tno terrors nf the plngne nl , llll lun,in 1035. however, revived the youth'?* '■'us tendencies, and again his father tried '•luge nf scene, ami sent him to Ireland.— “t'i’i! he di"tingul.-hed hlm-elf in subduing' * ''isiirrection ; and ii is a curious fact that 1(5 mily authentic p »ftrait nf the great apns r "t peace existing, represents him atilhis thil a young man armed and accoutred us, Hl, ldier. ° It so happened that the Quakers «re gmwiiig numerous in the larger Irish hes, mid one d.ay Penn strolled into their oi'ting in Cork. To his surprise, Thomas ' e * Ir.ua Oxford, aioso and spoke from the xt * “ I'herois a faith that overcomes the "fid, ami there is a faitli that is overcome v Wt, i Id.'’ From that meeting is dated e tit’s thorough eon version to Quakerism.- 1 — ■HiPher heard of Ids relapse with dismay, j'i ordered him hack to London. They had ui tl "d painful discussion, but the young ttiiin v\us immovable ; neither the hope ol hnn the prospect of degradation had any 3 r Ct «n his reoilutinn ; and the Admirai. & . ep exhausting his whole armory of persua hy tnnimg his son out of doors; S|(l' K emidnia threw Pehn completely over to Vj 16 Q't'tkers. lie begun to preach at their to write numerous pamphletß in dc- u| their doctrines, to hold public de with their adversaries, and to make |'^^” (, [ ,; igantl st lours over to England and the m sometimes alone,- apd sometimes Com Puny with George Fhx, \\ diort Barc- ,l, ‘d others. Ol persecution and ini) ris lyiieM bin share. A tract. The San ' in v\d\tch lie set forth tUMan q,) (he Bishop of that he had him convuitcd to tho rV hp " * ie llv tor nearly nine inm\ttis. h 8 Lliarles b *nt Stilling Fleet to talk him .<> Ins errors’* but, said. P-ertu, ‘ theTow * to worst aigmrient \t\ the world? • wtnfiueiuent fie wrote No Oross, I- ,, lu ' vn ' the most popular of his words.—' iid i » I, Know - shall ask thoo/ ii c | le i?*l e to Ms servant, 1 that my pria ij. f “ l11 IIG niy grave before I will budge a mu ,Ur a its own' devices. M lO Admiral had the good sense snil 1 * 451 !* 0 , V ,n . 80 lf tl) his son. It is said that Sltlift y** irritation, he canio to admire i-ilversft lV T ronfc William showed to an ad ?3diannJ! n » moc^n R world. The Admiral’s ; 3hl«>JT *l?was indee 1 severe, ilostnod ?AcfV, JI. avor Charles 11. and the Duke * }\' 8 Bnn co-operated ■with !IH n ® tolling white eminence 4w> ! , K l,t 1 not l«ive attained. • Son. Will- V} • veteran, only a day or two be- fore his death, ‘ I am weary of the world; I would not.live my days uTor again, if I could command’ them with n wish ; lor the snares of life are greater than the fears of death/ Almost the last words he uttered were, * Son Williamj if you and your friends keep to your plain way of preaching, and al so keep to your plain way of living, you will make an end ot priests to the end of the world/’ Penn, by hie learning and logic, did more than any man, excepting Barclay, author of the Apology* to shape Quaker sentiment into formal theology ; but the service by which the'world will remember him, was his set tlement of Pennsylvania. His father had be queathed him a claim on the (Government of £lO,OOO for arrears of pay and cash advanced to the navy. Penn very well knew that such h fliim was Irrecoverable from Charles II.; be had long dreamed of founding a colony where peace and tighteousness. might dwell together; and he decided to cimpound his debt for a tract of country in North America. The block of land ho selected lay to the North of the Catholic province of Maryland, owned by Lord Baltimore ; its length was nearly 300 miles, its width about ICO, and its area a little less than the whole of England. Ob jections were raised; but Charles was only too glad to get rid of a debt on such easy terms. At the council, where the charter was granted, Penn stood in the royal pres enoCf.it is- miul, with bis baton. 'l'he K-ing thereupon took off his; at which Penn oM served, ‘Friend Charley why dost thou not keep on thy but?’ to which his Majesty re pli.cd,'laughing : ‘ It is a custom of this place for only mie person to remain covered at a time/ The name which Penn hud fixed on for his province was New \Wes; hut Sucre taiy Blathwyte, a Welshman, objected to have.. ( he Quaker-country called af er.his land, fie then prop isod Sylvan).i, and to this the King added* Penn, in honor of the Admiral. The fine country thus secured became the resort of n large number of Quakers, who, to I heir desire forthefiec profession of their faith, united a spirit of enterprise; ami very q.uickly Pennsylvania rose to high impor tance among the American plantations. Its political constitution was drawn up by Penn, aided by Algernon Sidney, on extreme deni oeratic principles. Perfect toleration to all sects was accorded. ‘Whosoever is right/ Penn used to say,.‘ the- prosecutor must bd wrong/ The world thought him a visiona ry ; hut his resolution to treat the Indians as friends, and not as vermin to be “Xtirpited. .seemed that of a madman. So far as ho could prevent, no instrument of war was al lowed to appear in Pennsylvania. lie met the Indiarm' spoke kindly to thorn, promised, to pay a fair price for whatever land he and his friends might occupy, and assured I hem of his good will. If offences should unhap pily arise, a jury of six Indians and six Eng lishmen should decide upon them. The In dians met Penn in his own spirit. No oaths, no. seals, no official mummeries were u*ed : the treaty was ratified on bath sides with a yea. yea—tlie only one, savs Voltaire, ‘t iat the world lias known, never sworn v>, ami never broken.’ - A strong evidence of Penn’s sagacity is the fact, that not one drop of Quaker Mood was ever shed by an-Indian; and forty years elapsed, from the date of the treaty, ere a red man was slain by a wh’te tn Pennsylvania. Tne murder was ana'r* osi us one. but the I nlisus the iHelvgs pru ed that the m irderer’s liie might bo spared.— li was s, a ed; but ho died in a very short time, ami they then said, the Groat Spirit ha l aveiis. o I I hoi r 'brother. It will h: th mglu that Penn made n cap ital bargain in the purchase of Pennsylvania lor JCIO.ODO; but, in his lifetime, ho drew little but trouble front his investment. The settlers withhold his duos; disobey 6 '! bis or ders and invaded bis rights, an 1 ho was kept in constant disquiet by intrigues for the nullifications of the charter. Distracted by those cares, he left Mb English property to the care of a steward, who plundered him mercilessly; ami his latter yearn worn sad dened .with severe pecuniary distress, lie was twice married, in both eases to ad mirable wouwn, IDs eldest son, a promising youth, he lost Justus fie verged on manhood ; ami a second son, by riotous living, brought himself to an early grave, trying Penn’s fatherly heart with many sorrow’s. Mol i plieil uffl ctions did not, howt vor. sour his' noble nature, nor weaken his settled faith in truth and goodness. Penn’s intimacy with James 11, exposed him. in Ids own day, to ■ much suspicion ’which yet survives, ft ought to be remem bersd that Admir 1 Penn and James were friends; that the Admiral, at death, consign ed his ,son William to Ids guardianship ; and that between >Jamc*and Ids ward there sprung up feelingsapparently amounting to affection. OWhilo Jumna was King, Penn sometimes vis ited him daily, and persuadedddm to acts of clemency, otherwise unattamable. Pe.nn sc irncd us n Quaker, James bated ft* ft Osuh oliccould sympathise as Inotbefs in.adversity. Penn, by kindly, and abounding in that charity which fhinketh no evil; and taking the worst view’ of James’s character, it is in nowise surprising that Penn should have boon, the victim of his duplicity. It is well known that rogues could do Hi tie mischief if it were nut so easy to make good men their tools. There was very little of that asceticism about Penn which-is thought belongs to—at least early—Quakerism. The furniture of bis house was equal in ornament and comfort to that of any gentleman of bis time’. He was fond of tine horses, and had a passion for hosting. The ladies ot his household dressed like gentlewomen—wore caps and buckles, silk gowns and golden ornaments. Peon bal no loss than four wigs in America, a 1 purchased the same year, at a castor£2o. To innocent dances and country fairs he had not ohjy made no objection, but patronized them with his own and bis family’s presence. William Penn, after a lingering illness of three or four years, in which his mind suf fered- but not* painfully, died nt„ Rusenmbe on the 30th July, 1718, and was buried at the secluded village of Jordons, in Buckingham shire. No stone marks the sp i, although many a pilgrim visits the grave. [CT'Of all tho agonies in life, that which for a time annihilates reason, and leaves our whole organization one lacerated, mangled heart—is the conviction that we have been deceived whore wo plftQod all oyr trust of love. —Bulyer lyttan. v , (£7* Wo often speak of being settled in life, wo may as well think of casting anchor in the midst of (he Atlantic Ocean, or talk of the situation of a stone that is rolling down hill. yy The Legislature uf Alabamahas voted that the beautiful carpets that caver the floors of the Senate Chamber, Hall of Repre sentatives,, anil all officers’ and onmniitteo viems in the elegantly furnished capital at Mintgomery, be out up and given to the sol diers of the army for, blankets. “ "OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT RIGUT OR. WRONG OUR COUNTRY:” I*l,l' K AT. The sanguinary fanaticism of the French Revolution has no representative of such odious ami repulsive figure as Murat, the or iginal self-styled ‘ Friend of the People/ By birth-a Swiss, of Calvinistrc parents, he budded a strange, skulking life for five and forty years—latterly, a sort of quack nieili oiner— when the great national crisis brought him to the surface hh a journalist und mem ber of the Convention. Less than five feet high with a frightful countenance, and mania cal eye, he lias shrunk from-by most people as men shrink from a toad ; but lie had frantic euiiiestness, and hesitated at no violence against the enemies of liberty, and so he. came to possess the entire confidence and af fection of the mob of Paris. His c instant cry was for blood ; he literally desired to see every well dressed person put to death.— Every day his paper, // Ami dit Pimple, was. filled with clamorous’dcinatid-t for slaughter, and the wish of his heart was but,.too well fulfilled. By the time that the summer, of 1793 arrived, he was'wading in the blood of bis enemies. It was then that the young, enthusiastic girl, Charlotte CorJay, left her native province, for Paris, to avenge the fate of her friend, Barlmroux. She sought, Mar at at bis house-—was aduntted to see him in his hot bach—and stuck ft knife into his heart, llis death was treated us a prodi gious public calamity, and his body, was de po. item with extrayiga»nt honors, in the Pan theon ; hut public feeling took a turn "fop the better ere long, and the carcass of the wretch was then igoominiously extruded. To contemporaries, t >c revolutionary fig u re'of Marat had risen like a frightful night mare ; nobody seemed to know whence he had come, or how he h id spent his previous life. Ttierc was, however, one notice of his past hi.-tory published in uOlun share of legal knowledge.- It is said that, while here, housed toe ill l)is children Marat, which he said was his fami ly name/ These revelations regarding Marat were certainly calculated to excite attention Probably, however, renting only on an an onymous newspaper paragraph, they were little regarded at the time of their- publica tion. It is only of late .years that we have gut Smy tolerably certain Might regarding Marat’s File in England. . It that be was in this country in 1774. when thirty years of age. being just the time wher the differences between the American colo nists ami the mother country were coming to a crii-is. In that year.lie published in Eng lish. a Inigo pamphlet (royal Bvu. t price 12-..) under the title of * T ; ie C/mint of. SUwon/:’ a work wherein the clandestine and villain ous attempts of princes to ruin liberty are pointed out, and the dreadful .scenes of des uotism disclosed; to which is prefixed An Address to the Electors ot Great Britain, in irdor to draw their timely attention to I lie choice of proper representatives in the next ‘Parliament. Becket. Lmd-ui.’ Most like ly, this work would meet with but little en couragement in England, for the current of puhlicTeeling ran in the opposite direction. In 1770. we fiud° him dating from * Church Street, Soho? a second and much less bulky pamphlet on a wholly different subject —An ■lnquiry into the Nature, Cause, and Cure of a tiiiii/ufar Disease of the E/es. hdhertq un known, and yet common , produced by the use uf certain Mercurial Preparations. By J P. Marat. M. D.. lie here vented nome quack isii ideas lie hud regarding cyc-disease. and out of which hA i« said at one lime to !mv#» male a kind of living in Paris. In the pre lanatory address to the ll iyal S icicty, he lets out that he had been in Eliidmrgli. in the previous August (1775 ) It is stated, but wo do not know on what authority, that, in the Scottish capital, lie trie 1 to support him self by giving lessons in French- ll ; prolf ably was not there long, but quickly migra ted* to tin; academy at Warrington. Nor wa* be there long either. The next incidtmt in his life was the pxfonl felony, adverted to in the Glasgow Ac least there can be little doubt that the following extract from a letter of Mr. E I ward Greawell, of Oxford, dated February 12, 1776, refers to Marat under an assumed name*. * * * * I shall how tell you a piece of news respecting a robbery which was committed here lately. * * * About a week ago, a native of France, who calls him self M. le Maitre, and was formerly a teach e. in Warrington Academy, being invited hero by a gentleman of this college to teach the French" language, came over, and met with great encouragement in the university, but, happening to get acquainted with J* r * MUnes, a gentleman of, Corpus Christ! Col lege, who is the keeper of museum and several other natural lie prevail ed on him, hy repeated importunities, to lot him have a view »*l them. Accordingly, they .both went together, and after M. le Maitre had viewed thorn a great while, Mr. MUnes, from the suspicions he entertained of his be havior, under pretence of getting rid of him. told him that several gentlemen were wait in'" at ihe door for admittance ftn d that he mu>t now goout immediately ; .but the French man excused himself by saying ho would re tire into tho other apartments, and whilst tne trangers that were almittod wire surveying tho. curiosities with, more than ordinary at tention, tbis ortful villain retired from them, CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 1864.- and concealed himself under ft dark staircase that letl into the street, where he stayed till the company hnd.gone out, after , which he stole away medals and other coins to the amount of two hundred pounds and upwards, and got .clear off with his booty. It was somewhat observable that lie was often seen lurking near the museum some time before this affair happened, and very frequently de sired to he admitted as soon as he hud got a view of the medals. lam sorry I have not. time ft tell you a few more particulars con cerning this transaciinn, hut shall defer it till I know further ah >ut it/ In a. subsequent letter, Mr. Creswell, in formed hisoorrespondent that the Frenchman whorohhed the museum was tried, ami be ing found guilty, was * sentenced to work on the river Thames for live years/ These extracts appear, with due authenti cation, in the Miles and Queries (September 16, I 860,) and they are supported' in theiv tenor by the publications of the day. The robbery of the Ashmolean Museum at Ox ford by a person styled at first * a Swiss hair dresser/ and nfterwarcs ' Lr Muir, now a prisoner in Dublin/ is noticed in the Genile mun's Mai/azine for February and March, 1776. Subsequently, it is stated in the same work under September I,.that • Petro le Mai trc. the French hair-dresser, who robbed the museum at- Oxford of medals, &c., to a con siderable’ amount* was brought by hebeas corqu.i from Dublin, nn.l lulled in Oxford Castle/ Unfortunately, this record fails to take notice of the trial. What a strange career'for a Swiss adven turer from first to last! A pamphleteer for for the illumination of British electors, a pamphleteer for a quack cure for the eyes, a teacher, of languages at Edinburgh, 'an usher at the Warrington Academy under the sincere, ami profoim 1 Priestly, a felon at Oxford, a furcat lor live year* on the Thames, al erwards adeache- of tambouring at Glas gow. running into debt and going through a struggle for whitewashing, hy the peculiar Scotch process) of cessio honorum, which in volves the--preliminary necessity of impris onment %. finally, for a brief space, the most powerful .man in France-, ami, m that pride ot place, struck down by a romantic assassin nation—seldom lias there been such a life.— One can imagine** however, what bitterness would be implanted in such a nature by the felon’s brand and the long penal servitude/ and oven by the humiliation of the e&wio bonoriun, and how, with those experiences rankling beyond sympathy in, the wretch’s lonely bosom, be might at length cone to revel in the destruction of all who had de served bettor than hnn^Mf . Hug hb-.llog Oui. The following good story is told of a deacon in the city of S . Northern Ohio : The deacon was the owner ami overseer of a large pork 0 packing establishment. • His duty was to stand ut the scalding trough. watch in hand, to time the length of the scald—crying, “hog in, " 'when the hog was to bo thrown into the trough, and “hog out/' when the wuth told throe minutes. One the press of business -compelled the packers to unusually severe labor, mol Saturday night '■found the deacon wholly exhausted. ' Indeed ho'was almost, if not quite, sick the next morning when church time came; hut he was a loading mbmber. and it was his duty to attend the usual Sabbath service if he ooull. Uj weir. T,it) occasion was on 6 •of unusual solemnity, as a revival was in progress. The minister prejdied a sermon well calculated to affect. His peroration was a climax of groat beauty. AsMiming the ac tion of one intensely listening, ne recited to the breathless auditory : ' '‘Hark ! —they whisper, angels sing,” "Iloy in! ” came Irom the deacon’s pew in a stent *rian voice. The astonished audience immediately turned their attention trom tiie preacher, but he went on, however, apparent ly unmoved. " Sister spirit,.come away,” out I ” shouted the deacon —“tally four I 1 ’ This was to much for the preacher and the audience. The latter smiled, some snickered audibly, while a number of boys broke for the door, to split their .sides laughing outside, within-lull hearing. The preacher was dis concerted entirely—sat down—yroso again— pronounced a briel benediction, and dismissed the anything else’ but solmn-minded’ hearers. A liruuuftil IJxirucl- It was night—JeniMilem- slept as quietly amid her hills asachiid upon the breast of Its mother. Too sentinel stnul liken statue at hi* post, and the philosophers lamp burned dimly, in the recesaes of his chamber. But iv moral darkness involved the nation in its unlimited shadows. Reason shed a taint glimmering over the minds nt men. like the cold and insufficient light of a distant star. The immortality of man’s spiritual, na ture was unknown, 1 Ins relations unto heaven undiscovered, u»d its future destiny obscur ed in a cloud of mystery. »- Jl was at this period that two forms of ethe rial in mid hovered over the land of God’s chosen people. They teemed like sister an gels sent to the earth on some embassy of luvfc. Too one, of majestic stature and well formed limbs, which her snowy drapery hardly concealed, in her erect bearing and atea .y eye, exhibited the .highest degree ut strength and conlidenco. Her right arm was extended in an impressive gesture upward, where night appeared to have phioed her darkest pavilion ; while on the loft reclined her delicate companion, in form and counter nance the contrast of the other, for alia was drooping hko a flowe.r when moistened' with refreshing dewa, and her bright,hut troubled eyes scanned the air with varying glances.— Suddenly a light, like the sun. {lashed from the heavens, and Faith and Hope hailed with exulting songs the ascending star of Bethle hem. Years rolled away, and the stranger was seen in Jerusalem, lie was a meek unas suming man, whoso happiness seemed to con sist in acts of benevolence ty tho.human race. . L’horo were deep traces of sorrow mi his coun tenance, though no one knew why he griev-. ed, fur ho lived In the practice of every vir tue, and was loved by all the good and wise. By and by it was rumored that the stranger worked miracles; that the blind saw, and the dumb spake, and the ocean moderated its chafing time, and the very thunder articulat ed, “Uo is the Sim of God.”'.'Envy assailed him to death. Slowly, and thickly girded, ho ascended the Hill of Calvary, i\ cross bent him to the earth. But Faith 'leaned upon his arm, and Hope dipped her pinions in hia blood, and mounted to the skies. XT' The packing-house of Turner & Mitoh cl, near Chicago, was burned on the 22d inat. Loss $40,000 t 0550,000. inauranoe $40,000. (C7* A couple announces in the Providence Post their marriage, and add to the notice —* No cards—nor any money to get them with. HOMER'S SWORD-SbM, Sword at my left side gleaming I Why is thy keen glance, beaming, So fondly bent on mine 7 1 love that smile of thine! Hurrah 1 4i Borne by a trooper daring. My look his fire-glance wearing,.- I Arm a. freeman’s hand : This well delights thy brand 1 Hurrah!’' Ay, pood sword, free I wear thee ; And, true heart’s love. I bear thee, Betrothed one, at ray side. As rny dear'chosen bride! Hurrah I “To thee till death united, Tliy steel’s bright life is plighted ; Ah. were my love but tired ! • When wilt thou wed -thy bride? Hurrah I The trnmptet’s festal warning Shut I hail our bridal morning; When loud the'cannon chide, Then clasp I my loved bride I Hurrah I 11 0 Joy, when thy arms held me 1 I pine until they fold me. , p C«mie in mel bridegroom, cornel Thine is my maiden bloom. Hurrah! Why*m thy sheath upspringing, Thou wild,.dear sled, art ringing? Why clanging-with delight, So eager for the fight t Hurrah I “ Well may thy scabbard rattle Trouper, 1 pant for battle; lligbt eager for the fight, 1 clung with wild delight/ Hurrah I" "Why thus, my.lave, forth creeping? Stay in thy chamber, sleeping ; Wait, still, in the narrow rooni; Soon for Iny* bride 1 come. Hurrah! “.Keep me not longer pining ! O fear Love’s garden, shining 'Wuh roses bleeding red. And bLuuming with the dead! Unrrah I’* Coins from thy sheath, then, treasure 1 Thou trooper’s true eye-pleasure I Come forth, my good sword, come I ■ Enter thy father-homed , Hurrah I “Ila! in the free air glancing, Ho w brave this bridal dancing! How, in the sun’s glad beams, Bridelike, thy bright steel gleams! Hurrah!” 4 Thoughtlrsx Boy. I shall never forget an incident of my childhood by which I, was taught to be careful not to wound ihe feelings of the unfortunate. A number of the scbopl boys were playing hy the road side one Saturday afternoon, when thestage couch drove up to a neighbor ing'tavern, and the-pasaengers alighted. As usual, we gathered around to observe them. Among them was an elderly gentleman with a cane, who got out with much difficulty and when tm the ground he walked with curimia contortions. His feet turned one way* his knees another, and bin whole body looked as though tiie different members were indepen dent of it. and of each other, and every one was making motions to suit itself. I unthink ingly shmi-ed, “Look at old rattle-bones I” ami the other boys took up the cry with mocking laughter while the poor man turned Ins head with an expression of pain which I can never lorgct. Just then, to my surprise and horror, my father came around the corner, and immediately stepping up to the stranger shook hands warmly, and assisted* him to walk to our house, which was but a little distance. I could enjoy no more play that afternoon, and when tea time came I would gladly have bid myself, but I knew that would be in vain, and so tremblinly 1 went into the sitting room. To my. great relief the stranger did not recognize me, but re marked pleasantly to my father as he in troduced me, ‘Such a fine boy was surely w orth saving ’ How the words cut me to the heart! My father had often told .mo the story of a friend who had plunged in the riv er to save .me as I was drowning, while an infant,"and who,,in consequence, of a cold taken then, was made a cripple hy inflama tory rhuematism; and this was the m:in who I had made the butt of ridicule and a laugh ing. stock for my companions. I tell you. boys and girls, I would give many dollars to have the memory of that event takop away. If ever you was tempted as I was remember no good can come of sport whereby the feel ings of others are wounded ; you may be lay ing up for yourselves painful rfpollectious that will not leave you for a lifetime. A Great Water Pall. A detachment of troops recently scouting tn the valley ol the Snake or iiewist fork of the Columbia, discovered a waterfall which, it is r-aid, is entitloiKco the distinction <»f be ing called the greatest in the world. The en tire volume of Snake river pours over atheer precipice one hundred and ninety-eight feel higher than Niagara. Snake river*is full as largo us the. Niagara, ami the Cascade U one unlid sheet or body. The locality ol this im mense waterfall is near the point heretofore dessgnated as the Great. Shoshone nr Salmon (alls of that river, but they have always been enveloped in mystery. Almost a dozen years ago the writer passed along the Snake river road. For two days wo had heard the roaring of these lulls, imt learned no more respecting them than il they hud hoen in the moon. It was said that there were a series of falls and rapids, making a descent of sev en hundred feet iu seven miles, and the sound gave color to the report. For hundreds of miles across the great plain snake river flows through a canon, with vortical walls hun dreds of feet high. It is only at long inter vals that salient points are found by which the river can,bn readied. The road crosses from point to point of the bends, only ap proaching close to the river where there is a chance to,descend for water. From these facts very few, if any, of the tens of thou* anda of adventurers that have crossed the fdains over looked upon the groat falls. The uto discoverers report .beside the main cata ract many’otberauf leas height, varying from twenty to fifty feet each, near by. Some day they will bo visited by the tourist and pleas ure-seeker. and looked upon as frequently and familiarly as Niagara Is to-day ; and it will bo admitted that with the stupendous gran deur of their surroundings, they arc us far beyond Niagara as Niagara now excels the balance of the world. tC?” Durino the recent terrible gale on' the coast of England, a bamburg ship was wrecked and three hundred pasengers drown- mtm From,the Holmes County Fanner. A RICH LBCTUR. Jonathan Q. Smith to Gov. Andrew: Gettysburg, Pa., Nov. 20, 1803. oeer Guvner: Our mutual friend D. Tod, Esquire, furnished at the expense of the Stuit of Ohio, to me and the members ov the Legislator, and a number ov loyal editors, mid a good .many moar loyal individuals transportashen two cum to Gettysburg to ded dyente the Nashional Semmytary. Wo took commissar/ in stores for twenty loyal men at Columbus, and at Coshnotown we drew heavy rashens of Huy’s best old rye. We had a bully good trip, good. oaten, good drinken, stories and songs enlivened the occashen.— Some copperhed tratera sed we had to much levity to be goii»* to funeral; but tha hod bet tor dry up or tha will find themselves arrest ed for diacuragin enlistments or resisten the draft. Tlmir is sum traters complanen about us sponden twenty-five or thirty thousand dol hits out ov the Treasury to pay our expenses hete and hack. Wen who tuck about such tilings are traters uud tha should all be sent South, or hung. When we cum we found onest Old Abe, onest Simon Cameron, onest Andy Curtain, onest W, 11. Seward and a good many other loyal & onest men. We was sorry you didn’t cum, fur oiim ov us wanted to see you stamp a few small armies out of the ground. Sew ard, Cameron, Curtain, Charly Anderson and several others maid good Union speeches in which tha set! iheny loyal things, fully in dorsed the war for the Union of our party and tliediberatiun. of free Americans of Afri kcii descent; Onest Simon Cameron wonts to bo nomi nated for the Vico President, to run the tick et with-onest old Abe. Onest Andy Curtin, wants to be nominated for President. Thus it will be scan he is disloyal because he wants to overthrow the Guver.p;ment at the next election* Chase wanted to cum but Abe wo-hient let him cum, because he is disloyal and wants to be President at the next elec sbun. Oar party friends was awl busy elec shuiiearmg.to get matters fixe! up rite for the next otecsliun but there was to many in terests tu protect. ,We awl treated Seymour, Parker, the copperhead Stait officers of Pcnn- Hylvany and the rest uf the traters in atten dance with our hiterst skorrvs. Tha not be ing loyal tha could-not circulate with us. We spent an our or too at the funeral cere monies and then attend to our prooer busi ness. Wo looked matters all over and come to many wise conclusions. Onest Old Abe "sed he now had the bull by the horns and he intends to peg away till every American of Afriken desunt is .free as the vulture* roam the air. lie say* no Sia:t f-hall come back infer the Union umilthe last vestage of slavery is fisicked out of clem and tha fondly embrace the pious, poiple of Massachusetts as brethren and acnowle Ig ooe-t old Abe to be Priest. Prophet and King; Tothisvhdly doctr’.tt • wo awl give eir most h ar y n pq and declared it our fixed purpos t>. wage a war (if extermination against copperheads and all others who dissent therefrom. Among the big men present was Gericral Schonck, the hon» nv \ienna. He thot he slioul i ho on the ticket top President or Vice President. He said : “I run a train of cars right down among the secesh at Vienna, and if tha had been in the right place {.would haye run over and crushed them ; but tha staid off the track, and murdered my sogers ; which was not my fault, nor did it say anything against my master strategy. I con trolled the oleeshen in Maryland and Dela ware, and maid the people vote the enianci pasliun ticket under the pains and penalties of imprisonment, transportation and death. I have vied with your wprthy servant Bon Butler, in ahnsin women and oppressin fam ilies, and