' ' : • ■ ~ ' m [S®KpL. 52 yiSt&BICAN VOLUNTEER EVERT TRURSTJAT KOBNXSO BT . & KEMNEOir. | T E It M S t ! viTg^|<rttiprioif.—Two Dollars if paid within the j . : !®iid Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid ’ wlthin, the year. These terms will bo rigidly ad - 1" tffcecltb 4h ©very instance. No subscription dls ; goiffiitted nntil all arrearages are paid unless at ! tbdv.bption of the Editor. , ’■ AT>yS|iMBUMENTS—Accompanicdby tho cash, and - not^bicbeding one square, will bo inserted throe 1 UmM'lfe&s 2 * oo i ancl twenty-five cents for each Those of a greater length in —Such as Hand-bills, Posting-bills ' ?ampblet«, Blanks, Labels, &c. &c., executed with • at the shortest notice. r't:!.-,-. Vil. B. BDTIiGb, I ; Mttorne y at law, 'f: U * OARLIST-E. PA. ' • I- ■-Office with Wa. J. Shearer, Esq. <1 - !- £*«pt..U, 1865—1 y. _■ i TJSiO C. GKAHAM, v 'j<t attorney at law, y- li, OOoo; formerly occupied by Judge Giabain, : B'tnthi Hanover stwoot, Carlisle, [sept. *6o-ly ij' ' £ \;Sv ; : _W. F. SAULE LI, t , ''i '■.% TT oiiNE y at la if, ;!l , .. CARLISLE, Pa. i: ; Volunteer Building Scuth Hanover V- Itreat. « ! , i 'gtpf 7,1861—-ly. . J. M. WF.AKLEY, ’ *. r VA TTOENEJ AT LAW , 'S irwFPICE on South Hanover street; in the i.c. fonflerly occupied by A. B. Sharpe, “j : lB62 —Dm It- NEW SHAM, • •HliC.l'--'- '-ATTORNST A T LAW. with Wm. H. Miller, Esq., south west corner of Hanovor and Pomfrot streets. fy I ,' Carlisle, Deo. 22, 1362—tf E - BlA<sliA.W«*llili!Vj e, TIORNB Y-AT-L A W. r n ’rfA“tj , JCE in InhofFa building, juat opposite it b, . • Market House. loti, March 13, 18*»2 — ly. M ■, W. FOULIv, Ationicj at Lair, erli■with .James 11. Smith, Esq., Rlicom s r*l*s” \‘WdfcSlU business outrus*ed to him will bo prompt- to. . - *' ob - 6 * 1 -? 63 * Jutl. 1' '.iWiMe I ■ - , tfMs Ci HERMAN* AT LAW. ?tt : Miyayinw in Rbeem’s Hall Building, in , It: roar of tho Court House, next door to the 1 Hqrald” OlHoe, Cnrlialo. [Feb 4.,>A-t9. ™ JAMES A. DUNBAR; is: TTO R N E Y AT LAW.' !l"li ’ —AIL-L.'.L CARLISLE, PA. “ s ‘'l next door to the American Printing o&et onlj ■ l'4 idaw'doorl west of Hannon's hocol *P* j ■ April 14, 1864—1? :'-S. , F. E JSE LTZIiOOVEiI, T,< ; ' ‘AfTOJtNEY AND COUNSELLOh AT LAW, CARLISLE, PIiNN’A. . | f"|.T?FICE on South Hanover street, oppo vl-Uvaiio Bontz’s store. . I, i >'->.<WpSh»oial arrangement with the Patent Offloe. ,ih, r r 'ntwh ; dS to securing Patent llighti. -EVißept.' 22, 1864-1 v p "1 CEO. S. BEABIGBBT, del- • -U&y fyonithe Baltimore ColUgt of Dental Surgery the residence of bis mother, Bast Louth •'Afjtreet, throe doors below Bedford: Doo. 22,1862. lib. MPSSSk 2*®* EiOOUlfiS, ,:■: : otst ’ re, -‘ 1 n!' Pbmf*' r -■ O' id>. i - y )«J \. .feae removed from South Hanover street to West Pomfrot street, opposite the Female High School, Oerlisla,- - ■ [April 28, 1801. Pension Examining Surgeon *• I '-, Vi : -'J ,• (Por Carlisle and Adjacent Country.) S C. KINKLE, Office, (up Stairs) In iU ■ Building, South East Corner of Marke A V - [Kov. 2, f 65-tf. i p AND LUMBER YAIIIK ' fIIHE subscriber having leased the Yard ' : S-Sjt|STormorly occupied by- Armstrong & Hoffsr, ind purchased the stock of : ' VO AL AND LUMBER, , fnlthe Yard, together with on immense new stock, I . srilt bare constantly on hand and furbish to order &rkinds and quality of seasoned - tUMBEII, . J BOARDS, , - SCANTLING. . . s . v • FRAME STUFF, B»Ung, Plastering, Lath, Shingling Lath, worked ■Flooring and Weathorboarding, Posts and Rails, And.oTery article that belongs to a Lumber Yard. . All kinds of Shingles, to wit: Whitepino, Hem • fook and Oak, of different qualities. Haying oars of' ihy own I can furnish bilfo to order of any .•v Jongth ond size at the shortest notice and on the ihost reasonable tefriih. My Worked boards will bo kept dnder cover so they can bo furnished dry at ’ All times. --TMVvl;havo constantly on hand all kinds of FAMI s/SfY-COAL under cover, which I will deliver clean part of the borough. To wit: Lykens Vul -ijVDrokon, Egg fc Stoio and Nut, Luko Fiddler. • i;\Twi«rton, Locust Mountain, Lobbory, which I myself to sell at tho lowest prices, quality of ' and Blacksmiths 1 Coal, on hand which I will soil at tho lowest fig* ' Yard west side of Grammar School, Main ‘Jlt'W'et. still retain the same position , firm & BLAIR, which will be id on as energetically as o/er at tboir cld near the Gas house. As our purchases will id* together a’ttho head of the niarkot, wo •mfident by so doing to bd alilo td cccomrao m'v customers aud tbo public' oh 1 tho most ijibto terms. Having relinquished tho tan- I will doovto my entire attention to tbo.Goal Luftxber business. All kinds of Coal and >or kept oo jstantly on band and in tho best tion. The Lumber Yard will bo manq’gqd by mo. Zuloff, whoso experience ahd skiU is well •n to the community. By strict attention to toss, short protits, and a desire to do right wo to secure a liberal share of public patronage. ‘ ANDREW 11. BLAIR. ic.15,1865-tf ; pail ' all kinds, with a la'rj halos, fj ** i “ l %?s?|rßow (t I;- Jhflt received-*t the Chea 1 i|i W!7 ' ,W 3 w FAINTS of Every Description, in large and small packages, Linseed Oil, &0., at • MILLER & BOWTSBJ» “ MUCH IBT REMAINS UNSUNG.’’ 0, painter, paint me a picture, 1 ’Not “studies” of morn or eve, tint bid the dumb canvass utter The story my lips shall weave. Your brush shall bo Truth ; your colors The varied hues life wears — And artists, to moisten your tears. First, paint on the magic canvass A meadow of freshest green, With here and there a daisy Peeping the rooks bett^.eorffc— Rocks, ragged and sharp and blood-stained Where tender young foot have gone, From the dead mother’s ioy bosom To clamber tho rooks alono. Then paint me a weary desert O’erhung with a leaden sky, ~ Where never a bird would carol, And never a breeze sweep by ; Dip yoiir brush in the waters of Marah, And paint Desolation there, A buried Hope, and the grave ol Love, And the visage of fierce Despair. Then, next, paint a fervid summer— A gorgeous tropical scene— With bursting fruit and blooding vines, And.the foliage rank and green ; With rosy clouds and golden O'erhanging the scene above — • With ray soul fqr your palette, artist, Faint me this dream of Love. Then fill up your canvass, painter, Wit h clouds ol misty gray ; To morrow is yet in oloudland, Our picture is done to day ; I’ll hang it where all shall honor A talent So bold and free ; But the name of the picture, artist, Is known but to you and me. MEETING OF TEACIIEBS. 40 At a meeting of the Faculty of teachers, ol the Common Schools of Carlisle, held Deo. 7, 1865, it was resolved to present to Mr. John Spahr, sr., a pair of turkeys, as a token of the appreciation of his services by the teachers. Mr. Theodore Cornman was ap pointed to present them m the name of the teachers which he did in the following re marks : [ Thirlv y tiara ago, the Comriron Schools of Carlisle were organized"; na most things have a small beginning so had they. Difficulties and prejudice had to be overcome, rooms had to be provided, and heoesaary arrangements made lor the accomodation of the pupils, but men like Andrew Blnir sr., P. B. Smith, Bcnyiok Angney, Lewis Harlan, Thos. -B. Jacobs and James Hamilton Esq., were not to bo intimidated by these obstacles, the people bad determined to try the experiment, and agents, these, men were deter mined to do their duty, and plao», if possible, the Comthob Schools of Carlisle on a sure foundation, to the success of which, the schools of to day, second to none; bear witness; the prejudice which then existed, has nearly all died away, and from n small stream, has grown a mighty river, which is destined to increase until nothing can. stay the mighty influence exerted by the Common 1 Schools, and great indeed is the. debt of gratitude which we, the pupils of these schools, owe to the men who first planted the seed, which has germinated and into a wide spreading tree, under the shade of which, hundreds of children to-day are reaching,, and the benefits of Which, we, thC teachers of to daji, can bear testimony ; but. whilst we praise the deeds of otlf first Directors, let us not forget those necessary nida the teach ers, who so ably instilled into the minds of the scholars intrusted to their care, those principles, which to-day enable them to fill fheir vacant chairs. But memory calls us to the fact, that nearly all who at the begin ning conducted Cnd controlled these schools have passed away, the places that once know them knows them no more, yet there remain a few of those bright and shining lights of by-gone days; to cheer ns in the ar duous tasks wS have undertaken', the others are Quietly reposing from their labors, the sod has grown green over their coffins, and whilst they sleep the sleep that knows no waking, the monuments they erected, are growing larger and larger ; the lines upon them inscribed to their memory, are growing brighter and brighter, our hope is that they may be enjoying the rewards of the faithful, and standi prepared to throw open wide the gates of Paradise, to admit those who may fdrllow. In connection with those wo must speak of him who has so faithfully and effi ciently as messenger waited upon the schools 6f CaVlisTe, and who has grown grey in the service to which he - was called years ago, al ways ready to communicate to us, the teach ers, the actions of the Board, relative to our selves or the schools. Punctual in his a’dniin istrations to our wants, ceaseless in his exer tions to collect funds necessary to meet our demands, al > ays pleasant and agreeable in liis intercourse with us, to him we return our siil'cere thanks ; and, as a’ alight token of our appreciation, wo the teachers ot the Common Schools of Carlisle, present to you, Mr. Sphar, these fowls, wishing that you may live many years, and set around many Christmas board? in*the future, laden with the good things of this life, and at last.: when your pilgrimage upon earth is over, that you may take your scat with those who have gone before around the board eternal in Heaven. ANDREW H. BLAIR', irs nt Traces Ufiairisi of Il<eoabins, Fifth " Tongue Spreads, &&., Ac* p Hadware Store of ir. RAXtON ■jMital; PICTURES, J&iaftllaittfltta. [reply.] Ladies and Gentlemen—Teachers of the Gam mon Schools of Carlisle; It is more than twenty years since I wan fin«t elected Messenger of the Board of School Directors nf* Carlisle and from the beginning of my career to the present time, it has been my study and desire to discharge my duties faithfully’ and to the best interests of the Bur mgh. and to make all connected with the schools as it was in my power to do; tTia Directors first, the teachers second, and the children third. And in ord'br to accom plish these objects, I have travelled through sunshine nnd rain, summer and winter, and that you might leave the monthly meetings of Select School with smiling face?, 1 have bad to stand many a storm of curses and abuse, while trying to collect the school taxes, by which you were paid. This duty 1 have performed fer fifteen years. It is true I have grown grey in the service nnd according to the course of nature do not ex pect to servo many more years aa Messenger “ OUR COUNTRY-MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY to the Board, but with Mr. Andrew Blair and Mr. George McFeely, whom it became my sad duty to lay beneath the sod, I ex pect