Whole No, 2668. Uncle Sam and Family, Yankee Freedom is a lad And Union is his sister ; Uncle Sam he is their dud' And he'll give secesh a twister. For they paid Mrs. Sam she died— We always called her virtue— But you, Seeesh, indeed have lied, And now he s going to birch you. Yankee and sister, too, Are bound on retribution ; For our mother they said they knew l>ied of broken Constitution. But Yankee Freedom will now show Secesh to have been mistaken ; Though of necessity he's their foe Until again they right awaken. Then secesh the tune will find Was turned as 6hort as this ; While turning to the Coffee Pot Sign, hich I don t want you to miss! For your family needs, may be, A little Tin Ware Solace: •And, indeed, you onght to see, Then come to J. I. WALLIS, East Market Street. March 5, 1862.j Lewistown. PATENT COAL OIL GREASE. ''PHIS Grease is made from COAL OIL, A and has been found by repeated tests to be the most economical, and at the same time the best lubricator for Mill Gearing, Stages, Wagons, Carts, Carriages, Vehicles of all kinds, and all heavy bearings, keeping the axles always cool, and not requir ing thetn to be looked after for weeks. It has been tested on railroad cars, and with one Foaking of the waste it has run, with the cars, 20,000 miles ! All railroad, ouinibus, livery stable and Lxpress compauies that have tried it pronounce it the ne plus ultra. Jt combines the body and fluidity of tallow, beeswax and tar, and unlike general lubrica tors, will not run off, it being warranted to •stand any temperature. 1 have it in boxes 2J to 10 lbs. Also kegs and barrels from 30 to 400 lbs, for general use and sale. The boxes are more prefera ble; they are G inches in diameter by 2$ inches deep, and bold 2f lbs net; the boxes are clean, and hardly a carman, teamster, expressman, miller or farmer, that would not purchase one box for trial. F. G. FHAXCISCUS. Lewistown, February 12, 1862. AMBROTYPES AND Tho Gems of the Season. fPIIIS is no humbug, but a practical truth. X The pictures taken by Mr. Ilurkholdcr are unsurpassed for BOLDNESS. TRUTH FULNESS, BEAUTY OF FINISH, and DURABILITY. Prices varying according to size and quality of frames and Cases. Room over the Express Office. Lewistown, August 23, 1800. WILLIAM LIND, has now open A NEW STOCK OF Cloths, Cassimeres AND VESTINCS, which will be made up to order ia the neat est and most fashionable styles. apl9 nuhimtw; T> F. ELLIS, of the late firm of McCoy J.V# Eliis, has just returned from the city with a choice assortment of Dry Goods and Groceries, selected with earc and purchased for cash, which are offered to the public at a small ad vance on cost. The stock of Dry Goods em braces all descriptions of Spring 8c Summer GOODS, suitable for Ladies, Gentlemen and Children, with many new patterns. His (£rocmcs comprise Choice Sugars, Molasses, Java, Rio and Laguyra Coffee, superior Teas, Ac. Also, Hoots and Shoes, Queensware, and all other articles usually found in stores—all which the customers of the late firm and the public >n general are invited to examine. R. F. ELLIS. Country Produce received as usual and the lull market price allowed therefor. Lewistown, April 30, 1862. ■DiL &Q323, LID HQ zz cS3 o 01 1 ICE on East Market street, Lewistown, adjoining F. G. Franciscus' Hardware Bjore. P. S. Dr. Locke will he at his office the first Monday of each month to spend tho we <*. my3l 1(10 Coal Oil Chimneys, Wicks, Mv/ Brushes, Ac., for 6ale at city whole sale prices to retailers, by tth l2 F. G. FRANCISCUS. OUNDAY School Books— V A general assortment, for sale by J el * F. J. HUFFMAN. HAY Forks, Rope and Tackle Blocks, at my7 F. J. HOFFMAN'S. pOXEECTIONERY— Nuts, Crackers, Ac., \J at low prices to dealers, at a ? 7 F. J. HOFFMAN'S. a-sr ©2® jrawsnsssams, aamaa<B^rs 9 msmaa 'maaviTiL THH MlMfaiX,. THE VOLUNTEER'S WIFE* I knew by tl,o light of lu 3 dark, deep eye, When he heard the heat of the mustering drum, That he never would fold his arms, and sigh Over the evils that were to come; I knew that the blood of a patriot s'iro Coursed through his veins like a stream of fire; So I took his hand, And bade him go, Rut he never dreamed J hat it grieved me so. 1 wo fair-haired children lie left with me Who lisp his name at eventide— -1 ho very hour when upon his knee He used to fondle his pet and bride; Alas I they may never again be blessed By a father's eare in the old home nest; And he never again May hoar the tone*, Or kiss the lips Of his little ones. 1 know he ha answered his country's call, that his breast is bared at a high command; But my heart will break, 1 know, if he fall in the battle s front, by a traitor's band ; V et 1 murmur not, though my tear-wet eyes Attest the worth of the sacrifice; 'Tis a wife's free gift, Two lives iu one, in the name of God, And of Washington. Perhaps when tho maple leaves are red, And the golden glories of harvest eoine, I shall wake some morn to hear his tread. And give him a warm heart's welcome homo; in shielding his heart From the rebel's brand, Who honored the flag (if his cherished laud. miGffiANEOH! My Hospital Experience. BY A LADY. [From the Cincinnati Commercial.] ' \Y hat shall I do to pass my time pleas antly and useful ? was the question I put to myself after the last 'good bye' had been spoken, the last kiss exchanged, and the parting words ot my husband had died out of the now desolate room, leaving a lingering echo in my heart which sounded iike desolation. 'lt will never do to sit down here idly, and brood in vain regret his absence; and surely, if he thought I should do nothing but pine and grieve for him, it would add a heavier weight than now rests upon his mind, for then very sore causes lor trouble would rest upon him. It is enough, to feel that our dear country calls fir him in her affliction, and God go with him in her cause. I should blush lor him if he held aloof now, nor offered him self in the full vigor and pride of his young life, as a shield against the arrows of"de struction which threaten her, and which have already severed some of the brightest links which united our beloved nation.— And while he has gone forth, brave in de fence of right and truth, shall I sit down and cry like a miserable, selfish child, be cause it cannot have the toy it loves best always in its hand? No, no. That will never do! I should ucver claim to be a daughter of my proud, beautiful mother, America, could T lor one moment be guilty of such a selfish weakness. So ran my thoughts as I stood beside the window, listening to the last clang and clatter of the bell on the boat which bore him away. Slowly it put off from the wharf, and then up to God went as deep and fervent a prayer as ever wife breathed, for guidance and safety. Ilis last kiss was warm upon my lips—his last words are ringing in my ears —and soon, perhaps, that voice, with its loving tones, might be forever hushed, and the warm lips cold and mute, under the icy seal of death ! Y'et not for one moment would I have recalled him, even while I grew sick at heart, and a heavy dread strove to creep into my brain, driv ing away its usually hopeful and pleasing fancies. 'Tt is right and just,' I murmured as I turned away, 'and God will go with him. I know what I shall do. I shall go and take care of tho poor sick boys up at the hospital.' To think with me is to act. In a mo ment my bonnet and cloak were donned, and I was on my way with a light heart. Are there any wives, mothers, or sisters who will wonder how I could feel light hearted, when I had just sent my husband away to battle, perhaps never to see bis dear face again ? I will tell you why.— I trusted in God and was yielding to an impulse to good deeds. I say good, be cause I was animated solely by the desire to render assistance and relieve suffering, and not for what other people think or say of me. On entering the hospital, I found the attending physician, Dr. L , there, and introduced myself. ' I have nothing to do,' I said,' and want you to employ me. Can I render assis tance in any way?' ' Yes, madam,' was his prompt response. 'lf you will come in sometimes and pre pare something nourishing, and talk to them, to keep them in good spirits, we shall be very glad.' ' 1 shall certainly do so. lam glad if I can be of use.' I laid aside bonnet and cloak, without further ceremony, and went to the sickest man I saw. WEDNESDAY, JULY 16, 1862. llow do you feel V I asked, bending over him. \\ eak ill—nigh to death,' he replied, in a tone so pitiful and full of despair, that I felt the tears spring to my eyes. I sent them back to their source, however, and spoke in a full, firm, yet kind voice. 'Oh, no. You are not near death. You are ill, but you will not die. Uncle Sam use for you yet, and in a few days you'll be up and ready to shoulder your musket again. Don't you think so?' His eyes sparkled in their deep sockets, and a momentary flush rose to his pale cheek. ' Oh, if I could only think so ! But the time drags so slowly, and here I lie useless, helpless, keeping those who could fight away to take care of me.' ' O well, you need a little rest, any way,' I said cheerfully. 'Now, I want to do s .mething to cure you. Do you want your face bathed. ' Yes, if it is not too much trouble,' he said eagerly. 'Nut a bit. Now be easy, and I'll soon have you feeling nicely.' I got a basin of water, combs, brushes, sponge and soap, nnd came back to him.— His large dark eyes rested with child like pleasure on my face, as 1 carefully bathed his face and hands, lie had grown so feeble that he could scarcely connect a sen tence without pausing, and lay panting on his pillow from tiie slightest exertion. After bathing his lace, I took the comb and straightened out the snarled masses of long black hair that grew thickly over his brow. I soon found that illness had made him childish, though I at first started at his childish bluntucss. ' You're mighty purty,' lie said suddenly, and for a moment I did not know what to say, hut then I thought ' that I may seem so to him, poor fellow,' and only smiled in reply. \V hat's your name ?' ho next asked. 1 S I replied. ' You ain't married, are you ?' ' \ es, and my husband's gone to fight as you did at Fort Donelson.' ' Oh dear,' he said fretfully, 'l'm so sor ry. What did you get married for ? Never mind, I will put a spider in his dump ling when I get well.' >V ith tho last words, a mischievous light broke over his face, and his black eyes twinkled. I laughed merrily at him, and he seemed to enjoy it hugely, l'oor fel low ! little enough amusement he had.— It he could amuse himself at my expense, I would have no objections. My next patient was an orphan hoy, six teen years of age. Frank B— belonged to Birg's Sharpshooters, and a braver heart never boat in the bosom of mortal than that which throbbed in his. liile bathing bis face, I asked him what induced him to leave his home in Nebras ka, to come away and peril his life at such an early age. His reply is worthy'to be written by that of a noble Nathan Hale, who regretted having but 'one life to offer to his country.' He said : ' I joined the army because I was young and strong. I have but one life, and that would be worth nothing to nie if not offered to my country. Noble boy ! llow many more like him have fallen like him willing sacrifices ! The next day I carried a basket of ap ples, oranges, pies, tea, &c., to the hospital. As I went in, several of the men lifted their heads, and nodded pleasantly. ' I'm glad you have come back,' said one, and another thought, ' it looked so home like to see a woman amongst them.' My 'admirer' with the black eyes clasp ed my hand when I offered him an orango, and kissed it gratefully. 'lf I live,' he said,' I'll always pray God to bless you. If I die, I'll watch over you from Heaven.' ' l'oor fellow ! I wonder that if from that heaven to which his spirit has flown, he is watching over me to-night as I pen these lines ? Frankie's blue eyes greeted me with a glad smile before I was near enough to speak to him. When I bent over and asked how he felt, he answered me cheerfully, saying he hoped to be able soon to return to his regiment. I bathed his face, gave him a cup of hot tea, with some toast, and left him sleeping sweetly. Those who have never visited the hospi tals cannot conceive of the wretched condi tion in which the men are brought into them. That day twenty-eight were brought in from Donelson and Savannah, and such objects I never saw. Their faces and hands were stiff with coal dust, and bur ning with fever. Their hair long and mat ted, beard uncut and full of dirt. It was a serious task to attempt render ing them comfortable, but I did not shrink from it. On the contrary, I felt grieved at my inability to serve more than one at a time. Oh how I longed for the powor to stir some of my own sex, who in that town passed the days in thoughtless idleness, to action, if only for an hour, to assist in bringing those poor sufferers to a comfort able condition. From morning till noon I toiled faith fully glad from my heart, and thankful for the impulse that had sent me there. I went home and dined, and feeling tired, wanted to lie down to rest. But then I had promised to bring some fruit to the boys in the afternoon, aud I could not feel satisfied till I had done so, that I could rest any time, while they lay tossing in. pain and fever, perhaps longii.g for a cool draught they could not get. It was lour o'clock before I got away again, and then I was really tired. So | days merged into weeks, and it became a | regular routine. From eight till ten or : eleven, and lrom half past one till four, I took pleasure amongst them, even while : pain stirred my heart to see their sufl'er ings. One by one I could see them fading. No care or skill could save them. They had offered their lives to their country, and she had accepted the sacrifice. 1 oor little frank 13. daily grew weaker. Nothing could tempt him to cat, and his cough grew worse, while his face became thin and pale. He never lost his joyous spirit, but always seemed hopeful, even when too ill to rise from his berth. One afternoon I was startled on entering by the most piteous cries, and that they eamo from my little favorite, generally so brave and patient. 'Why Frankie, what's the matter!' I asked, bending over him. ' Oh, you have come! I did wish for you so much. Oh, I shall die, and I want ed somebody by who seemed to care for me a little. You do like me; don't you, dear Mrs. S ? You,ve been so kind to me. Oh, this pain !—1 can't stand it long! His hands grasped mine nervously, and every fibre of his frame quivered with pain. I saw that the dews of death were standing thickly already on the broad, beautiful fore head over which the fair hair clustered so prettily, and my eyes filled with tears of sorrow deeper than words could express.— I stooped to kiss him, and a glad cry escap ed the poor blue lips of the dying boy. ' Oh, kiss me again won't you ? —That is like my sister. Do kiss mo once more; I feel better. Oh, I wouldn't mind to die if my sisters were here to tell me they loved me. You do love me a little, don't you ?' ' 'Yes, a great deal Frankie; as much as if I was your sister. Don't you think so ? I m sure you're a good boy, and I am sor ry to sec you suffer so.' He drew me down toward him, and pres sed his face close to my arms. I could en dure no mere. The poor boy's mute npneal for tenderness and sympathy in his dying hour, far from home, breathing out his young life amid strangers, unnerved me. 1 drew that young bright head to my bosom, and my tears fell fast upon its sun ny curls. Did the gentle sister he loved, have one thought oi the scene that was transpiring on that night, while perchance they sat and talked of him, their only and petted broth er, in their far off home in Nebraska? ' You will stay with me to night, won't you?' he pleaded again. ' Oh,you won't leave me to die alone !' 'No, Frankie, I'll stay with you.' lie was comforted and became more quiet as I clasped his hands and tried to soothe him. Gradually a purple hue over spread his face. Now his lips became whiter, and the large clear eyes plead for some token of endearment, and each time that 1 pressed a kiss upon his forehead, a look of deep and earnest gratitude softened the suffering expression of his face About nine o'clock he breathed his last, and now every time I look down at my hand and sgg the little ring of mine he wore before he died, I seem to see the par ting look of his great eyes ere they fixed in death. llow sad the task to brush back the damp looks from the cold brow, and compose the blue limbs in their last repose ! That night I wept and prayed for the sis ter as I had never wept and prayed for my self, for he was all they had. A few days after this, another of my pation ts, who was fastrecovering, I thought, i had a relapie, and was again confined to his berth. There had beeu a storm that dashed in the windows, and he got wet. On Friday, he asked me to write some letters to his brother, sister and his be trothed. I did so, while he dictated, and he bad a rich vein of mirth and sentiment pervading his nature. This I soon discov ered in his dictations, and was much in terested. lie showed me the miniatures of his friends, and talked of soon return ing home. Bade me say to his sister that he was coming soon. If he couldn't get a furlough he would make one, &c. Saturday found me almost blind from inflamation of the eyes, and I did not get to the hospital until Monday morning.— Sad faces greeted me. Matron, physicians and nurses, wore serious faces, and the Steward quietly plaoed letters, miniatures and description roll in my hands. I look ed towards Fred's place it was vacant! Oh, that was a sad task I had to perform! To sit down, three days after writing those pleasant, hopeful letters, and tell them that heart which dictated them was still forever. I wrote to the lady he would have made his wife, and returned her let ters. I had rather have performed any other task on earth. The poor father and mother, whose bent forms were fast totter ing to the grave—the bright, sweet-faced sister—the loving brother! To all these I must convey tidings that would sting the hardest heart. Y r ct, such is the fortune of war. These are but few of the many instances of the kind which might be given to the public. Every day, for three or four weeks I witne sed such scenes, performed such tasks as those I have named. Since that, however, fortune h~s called me to scenes of more startling nature. 1 have seen where the conflict raged, the forms of the dead and dying, and amongst those who j-et lived, such suffering as the heart could not conceive without the eye having witnessed it. Forms mangled, crushed—to live and suffer for a few days, and then to die in the most horrible agony. Oh, God! when will it cease ? When will the hand of the father fall listless, as he attempts to cleave his son to the earth, and brothers cease to regard each other as foes? Will peace ever be restor ed? Shall we ever again be united? Alas! will we ever love each other again, or give room in our hearts for other than rcveng ful, bitter feelings ? BCSThe Nashville Union copies the edi torial ot the Richmond Dispatch, exulting over and praising Ben. Wood's late seces sion speech, printed as if delivered in the House, and says: •The Union Men of the South feel tho deep est anxiety that the loyal men of the North should indignantly spurn those leaders among them who, haying long associated with the Southern disuniouists, have imbibed all their treasonable, corrupt and despotic feelings.— The most dangerous foes tho Republic has are those Northern politicians who cliak their rebel sympathies under the species name of conservative, and devote themselves to war ring against the Administration and all its policy, and all its policy, and to proving that our armies must pay strict regard to the 'con stitutional rights' oi' traitors who are in arms against us. We invoke loyal men of tho North to cast aside all such leaders. They aro but waiting for an opportunity to sell themselves to the enemy. Perhaps he has bought them already!' Instruments of Torture. —The Campana delia Gancia, of Palermo, mentions a discov ery which has been made in the castle of that capital. On digging up the floor of the store house of artillery, three horrible instruments of torture, used under the Bourbons, were brought to light. One was a cap of silence, consisting of two copper hoops, one of which used to be screwed tight around the head, and the other tight around the face. The other instruments were the burning chair, and tho foot burner. The former is also of copper, on which the victim was strapped down, while plates of red hot iron were let into a cavity in the back. The other is a kind of metal boot, resting on an iron box, in which a fire was kept up while the prisoner had his foot in it. It was rumored that these instruments were to be sent to London to be shown to the British Parliament. fit©"'Mrs. S. A. Douglas is a constant visi tor at the Washington Hospital which bears tho name of her deceased husband, formed from the block of three magnificent houses erected by him, by Breckinridge and by Ilice, ot Minnesota. At the recent commencement at Georgetown College silver medals were awarded to the two sans of Judge Douglas, children of his first wife, now under the charge of their step mother. tfsy-A Scotch lecturer undertook to ex plain to a village audience the word phen omenon. 'Maybe, ma freen's, ye dinna ken what a phenomenon may be. YYeel, then, a'll tell 'ee. Y'e've a' seen a coo, (cow) nae doot. Weel, a coo's nac a phen omenon. Y'e've a' seen an apple tree.— YVecl, an apple tree's nac a phenomenon. But gin ye see the coo gang up the apple tree, tail formost, to pu' apples, that would be a phenomenon.' The Negroes of Old Virginia. —The Frede ricksburg (Ya.) Christian Banner of the 24th of April says that in that quarter of Old Virginia 'the stampede of negroes continues with increased numbers;' that on 'last Thurs day one hundred and fifty crossed over to the north side of the Rappahannock river;' that 'they are going, going, and will soon all be gone,' and the editor strongly denounces all this as the work of 'the demon of secession, and secessionists feel it, and are drinking the cup to the very dregs.' The French Army. —Target shooting is now practised universally in the French army : not only the troops on foot, and mounted", who are armed with muskets, take part in tho ex ercise, but also the cavalry regiments, armed with pistols only, such as the lancers. Sold Out. —The Burnett House, in Cincin nati, has been sold for $200,000. It is cov ered by two mortgages, one 0f5125,000, held by A. Belmont and another of $75,000, by other parties. The lessee, Mr. Sanders, is not disturbed in his p:ssession by the 6ale. Irish Unionists. —The gallant exploits of the Irish officers and regiments in the Amer ican war are eagerly copied by the papers in Ireland, and tho birthplace and early life of each hero is proudly narrated. This has al ready stimulated a powerful Union feeling throughout the entire country. English Paupers. —lt was quietly remarked in one of the recent meetings of the Social Congress in London, that workingmen in England must first become paupers before they could obtain treatment for insanity.— Dr. Miller, who made this observation, said it quite seriously. Strangers in Washington. —There are more persons in Washington just now, from the border States, than there have been at any time since the first breaking out of the rebel lion. Expelled.— The Board of Trustees of Beth any College, at their regular annual session, Thursday last, the 3d instant, unanimously expelled Charles W. Russell, member of the rebel Congress from that district, from his membership in that board. New Series—Vol. XVI, No. 37. €OIIOmATIOHI, Correspondence of the duett*. TYRONE CITY, July 5, 1862. Mr. E<litor : —Supposing a few items of news from this 1 neck of woods' would prove acceptable to you, I hasten to report. You have doubtless heard of the ancient borough of Birmingham—not that ono across the ocean, though it might well ri val that in antiquity, but a town threo miles southeast of this city, and within two hours ride of your editorial sanctum. Its name would very naturally cause an impression to be made upon the mind that ic was a place of much importance and of great extent; but unless we reckon the big hearts of the people and their proverbial hospitality, it narrows down to a village of a few hundred inhabitant's, whose chief employment is to live comfortably and pleasantly upon the interest of property and wealth accrued in the past. Former ly this was a point of considerable interest. Before the building of the Penna. Bail Road the business of all that section of country between Huntingdon and llolli daysburg, and also that of Clearfield coun ty centered here, but since their innova tions and as some might say, improvements have been made, Tyrone, Altoona and a, multitude of little villages have sprung up, thus drawing the tide of trade in other di rections. The situation of B. is a very peculiar one. It is built on a hill, on the side of a hill, and yet in a hollow. It is quite im possible to get into or out of it without going up or down some hills. Indeed it is amusing to hear some of our city friends lamenting, when getting out of the pleas ant rail-car they sec before them a steep hill to climb, which their fertile minds at once construe into a mountain. The principal object of interest in tho village is the' Mountain Female Seminary,' a chartered institution under the supervis ion of Prof. L. G. Grier. This is undoubtedly one of tho best lo cated, best conducted and most successful ; of any of tho educational enterprises of the day. Its location is at once healthy, picturesqe and attractive. The buildings are large and convenient, and are surround ed by a beautiful lawn, while a few hun dred feet below, sweeps swiftly along tho beautiful 'blue Juniata.' On every side are beautiful hills and mountain slopes, af fording fine walks during the greater por tion of the year. The Aoademical year just ended has been one of much prosperity. About sev enty young ladies from different parts of the State have been in attendance, quite a number of them being from your town and county. The yearly examination which was held during the past few days, and which we were privileged to attend, mani fested very clearly the character of tho institution and the manner and aims of the instructions given. More attention is here given to tho mathematics and the other solid branches of study, than in very many of our female seminaries. And though ample oportunities are afforded for engag ing and pursuing the ornamental branches, yet especial efforts are made, and it is tho principal aim of the instructors, to strength en the intellect and train and school its powers. At the request of one of the teachers, we proposed some questions for explana tion and solution to the class of the seo ond year, and so prompt, ready and clear were they in their answers to the most dif ficult ones, that it made us feel as though we had better scour up the rusty hinges of our knowledge box, before we attend an other examination here. The closing exercises were held in one of the village churches. The annual ad dress was delivered by the Rev. Geo. D. Chenowitb of the M. E. Church. After a few remarks from the Principal, the Di plomas were conferred upon the graduating class, seven in numbor. This institution is not exclusively sec tarian, and every parent or guardian can place their children or wards under such pastoral supervision as thoy may desire. We could say much more concerning Birmingham, its Seminary and other at tractions, but we desist, having occupied much more of your space and time than we desired. E. W aSJ W AIS IS 8 TIN WARE! COUNTRY MERCHANTS in want of Tin Ware will find it to their advantage to purchase of J. B. Selheimer, who will sell them a better article, and as cheap if not cheaper than they can purchase it in any of the eastern cities. Call and see bis new stock Lewistown, April 23, 1862-ly. BLANK BOOKS AND STATIONERY— a large assortment, at HOFFMAN'S. IIAMS —An excellent article at 10 cents per lb., for sale by MARKS & WILLIS. Lewistown, April 80, 1862. WALL PAPERS, Window Blinds, Queensware, Umbrellas, Cutlery, Wil low and Wooden Ware, as usual, at ap3o GEO. BLYMYER'S. York State Cream Cheese, for sale . wholesale and retail, by my7 A. FELIX.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers