”.. •- TZ-rjr rc^-. »• - —.
PUBLISHED svbby Wednesday by
(]OOPEB IW| BASQ/SB:9OV * CO.
H. G .^mtith,
j. M. Cooper,
Alfred Sahde bson
Wm. a. Mobtoh,
TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable
all cases In advanoe.
OFFlCE—Southwest cobneb op Centbe
Square.
letters on business sboold be ad
dressed to Cooper, Sanderson <fc Co.
facing
“ Dead Ducks.”
The shades of nlsht w(?re falling fast,
As through the House and Senate passed
A bill, on which some person wrote
A title which I herewltlrquote:
“Dead Duck**. - ’
Whether the bill was good or bad,
Thad. Stevens was Its rightful dad,
And fought it through with gag and tongue,
Only to 11 ud hlmseli among
“Dead Ducks.
In Southern homes Thad. saw alight
Which gavo his party strength and might;
Divided raiment, money, land,
Between two million niggers and
“ Dead Ducks.”
“ Urge not the bill,” the people said;
“ What want you now that slavery’s dead ?
The rebels dead? ihe'States come back?”
“To feed”—Thad. answered with a quack—
Dead Ducks.”
“Oh stay,” Timo-i Raymond said. ” and rest
To nine? this bill Just now’s not best! .
’Twill cause a row and by and by
Might end in ranking you and I
“ * Dead Ducks.' ”
“Beware of Andy Johnson’s quill!
One dash and all of you ’twill kill,”
Said Beecher from his pulpit throne,
Ills hearers answered wltfi a groan:
“ Dead Ducks.”
Thebill was vetoed; b.ck It came;
The Radicals, with eyes allame,
Around thdr leaders loud did quack,
A White Houso voice Just thundered buck
“ Dead Ducks.”
Homo Radicals, by Johuson’H hound.
Whore caughlthe White House prowling round
Thoy nl I sought but i ono could get,
i-’or uiuihTiutl oil uls roruliuud set—
“ Dead Ducks.”
There lu oblivion's grave Lb* y lay
l.lki! dogs . • at lm<l enjoyed their dny,
“ W hat epitaph?” the sculptor cried,
The people with one voice replied—
“ Dead Ducks.”
Kur the Dally Intelligencer.
Love’s Petition.
Remember me, when fur away
Krorn home and irlends and all that s dear,
Let memory fond assert her sway,
And slu d for m a kindly tear.
Remember me, when nil alone
You bow the knee In fervent prayer;
Whonyuu with tears approach His Throne,
Oh ! let my name bo treasured there.
Remember me, as I shall thee,
Through storm or sunshine. Joy or pain
AlUlolion, (zrh»r and care shall be
Unable all, to break the ’chain.
Of love and Hympalhy which binds
My heart ln willing bonds to theo,
Envy nor malice ne'er shall break
The links of love and constancy.
Remember me, I ask once more,
Oh ! may I not Uuis plead lu vain,
Pray that rich blessings soon muv pour,
Upon my soul like heavenly rain.
IxANUA STICK, April Ulh, I Wifi.
ptnwjj.
A Lost Life.
'TIh ill playing with edged tools. To
day I would tell you the history of an
Ul-Htarml pair who Htarted out In life
with the heat, with the most laudable
intentions, to end their career with
weeping and wailing, and gnashing of .
teeth. They played with edged-tools.
Who can not call to mind a dozen in
stances where unhappiness was the fate
of people who—bids inspiration to de
scend at tlio crook of the finger—and
litre fame as easily as the falconer does
his tnssolV The ctdld of genius per
suades himself tliat if he had but money
ho could soar Lo the master’s pride of
flight. He meets a woman who would
gladly share her dowry to be borne on
such pinions. They marry. Wrinkles
come. Gray hair appears. He is a
child of genius all the days of luh life.
Genius will not wear fetLers. Besides
children of genius toootten shut their
eyes to the great truth that experi
ence pf life is absolutely necessary to
give maturity to genius. One might as
well expect to use hemp before it has
been rotted, as to see the loftiest talents
bloom into genius until they have gone
through that fermentation of life called
experience. Tears must he shed, blood
must be spilled, the cheek must burn
with blushes, the heart must he wrung,
tho brain fevered, the soul' depressed to
the gates of death —and all this time
and again before genius blooms. As’
the nightingale sings sweetest after its
eyes have been torn out, as the aromatic
herbs have no odor until they have been
bruised, ho genius must bo bowed down
to earth before It enn dream of sealing
heaven. Therefore Is it that wealth
hath stifled more genius thnn poverty;
therefore is it that the road -to be Im
mortality does not lie through an heir
ess’s bridal chamber, but rather through
tho cheerless garret, bereaved of fire,
whoso calendar contains more fasts
than feasts, whose wardrobo (a row of
nails behind the door) has nothing but
rugs. A hundred demons, armed
with weapons more formidable than
smithy ever forged, to wit the world’s
Jeers, the world’s contempt, tho world’s
scorn, tlie world’s rebuffs, the world’s
cruelty, must stand at every avenue
leading to the world, and driveonebaek
time and again,untiloutofsheerdespair
he shrinks into himself and explores
his every fold, his every recess, his ev
ery plait and crease. Then, knowing
himself, luioweth all things. Heaven and
earth have no secrets hidden from him.
To expect this initiation from wealth’s
partner would be as idle to ask the ico
lian harp, packed in bran, to rival the
instrument exposed in the window .to
the current of winter's air. Forgive me
this long preface, but the story I pro
ceed to tell you threw me into so many
and hitter reflections, I have hitherto
been unable to recover my self-com
mand.
“ Happening to be at Saint M ,
a small town in the south of France, I
visited tlie lunatic asylum. I have
always been fond of lunatics. I have
never met among them a stupid and a
bad man. 1 was shown into a tidy cell,
occupied by a little old man, bent over
a desk, and writing with his fingers on
the board with inexpressible rapidity.
Ho rose timidly, twirling his fingers.
He was at least Bixty years old, but oc
casionally did not seem to be above
fifteen. His white, almost blonde, hair
fell in child-llke curls, and his sweet
face smiling and uneasy, wore the ex
pression of infants when they, both weep
and laugh at the same time. Neverthe
less one could detect profound grief,
trembling agony, In his dilated eyes,
which wore the fixed expression of
madness and despair. My attendant
made a jesture, and the poor old man
resumed his seat with extravagant de
lighted; and began ,to write as fast as
ever he could. Then, seated in a eorner
of the cell in front of this infantine old
man, my attendanttold me the unhappy ;
creature's history. Some forty years ago 1
there lived In a small town named St. .
R a young orphan. She was in
tellectual, wealthy, beautiful. Every
unmarried man of the province was at
her feet, his eyes fixed on her fortune.
She was so flattered, so adulated, bo
complimented her gorge would rise at
night when upon going to bed she
would think of the sugar forced upon
her during the day. At last Buch was
the nausea she experienced, she to
solved to give her hand and all it con
tained to a “promising young man”
who would give her in affection and
reputation a substantial exchange for
the beauty and estate she gave him.—
There was at that time In her town a
prodigy of eighteen, who had rhymed
£iom hlB infancy—had “Ijsped In num
bers.” He had already written many
I'ancasta IntdUgcnca:
VOLUME 67.
a fable, tragedy, sonnet, and epic, and
the whole province had firm belief that
he would bloom into a great genius.—
She married this prodigy that no ma
terial obstacle might delay his progress
on the road to fame. She brought him
up to Paris and so planted him in
wealth’s hot-house to force him to bear
fruit. Strange and inexplicable fatality!
unheard of catastrophe! The poet bore
no fruit. He had a charming study; it
was nothing but bronze and black mar
ble. He lived in most favorable quiet
He knew nothing of the thorns of life
And after all, he rhymed as when he
was fifteen, mere doggrel, fit at best for
a confectioner’s kisses. He was seen,
conciliating and encouraging, extreme
ly tolerant, and of an invariable good
humor. Nevertheless, by degrees, she
became nervous and irritable. He be
came ashamed of himself. Kvery morn
ing he would lock himself up In his
study, write madly, blot quire after
quire of paper, read it over, and in de
spair confessed ’twas not worth the ink
'twas written in. Every evening she
would come, her heart throbbing with
anxiety, to see If some good lines had at
last made their appearance. She would
question the poet, who every day hung
his lower. At last Impatience
and disdain appeared; she could not
long check their outbreak ; and Bheup
braided her husband for defrauding her,
because in return for her beauty and her
money he had not given her genius.
After this scene matters went from
bad to worse. The husband became a
child scolded by the wife. He lived in
a state of constant uneasiness, eternal
shame. He lived blushing and trem
bling ; his heart was wrung by all the
tortures of the impotent artist and the
Insolvent man. He suffered the tor
ments of the damned by the side of the
woman he had robbed (so be said) and
whose only sentiments for him now
was disdainful pity. So long as that
woman had not abandoned all hope of
seeing her husband bloom into a genius
she chained him to his writing desk,
und made him write a given number of
lines every day before dinner. The un
happy man addressed himself to the
task, and dully wrote worse. ’Twas an
hourly battle between them of contempt
and pain. She laughed disdainfully.
Ho shivered with fear and anguish.
“He had spent $2,500 of her money
in attempting to become a great poet.
Tills was Ills galled withers. One
morning he refused to work at his
daily task set him every morning by
his wife. He hud found in the office of
some jolntstoek company a copying
olerk’s place with a' salary of $250, and
henceforward lie began to pay his debt
to liis wife. He lived under the same
roof with her, but lie paid rent for his
room, lie took liis solitary meals in
restaurants whose price was fourteen
sous, lie dressed himself with hiß own
money, and- nevertheless managed to
pay liis wife a considerable amount of
money annually in payment of hiß
debt to her. He lived in this way
above thirty years, silent and uneasy,
’’shunning eye and blushing suddenly
when no one was booking. His
sole pleasure wastoconsultalittle blank
book wherein he recorded the money
he had paid to his wife in extinguish
ment of her debt. His wife, seized by
pity, by love perhaps, for this great
baby, so pure and so young despite his
years, tried to refuse his money and win
back to herself the poor heart she had
shattered to pieces. Her weak, willingless
husband refused with energy. He would
listen to nothing. Work he would to
pay his wife. He copied letters. He
made out bills. When his employer
suggested advancement and increase of
pay, ho would hlusli ami beseech them
to take pity oil him and uot jeer Ills
want of intellect. He waa crazy, ami of
those harmless insanities akin to the
mania for collecting old pipes, old snuff
boxes, and the like. The day when he
saw from his blank book that he owed his
wife nothing he became furiously Insane.
He made somersaults, he danced, he
walked on his head, wrotea sonnet and
an elegy. It became necessary to lock
him up in an insane asylum. His in
sanity is intermittent. He remains
whole weekß together writing with his
linger on the board of his desk, and oc
casionally adding together imaginary
Then, on the day when he be
ieves he has obtained the desired sum
total, he gives way to unbounded joy,
which he exhibits by howling and leap
ing like some wild beast.”
If you can read that poor wretch’s
tale without feeling your blood and
marrow freeze, you are made of sterner
stuff than I am. »
A Fact—A Warning.
I had a widow’s son committed to
my care. He was heir to a great estate.
He went through the different stages,
and finally left with a good moral char
acter, and bright prospects. But during
the course of his education he had heard
the sentiment advanced, which I then
supposed correct, that the use of wines
was not only admissible but a real aux
iliary to tlie leraperance cause. After
he had left college, for a few years he
continued to be respectful to me. At
leugth he became reserved; one night
he rushed unceremoniously into my
room and his appearance told
the dreadful secret. He said he
came to talk with me. He had been
told during his Benior year that it was
safe to drink wine, and by that idea he
had been ruined. 1 asked him if his
mother knew this. He said no, he had
carefully concealed it from her. I asked
him if he was such a slave that he could
not abandon the habit. “ Talk not to
me of slavery,” said he, “ I am ruined,
and before I go to bed I shall quarrel
with the barkeeper of the Tontine for
brandy or gin to slake my burning
thirst.”
. In one month this young man was in
his grave. It went to my heart. Wine
is the cause of ruiu to a great proportion
of the young men of our country. An
other consideration is that the habit of
conviviality and hospitality is now di
rected to the ÜBe of wine.
“ You give up your wine and I will
give up my rum,” says the dram.drink
er. Once I would not yield to this.
Now I think I -ughr for the purpose of
cheoklnglntemperance. I will uotspeak
for others, but for me to do otherwise
would be sin.
A gentleman one evening, was seated
near a lovely woman, when the com
pany around him were proposing cou
nuudrums to eaoh other. Turning to
his companion he said :
“ Why is a lady unlike a mirror?”
She “gave It up.”
“ Because,” said the rude fellow, " a
mirror always reflects without speak
ing, a lady speaks without reflecting.”
‘And why are you unlike amirror?”
asked the lady. He could not tell.
“ Because a mirror is smooth and pol
ished, and you are rough and unpolish
ed.” i.
The gentleman owned that there was
one lady who did not speak without re
flecting and casting reflections.
What Hot to Do In April.
It is always a great point gained in
farming, gardening and stock raising,
to know, of a certainty, what should
not be performed at certain seasons of
the year, as well as to understand what
must he done. A short chapter of nega
tives will doubtless be as edifying as an
article of the same length, in the usual
positive style.
Manure should not be Bpread over the
surface of the ground, where it is to be
plowed under, until the plowing is ac
tually commenced; because, the scorch
ing sunshine and drying winds will
carry away a large proportion of the
most valuable part of such fertilizing
matter, to other parts of the world,
where it will promote the growth of
plants that the proprietorof thatmanure
never saw.
Ground for Indian corn, sorghum, or
a crop of broom com, should not be
plowed too early ; because, when bro
ken up a long time before the seed is
put in, grass and noxious weeds will
spring up, and get the start of the plants
to be cultivated, thus requiring a vast
deal of unnecessary labor. Defer plow
ing for ench cropß as long as practica
ble, without being too late to-plant. By
delaying the preparation of the Boil for
the seed, until the ground has become
warm and mellow, before the seed is put
In, we save all the labor required for one
thorough hoeing of the young plants.
This will be found emphatically true,
where there are Canada thistles, ox-eye
daisies, fox-tail grass and other annual
and perennial weeds.
Animals of all kinds should be kept
off meadows, and not allowed to roam
over pasture fields, until herbage is suf
ficiently large for them to obtain a lib
eral Bupply of grass; because, when
grass is just starting in the Spring, the
tramping of numerous hoofs will retard
the growth of the tender grass, mors
than the teeth of the animals.
Crops of growing grain, or vegetables,
Bhould never begrownon the same soil,
during two or more successive seasons ;
because such a system impoverishes the
soil, rendering it less productive.
When trees of any kind, shrubs, or
vines, are dug up to be transplanted,
tlie small and tender roots should uot
be exposed for half an hour to the sun
and drying winds, as the bark Is so ten
der and porous that their vitality will
be destroyed in a short time. We fre
quently see fruit trees, roots and all, ex
posed for a whole day, often longer to
the sun, when most of the small roots
become as dead as a dry Btick.
Heavy ground should not be plowed
when water stands in the furrows, be
cause it will be far better for the soil,
better for the growing crops, and more
advantageous to those who cultivate the
ground, to defer plowing even till June,
if the surplus water is not removed by
under-draining, with tiles, stone, or
wood. If a person feels unwilling to
incur the expense of under-draining a
wet field, for want of ready capital, bet
ter hire the necessary funds by mort
gaging the farm, and complete the
under-draining at once, as the increased
yield of the first two crops will more
than defray the expellee.
Where spring grain lias been raised
for several years, and the land become
foul with dock seed, wild mustard, or
charlock, or any other noxious weeds,
discontinue the old' system of manage
ment, and, instead of raising a crop of
barley, oats, rye, or spring wheat, thus
affording the weeds farther opportunity
to Increase, manure the soil, and plow
and harrow it several times, and sow
peas, or buckwheat, about the first of
July.
Do not permit any animal on the farm
lo grow poor. Stock of all kinds need
grain, or meal, during the present month
more than they did during the cold
months of winter. Cows that come in,
in April, will become very thin in flesh
if they do not receive an extra allow
ance of nutritious feed. Every pound
of flesh and fat that a milch cow loses
in April, will be equal totheuctual loss
of so many pounds of butter next sum
mer,
Do not kill the calves because the
milk thoy require will be worth more
than they, when they are two months
old. Every cow is the better for having
reared afine calf annually,as she will be
more profitable to her owner than when
her calf is not permitted to suck. For
the benefit of American agriculture,
farmers ought to raise more neat cattle
Do not allow turkeys and gallinaceous
fowls to roam over grain fields and
meadows, as they do great injury by
breaking down the growing plants which
are only a few inches high.
In those localities where animals may
be turned to pasture during the last of
this month, let the change from dry
feed to grass be made with care, and
gradually, to avoid the injurious effects
of scours.
Close Preaching.
Tlie following illustration of some re
vivals of religion and of the piety of
some people, as given several years ago
by a colored preacher in Montgomery,
Ala., is forcible and instructive. Alas!
mußtitbeso? “Bymeby ‘vival’s gone
—an dare dey lie till 'noder ’vlval.”
“My bredren,” said he, “God bless
your souls, 'ligion is like de Alabama
river! In spring come fresh, an'bring
irr-all de ole logs, slabs an’ sticks,, dat
hab been lyin’ on de bank, an’ carry
dem down in de current. Bymeby de
water go down—den a log cotch here on
dis island, den a slab gets cotched on de
shore, ah’ de sticks on de bushes—and
dere dey lie, wlthrln’ an 1 dryin’ till
come’noder fresh. Jus’ so dare come
'vlval of ’ligion—dis ole sinner brought
in, dat ole backslider bro’t back, an’ de
old folk seem cornin', an' mighty good
times. But, bredreu, God bless your
souls; bymeby 'vival's gone—den dis
ole sinner is stuck on his own sin, den
dat ole backslider Is cotched where he
was afore, on jus’ such a rock; den one
after ’noder dat had got ’ligion lies all
along de shore, an' dere dey lie till
’noder 'vival. Belubed bredren, God
bleßs your souls, keep in de current.' 1
A correspondent of the Glasgow
Herald Bays : "On Sunday morning
last whilst walking with a friend in a
garden, we observed two bees issuing
from one of the hives, bearing with
them the body of a defunct comrade,
with which they flew for a distance of
twelve yards. We followed them close
ly, and noted the care with which they
seleoted a convenient hole at the side of
the gravel walk—the tenderness .with
which they committed the body, head
downwards, to the earth—and the solic
itude with which they afterwards push
ed against it two little stones, doubtles 8
‘in memoriam.' Their task being end
ed, they paused for about minute, per
haps to drop over the grave of their
friend a sympathizing tear, and then
flew away to the hive.”
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 18, 1866.
The Anticipating Judge.
As a Judge, Lord Avonmore had one
great fault ; he was apt to take up a first
impression of a cause, and It was very
difficult afterwards to obliterate it. The
advocate, therefore, had not only to
struggle against the real obstacles pre
sented to him by the case itself, but al
ways with the imaginary ones created
by the hasty antlcipationsof that judge.
Curran was one day most seriously an
noyed by this habit of Lord Avonmore,
and he took the following whimsical
method of correcting it. (The reader
must remember that the object of the
narrator was, by a tedious and malici
ous procrastination, to irritate his hear
er into the vice he was so anxious to
eradicate.) They were to dine together
at the house of a common friend, and a
large party were assembled, many of
whom witnessed the occurrences of the
morning. Curran, contrary to all his
usual habits, was late to dinner, and at
length arrived in the most admirable
affliction.
“Why, Mr. Curran, you have just
kept us a full hour waiting dinner for
you,” grumbled out Lord Avonmore.
“ O, my dear lord, I regret It muoh ;
you must know It is not my custom ;
but I’ve Just been witness to a most
melancholy occurrence!”
“My God I you seem terribly moved
by it; take a glass of wine. What was
it? what was it?”
“ I will tell you, my lord, the moment
I collect. I had been detained at court
—in the Court of Chancery—your lord
ship knows the Chancellor sits late.”
“Ido—Ido; but go on.”
“ Well, my lord, I was hurrying here
as fast as I could—l did uot even change
my dress —I hope I shall be excused for
coming in my boots.”
“ Poll, poll, never mind your boots ;
the point —come at once to the point of
your story.”
“ Oh, I will, my lord, in a moment;
I walked here ; I would not even wait
to get the carriage ready ; it would have
taken time, you know. Now there is a
market exactly in the road by which I
had to pass ; your lordship may perhaps
recollect the market, do you ?”
“To be sure I do; go oil, Curran —go
on with the Btoryi” „
“ I am very glad your lordship re
members the market, for I totally for
got the name of it —the name —the
name—”
“What the devil signifies the name
of it, sir?—lt’s the Castle Market.”
“ Your lordship is quite right; it is
called the Castle Market. Well, I was
passing through that very identical
Castle Market when I observed a
butcfier preparing to kill a calf. He had
a huge knife in his hand; It was as
sharp as a razor. The calf was stand
ing behind him ; he drew the knife to
plunge it into tlie animal. Just as he
was in the act of doing so, a little boy
about four years old—his only sod, the
loveliest little boy I ever saw, run sud
denly across the path, and he killed—
oh, my God ! he killed —"
“ The child ! the child ! the child !"
vociferated Lord Avonmore.
“ No, my lord, tlie calf,” continued
Curran very coolly. “He killed the
calf, but your lordship is in the habit of
anticipating.”
The universal laugh was thus raised
against his lordship ; and Curran de
clared that often afterward a first im-
preßsion was removed more easily from
the Court of Exchequer by the recol
lection of the calf in Castle Market than
by all the eloquence of the entire pro
fession.
Wonderful Optical Illusions.
Professor Pepper, delivering lectures
on optics in London, gives some new
and astonishing experiments in illustra
tion of optical illusions, the most re
markable of. which are called “the
Modern Delphic Oracle ” and “ the
Fairy Casket.” In introducing the for
mer, the Professor calls upon the audi
ence to call to mind ancient Greece.
The curtain rises and the interior of a
Grecian temple is disclosed. Drapery
in the background Is pushed toone Bide,
and a figure, classically costumed uud
reading intently a scroll which heholds
in one hand, advances. The Professor
explains that the figure must be sup
posed to represent a noble Athenian,
erudlteand highly gifted. Through an
acquaintanceship which he had formed
with one ot the priests of Iris, the indi
vidual gets possession of a sacred scroll
which informs him that by means of
certain charms and incantations he can
hold converse with the dead. He pro
ceeds to do so at once; and after some
formalities calls upon Socrates. Slowly
the curtain through which the Atheni
an before appeared, is drawp aside, and
a head apparently floating through the
air, is disclosed. There seems to be no
mistake about the head being human.
It is, apparently, Socrates, and seem
ingly “all alive.”
Gradually the eyes open and look
about most naturally, and In obedience
to the demand of the Athenian the voice
of Socrates is heard in pronouncing Ills
own opinion ofthedecisionofhisjudgus.
To render the Illusion as real as possible,
an instrument is placed in front of the
stage which has the effect of throwing
a strong reflection on any object that
comeß between it and the papered wall
at the back of the stage. The reflection
of the head, and the head alone, on the
back-ground, adds much to the bewil
derment with which every spectator,
not in the secret witnesses it. Besides,
as the head delivers Itself of the beauti
ful lines with which it Is Intrusted, the
beard Is observed to mpve with each ar
ticulation of the voice. Yet the whole
is, as the professor takes some trouble
to remind his audience when any fresh
cause for surprise Is unfolded, nothing
more than a simple illusion.
The “fairy casket” Is equally sur
prising. It consists of a strong table,
some four feet high, with four legs,
which are open to the inspection of all.
On this table Is deposited a large glass
box of nearly the same size as the table.
The whole Is covered with drapery,
when It is brought in front of the stage,
close to the foot-lights. The closest in
spection Is invited. On the covering
being removed, the table and glass box,
as above described, appear. The glaSB
box seems to contain black velvet and
charcoal.
The professor opens the box and fills
It still further with what appears to be
more charcoal. He then ordered his
assistant to shut down the glass lid and
cover the box. Iq a few minutes the
box is uncovered, and It appears to be
filled with white satin instead of black
velvet, and roses instead of charcoal. A
white satin oußhion is taken out of the
box, and after it a real live fairy is hand
ed up from its depths, nimbly extricates
herself, and bows her acknowledgment
of the greetings with which she is re
ceived. i
The box is again covered and uncover-'
ed. The result is tjjjat the black velvet
and charcoal again appear in the interi
or. The contents of the box are again
produced. Theyconsist ofa large black
cushion and a most interesting looking
little negro, who, after jumping out of
the box, tnrows himself in a kneeling
attitude, and, appealing to the audience,
says, “Am I not a man and a brother?”
These are the two principle illusions
which have been, we understand draw
ing such vast numbers to the polytech
nic ever since their production.
The Untrained Creeper.
“ Mother,” said Emily,
a holiday to day?”
“A holiday, my dear! Why?”
11 Why, I don’t see why I should be
always at work and learning my les
sons. I cannot see what good it does.”
"Suppose, my dear child, I had let
that creeper outside the window grow
for a month without attempting to train
11 Why, mother, I suppose it would
have grown very loug and hung all
about.”
“ And do you not think that then I
should have found It almost impossible
to train It through the trellls-work as I
have done? You saw me, as the young
plant grew each day, and the stem was
tender, train it through the trellis, and
bend it whither I would; and nowit
has grown up just where and what I
wished it should be, looking very pretty,
and shading us nicely as we sit at the
open window, instead of being in the
way whenever we walk in the verandah.
And now I wish you to learn this lesson,
that if you do not gain habits of appli
cation and perseverance when you are
young, by the time you are grown up
you will And it difficult, nay, almost
impossible, to obtain them.”
Emily did not, as many girls would
have done, persevere in saying, ‘‘Well,
I think It is very tiresome to do all
these stupid tilingsbut sbe went
quietly nnd got her work, sitting down
by her mother's side.
‘‘When I have done my work then I
will learn my lessons, and after that I
shall be ready to play.”
Emily found her morning’s work til
ted her better than anything else to en
joy her playtime.
A .Vcw Translation of the Bible.
The graud preliminary Convehtlon
for taking steps for a new translation
of the Bible which has been in course
of preparation for years held Its first
session in Paris recently and Is stated
to be a great success. The leading men
of the Catholic, Protestant and Jewish
Churches have united for the first time
in this great work, the object being to
combat Infidelity, and especially the
writings of such men as Renan. As the
President said in his opening address,
the three great divisions of the Church,
if they could not agree on the dogmas
which they drew from the Bible, could
at least agreeon the philology and liter
ature of that book, and they cpfild also
agree on the necessity of doing some
thing to put a stop to the provisions it
was undergoing by the modern writers
of tile school of Renau. The first meet
ing was overrun with men of learning,
and as there is none or little opposition
to the project, great hopes are entertained
that the convention will be harmonious
and that important results will be arrived
at.
The Family Circle.
Endearments bind together the mem
bers of the household—sharers of the
same flesh and blood, which are found
of the same kind and to the same degree
nowhere else on earth. The dwellers
in this common home, too, have a com
mon share in the blessings and trials
which befall their habitation. They are
fed at the same board, repose under the
same roof, and the joys and sorrows of
one are very much the joyß and sorrows
of tlie whole group. What a place those
parents hold in this little empire.—
How their words have power, and
their will is law, and their
very footsteps are walked into;
and how those whom God has given
them are prized beyond all earthly
things, as the jewels of their ousket.
Where, where, in ull this footstool of
the Dispenser of our mercieß should Uod
be acknowledged, if not here? .Shall
not the voice of gratitude and praise as
cend from that board spread with plen
ty, and around an altar reared for the
morning and the evening sacrifice ot
humble and grateful hearts? You may
not only buinish your own armor and
find refreshment for your spirit here,
soldier of Christ, but here is a favored
spot in which to train recruits to join
the sacramental hosts.
An Item for the Home Circle.
Somebody says, and truly too, that
there are few families, anywhere, in
which love is not abused as furnishing
thelicense forimpoliteness. A husband,
father, or brother, will speak harsh words
to those he loves best, simply because
the secresy of loveand family pride keep
him from getting his head broken. It
is a shame that a man will speak more
impolitely, at times, to his wife or sister
than he would to any other female ex
cept a low, vicious one. It is thus that
the honest affections of a man's nature
prove to be a weaker protection to a
woman in a family circle than the re
straints of society, and that a woman
usually Indebted for the kindest polite
ness of life to those not belonging to her
own household. These thingß ought
not to be so. The man who, because It
will not be resented, inflicts his spleen
and bad temper upon those of his hearth
stone, is a small coward and a very
mean man. Kind words are circulating
mediums between true gentlemen and
ladies at home, and no polish exhibited
In society, can atone for the harsh lan
guage and disrespectful treatment too
often indulged in between .those bound
together by God’s own ties of blood,
and the most sacred bonds of conjugal
love.
“ Fanny Ferp” is now sixty years
old. Her face bears a striking resem
blance to that of her brother, N. P.
Willis. Fanny is an elegant woman.—
Her dress is faultless, quiet in tone, and
yet is very striking. She is a marked
woman in every assembly she enters.—
She delights in voire assertions and sav
age sentences, and it pleases her to think
that the world considers her a perfect
dragon. And yet under this volcano
of brimstone ripple a hundred rills of
tender feeling,, and Fanny Fern in
word and deed can be gentle, woman
ly and good. Her experience of life
would have aged an ordinary women
years ago. But like every other enemy
Fanny defies age, and he has not yet
dared to harm her as he can. Even
when at last Death shall seize and carry
her off, he will have to do it in a terri
ble hurry or he will miss his prize; for
Fanny is a woman who will never sub
mit to “ die by inches,”
3UiGcdliUU'oui
Startling ‘ Picture from a Clerkenvrell
Pest House——Miseries of the Casual
Poor.
The following account, from the Lon
don Daily Hewa, of the horrors which
occur in the Casual Poor ward of one of
the largest aud most respectable parish
es in is so graphic and is so ap
parently true that we quote it in its
entirety. There can be no occasion to
try to excite the feeling of any reader
by additional remarks; the narrative is
sufficient to rouse the indignation aud
the disgust of every one who lives in a
Christian community :
“ may I have
•‘ The pest-houses of Clerkeuwell are
as revoltiugly unfit for sleeping-places
as when we commented on them last.
On Saturday evening forty men aud
women were crammed into wards with
nominal accommodations for thirty,
and, having been locked up in the dark,
were left to scramble or fight for room
as they thought tit. At half-past nine
P. M. the padlock was, at our i request,
removed from the door of the wurd, on
the western side of the yard, and, after
borrowing a work-house lantern from a
pauper attendant, we walked to its ex
treme end. Ht was a.few paces, yet we
are unable to fully describe the scene,
from physical Inability to remain In the
foul affluvla we met. The lustunt the
door opened, achorusof complaints was
utfered up by the occupants; of the
buuks, who were lying perfectly naked
upon straw mattresses, with ,a single
rug over them. A division between
each sleeping place has been put up as
advised by Mr. Earcali; but these di
visions are made to aggravate the very
evils they were designed to prevent.
Iu many of the narrow spaces set oil
for one person, there were, on Sunday,
two naked tramps lying, their bodies in
such close contact as to look like one
many-legged, double headed monstrosi
ty rather than two human beings.—
When asked the reason why they took
off their shirts, the reply was the same
as at our previous visit: “ It's impossi
ble to keep them on for—insects.” No
shirt or substitute for shirt is provided
by the workhouse, no bath Is given and
no work enforced. Two stupid looking
dazed youths had not succeeded in forc
ing" themselves into one of tire already
occupied buuks, or in finding room to
lie down, and were now sitting; patient
ly in the dark, at the feet of their more
fortunate brethren. They neither looked
at the faces of those coming; iu, nor
spoke, nor moved, hut followed the
lantern with hungry eyes, as if its light
conveyed some dim sense of warmth
and comfort. Meanwhile, those In bed
clamored loudly on the insufficiency of
straw in their matresses ; the Impossi
bility of sleeping two in a lied, the cold,
the insects, and the the rugs.
Accepting an invitation to see ‘‘the
sort of thing a poor man had to lie on
who would have to look for work to
morrow,” we passed to thefurendof the
closet. It was Impossible to stay there.
No one had complained of the smell, but
the foul, acrid stencil of human bodies
and human breatli was so overpowering
that it was with some difficulty we
struggled against nauseau and dizziness,
and made for the door. This was re
locked, while the people within growled
and shouted, anti finally kicked at it,
and were left to wallow in the darkness
aud their filth, like so many obscene an
imals who were disgusting to others
and hateful to themselves. Crossing
tlie narrow yard and descending a few
steps, we are at the door of the cellar
where tlie remaining male tramps are
lying. This unlocked and opened, the
first object the light fijbm tho lantern
falls on is tlie figure of a perfectly naked
man, who has just succeeded in opening
tlie cellar window. This forlorn being
goes back to'his lair, and, wrapping his
rug round him, cowers down in a cor
ner, in a manner horribly suggestive of
a wil-1 beast; ‘We're bein poisoned,’
'We can’t breathe for the bad smell,’
•Turn out the man with the sore leg,'
‘Here’s another one here with a fe
ver,’ were shoutedout; anditwasfound
that the window had been opened, and
the disturbance made, because the
dreadful noisome condition of one .cas
ual made his presence dangerously of
fensive even to the obtuse senses of tlie
poor wretches round. He was an old,
feeble creature, who had gone to bed in
his clothes, and who promptly turned
up Ids trowsers when askbd*'=what he
suilered from. A foulanddirty bandage,
saturated with matter, aud discolored
with blood, concealed his sore, theraqk,
putrescent smell of which filled tlie nt
niosphereoftheward. Badas tlie stench
oftlie first sleeping pluce was.it became
insignificant when contrasted with tills,
while the closely packed naked figures,
thesqualldromnand tliedarkness, mude
up au aggregate of disgusting horrors
exceeding anything yet revealed of any
other workhouse in England. The man
with the bad leg eagerly availed lilm
self of an oiler tone taken In to the house,
and was removed to the receiving ward.
Shakedowns were ordered for the two
lads ; the casual accused of fever denied
the charge, and so was again locked up
with the rest, who were left to squabble
for room, to swear, to recriminate and
to inhale the shockingly poisonous air
until the morning.”
To understandUlie philosophy of this
phenomena essential to the very exis
tence of plants and animals, a few facts
derived from observation and a long
train of experiments must be remem
bered. Were the atmosphere every
where, at all times, at a uniform tem
perature, we should never have rain,
hail, or snow. The water absorbed by
it in evaporation from the sea and the
earth's surface would descend in an uu
perceptiole vapor or cease to be absorb
ed by the air when it was once fully
saturated. The absorbing power of the
atmosphere, and consequently its hu
midity, is proportionably greater in
warm than in cold air. The air near
the surface of the eartli is warmer than
in tlie region of the clouds. The higher
we ascend from the earth the colder we
find the atmosphere. Hence the per
petual snow on very high mountains in
the hottest climates. Now, when from
continued evaporation the air is highly
saturated with vapor (though it be in
visible), if its temperature is suddenly
reduced by cold currents descending
from above or rushing from a higher to
a lower latitude, its capacity to retain
moisture is diminished, clouds formed,
and the result is rain. Air condenses
as it cools, and like aspong Ailed with
water whicli its diminished capacity
cannot hold. How singular, yet how
simple, is such an admirable arrange
ment for watering the earth.— Scientific
American.
There is a mysterious feeling that
frequently passes over the mind like a
cloud. It comes upon the soul In the
bUBy bustle of life, in the social circle,
in the calm and silent retreat of solitude.
Its power is alike supreme over the
weak and the iron-hearted. At one
time it Ls caused by a single thought
across the mind. Again, a sound will
come booming across the ocean of mem
ory, gloomy and solemn as the death
kneil overshadowing all the bright
hopes and sunny feelings of the heart.
Who can describe it, and who has not
felt Its bewildering influence? Still it
is a delicious sort of sorrow ; and like a
cloud dimming the sunshine of the
river, although casting a momentary
shade of gloom, it enhances the beauty
of returning brightness.
A reverend gentleman, who has
been quite conspicuous in Wisconsin
radical politics for many years, 1b thus
irreverently treated by one of his party
papers at the State Capital: “ Elder
Spooner, the accomplished divine, re
porter, and member of the railroad lobby,
appeared in a clean shirt this morning.
He was not recognized by his most inti
mate friends.”
British Charities,
How Kaln Is Formed
Sadness.
NUMBER 15.
The Chinese In San Francisco—Visit to
the Fagan Temple.
{Cor. of Rochester Union and Advertiser.]
San Francisco, February 17.
Wednesday last, besides being Ash
Wednesday and Valentine Day, was
the first of the new year among the
Chinese of this city. 1 believe I have
told you that there are from 5,000 to 10,-
000 of the moon-eyed celestials in this
city. Among tnem are some very
wealthy and respectable merchants, and
the “doings’' of the New Year holidays
(four days) have'been quite interesting.
Fireworks aud crackers have been rat
tling in all parts of the city, but more
especially in that part of the town known
as China-town, where most of the
“ Johns" reside. Many of these mer
chants kept open house, and received
their white friends with as much digni
ty and ceremony as “any other mau.”
Champagne and other wines were ex
pended with liberality.
The temple was opened to all raelican
visitors who would honor them with
their presence, and I among others,
“honored” them with a call. The
building Is situated in a miserably dirty
alley, and is a small building, three
stories in height. The first story seems
to be occupied as asleeping and smoking
department. There were a number of
the “Johns” lingering in blissful re
pose upon the ttoor, while otlrers were’
enjoying the luxury of a Bmoke. The
strong fumes of opium which they
smoke not having a salutary ellect upon
my olfactory organs, I was obliged to
beat u hasty retreat, and forthwith
mounted to the second story. All about
this room were characters lu the Chinese
language, brllliaut lights were suspend
ed from the ceiling and incense burned
upon the several altars where were
reared the gods whom they worship.
On one side were rauged what 1 took to
be standards or poles unon which were
bauners. These standards were sur
mounted with figures, carved from
brass, In the Bhape of dragons ami mon
strosities of various forms. Near this
was reared an altar or pedestal where
an ugly looking animal of 1 the dragon
species received the homage-of the
“Johns.” Around the “ anitnile ”
were some beautiful specimens of Chi
nese handiwork, consisting of carved
work, embroidered work aud artificial
flowers, the whole being under a chn
opy of carved wood work, handsomely
gilded with gold, silver and carmine.
Before this nondescript kloj. were
placed plates containing oranges,candies
and cups of tea, given us au oljbring;
but the gentle “pussy” with the im
mense mouth and open jaws touched
them not.
In another portion of the rootfi art*
placed a large number, one hundred or
more, small figures, carved from brass,
representing Chinese in various alti
tudes and postures. I Inferred that this
was some historical representation. —
There were several spreads of most ex
quisite embroidery work, the figures
being of the dragon and mffrmuid order,
handsomely wrought In gold and silver,
upon heavy scarlet silk. These were
ottered for sale at Reventy dollars each.
The third story is the most important
one, for here in all his majesty and glory
sits the “Josh” of Joshes Tong Gee. lie
is a jolly, fat, and seemingly a very
good natured old fellow; his mouth Is
rather larger than is necessary for a
mortal to possess, and he grins constant
ly. He is a wooden man, but a great
man among the Chinese. His com
plexion is rather darker that that of his
devotees, being of dark brown, lie
sports a moustache of huge size. He,
also, had several plates of oranges, can
dies, and a lot of tea before him.
Whether it happened to be his lunch
hour or not, I did not ascertain. He
was seated under a canopy of richly
embroidered silks, carved wood work
and artificial Chinese flowers, all ar
ranged with that taste and skill which
the Chinese alone possess. There was
also a piece of embroidery work here
which is the most beautiful thing I have
ever seen. It represents the High Man
darin of China and his two children.
It was made in China, and exported to
this country expressly for the Temple.
As far as my observations extended, I
judge that the Chinese may liave no
service. There was a large number
present, but they seemed to be as un
concerned as their visitors.
Hair Wash for Dandruff.
A correspondent writing to us requests
a receipt for “preparing boar’s grease,”
to prevent his hair falling out, and to
free his head from dandruff. We are
not acquainted with any preparation of
bear’s grease, which is capable of effect
ing such important results. If there Is
any virtue 111 bear’s greaso to accom
plish such objects, we think tlie genuine
article must be superior to any chemical
preparatiou of it, and tho only way to
obtain it pure, to a certainty, is to nab
“Bruin,” and make sure of lilh pork.—
We give, as follows, however a very
good recelpe for making a lialr-wasli
which will remove dandruff and keep
the scalp clean and soft, so as to prevent
the hair, in ordinary circumstances,
from falling out: Take one pint of al
cohol and a table spoonful of castor oil,
mix them together in a bottlo by shak
ing them well for a few minutes, then
scent it with drops of oil of lavender.
Alcohol dissolves castor oil, like gum
camphor, leaving fhe liquid or wash
quiteclear, It does not seem to dissolve
any other unctuous oil ho perfectly,
hence no other iB equally good for tills
purpose. —Scientific American.
How Coal Was Discovered in Pennsilva-
A writer iu the New York Observer
asserts that Col. George Shoemaker, a
gentleman of Teutonic origin, was the
discoverer of Pennsylvania coal. He
lived on the Schuylkill and owned ex
tensive tracts. Tlie writer goes on to
say:
" It chanced one day that in con
structing a limekiln he used some of
the black atones that were lying about
the place. ‘ Mine Oot.' mine (Jot ! dcrc
athones pc all on fire ."—ex claimed the
astonished Dutchman, when the rich
glow of the ignited anthracite met his
gaze. The. neighbors, who, of course,
were few and far between, were after
much ado assembled to witness the
marvel. This happened in 181?.
Shortly after, mine ho3t loaded a Penn
sylvania team with the black atones,
and journeyed slowly to Philadelphia,
a distance ofninety-threemiles. ’1 here
unforeseen diillculties were presented.
Tlie grates and stoves then in use Vere
not constructed to ilellitute the com
bustion of anthracite, and burn It would
not! After many ineffectual efforts to
ignite the product, it was thrown aside
as worthless, and our discomfited Ger
man, who had beguiled his toilsome
way to the metropolis with dreams of
ingots, returned tocilgesthis disappoint
ment lu his mountain solitude.”
Changed his Mind,
Professor Duncan, of Aberdeen, asked
a lady to marry him ; the answer was
” No.” The subject was dropped, but
they soon met again, “Do you re
member” said the lady, “ a question
put to me when last we met?” The
professor said that he remembered.
“ And do you remember my nnswer ?”
11 Oh, yes,” said the professor. “ Well,
Mr. Duncan,” proceeded the lady, “I
have been led to change my mind.”
“ And so have I,” dryly responded the
professor. He retained his bachelorship
to the last.
Sir James Mackintosh invited Dr.
Parr to take a drive in his gig. The
horse became restive. “ Gently, Jim
my,” said the doctor, 11 don't irritate
him; alwayssootheyourhorse. Jimmy,
you’ll do better without me. Let me
down, Jimmy.” Once on terra flrma
the dootor’s view of the case was
changed. “ Now Jimmy, touch him
up. Never let a horse get the better of
you. Touch him up, conquer him, don’t
spare him—l’ll walk back.” c
. . 1.:.-: niTrti rtT
buntings ADvranaxraro, tu * yniur
square of ten tinea; tan per cent. InareaaeTo*
fractions of a year.' - , , ■ .
Bm.KSTATE, Bogomil FxanßTT.anaXHn
kbait Asyxsnsrao, 7 cents a Un» ftr-tbe
firsthand 4 easts for each anbeeqoent Jneer
lion.
Patxst MsDionrag and other adver'a by the
column: .
One oolnmn, 1 year,—.3loo
Half eolnmn, 1 year——to
Third eolnmn, 1 year, 40
Quarter column,- —.... 80
Bnannss Oasna, of tenllnea or leaa,
one year,.. 10
Bnalneaa Cards, five lines or leaa, one
year,...„_ 5
LEQAX. Axn OTHXB Nonas—
Executors' notices 3.00
Administrators' notioes, 3.00 •
Assignees’ notices, 2.00
Auditors' nottcea, 1M
Other "Notices,'' ten lines, or less,
three times, .50
The Power of Kind Words.
We have seldom seen a more striking
Illustration of the power of kinds words,
than in the following extracts from the
confession of the robber and murderer,
Henry Wilson. In two instances a few
casual works of kindness saved the
lives of those whouttered them,although
they knew nothing of their danger :
“ When we got in front of the house,
we saw what we took to be a man and
his wife, aud three young women and a
boy, eating supper. I proposed to Tom
that we should go in and ask to warm,
and sit down by the stove afew minutes,
and I would look over the ohance
a little, and if I coueludod that
we could not guard the doors
and windows to prevent the escape
of any one, I would say: “ Como
Tom. let’s be goingbut if I Bhould
say, ‘‘Well, Tack, are you ready?” he
was to place himself between the front
windows, to guard them, and I would
guard tlie door, draw our revolvers, and
demand a surrender. I told Tom not to
shoot any oue, unless it was necessary
to prevent their escape, aud we would
tie them all, rob the house of what
we wanted, then kill them and set lire
to the house ; and if any one should
come In while wo were at work, we
were going to shoot him os he should
come In nt the door.
‘‘Dare you do this?” sold I to Tom.—
“Yes, I dare do anything that you dare
to do,” said Tom. So I wentto thedoor
and knocked. Thomnn said "Comein.”
We went lu and nsked to warm by the
stove. Ho Bald, “Yes, you can warm.”
We sat and warmed till they were near
ly through supper, aud I thought best
to make the attack before they got up
from tho table. So I got up to give Tom
the signal, and tho man, supposing I
had got up to go, said, “Won'tyou Btay
and take some supper?” . “Yes wo will
takesupper with you.” The man looked
as if lie thought I accepted his invita
tion to supper rather coolly ; but if ho
had known wliatour intentions were, he
would have been perfectly satisfied with
my answer, for his kind invitation at
the moment when I was about to give
the signal to Tom, saved his life and
that of his family.”
He also relate»another incident where
by two lives were saved in tho samo
way :
“ When I got to Herkimer, I left the
railroad ami took tho carriage road, and
about a mile from thetownl saw a man
ami womau in the road before me going
tho name way. I thought I would pass
them and see how they looked, and if
well dressed I would turn back, shoot
tho mau and rob him, and take tho
woman over into tho tlelds away from
the road and keep her company until
about one o'clock, and then kill her,
and 1 would liave time to take care of
myself beforo morning. Tills was about
ten o’clock in tho evening. Ho I
went on and passed them, and saw
tlint they were well dressed and
walking very slow, and appeared
to bo lovers. I went on Just out of sight
of them, and then started baok, took
out my revolver and cocked it, andJUßt
as I was going to shoot him he spoko
very pleasantly to mo : “ Good eve
ning, sir.” I answered, “Goodevening,”
and passed on. Hinee I have been writ
ing my.- history, several persons have
said to me, that they hoped I would
give good advice in it. The best advice
I can give Is—' Always treat a stranger
kindly, for you don't know who or what
he is, lior do you know how much good
a kind uet or civil word may do you.’ 'J
A Thrilling Incident.
A contributor to the Atlanta Intelli
gencer concludes his “Reminiscences
of the War, No. 2,” with the following
incident of the battlo of Gettysburg.
When Gen. Longstreetadvanced.upon
the Federal left, its first line was
carried But the enemy being heavily
reinforced, rallied, aud, in turn, drove
our portion of tile line (Anderson’s bri
gade) from tlie position, as well as other
brigudes on our right and left. Again
we charged and uguln were driven back.
Tills was a critical moment for us;
nearly all of our general offleere wero
killed or wounded. Our heavy line had
crumbled to a mere handful, and the
ilower of Longstreet's corps lay welter
ing in blood. We wero slowly retreat
ing, leaving many of our dead and
wounded in the hands of the exulting foe.
TlieliostHof the enemy came on like tho
mighty tides ol the ocean and tho loud
peons of victory were already rising from
their hauglity lips. The blue hills in
their rear wore bristling with bayonets,
and pouring torroutH of reinforcements
down their winding slope. Now, when
we should have been reinforced with
80,000 troops, Gen. Leo had not a mati
to Homl us. Otllcors broke their swords
upon tlie roekH. aud many of the men
wept. Our dead and wounded comrades
luy around us by thousands, and it
seemed uh if there was no hand to savo
tlie shattered remnant from destruction.
But aid did come—a man—a solitary
mail, threw himself before the Jugger
naut of Federal power, and alone and
unaided, sought to stay its onward
progress. I remember, as if it were but
yesterday, the Zouave cap and Iron
grey liiur of the stranger. None knew
him, but all idolized him for his
bravery. He moved through the
awful Htorm with a steady step, and his
uplifted swprd seemed to say to the ad
vancing foe, “ thus far Hhalt thou come
and no farther.” He said nothing, but
ills godlike example made a hero of
every man who saw him. Soldiers
looked in the face of their comrade, and
the question came simultaneously to
their blackened lips, “ Who is he ?”
echoed right and left, far up and down
the line. The enemy came on like a
tornado, and tlie proud hero stood _
enveloped in the smoke of their muskets,
like a lion at bay. Men forgot to reload
tlieir pieces or conceal themselves be
hind tlie rocks but stood stupefied with
wonder. “Who is he?” men groihed
—“ who 1h he ?” officers repeated, until
the cry became strangely wildly fearful.
“ General Lee,” some one shouted, and
the word ran along the line like an
electric flash, “Gen. Lee forever!”
rung loud above the battle’s roar, and
as one man our gallant soldiers rushed
like a thunder bolt upon the astonished
foe; “follow Gen. Lee!” cried our
wounded comrades, as they lay upon
the trampled earth and tossed up their
bloody cups. No body of men on the
broad green earth could have withstood
the terrible impetuosity of this oußet.
The Federal troops, though they fought
desperately, were compelled to give
back, and at last to retreat In confusion
to the heights, leaving their dead and
wounded In our hands.
But where was the stranger? Alasi
"The paths of glory lead but to the
grave.” The war is over now, and the
brave men whom we met that day as
deadly enemies, we now meet os friends.
We would not detract one ray from the
crown of military fame that adorns
each of their heroes, but would do Jus
tice to our lamented dead; and if, by
this imperfect sketch, I can add one
flower to the chaplet of a fallen hero’s
fame, I shall feel myself amply re
warded. And that hero—” whole he?”
The answer comes up from the graves
of Gettysburg—General Paul J. Sem
mes.
A Spiritualist, called Eliza Gulotin
has been stopping forsometimeatßtutt
gart, who pretends to have the clearest
insight into past, present, and luture.
Not long ago, however, she fell into
great perplexity and wrath, for, being
asked whether Ciesar’sspirltwaspresent,
she made affirmative answer, and de
clared herselfready to serve as a medium
between spirit and audience. Thereat
the inquirer lifteefup his voice; and, in
the Latin tongue, addressed many ques
tions to the presumed ghost. Ctesar
then replied, through Eliza, that he was
not wise in the classics, and could make
response only in German, or Russian,
wliereat theaudlencelaughed immoder
ately, and Eliza was sorely vexed. As
she is pretty and young, however, there
can be no doubt of her success, ,