soon to go to reap my reward. Ladies and Gentlemen, accept my sincere thanks for the two fine lare;o fat turkeys you have just presented me, and hoping that God will bless you all with a pleasant and bountiful Christinas, with long life, arid witjjj prosperi ty and usefulness as teachers of the Common Schools X tomivin vour humble servant, JOHN SPIIAR, ■ TtlE OLD mill; OR. FOUND. THE DAT, AND FOUND Tdß HEART. Rural life has always a charm —a romance which clings around it, especially to one ■whose childhood was free and happy amid the society of brooks and vales and fblliugo and pleasing rural haunts. Continually, will some germ of old remembrance uncover it self from the dust and cobwebs of dim recol lection UUd come Up, fresh and possessing an interest, with a kind of weirdness of pleas ure, causing pangs of severe regret thfit childhood had not always lasted. A little stream which formed the outlet of a lake embowered among the hills, as if to add only the of a ray of sunlight to the beauty of the landscape, ran, concealed along by the alders and flags, the meadows and pastures, till at last it crossed the highway ■and plunged into a thick forest and was lost in comp eheneion. . One summer day, I tired of wondering where this trout stream ran to; for, like the “ brook” of Tennyson, there was a poetic ro mance about it which was irresistible.— Tempted by the wildness of the scene, I made a journey to its course and wondered along its fringed banks. A slight rushing sound, us of distant falling waters, or. the hastening of the wind through the foliage, led me down the gradually steeping declivi ty and by the increasing rugged banka, now across the stream upon a high suspended log, or picking ray footholds among the rocks which rose above the rapids. Over the bed of the stream, as it deepened into the forest,. hung the birch and elm, form ing a continuous shade and vista down which my eyes peered with all the admiration of a young poetic soul. Here and there a white cascade broke the regularity of the descent, and wound around the base of jutting rock, growing every step more wild, varied and picturesque. As the descent grew steeper, the rough ness of the banks compelled me to leave the shore and clamber around a distance of a few rods, when I again came full upon the stream and belield the pouring waters, the sound of which had grown more and more distinct as I approached. Turning suddenly to the left around a projecting ledge, the stream plunged down a height of a hundred feet or more into a ravine still’ more dark and wild, and forming h beautiful cascade which broke in spray and sprinkled the mos ses and wild-flowers upon its bunks with a. delicious coolness. • • . . , Upon the hro'w of the opposite shore and the shelving rooks, the fir and hemlock grew so close and dense ns to completely shut out all view of the scene beyond. The vine and gooseberry intermingled with the dark gray rocks, while over the fall the mingling brknohes of the trees formed li beautiful gateway from which the white cascade dart ed like a thing of life and fled away down the deepening vista. . At the foot of the fall stood the rum of nn old mill, the stones growing over with moss and weeds, while a little green plot of grass and wild flowers spread out before it. As I clambered upon the ruins, lost in the roar Of the falling waters, and unconscious of outer things, 1 discovered a pretty summer hot, decorated with ribbons and wild flowers, ly ing partially concealed by some overhanging branches, and I suddenly recollected having caught an indistinct strain of a song ns it mingled find seemed lost in the sound of the waters, sons not to have before left a dis tinct impression upon my car. I listened and gazed about carefully, searching for some indication of the fair owner, but to no purpose. ' . Whether the wearer had noticed me and hastened away, fearing to stay to claim it, or whether some accident might not have be fallen her. were thoughts which engaged my curiosity until near th'C sinking of the even ing sunshine into twilight. The soft air grew cool and balmy, and thofall more beau tiful in the contrast of the deepening shade, but still I waited thoughtlessly Carving a de fies upon a shelving rook, and musing until the moon wan up and shining, when X wound along by the ravine outward, bearing and admiring the hat; to my youthful fancy the embodiment of beauty and artless loveliness, I doubted not the waving tresses of the flower of sixteen summers had often been concealed beneath it. . . Many a ye(Vr later, I strayed again to the thicket and tho fall, still hidden in the depth of a larger forest. There lay the old mill stone —a tree of considerable size growing through it, and the wild Sowers and the brambles were thicker and coarser. _ The ru ins suddenly called to mind the incidents of the former visit, so long before that the pre ciso time was not recalled ; but before I left my eye fell upon the following inscription. “ June 15, 1845. Found a hat and lost my heart. S. S.” . .. Just below, cut in a similar style, by the chiseling of a niece of quartz, was : . “ Lost my hat, but found no heart. A. li. I recalled to ray mind my impression of the time that the hat was out of style and trimming usually worn in the country, and that it was no doubt that of a visitor to the locality, who had unattended, strayed to grat ify a curiosity for romantic scenery, similar to my own, and that rambling away from the locality, had mistaken tho place where tho bat was left. , „ . . It was, in a moment, my full determina tion to discover who was the fair “ A. 8., and then for tho first time in my life I seri ously thought of the idea of choosing a com panion to with me admire tho romance of nature. . , “Yes.” said I, “ she should not have come here unless tempted by the same fancy, and if the germ budding so young has been cul tivated, she must be all I could imagine, both in body and soul.” . “ But the wide world spread .out before me, and with it a vista of uncounted years, while how many times might the fancied •A. B” have become A any of the 20 let ters of the alphabet, yes and the •&’ besides. And I was nn longer a resident of the coun try, and ehe might be abroad. The meditation was well nigh distracting, and the few moments of sleep that night were but snatches of wild song and fairy nymphs just eluding my gaze and grasp by the foaming spray. To free myself of luo affect tho madness had produced, I quickened CARLISLE, PA.. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1860. my departure to a contemplated tour among the northern hills and lakes. The long ab sence from these scenes had a new charm to me,,or else the interruption of my peace of mind had suddenly made me more apprecia tive. I passed a week at & fine hotel which had grown tip oh the shores of Willoughby lake, which was now a favorite resort. My unsettled fancy led me to long wander ingo among the forest shores turf by the new found pastures, in search of a wild flower or n stray berry. One afternoon I came upon a party of ladies wreathing garlands for n couple of bright little girls, the very embodi ment ofloveliness and health, and, placing upon them their summer bats, the party strolled down to the lake to watch the white- fringed waves, as they laved the shining sand. > . ’ I had not heeded the ladies. None could be beautiful nor charming to mo but “A. B.bufa sudden remark caught my bar : ** How singular it is, Annie, that we never had a trace of your lost hat.” I hardly understood the vVords at first, nor did I catch the reply ; but looked up, star tied with a pang of despair, as I had no doubt from the appearance of the group that one lady was the mother of the children, and the other an aunt or grand-mother. I, however, caught a hasty, glance of the fea tures of the mother, and beheld all my fancy ideal, with but a bearing of still grbater loveliness and grace than my fevered imagi nation had ever pictured. “Confound the fortunel” I ejaculated, and turned away to the hotel to c insult the record. Butnothing satisfactory was gained. Mr. and Mrs. Bigelow were there, and nu merous other B’s, but no 11 A. 8.,” although I was satisfied that “Annie” was the real “ A. B ” I cared not to learn further „of my fate. and came near quitting on tho early atapo for the queen’s dominions, wheti the land lord accosted me, and . asked mo il i would not join a party upon the lake, “another gentleman was wanted, and the ladies had proposed you.’ 7 I consented, ivas presented to- the good naturcd company, but forgot the name in my thoughtlessness until every indi cation of attention on her part and frequent raillery of my melancholy proved, to iity* satisfaction, that she was not the mother of stb.p lovely children I had seen her in compa ny with. . The boating party returned, and with it my drooping spirits, while acquaintance begun ripened into admiration. The ram bles were frequent, and the wreaths of wild flowers often suggested n which I could not summon courage enough to tough upon. One day. when her hat bad received a few flowers of my culling, I, while stoop ing to pluck a flower, and with my face turned away, mustered sufficient courage to say that I once heard her remark that she had lost a hat decked with flowers. “Yes, 77 she replied, “Host niy traveling hat once when I was a little girl, and I would give ray heart to know who found it. rnATiy?77^i:g®3ted“l-rmoBing,und-learnr_? 77^i:g®3ted“I-rmo8ing,und-learnr_ ed that there was acme mystery which she concealed with plnyfullness. ' “ I found the hat, 77 said I, ns we sat dowu upon a knoll, shaded by an overhanging ma ple, “and I will take the heart. 77 “You, Mr. Smith. 77 said she, in surprise, “you found my hat bf that beautiful water fall.” L If “ I did, Miss Annie, and lost my heart. ******* There followed no surprise nor exclama tion at my last remark, but her band un consciously dropped upon mine, ns we both at the same moment asked, how it came about. As I divined, she had thoughtlessly strayed away from the spot where the hat was left until too near night too far away to return for it. Upon returning with a companion the next morning, the hat was not to be found, but instead the inscription as I had made it. She added the •playful suggestion, and returned harboring the same curiosity as I had done. The hat had been ctfrofully kept us a bachelor relic, stowed in my garret, hut it has since been pulled out, and embodies to two happy hearts a bright page of childhood. We have both since visited the Tall and the mill ruins, whils somebody has added to the former inscription : “ found this hat, and FOUND THE HEART.” jL Rich Thanksgiving StJory. In one of the emal linterior towns o' New England, where the superstitions of our an cestors still possess a hold on the people, the facts occurred a few years since of which the following is a true narration ; An honest farmer and his family preparing to celebrate Thanksgiving at his wife’s fath er’s in an adjacent town, were hurried and confused extremely on the day preceding that festival, by the multiplicity of things which must be done before they could leave home with safety. The house was to be •• banked up” and the glejinipga of the harv est, cabbage, turnips, and go forth, put into the cellar, that the external entrance thereto might he closed for the season., Having, car ried in the vegetables, the flows were dis patched to thfl barn for straw to fill the pas sage with, while the good man himself was busied on the opposite aide of the house. An old ram, the horned patriarch of a largo flock of sheep kept on the farm, having got a taste of the scattered cabbage leaves, unob served entered the cellar an^ silently contin ued his feast. The aveuu’a through which be had entered was immediately closed up, and all the necessary work and arrangements being completed, the larger boys and girls set off on foot in high glee, the dog running and barking before them. Soon after, the parents and. their little ones, having put out the fire and fastened the doors and windows to keep out thieves, started on the same destination. On the afternoon of the day following the festival, the family returned home, accompa nied by some joutig cousins. Some of their youthful neighbors of both sexes were invited in, and a merry Thanksgiving carousal was 1 in'full tide of successful operation, when one : 0 f the boys, who had' been Sent into the cel lar with a little two'wick candle! which gave 1 just enough light to make darkness visible, 1 to draw cider, ran back into the room, with ' eyes glaring wildly, uttering the halfsufibcat ' ing exclamation : . • The devil is in the cellar!’ ■ Pooh,’ said the father. ■ you have only been frightened by your own shadow ; give me the light.’ ~ , . Saying this, he seized the candle—leaving the candlestick fast in the hands of the boy nnd boldly rushed to the collar stairs, hut before ho descended half the steps, the large saucer eyes and enormous horns of the ram caused him to repeat as much terrified os his sou, exclaiming; „ • Sure enough, the devil is in the collar? The good man seized the great bible, and attempted to read, but the oandle sputtered. THE DEVIL IN THE CELLAR. burned blue, and threw such a feeble light on the sacred pages, and the book trembled so.much in the hands of the reader that"lie could not distinguish one word from another. The little children cried and clung to their mother; the gilds nestled close to their fa vorite-'swains, and the whole house was shaken with the agitation of its halt dement ed inhabitants. One bright thought, howev er, occurred—and a messenger was sent for the minister to come and “ lay the devil.” " The parson, a man more celebrated for good nature, piety and credulity, than for talent and heroism, slipped a small bible into his pock et, put on his hand arid surplice, that he might appear as formidable to his great an tagonist as possible, and hastened to the re lief of his distressed parishoners. On coming to the house, the reverend man was hailed ns a deliverer, and implored by at least a dozen voices at the same moment, to drive the devil away; But a few were lost in asking questions which nrt one could answer, before the parson pushed forward ns a leader, with the same penurious light, into the cel lar, the most courageous of the company keeping close behind him. He reached tho foot of the stairs. There the eyes of lire, the shadowy outlines of the enormous horns, magnified tenfold at least by the terror of those that beheld them, removed all doubt, if any existed in Ms mind, as to the infernal nature of the being with whom ho had to contend. The divine instantly fell on his knees, ana with uplifted hands began to pray in his most fervent manner. Tho ram not under standing the pious man’s motives, but sup posing by the motion of his hands that he was daring him to a butting contest, made a pass with all his might at his supposed ad versary, but, deceived by tho swelling de mensions ol his drapery, missed the slender body of the priest, and driiwing hastily hack to renew tho assault, hooked one of his horns into the belt of tho surplice and pulled the priest with hint into the«cellar. While thus in tho power dt his victorious foe, he lost hope as it regarded himselt, and tho natural benevolence of his disposition burst forth in the exclamation : - t •Brethren, lake care of yoursehts tile devil has got me /’ This exhortation was better obeyed than any he had ever delivered from the pulpit his friends all fled and left him to his fate. Among the company was a shrewd young farmer, who had, from the first, supposed the fiend to he some domestic animal, but being a lover of fun, and willing to see .a comedy, kept, his thoughts to himself and protenued to sympathize with others in their fears. He thought it time to interfere, and, snatch ing a pitch pine knot from tno blazing fire, expressed his determination to rescue the ■preacher or perish in the attempt. ‘ Don’t, don’t!’ shouted several. « What does the devil care for fire?’ said another. • Take along the bible if you will go I suggested another, But, unheeding the suggestion and the manifestations ofconcefn~lbr"his he pushed into the cellar, seized tho animal by the horns, calling to the astonished parson, * Follow me ! 7 The horned devil was led in triumph, followed by tho ecclesiastic, in the midst of the company. A momentary si lence and hanging down of heads ensued, lut tho past was too ludicrous to admit of sober reflection, and loud peals of laughter burst forth from every side, during which the ram was turned out at the door, the par sou absented himself without ceremony, and the sports of the evening were resumed with better spirits than before. From the American Agriculturist, NOTES ON GRAPES AND GRAPE CULTURE. <■ AVlmt, mors about grapes ?” says the render who has' no interest in the culture of the vine. Yes, for the reason that it is now one of the lending horticultural topics. The vino growers have their grape shows and grape conventions, and we should not be much surprised if they started a grape jour nal, but whether they do or note, we roust have our share of grape talk. Those who do not come in contact with grape people, are little aware of the great amount of capital I already in vines, and of the perhaps still greater amount about being invested there, especially in the Western States. Individuals are about to plant their acres, and compnni nies with abundant capital, their scores of acres. Land in localities known to be favor able to the vine, sells at great prices, and men known to be good vineyardists, are en gaged by companies at liberal salaries. If we ad'd to all this activity in planting vinos, the largo amount of capital engaged in rais ing and selling then*, it will bo seen there is no one plant which is of more pecuniary in terestjust now than the grape vine, nor one concerning which people are so anxious for facts! ‘‘Facts are just what I have been looking for," suggests the reader, “ I .have read all the reports of the grape discussions, all the grape notes, books and catalogues, and the only ‘ fact’ I arrive at, is that it is all a precious muddle,” We admit that there is some truth in this view, but we re gard matters mure hopefully. Chaos always precedes order, and every science accumu lates first a disjointed mass of materials be fore any general laws are found by which to arrange them. So irV grape culture wo are accumulating varieties and bits of informa tion, by-and-by, wo shall have a sweeping away of the rubbish and S deafer knowel edge of general laws. Then grape discus sions are useful and amusing withal. One grower comes several hundred miles to, as sert that there is ho grape like the Tweedle dum ; another comes as far as the opposite direction-to declare the mrrits of dledee, while the growers around in the State where the Convention is held, are sure that the old Thingumbob is tho best sort. All of these talks have settled just one thing, and as far as we can see only one: that there is no one grape yet known that is suited to every locality. A very little bread for so much sack, truly, but still there is one point fixed, and perhaps by another year we may be able to set another stake. Meanwhile let us go on discussing the matter, especially in State, County and Town Societies, and learn to give more mine to ourown experience and that of our neighbors, than we do to that of those who dwell in far distant localities. The past season has explained tho caution, that we must be slow in making up our final judgement upon varieties, as it has shown us that some of them .aro likely to recede from the high position accorded them, while others have developed new claims to popularity. It must be recollected, that grape culture with us is still in its infancy, and notwithstanding the remarkable progress it, already presents, it is only the vigor and growth ot the.youth, and not tho slendv.and settled character of manhood. But few of our finer grapes have had a fair trial. How many have had ten years’ experience with them —yet it was nearly a half century before the verdiot was made up for tho Isabella. Our new sorts' are all on young Vines as yet, and Wo.all know what a difference tho age of the vine hiakes in the character of the fruit.' Then in tho desire of the propagators to meet the,demand for Any vanety worthy o£ trial, every availa ble bud is coaxed to make a vine, and many poor “knitting needles” are sent out, and these slender epecimepa are. forced into fruit at the earliest possible moment, and then, if tho first produbfc.of ibe.vine, which that year, probably the next, ought not to have borne a bunch, is not up to the description, the variety loses in the estimation of tho grower. There is one point upon which our 'West ern friends are exercised ; some go so far n.s to say that no variety which requires for i:e healthy development to be grown under gloss the first year, should be recommended for general culture. Wo cannot agree with this view. The object of the grower is, to procure tho strongest possible well ripened cane at the close of tho first season's growth. If this can he done in tho open ground, all the better. If by mulching the young vines; jet him mulch, or if by shading them, let him shade,. So if by controlling tho atmospheric changes by means of glass structures ho cun secure a healthy growth, let him do it for ho only accomplishes by legitimate horticultu ral appliances whHt the outdoor grower trusts a favorable season to do for h»m. That a variety is a slow grower and delicate when young, is not in itself an argument against it, any more thant.he fact that young turkeys will die if allowed to run in the wet grass, is a reason whv we should not raise them. SERMON OF TUB REV. JOHN CHAMBERS, ON TiiANKSGIVINO DAY, AT PHILADELPHIA, DECEMBER 7lli, 186). The services of the day were commenced by the reading of the fiath Psalm, in connec tion with the sth chapter of the Ist epistle to the Theesalonians. The speaker then said; .. J ~ We have assembled in compliance with the request of the Chief Magistrate of the United States, that wo should, on this day, meet and give thanks to Almighty God for the restoration ol peace to our lately distract ed and unhappy land-—not that I recognize the right of any civil magistrate to dictate to the Church of Christ in any way —but a request, such ns the one put forth by Presi dent Johnson, must find its echo in the heart of every mao and woman before mo, and pall forth unmingled gratitude to God for the mercy vouchsafed iis in being delivered from one of the most cruel, bloody, and desolating ware the world over saw. At the same time, I am sure that no one amongst us Ims wait ed until this hour to pour forth the gratitude and praise which ths_cesaatu)n (rf hostilities must have caused to spring in the heart dT every Christian find ioy.ur of humanity.— What minister of the Prince of Peace has not urged upon his people the duty of devout thankfulness from the moment that the last gun was fired ? For it is a glorious truth that Christ, His gospel, and His ministers are alike opposed to war, which ,in all its consequences is fraught with evil and evil only. Mr. Chambers then offered up a prayer, in which ho thanked God for the return ol peace end freedom, tfiat the writ of habeas corpus had been restored, so that men wore no longer in dangbr of being dragged at the midnight hour from their homes .and' fami lies. Ho ardently invoked the richest bless- ings of the Almighty upon the President of tho United States, the Governor of each sov ereign State, anti the Judiciary of the nation, supreme and subordinate.’ The sermon was based upon tho text, St, Matt. 16th chap., 3d v.; “ Can yc not discern the signs of the limes,” and was as follows; No man ought to bo an idle or inattentive spectator of passing events, or shut his eyes to the signs of tho times. But ii is el melan choly fact, that comparatively few of the great mass of men 'think for .thetn'felvos, either politically or religiously, hud hence they are the slaves or dupes of others who have the courage or the ambition to be lead ers. It is known to the world at large, that no people on earth boast more of their civil and religious liberty than do the American people; but it-is a sad truth that, in many oases, it is bftt the empty sound without ar.y solid foundation, and tho many aro led cap tive by the few—especially politically. The past four or fire years have boon among the most eventful of tho world’s history. The great experiment of self-government has boon stretched to its utmost tension. As a nation we have been upon the verge of ruin, and I confess that evon now my mind is not satis fied that the ship of State is entirely off the lee-shore or safely moored. There is a wild ness in the political heavens which to the attentive observer must appear portentous of oyil in the future, and what makes it the move alarming is that the immense mass of our people are ignorant of their rights. How few of th.e teeming millions of inis nation ever carefully road or studied the Constitution of the United States ? Bo you suppose that more than ope in every thous and has ever done so ? And yet this grand instrument is the book of the people—not by •any means the exclusive property ot the jur ist, the lawyer or the politician, but, I repeat it, the book of the people, made for. them and - by them, and for their special benefit; end i the man who fails to pnnke.it tlie rille of hie i life, as a citizen, is derelict 6f duty. But let us now proceed to inquire intowhat is' our present condition, and what our future prospects; and first'of a 11,.! sliajl View them as they stand related to the -Bible standard of Christian purity and excellence. Let us go to the law and to tho testimony. We road, Titus, 3d chap., X 3 verses ; “ Put them in mind to be subject to principalities and pow ers to obey magistrates, to bo ready to every good work—to opeak evil of no min, ti; he no brawlers, but gentle, showing nil meek ness unto all men—for wo ourselves also wereiometimes foolish, disobedient, deemvea. serving divers lusts nod pleasures, living in envy and malice hateful and hating one | another.” I ask yim whether this nation ns n whole, nay, even tnat portion of it who pro fess and call themselves Christians, are liv ing in the stata.of mind so beautifully des* oribod by the Apostle in the first two vones which X have rend, or whether, alas, the condition to which he refers as being in the past with him is not in tho present With us? is it not an undeniable foot that, in many in stances, even the ministers of religion have not the politeness of tho publicans spoken of by our divine Master in St, Matt., sth chap., Tones 46-471 Is that the spirit of gentle- ness; meekness and forbearance which the Apostle enjoins in Ins letter to Tjtus charac teristic of those who call tho same Lord, Master, and who declare publicly by their own act und word that henceforth they will walk together according.to Ilia command* mont? On the contrary, is not the spirit of intolerance and persecution rampant in tho land? what does our Lord say, John, 12th chap., 35th verse, “By this shall all,men know that yo are ray disciples if ye have love on to another.” lleraembor what St. Paul tells us, “love worketh no ill to his neighbor —therefor love is the fulfilling of the law.. .By their fruits ye shall know them.” Is it true that we, as a Christian Church, arc carrying out the principles of the gi od Samaritan? We have, at this day, thrown out upon the world some four milliops of human beings V/I;P..never: before had any care aboui tho future, and what is being done to render them comfortable or provide them with the means of an honest, honora ble self-support ? I acknowledge there js.any quantity, of balatdnt oratory on this subject, but that unfortunately neither feeds, nor clothes, nor shelters the miserable and un happy creatures whoso present condition, if we may believe one half even of what we are told in the public prints, is horrible in the eitierao. Wo tiro told upon the best authori- ty that they are dying by the hundredsr-nyes, by the thousands. The public journals of the day inform us that hospitals and alms houses ere being prepared for .them. . Those, are both nmv iimhtiorta.spfar as tbs negro is concerned, and nevop ware needed for him before. And not only are we told that their physical condition is deplorable, almost ,ba yond. description, but that the hot breath of mural pestilence is swooping over them like the sirrooco of the desert. Moral disease, moral death is worse than any temporal ca lamity. To rescue them from human servi tude, only to leave them to_ the bondage of Satan, is a poop compensation’.. Therefore, X hold it is tlio July of those who took these people from their former condition, and through whose agency thcy.qow occupy (heir present one, to provide amply for them, ci poeially that portion of the American people, whose'ancestors wore chiefly concerned-in bringing them to these shores, and whoso children’s children are now living on the princely .fortunes made in the African slave trade. ~Xt is a well-known fact that the prin ciple part of that trade was carried on by men of Massaohusettos and Rhode Island.— Why, then, - do not the men who have filled our land with' confusion and misery, withopt delay import rnto those iwo States at least one million of those.homeless, destitute creat ures, in order that they may heoarad for by those who ought to consider themselves their natural protectors under oiioting oiro’um stnnces? Another fearful sign of the times la the gen eral demoralization which we find meeting us on every aide. It may, indeed, bo said that “ iniquity abounds,” and yet wbat .indiffer ence there is to the increase of crime. . ,Tlie press teems yvitlr murders, frauds, .defalca tions, robberies, Sabbath desecration, enness, blasphemy, and gofisrariawleasnoss. Some tell us that this is the necessary result of increase of population,' but that cannot be. We have lost more men by the war than w« have loaf more men by the war than vre have gained by emigration. No—it is in a great measure owing to the four years of blighting, desolating hostilities through which we have passed, in which all the evil passions of men, and I blush to,say, of women, too, have been called into nqtipa (ind, kept in constant, piny, and which have so completely gained the mastery over us as to refuse now to be allayed. This alarming demoralisation rune through nil grades of. society. Who. does not know that m our h g'slalivo balls wo, are largely represented by corrupi and venal men, and that it is an understood and.no spptod fact that in many, manycases it.is but n scessary to offer a bribe sufficiently large in order to have your point carried? The bal lot-bpx, of which we boast so much, is rotten to the core", and our independence, in vyhioh, we appear to glow, is. little more than- a farce. It is a fact, ns patent, ao the noonday, sun, that free Americana can be, and are, bought upon election days arp.ns rpadjly. as you can buy sheep, iu-fho market, and that Hio party which has the most money is the winfling one. The tyrant, too, who em ploys labor will compel bis employees to vote in tbo way to suit hirpself, or discharge them from their places. And this employer calls himself a free American—a lover and promo oter,of civil and religious freedom 1 And thn mop who thus obey bis behests are called, freemen, and, challenge, the world to admirp the liberty 6t thinking and acting for them selves, which the institutions of their Country guarantee to them ! Am i wrong in dennun- . cing this so-called freo.loiias a farce when such things can he. cited as 'facts? What significance, too, has the common expression which many of you have heard, “ He can bo approached.” What does it mean, but tiiat the man is in the market, and up for the highest bid ? My hearers, if wo do not awake, to a full senso of our danger, we .will bo swept by tliis tide of avarice, of grasping cupidity, which is widening and deepening everyday, into the maelstrom of irrecoverable rum.— And thon, too, let us see wbat is too atylq, and what -the oharaiSter of the mou who are selected to represent us in the law-making,, as well as in the executive departments.— What is the first question? Not. “Is he r. man of great moral .worth—rof apotie,os integ rity and unflinching courage in the discharge of hi? duty—of the proper intellectual oalibyo or educational fitness?”, Alas, it is only. “Is lie available ? Con no by any means, fair or foul, elect him, 7” Hence it is that the veriest dolts and most illiterate of men are pleated, to j fill places for which they have not one qualification, unless it be to receive, pay for their Votes. Look in upon your city ooun oils. By whom are .those seats filled? By your best citizens—your experienced and staid men.—your most honorable and capable financiers —men whom every citizen would be proud to call onr city fathers, not because ot their wealth, but: solely on afflßaunt of their, eminent and nfness for the place ? But alas, this is not Hie case., in many instances half fledged and not,half edu o tod. young, and Tnexporieneed men, who have nothing at stake and nothing to lose, but everything to gain, and.who very rarely have the moral courage to resist the outside, pressure brought to bear upon them, when fer example a pet sohenio (or pontraets is be fore the people, and who oan ho approached , such, I say. are the, persons elected to fill offices of public trust among us.' Then, again, look in upon the Cpn gross of the United Slates of to-day and compare it, if you have suffi cient temerity, with that of thirty years ago.. Call up to your remembrance the mighty men, the intellectual giants who then com-- posed that body—men of sterling worth, of unimpeachable integrity—men. the dash of. Whose pen would make thrones tremble and tyrants • grow pole—Webster, Clay, Belli [CONUNUIP ON WCSND FAG*.] ' NO. 27.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers