: iaiwajJiw ; tftffelilSHra BVSBT WEDNESDAY BY VOOBSB, SANDEUSON A CO. . ■ i t a. G BKITH, i J. M, COOPBB, WH. A. ifOBTON, ALEBED SANDERSON TERMS—ywo Dollars; per annum, payable all caqea In advance. , ■ —r UFPIOB-rSOUTHWEST |OOBNEB OP CENTRE SQUARE. ’ , 49-All letters on bqblness should be ad dressed to OOQPBR, & CO. ffljjtWJ. '-i i «l»d Choose fo be a Baby.” (The fallowing parody by Fred. Buokley on the beautiful ballad, “T*d Choose to be a Daisy,” Is published in shpet niusic by one of the music houses in New York] . ‘ I'd choose to be a baby, A darling little flower. Without a care or sorrow, As 1 was lu ohlldliood’s hour; When ladies (heaveu bless them,) They’d kiss me and they’d vow That they could almost eat me— Why don’t they do it now ? When I used to be a baby They’d to my cradle creep; They'd klaa me and hug and cuddle me, Till I fell off to sleep ; Yes, Iris- and squeeze me too, Till I felt anyhow; They’d even wash and dress me— Why don’t they do it now ? For pleased they were to nnrse me, They would t’ ke me on their lap, And would stuff my little stomach full Of lollpops and pap. They would show me tops and buttons, And If I made a row, They’d press me to their bosoms— Why don't they do It now? When the ladles used to love me They would make me such nice clothes, They would make me nice morocco shoes, And wipe my little nose. And when the shades of evening came, And sleep came o’er my brow, They said it’s time to go to bed— But they never say It now. PfccettaiMMM. A Holden Wedding. Fiftieth Anniversary of the Xii|»Uulm of UlHhop HopltliiN, of Vermont. Correspondence of the Now York Times. Burunoton, Vt., June 7, 18(30. In an age in which iron and brass so closely meet and blend that it is almost impossible to tell where the one ends ana the other begins, a bid to any golden wedding is not to bo slighted. And you may be sure that an Invitation to at tend the celebration of the fiftieth anni versary of the nuptials of Right Rev, J. H. Hopkins, I). D., LL. IX, Bishop of the .Diocese of Vermont, did not, in my tease, fall upon sluggish ears. (In conformity with established usage and in deference to a certain formality generally expected in print, I bestow upon the Bishop all the titles which are his of right, though under the more familiar address of “ Bishop Hopkins," a man eminent not only as a scholar uud divine, but also combining in him self the accomplishments of the poet, the painter, the musician, the orator and the architect, he is widely known and quite as widely esteemed and be- loved.) , . The occasion promised to be an emi nently Interesting one. The Bishop has resided at Burlington—the pleas- antest little city In Vermont—for many years, and his house has been, in a mea sure, the Meoca of travelers. It is beau tifully situated, overlooking the bright blue waters Of the beautiful bay, dotted with the white sails of passing vessels. Married in Old Harmony, Butlercounty, Pa., May S, ISIO thirteen children— nine hoys and four girls—have Been born to the Bishop, nine of whom are living. And so witli grand-children and great-grand-chlldreu tnere was enough material foracapltalcelebration, even shutting out the world outside his own hearthstone, hut the Bishop issued a general invitation to his parish, and a multitude of friends availed themselves of the opportunity to pay their respects to the venerable bride and bridegroom of fifty years ago, hole ami vigorous enough in their green old age to iuaplre the hope that botli may be spared to celebrate in another golden wedding, the happiest epoch of their lives. The annual Convention of the Diocese of Vermont being now assembled iu Burlington, the most distinguished clergymen of the Episcopal Church were present, and besides these, visitors came from Han Francisco, New Orleans, Montreal, Pittsburgh, Boston, New York and many other distant cities. At a meeting of the clergy of the diocese on the morning of the 6th, the usual routine was broken by the presentation of a pastoral staff or “ crook "—emble matical of his office as shepherd of the fold—to the Bishop. This was of oak, beautifully carved, and seven feet in length. Near the middle of the staff there was an ornamental knob of silver, the panels of which contained pictures representing the five wounds ot Christ, St. Paul, Archbishops and Bishop White, who ordained Bishop Hopkins —an Idea of the Apostolic succession. The crook at the end b! the staff was elegantly carved and gilded, the centre containing a statuette in gold of the good shepherd, with lambs in his arms, BUrrounded by sheep iu silver. The cost of the staff was SHOO. It was presented by Bev. Mr. Hale, Rector of Arlington, with an appropriate address. In accordance with the rule of the week it commenced showering in the morning, and the drops seemed to grow with the day, until in the afternoon their size and volume assumed propor tions almost phenomenal. For nigh upon two hours the rain Cell in a per fect sheet of water—bringing to mind that “wet sheet” of which the song makes mention, while in the streets surged and swelled the “flowing sea” of lyric memory. Nevertheless the Bishop’s house was thronged through out the day by callers who availed themselves of the privileges of old friends, setting aside the fact that the invitations were Issued for 7.30 in the evening, in their desire to evade the crowd which they expected would then have possession of the house. Evening found the house full at the appointed hour —not unpleasantly so, however. The dampness of the grass cheated those who expected a dance on the lawn, but the grounds laid out under the guidance of the Bishop’s own exquisite taste— with all his gettings he has got a thor ough knowledge of landscape garfien ing—showed to excellent advantage, the shrubbery and flowers coming up all the greener in leaf and brighter in blossom for their great douche. As the evening grew darker and the windiug paths becume indistiuct to the unassist ed eye, lanterns were suspended in the trees, while several large locomotive lamps, shedding their powerful light through the grounds, made them so light that guests were not at all incon venienced in going to and from their carriages. Over the frontdoorinquaint old letters of variously colored lights, this legend was blazoned, or rather blazed, “Golden Wedding.” The large drawing-room and three large rooms adjoining, the walls covered with paint ings from the Bishop’s brush and dec orated with evergreens and flowers, were thrown open for the reception of guests. At one end of the drawing-room the wall bore a large cross, in evergreen, with the legend “1816 and 1866;” be neath sat the Bishop and she who half a century ago became his bride. It was a beautiful sight, and ifanyonedoubted that a well-spent life brings its certain and sure reward, certainly that doubt must have been dispelled. Most of the sons and daughters, thirty grandchil dren, and fourgreat-grandchildrenwere present. The days of the patriarchs seem ed revived, and in the venerable Bishop we beheld a Jadob—a Jacob untroubled by the memoriesofabrother Esau unkindly dealt with. At 8 o’clock the cadets of the Vermbnt Episcopal Institute march ed in, led by their officers, and accom panied by the Rev. Theodore A. Hop kins, President of the Institute, and the assistant teachers. Standing in the centre of the room they sung a song, "The Golden Thread,” the words'and music written by Rev. J. H. Hopkins, Jr., several yearsago. The cadets made a fine appearance in their neat and well fitting uniforms of grey, acquitting themselves musically as well as man -1 fully. The next song was a great sur ' prise to the Bishop and Mrs. Hopkins, who looked wpnderlngly at each other as its chorus rose and swelled, as though to ask how it could be or how it came to be composed and rehearsed without their knowledge. This was 11 The i ' i Golden Wedding Song,” the composi .l iiition (both words and music) of the first , born son, John Henry, Sung by the '' ivholb family standing around the two ‘ifrpmwhom all had sprung, it may well '■; j be imagined that it brought tears to the eyes of those to whom itwaa addressed, I jfntcUuicndT. VOLUME 6T, while the assembled company could but share in the emotion. This was the chorus: “At Home, Father ! Home, Mother ! All, all at home!" Several other songs, of the Bishop’s own composition, weresung, theßishop and Mrs. Hopkins uniting In the choruses. The former aged 7 land the latter 71 their voices show still fewer wrinkles than their brows, seeming to have mellowed rather than hardened and cracked with age. . On and near a table in an adjoining parlor the presente were displayed, and this table naturally was one of the chief centres of attraction duringtheevening, drawing crowds only rivalled by the one which thronged around the Bishop and Mrs. Hopkins. I was never good at enumeration, but allow me to tell as nearly as I can what these presents were: First, there was a new carpet, costing $3OO, presented by the lady members of St. Paul’s Church. (The carpet, however, was on the floor, and not upon the table.) A silver pitcher, silver and goblets, from the older mem bers of the Institute. About $350 from the laity of the Diocese, and a few others. I am sorry to say that all of this was not in gold. The Rev. Dr. Balah, canon of the Mon treal Cathedral, gave a fine oaken prayer desk and several large pictures. Members of the family contributed every little article that affection could prompt. For the Bishop—oh, ye con demners of the Virginian weed, hold up your hinds in horror, for know that lie smokes—there was tobacco anil a magniiioent meerschaum pipe, mounted in gold. A gold watch and chain. Ibere was also a gold watch and chain foi Mrs. Hopkins. And as I can no longer pretend to distinguish or remember for which of the parents the presents were, let me tell them off all together: Lace curtains, lace shawl and set, a case of Farina cologne, a large afghan, a set ot furs, a silver castor, cups, cigar holders, portemonnaies, pipes, gold pencils, broodies and sleeve buttons, silver knives, china ware, toilette vessels, a silver card case, worsted lamp mats, a tete-a-tete for tea, gold thimbles, Ink stands, a large picture of the Bishop on porcelain, a carved book rack, twolarge easy chairs, and many other articles ot comfortable furniture, aud a large family Bible—one of the chef d'amvres of the English press, costing $lOO. My attention wus particularly attracted by a chain, made from the Bishop s hair, for Mrs. Hopkins. It was white as sliver. And I fancy that what the mothor will value quite as much ns any otlior of the treasures given her, Is a necklace of all her children’s hair, beau tifully braided and studded with gold. Refreshments were served during the evening, and in social converse and the exehuege of oougratulatlonsapproprlate to the occasion, the hours wore away. At about 10 o’clock the whole company sang the Evening Hymn, the Bishop pronounced the benediction, and the company began to disperse. Probably many who read this article have seen the Bishop pronounce the blessing in church, and will remember his appear ance as he stands in his robes, with up lifted bauds, the softened sunbeams streaming through the richly-stained glass of the great window, and falling upon fils head—a blessing from Heaven upon the blessor. Those who have will little wonder that among the other Bishops he is called “ the Apostle,” for certainly there was never on earth, in human form, a nearer approach to the ideal Apostolic appearance. But never even when surrounded with all the ac cessories of office have I heard the bene diction so affectiugly spoken as by that white haired Priestof God, in the bosom ofhlsown family, his children, hlsgrand children, his great grandchildren, the members of his parish, and friends among whom so many years of his life aud labors have been passed, standing around him as he implored for all present “ the peace of God which passeth all understanding.” And by his side stood the partner of so many years of joy—for looking upon the placid contented countenances of both it is impossible to realize that either has known sorrows —still able to sing and play Upon organ, harp and piano. To day the family united in a dinner at the Bißhop’s house, on which occasion the Bishop presented each member with ilia Autobiography in verse —100 copies of which were printed for the family only. Thirty or forty sat down to din ner. To-morrow they all partake of the Holy Communion together—and so will end the most interesting and impressive family re-union ever I witnessed, or in all probability ever shall see. A lesson for Dad. An old gentleman farmer, who had two or three very pretty daughters, was so very anxious of his charge that he would not permit them to keep the company of young men. However, they adopted the following expedient to enjoy the society of their lovers, without the knowledge of their father : After the old man had retired to rest, the girls would hang a sheet out of the window, which was quite a distance from the ground, and the beau would seize hold of it, and with the assistance of his lady-love, who tugged lustily at the end above, would thus gain entrance. But it so happened that one evening the girls hung out the sheet rather early ; for the old gentleman, by some ili wind, was blown around the corner, and spying the bed-covering, could not conjecture, the meaning of its being there. He took hold and endeavored to pull it down. The girls, supposing it to be one of their beaux, began to hoist, and did not discover their mistake until the head of the old man was level witli the window-sill, when one of them ex claimed, “Oh! Lord, it’s dad!” and letting go their hold, Bouse came the old man on the hard stones and ground below, dislocating one of his shoulders, which convinced him that his efforts to make old maids of his daughters was not a matter so easily accomplished, and, withdrawing all opposition to their keeping company, he was soon a father in-law. Soda Water—-Its History. We will venture to say that very few of our readers who frequent the soda fountains know the manner in which the beverage is made. Soda water is simply pure water impregnated with carbonic acid gas. It is known by its agreeable pungent taste, by its slightly exhilarating qualities, and its bubbling and sointillation. The water to be im pregnated with the gas is placed in a strong vessel, made of iron or copper, called a fountain. The gas, after being passed through the water to purify it, is conducted to the fountain, and, after sufficient agitation in contact with the gas, at a high pressure, the'water be comes impregnable, and is then what is known as soda water. The first exper iments were made by Venal, in France, 1751), and publishedin 1776; by Priestly, in 1798; and, later, by Bergman, Black, Van Helmot, and others. The first manufactory in the world was estab lished at Geneva, by Goss, an apothe cary of that city, whose annual sales amounted to 40,000 bottles of ‘‘Eau de Belts.” In lt9o, his partner, Mr. Paul, founded an establishment in Paris, where were compounded not only the principal mineral waters of France, but even those of foreign countries. From this time onward, laboratories multi plied all over Europe, and the maufae ture of simple agrated water is now-con ducted on so large a scale ih all civilized 1 ' i countries, that a very large amount of inventive talent has been, successfullv i employed in improving the necessary 1 1 apparatus, ' The European War, Strength of the Ooofcemlli** Powers. I.—PBUSBIA. The area of Prussia is at present 108,- 212 English square miles, or about equal to the combined territory of Georgia and Florida. The population, accord ing to the census of 1864, was 19,304,843, falling but little below that of the North ern States of the Union. The great majority of the population are Germans; the total number of persons belonging to non-German nationalities being 2,- 504,179. A considerable portion of the latter are feeble remnants of small tribes which are rapidly beingabsorbed by the German nationality. Within the last few years the Government of Prussia made several important addi tions to the former dominions, acquiring first the two Principalities of Hohen zollem, the next the importaqtseacoast district of Yahde, which it purchased from Oldenburg, and more recently the Duohy of Lauenburg which was ceded to it by Austriu for a pecuniary consid eration. It holds, moreover, possession of Schleswig, and avows its intention to permanently annex to Prussia both this Duchy and that of Holstein. In point of administration, Prussia is not inferior to any other country of the world. Its finances, unlike those of Aaatria and Italy, are in a sound con dition ; its army discipline has long been the admiration of the entire civi lized world. The army, on a war foot ing, numbers 700,000, and its fleet con sisted, in 1860, of 37 steamers, 8 sailing vessels, 40 rowing vessels; total, 85war vessels. The reigning King is William I, born in 1797, who succeeded his brother Frederic William IV, in Janu ary, 1861. lI.—AUSTRIA, The Austrian Empire, as at present constituted, is divided into nineteen Provinces, the area of which is 236,811 English square miles, with a total population, according to computation, of 30,795,000 souls. This population is divided, with respect to race and lan guage, into no fewer than twelve dif ferent nationalities, namely: Germans, 8,200,000 Servians, Bohemians,) Bulgarians, Moravians, !• 3,000,000 Magyars, Hlovacks, J Italians ilnelU' Poles. 2,200,000 slveofLatlus Rnsslans, 2.800,000 AFrlaulsJ 8,059,000 Slavonians, 1,210,000 Eastern Ho- Croats, 1,360,000 mans, 2,700,000 Members of other races 1,430,000 Austria Is one of the great military powers of Europe, her army on the war footing being over half a million of men. The (navy, however, is comparatively small, consisting, In August, 18G4, of 31) steamers with 0311 guns, 11,730 horse power, and 20 sailing vessels with 145 guns. Great efl'orts have been made within the last few years tq raise the Imperial navy to a state of high elll ciency by the substitution of steam for sailing vessels, and the gradual forma tion of an Iron olad fleet of war. Austria has become a constitutional monarchy since 1849, the main features of the con stitution consisting, first, of the Provin cial Piets, representing the various States of the monarchy; secondly, a Central Diet, or Council of the Empire; and thirdly, a reduced form of the lat ter, or Partial Council of the Empire, as it is called. Tne public debtof the Em- pire, which at the commencement__ol the French revolution in 1789 was $175,- 500,000, had grown in 1863 to $1,210,222,- 085. From 1789 to the present time there has not been a single year in which the revenue of the State has come up to the expenditure. The present Emperor, Francis Joseph 1., was born August, 1830, and was proclaimed Emperor and King in consequence of the aodication of his uncle Ferdinand 1., and the re nunciation of his father, Francis Charles, December2,lB4B. He was Commander in-Chief of the Austrain army in the Italian campaign of 1859. 111. —ITALY. The Kingdom of Italy has an area of 98,784 English square mines, with a population according to the last census, | taken in the Spring of 1864, of 21,703,719 souls,being on an average22o inhabitants to the square mile ; a figure higher than that of France and Germany, but lower than that of England. There has been in some of the Provinces a rapid increase of population of late years ; but the in crease of wealth has been much more rapid within the last century than the increase of population. The great mass of the people are devoted to agricultural pursuits, and the town population is comparatively small. It has a seafaring population of 158,692 individuals, nearly all of whom are liable to the maritime conscription. The military organization of the Kingdom is based on conscription, and the standing army consists of more than 200,000-men on the peace footing, and more than 400,000 on a war establish ment. The navy of the Kingdom con sisted in 1865 of 98 steamers and 20,760 horse power, with 2,160 guns, and 17 sailing vessels, with 279 guns; altogether 115 men of war with 2,439 guns. Italy hasa publiedebt of nearly eight millions of dollars. The expenditure is largely in excess of the annual revenue. The reigning Sovereign, Victor Emanuel 11, was born March 14,1820, and is the eldest son of King Charles Albert of Sardinia, and Archduchess Theresa of Austria. He succeeded to the throne on the ab dication of his father, March 23, 1849, and was proclaimed King of Italy by a vote of the Italian Parliament, March 17, 1861. IV.—THE OERMAN CONFEDERATION. The German Confederation was organ ized in 1815, upon the ruinß of the Ger man Empire which had been dissolved in 1806. The object of the Confederacy, according to the first article of the Fed eral Constitution, is “the preservation of the internal and external security of Germany, and the independence and inviolability of the various German States.” The organ and representative of the Confederation is theFederalDiet, consisting of Plenipotentiaries of the several German States, and permanently located in the free city of Frankfort. The administrative Government of the Federal Diet is constituted in two forms: Ist. As a General Assembly of Plenum , in which every member of the Confed eration has at least one vote, and the larger States have two, three and four votes each; and second, the Minor Council, or Committee of Confederation, in which the eleven largest States cast one vote each, while six votes are given to the smaller States, a number of them combined having a joint vote. The pres idency is permanently vested in Austria. The General Assembly decides on war and peace, on the admission of new mem bers, on any changes in the fundamen tal laws or organic institutions: but in all other cases the Minor Council is com petent to act both as legislativeand execu tive. At the time of its establishment the Confederacy embraced 39 members, but of these four (Saxe-Gotlia, Anhalt-Ber gen, Anhalt-Goethen and Hesse-Hom burg,) have become extinct, and two (Hohenzollern-Hechingen and Honen zollern-Sigmaringen) have been incor porated with Prussia, leaving at present 33 sovereign States. They have together an area of 242,867 square miles, and in 1864, a population of over 46,000,000 peo ple, exceeding the aggregate population of British America, the United States, Mexico and Central America, and being in Europe inferior to that of no county except Russia. The federal army num bers about 700,000. Austria and Prussiabelong, with only a part of their several dominions, to this Confederation ; Austria, with a popula tion of 12,802,944, Prussia, with a pop ulation of 14,714,042. Prussia, there fore, and not* Austria, is in point of population the first German State, and this priority is still more prominent if we take into account the provinces of both powers not belonging to this Con federation. Deducting the population of the two great Gerrqan powers a population is left for the other States of about 19,000,- 000, with a federal army of about 300,- 000. As the record of the votes of the Federal Diet during the last year shows the great majority of the minor States side with or at least lean toward Austria, and it is still commonly be ■lieved, that soon after an outbreak of war between Austria and Prussia,' the Diet will declare a Federal war against I Prussia. > All parties in Germany, Austria, LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 27, 1866. Prussia, the minor governments, and all the political parties among the peo ple, are in favor of establishing a Cen tral National Parliament, as a step towards the ultimate establishment of one German Empire. This point is therefore likely to be one of the results of the impending war. Gazettes and the Printing Press. ‘Tnese mark the every-day affairs of life.” The early newspapers are by no means such miscellaneous and amusing things as our modern use of them might lead us to conceive. They are very tame, and the news, which is generally for eign, is told in very dull prose; very little like jest or mirth appears in any of them. Fruitful as Franklin was in amusing writings, it is really surprising how very devoid of Spectator-Mia arti cles his paper is; but very little has been furnished by his pen. He must have deemed itoutof place for his paper, and therefore confined his essays to his “ Poor Richard's Almanac,” which was so favorably received as to call for three editions in the Bame year. Reflections on men and manners of that day, to which he was so very competent, would have been very interesting and judici ous ; but I have found nothing. Proba bly the “ even tenor of their way,” in the days of his chief residence among hr, excitcd m” cause of remarks, and thatdtf’tvas chiefly since the Revolution that we began, to deserve remarks on the changing character of thetimesand the people. But after every omission and neglect in such editors, old newspapers are still unavoidably a kind of mirror of their age, for they bring up the very age with all Its bustle and every-day occurrence, and mark its genius and spirit more than the most labored description of the historian. Sometimes a single adver tisement lnddently “prolongs the du bious tale.” An old paper makes us thoughtful, for we also shall make our exit; there every name we read of in print is ulready cut upon tombstones. The names of doctors have followed their patients' ; the merchants have gone after their perished ships, and the cele brated actor furnishes his own skull for for his successor in Hamlet. The American Weekly Mercury was begun by Andrew Bradford, sou of William, in Philadelphia, 1719, in com pany with John Copson. This was the tlrst gazette ever published in our city. It wus begun the 22dof December, 1719, at ten shillings per annum. The gen eral object of the paper Is suld to be “ to encourage trade.” It does not seem to be the spirit of the paper to give the local news, or, rather, they did not seem to deem it worthy their mention. It might have been but “ a tale twice tolu,” for which they were unwilling to pay, while they thought every man could know his domestlo. nows without an advertiser. Foreign news and cus tom-house entries, Inwurds and out wards, including equally the ports of New York and Boston, constituted the general contents of every Mercury. In November, 1742, the publisher Andrew Bradford died, and the paper was set In mourning columns, &c., for six weeks. After this it was continued by the widow until 1746. when it was discontinued, probably from the cause of William Bradford, the former part ner of Andrew, having soon after his death, set up a new paper called the Pennsylvania Journal. In 1727 Benjamin Franklin projected the scheme of a second or rival paper ; but his project being ex posed to Keimer, he supplanted Frank lin by hastily publishing his prospectus —a strange vaporing composition —and fell to getting subscribers. By this means he was enabled to start, and even to continue for nine short months, The Pennsylvania Gazette. He had gotonly ninety subscribers, when Franklin and Joseph Brientnal, under the title of the “Busy Body,” contributed to write him down In Bradford’s Mercury. Thus won by conquest, Franklin soon man aged to buy it for a trifle as his own. In 1727, the Gazette says: “ We have } been these three days expecting the New York post, as usual, but he is not yet arrived,”— although three days over his time 1 In 1727, the mail to Annapolis is opened this year, to go once a fortnight in Bummer, and once a month in winter, via New Castle, &c., to the Western Shore, and back to the Eastern Shore ; managed by William Bradford in Philadelphia, and by William Parks in Annapolis. In. December, 1729, the Gazette an nounces that “while the New York post continues his fortnight stage, we shall publish but ouce a week as in former times.” In the summer it went once a week. In 1738, Henry Pratt is made riding postmaster for all the stages between Philadelphia and Newport, in Virginia; tosetoutinthebeginnlngoieach month, and to return in twenty-four days. To him, all merchants, &c., may confide their letters and other business, he having given security to the postmaster general. In this day we can have but little conception of his lonely rideß over imperfect roads ; of his laying out at times all night, and giving his horse a range of rope to browse, while he should make his letter-pack ills pillow on the ground. In 1747. it is announced in the Gazette that the “northern post begins his fort night stages on Tuesday next for the winter season.” In 1745, John Dailey, surveyor, states that he has j ust made survey of the road from Trenton to Amboy and had|set up marks at every two miles, to guide the traveller. It was done by private sub scriptions, and he proposes to do the whole road from Philadelphia to New York in the same way, if a sum be made up.— Watson’s Annals of Philadelphia. Stage Nonsense. We were speaking to a friend the other day, respecting the merits of a “celebrated tragedian,” when he had occasion to comment on tho rant of the stage —the loud mouthing, the outrage ous gestures, the furious rolling of the eye, the stride, swords that rattle in the hilt, and all the “pomp and circum stances” of the modern drama. Fancy this style carried into real life. On being introduced to a lady you would say, throwing yourself into a splendid attitude: “ Most gracious madam, on my knees I greet you,” impressively placing your right hand on your heart. To a creditor who would not pay: “Fraudulent knave! payest thou me not? By yonder Bun that blazes in the zenith, thee will I sue, and thou sbalt see thy impious name flaming the streets on posters huge.” At dinner: “Now, by my soul, and all my highest hopes, those beans are royal. Were I Jupiter, beans should grace each kingly banquet. What, ho! waiter, bring hither more beans!” To your wife: " Madam, beware thou dost excite me not; else being too hot with wrath Ido myself some harm. A needle here—a button on that shirt— and see it instantly performed. Do it! Not leave the task to me." Toyour butcher: “ Thou ensanguined destroyer of bovines, send me some mut ton and some beef; and mark you! let it be tenderer than love, and sweeter than the bee’s rare burden. I would dine to-day.” To a friend: “ Excuse a rash intru sion on your grace, but hast thou in thy box a portion of that plant ranked by the botanist among the genus nico tiani V ’ Or, “ Most noble friend, wilt thou partake with me some strong liba tion? Thou lookest dull to-day; ’twill cheer thy sinking heart.” Reply: “Oh, noble soul! alas, not all the wine of Bacchanalian revels could ease the sorrow here —here! here! (Left arm struck several times.) Oh, what a fool and arrant knave am I, the very sport of fortune.” This is scarcely more ridiculous than three-quarters of the stage nonsense) “ You labor too hard on your com position, doctor,” said a flippant clergy man to a venerable divine ; “ I write a sermonln two hours, and think nothing of it.” . 11 So do your congregation,” quoth thedootor. JEFFERSON DAYIB IN PRISON. Extracts firoin (te; Dtaryo^p*>Craven, Surgeon at F'ortms Monroe, The story or the imprisonment of Jeffer son Davis, written by the surgeon of the post, who for the first seven months of that imprisonment professionally attended the fallen President of the Confederate States, and dedicated to the Secretary of the Treas ury, appeals in no ordinary fashion to the attention of all Americana. Without at tempting to review the work, and content iogj-ourselves with this simple statement of itsv anthorship and of the circumstances under which it appears—a statement which games with it ample demonstration to every capable and candid person of its authenticity and impartiality—we proceed to lay before our readers such copious extracts from its pages as will enable them to judge of its grave interest and value. THE PRISON I.IFE OF JEFFERSON DAVIS The procession into the fort was under the immediate inspection of Major General Halleck and Charles A. Dana, then Assist ant Secretary of War; Colonel Pritchard, of the Michigan cavalry, who immediately effected the capture,beingtbeofficer in com mand of the guard from the vessel to the fort. First came Major General Miles hold ing the arm of Mr. Davis who was dressed in a suit of Confederate gray, with a gray slouched hat—always thin, and now look ing much wusted and very haggard. Im mediately after these came Col. Pritchard accompariylng Mr. Clay, with a guard of soldiers in their rear. Thus they passed through files of man iu blue fromthe Engi neer’s Landing to fche Water Battery Pos tern; and on arriving at thecusemate which had been fitted up Into cells for their incarce ration, Mr. Davis was shown into casement No. H and Clay into No. 4. guards of soldier being stationed in the colls numbered 1, 3 and 5. upon each sideofthem. They enter* ed; tue heavy doors clanged behind them, aud in thnt clang was rung the final knell of the terrible, but now extinct rebellion. Being ushered into his inner cell by Gen eral Miles, and the two doors leading there into from the guard-room being fastened, Mr. Davis, oiler surveying the premises for some moments, and looking out through the embrasure with such thoughts passing over his lined and expressive Taco as may bo imagined, suddenly seated himself in a chair, placing both hands on hisknees, and uakmi one of the soldiers pacing up and down, within his cell this significant ques tion : “Which way does the embrasure lace?” The Holdior whs silent Mr. Davis, raising bis-voice ti little, re peated the Inquiry. But again dead silence, or only the meas ured Iboti'alls of the two pacing sentries within, and the fainter echoes of the four without. Addresslug the other soldier, us if the tlrst had been deuf and had not hoard him, the prisoner again repeated his inquiry. But tho second soldier remained silent as the first, a slight twitching of his eyes only Intimating thut he had heard tho question, but was forbidden to speak. “Well,” said Mr. Davis, throwing his hands up and breaking into a bitter laugh, “ I wish my mon coulu have been taught your discipline!” and then, rising from his chair, he commenced pacing back and forth before tho embrasure, now looking at tho silent sentry across the moat, and anon at tho two silently pacing soldiers who were bis companions in the casement. His solo reading matter, a Bible und prayer-book, his only companions those two silent guards, his only food the ordinary rations of bread and beef served ouLtotho soldiers of the garrison—thus passed the first day and night of the ex-Presidont’s confinement. On tho morning of the 23d ot May, a yet bitterer trial was in store for the proud spirit—a trial severer, probably, than has ever in modern times d;een indicted upon anv one who had enjoyed such eminence. This morn i ng Jefferson Davis was shackled. It was while all the swarming carnps of the armies of the Potomao, the Tennessee and Georgia—over two hundred thousand bronzed and laurelled veterans—were pre paring for the Grand Review of the next morning, in which, passing iu endless suc cession before the mansion of the President, tho conquering military power of the nation was to lay down its arms at the feet of the Civil Authority thut the following scene was enacted at Fort Monroe. Captain Jerome E. Tltlow, of the Third Pennsylvania Artilfery, entered the prison er’s cell, followed by the blacksmith of the fort and his assistant, the latter carrying in his hands some heavy and harshly-rattling shackles. As they entered Mr. Davis was reclining on his bed, feverish and weary after a sleepless night, the food placed near to him the preceding day still lying un touched on its tin plate near bis bedside. “Well!” said Mr. Davis as they entered, slightly raising his head. “ I have an unpleasant duty to perform, sir,” said Captain Titlow; and us he spoke the senior blacksmith took the shackles from his assistant. Davis leaped instantly from his recum bent attitude, a flush passing ov. r his face for a moment, and then his couutenunce growing livid and rigid ns death. Hegnsped.for breuth, clutching his throat with the thiu fingers of his right hand, and then recovering himself slowly while his wasted figure towered up to its full height —now appearing to swell with indignation and then to shrink with terror, as he glanced from the captain’s faoo to the shackles—he said slowly and with a laboring chest: “My God! You cannot havo been sent to iron mo?” “Such are my orders, sir,” replied the officer, beckoning the blacksmith to ap proach, who stepped forward, unlockingthe padlock and preparing the fetters to do their office. These fetters wore of heavy iron, probably five-eighths of an inch in thickness and connected together by a chain of like 1 weight. I believe they are now in the posses ' sion of Major General Miles, and will form an interesting relic. “This is too monstrous,” groaned the prisoner, glaring hurriedly round the room, as if for some weapon, or means of self-de struction. “ I demand. Captain, that you let me see the commanding officer. Can he pretend that such shackles are required to secure the safe custody of a weak old man, so guarded and in such a fort as this ?” “ It could serve no purpose,” replied Cap tain Titlow; “his orders are from Wash ington, as mine are from him.” “But he can telegraph,” interposed Mr. Davis, eagerly; “ there must be some mis take. No such outrage as you threaten me with is on record in the history of nutions. Beg him to telegraph, und delay until he answers.” “My orders are peremptory,” said tho officer, “ and admit of no delay. For your own sake, let me advise you to submit with patience. As a soldier, Mr. Davis, you know I must execute orders.” “These are not orders for a soldier,” shouted the prisoner, losing all control of himself. “ They are orders for a jailor—for a hangman, which no soldier wearing a sword should accept! I tell you the world will ring with this disgrace. Tho war is over; the South is conquered; I have no longer any country but America, as for my own honor and life, that I plead against this degradation. Kill me ! kill me!” he cried, passionately, throwing his arms wide open and exposing his breast, “rather than inflict on me, and on my people through me, this insult worse than death.” “Do your duty, blacksmith,” said the of ficer, walking towards the embrasure as if not caring to witness the performance. “It only gives increased pain on all sides to protract this interview. At these words the blacksmith advanced with theshackles, and seeing that the pris oner had one foot upon the chair near his bedside, his right band resting on the back of it, the brawny mechanic made an attempt to slip one of the shackles over the ankle so raised; but, as if with the vehemence and strength which frenzy can impart, even to the weakest invalid, Mr. Davis suddenly seized his assailant and hurled him half way across the room. On this Captain Titlow turned, and seeing that Davis had backed against the wall for further resistance, began to remonstrate, pointing out in brief, clear language, that this course was madness, and that orders must be enforced at any cost. “Why com pel me,” he said, “to acid the further indig* i nity of personal violence to the necessity of l your being ironed ?” “I am a prisoner of war,” fiercely re torted Davis; “ I have been a soldier in the armies of America, and know howto die. Only kill me, and my last breath shall be a blessing on your head. But while I have life ana strength to resist, for myself and for my people, this thing shall not he done.” Hereupon Capt. Titlow called in asergeant and file of soldiers from the next room, and the sergeant advanced to seize the prisoner. Immediately Mr. Davis flew on him, seized his musket and attempted to wrench it from his grasp. Of course such a scene could have but one issue. There was ashort, passionate scuffle. In a moment Davis was flung upon his bed, and before his four powerful assailants re moved their hands from him, the black smith and his assistant had done their work —one securing the rivet on the right ankle, while the other urnedthe key on the pad lock on the left. This done, Mr. Daviß lay for a moment as if in a stupor. Then slowly raising him self and ttiimng round, be dropped his : shackled feet to the floor. .The harsh clank of the striking chain seems first to have re called him to his situation, and dropping his feee into his hands, he burst into a pas sionate flood of sobbing, rocking to und fro, and muttering at brief intervals: “ Oh, the shame, the shame!” It may here be stated, though out of its due order—that we may get rid in haste ot an unpleasant subject —that Mr. Davis some two months jater, when frequent visits had made him more free of converse, gave me a curious explanation of the last feature of this incident. He had been speaking of suicide, and de nouncing it as the worst form of cowardice and folly. “ Life is not like a commission that we can resign when disgusted with the service. Taking it by your own hand is a confession of judgment to all that your worst enemies can allege. It has often flashed across me as a tempting remedy for neuralgic torture; but thank (rod! I never sought my own death but once, and then when completely frenzied and not master of mv actions. When they came to iron me that day, as a la9t resource of despera tion, I seized a soldier’s musket and at tempted to wrench it from his grasp, hoping that in the scuffle and surprise, some one of his comrades would shoot or bayonet me.” On the morning of May 24th, I was sent for about half-past 8 a. m., by Major Gen eral Miles; was told that State prisoner I Davis complained of being ill, ana that I I had been assigned as his uiedicalattendant. I Calling upon the prisoner—the tirst time I I had ever seen him closely—he presented I a very miserable and afflicting aspect. Stretched upon his pallet and very much emaciated, Mr. Davis appeared a mere fas cine of raw and tremulous nerves—his eyes restless and fevered, bis head' ifentinually shifting from side to side for a eagl sfcot on the pillow, und his case cltMirly^n?,in which intense cerebal excitement was tHe first thing needing attention. Ho wasextreidely despondent, his pulso full and at ninety, tongue thickly couted, extremities cold, andhis head troubled with a long establish ed neuralgic disorder. Complained of his thin eutnp mattress aud pillow stuffed with hair, adding, that he was so emaciated that his skin chafed easily against the slats; and, as those complaints wore well founded. I ordered an uddilioiml hospital mattress und softer pillow, fur which he thanked me courteously. “ Hut I tear,” he said, as, having prescri bed, X was about taking my leave, accom panied by Captain Evans, r rhird Pennsyl ninia Artillery, who was officer of the dav ; “ I fear, Doctor, you will have a trouble some and unsatisfactory pulient. One whoso case can reflect on you little credit. There are circumstances at work outside your art to counteract your art; and 1 suppose there must bo a conflict betweeti your feelings us a soldier of the Union anti your duties us a healer of the Hick.” May 21, 1860. This lust wus said with a faint smile, and I tried to cheer him, assuring him, il ho would only keep quiet and endeavor to get some rest and sleep, which uiy prescription was mainly addressed to obtain, that bo would be well In a few days. For the rest, of course a physician could have no feeling nor recognize any duties but towards his patient, Mr. Davis turned to the officer of the day, and demanded whether he lmd been shacK led by special order of the Sepetary of War, or whether General Mlloffhad cnnsld ed this violent course essential to his safo-kooping? Thu Cuptuin repllod that ho know nothing of the mutter; and so our first Interview ended. On quilting Mr. Davis, at once wrote to Major Church, Assistant Adjutant General, advising that tho prisoner be allowed tobac co—to the want 01 which, after a lifetime of use, he hud referred as one of the probable partial causes ol his illness—though not complaininglv, nor with any request tbut it be given. 'This recommendation was ap proved iu the course of tho day; and on culling in the evening brought tobacco with me, and Mr. Davis tilled bis, pipe, which wus the sole article he had carried with him from the Clyde, except the clothes he then wore. “This is a noble medicine,” he said, with something as near a smile as was possible for his haggard and shrunken features. “I hardly expected it; did not ask for it, though the deprivation has been severe. During my confinement here I shall ask for nothing.” He wus now much calmer, feverishsymp- toms steadily decreasing, pulse nlreudy down to seventy-live, lus brain less excita ble, and his mind becoming more resigned to his condition. Complained that the foot falls of the two sentries within his chamber made it difficult for him to collect his thoughts; but added cheerfully thnt, with this—touching his pipe—he hoped to become tranquil. This pipe, by tho way, was a lurge and handsome one,, made of meerschaum, with an amber mouth-piece, showing by its color that it had seen “uctive service” for some time—as indeed was the case, having been his companion during the stormiest years of his late titular Presidency. It is now in the writer's possession, having been given to him by Mr. Davis, and its acceptance in sisted upon as the only thing he had left to offer THE TORTURE OF THE PRISONER. Happening to notice that his coffee stood cold apparently untastod beside his bed in its tin cup, I remarked that here wus a con tradiction of the assertion implied in the old army question, “ Who ever saw cold coffee in a tin cup ?” referring to the eager ness with which soldiers of all classes, when campaigning, seek for und use the beverage. “I cannot drink it,” ho remarked “though fond of coffee ull iny life. It is the poorest article Af the sort I have over tasted; and if your government pays for such stuff as coffee, tho purchasingquarter master must bo getting rich. It surprises me, too, for I thought your soldiers must have the best—many of my Generals oom linlnlng of tho difficulties they encountered n seeking to prevent our people from mak ing volunteer truces with your soldiers whenever the lines ran near each other, for tho purpose of exchanging the tobncoo we hud in abundunce against your coffee and sugar.” Told him to spend as little time in bed as he could ; that exercise was the best medi cine for dyspeptic patients. To this lie an swered by uncovering the blankets from his feet anil showing me his shackled ankles. ** It is impossible for ino, Doctor; 1 cun not even stand erect. These shackles are very heavy; I know not, with the chain, how many pounds. If I try to move they trip me, and have already abraded broad patches of sKin from the parts they toucji. Can you ►devise no means to pad or cushion them, so that when I try to drag them along they may not chafe me‘so intolerably? My limbs have so little flesh on them, und that so weak us lobe easily lacerated.” At sight of this I turned away, promising to see what could be done, as exercise was the chief medical necessity in his case; and at this moment the first thrill of sym pathy for my patient was experienced. That afternoon, at an interview sought with Major General Miles, my opinion was given that the physical concilium of State prisoner Davis required tho removal of his shackles, until such time as his health should be established on some firmer basis. Exercise ho absolutely needed, and also some alleviation of his abnormal nervous excitement. No drugs could aid a digestion naturally weak and so impaired, without exercise; nor could anything in tho phar macopcea quiet nerves so overwrought and shattered, while the continual irritation of the fetters was counterpoising whatever medicines might be given. “You believe it, then, a medical necessi ty ?” queried Gen. Miles. “1 do most earnestly.” “Then I will give the matter attention ;” and at this point for the present the affair ended. May 20<A.~Called with the officer of the day, Captain James B. King, at 1 P. M. Found Mr. Davis in bed, complaining of intense debility, but could not point to any particular complaint. The pain in his head had left him last night, but had been brought back this forenoon and aggravated by the noise of mechanics employed in taking down the wooden doors between his cell ana the exterior guard room and replacing these with Iron gratings, so that he could at all j times be seen by the sentries in the outside I room as well as by the two “silent friends,” who were the unspeaking companions of his solitude. Noticed that the prisoner’s dinner lay un ‘touched on its tin plate near his bedside, his meals being brought in by a silent soldier, who placed food on its table and then with drew. Had remarked before thathe scarcely touched the food served to him, his appetite being feeble at best, and his digestion out of ordei. I Quitting him, called on General Miles, and recommended that I be allowed to place the prisoner on a diet corresponding with his condition, which required light and nutritious food. Consent was immediately given, and I had prepared and sent over from my quarters some tea and toast for his evening’s meal. Ceiling about 7 p. m., found Mr. Davis greatly improved, the tea and toast having given nim, he said, new life. Though he had not complained of the fare, he was very thankful for the change. He then commenced talking, and let me here say that I encouraged him in this, be lieving conversation and some human sym pathy the bestmedlcines that could be given to one in bis state—on the subject of the weather. How has the weather been—rough or fair ? In this huge casement, and unable to'orawl to the embrasure, he oould not tell whether the weather was rough or smooth, nor how the wind "was blowing, NUMBER 25. * All my family are at sea, you are aware, on their way to Savannah; and I know the dangers of going down the coast at this sea son of the year too well to be without intense alarm. My wife and four children, with other relatives, are on board the Clyde, and these propellers roll dreadfully and are poor sea-boats in rough weather.” He then explained with great clearness or detail, and evidently having studied the subject, why the dangers of going down the coast in rough weather were so much great er than coming North. Going down, ships bad to hug the shore—often running dan gerously near the treaoherous horrors of Cape Hatteras; while in running North they stood out from land to catch the favoring gulf stream, to avoid which they had to run in shore as close as they could when steering South. He appeared intensely anxious on this subject, recurring to it frequently and spec ulating on the probable position of tho Clyde at this time. “Should she be lost,” he remarked, “it will be ' all my pretty chickens and their dam at one fell swoop.’ It will be the obliteration of my name and house.” “Mrs. Davis, too,” he continued, “has much to contend with. Her sister has beeu very ill, and her two nurses left her while here, and-she could procure no others. My only consolation is, that some of my paroled people are on board, and soldiers make ex cellent nurses. Soldiers are fond of child ren. Perhaps the roughness of their camp life makes the contrasted playfulness of infancy so pleasant. Charles of Sweden, Frederick tne Great, and Napoleon, were illustrations of this peculiarity. ✓The Duke of Wellington is the ouly eminent com mander or whom no trait of the sort Is re corded.” Talking of propellers, and how badly they rolled In rough sea, I spoke of one called the Burnside, formerly stationed at Port Royal, of which tho common remark was, that in every three roils she went clean round. “Once ” I added, “when her captain was asked what was her draught of water, he replied that he did not know to an inch tho height of her smoke-stack, but it was from the top of that to her keel. This, and other anecdotes, amused tho patient for some quarter of an hour ; and whatever could give his mind a moment’s repose was in the line of his cure. As I was leaving, he asked had I been able to do nothing to pad or cushion his shackles? He could take no exercise, or but the feeblest, and with great pain, while they were on. To this gave au evasive answer, not , knowing what might bo tho action of Gen eral Miles, and fearing to excite false hopes. No such naif-way measures as padatng would suffice to meet tho necessities of his case; while tbelr adoption, or suggestion, might defer tho broader remedy that was needed. On leaving, he requested me In tho morning to note how the wind blow, and tho prospocts of tho weather, before paying him my visit. Until ho heard of nls family's arrival in Savannah ho could know no poaco. I May 27w.—Called In the morning with j thoomcoroftbeday,CaptainTitlow, Found I Mr. Davis in bed, very weak and dospond- I ing. He had not slept. Had been kept I awake by the heavy surging of the wind through the big trees on the other side of I the moat. Appeared much relieved when | I fold him tho breeze was nothing like a | storm, though it blow north easterly, which was favorable to the ship containing his family. Ho expressed groat concern lest his wifo should hear through newspapers of the scene in his cell when he was ironed. Would It be published, did I think? And on my remaining silent—for I knew it had been sent to the newspapers on the afternoon of its transpiring—he interlaced his Ungers across his eyes, and ejaculated: “Oh, my Eoor wife, my poor, poor girl! How the eart-rending narrative will afflict her!” He. remained silent ior some moments as I sat beside his bed; and then continued, extending his hand that I might feel his pulse: “ I wish she could have been spared this knowledge. There was no necessity for the act. My physical condition rendered it ob vious that there could be no idea thnt let ters wore needful to the security of my im- prisonment. It was clear, therefore, that the object was to offer an indignity both to myself and the cause I represented—not the less sacred to me because covered with the pall of military disaster. It was for this reason I courted death from the muskets of the guard. The officer of the day prevented that result, and, indeed.”— bowing to CaptaLn Titlow—“ behaved like a man of good feeling. But, ray poor wife! I can see the hideous announcement with its flaming capitals, and cannot but antici- Eate how much her pride and love will both e shocked. For myself I am resigned, and now only say, ‘The Lord reprove them!’ The physical inconvenience of these things I still ieel (clanking his ankles together under the bed-clothes)/but their sense of humiliation is gone. Patriots in all ages, to whose memories shrines are now built, have suffered as bad or worso indig nities.” He took my remark in a wrong sense, as f I had been hurt at his saying anything :hat might cast a reflection on the Justice that would be dealt to him by my govern ment, or upon the style of journalism in Northern newspapers. But I explained that nothing could be fariher from my thoughts: that my counsel was purely medical, and to divert him from a theme that must re-arouso the cerebral excito- aent we were seeking to allay. Called again at BP. M. same day. Mr. Davis still very weak, and hau been troubled with several faint, not exactly fainting spells, his pulse indicating extreme debility. He said the nights were very te dious and haggard. During the day he could And employment reading (tho Bible or prayer-book being seldom out of bis hand while alone), but during the night his anxieties about his family returned; and the foot-falls of the sentries in the room with him—their verybreathlngor coughing —continually called back his thoughts, when otherwise and for a moment more pleasantly wandering, to his present situa tion. He had watched the weather all day with intense interest; and bad been cheered to observe from the slant of the rain that the wind appeared to continue north-east, so that he hoped his family were by this time in Savannah. ■ Then went on to say that he Teared, after he had been removed from the Clyde, his wife must have suffered the annoyance of having her trunks searched—an unneces sary act, it seemed to him, as, of course, if she had anything to conceal, she could have got rid of it on the passage up. On my remarking, to soothe him, that no such search was probable, he said it could hardly be otherwise. He had received a suit of heavy clothes from tho propeller; and General Miles, when informing nim of the fact, had mentioned that there were quite a number of suits there. “And so, Doctor,” he went on, think all the miserable details of my iron ing have been placed before the public? It is not only for the hurt feelings of my wife and children, but for the honor of Ameri cans that I regret it. My efforts to conceal from my wife the knowledge of my suffer ings are unavailing; and it were perhaps better that she should know the whole truth, as probably less distressing to her than what may be the impressions of her fears. Should I write such a letter to her, however, she would never get it.” He thanked me for the breakfast that had been sent him, expressing the hope that I would not let my wife be put to too much trouble making broth and toast for one ho helpless and utterly wretched. “I wish, Doctor,” said he, “I could com pensate you by getting well; but my cose is most unpromising. Your newspapers.” he went on—this with a grim smile—“should pray for the success of your skill. If you fail, where will their extra editions fie— their startling head-lines? My death would only give them iood for one or two days at most; while my trial—for I suppose I shall be given some kind of trial—would fatten for them a month’s crop of incrative excite ment.” Finding the conversation, or rather his monologue, running into a channel more likely to excite than to soothe him—the lat ter being the object for which I was always willing to listen during the fifteen or twenty minutes these interviews usually lasted while he was seriously ill—l now rose to | take my leave, gently hinting that he should I avoid such thoughts and tonics as much as I possible. Sunday, May 28.—At eloveu A. M., this morning was sitting on the porch in front of my quarters when Captain Frederick Korte, Third Pennsylvania Artillery, who was officer of the day, passod toward the coll of the prisoner, followed by the black smith. This told the'stoiw, and sent a’ pleas- I ant professional thrill of pride through my veins Did not lot Mr. Davis see me then, butre tired, thinking it better the prisoner should be left alono in tbo first moments of regain ing so much of his personal freedom. Culled again at 2 p. m. with the officer of the day. Immediately on entering, Mr. Davis rose from his seat, both bands extend ed, and his eyes filled with tears. He was evidently about to say something, but checked himself; or was checked by a rush of emotions, and sat down upon his bed, I congratulated him on the change, ob serving that my promise of his Boon feeling better was being fulfilled; and he must now take all the exercise that was possible for him, for on this his future health would depend. Captain Korte, too, Joined In my «atk» of traotlona of ft year. - B*JIL EBTATX, PnUOKil. PnnrXSTT.enay"; QU ADVWrMJTO, 7 WrtsifflS.isLST am, and 4 eenta for each idWWoant w*“- PiTOtr MEDionm and other adTW« oolnmn: tl(v , Oaeoolnmn, 1 year,-....- Half colamn,l year— • "{ Third column, l year,—- ~ ieai, ■ one year,„,„„.-MH Buslneig Cards,live lines or less, one „ o LSOAI. AHD OTHKR NonCBH- „„ Executors’ n0tice5....—......-.—..—««• 2-5® Administrators’ notices,— -- 2-5® Assignees* notice*,.. 2.00 Auditors! notices, „ .. ...... 1.50 Other “Notices,’’ ten lines, or less, three t1maa^...—.......... congratulations very kindly, and spoke with the Crank courtesy of a gontleman and sol dier. Recurring to the subject of his family. Mr. Davis asked me hud I not been called upon to attend Miss Howell, hla wife's sister, who had been very ill at the time of ►bis quitting the Clyde, Replied that QoL James, Chief Quartermaster, had called at my quarters, and requested me to visit a sick lady on board that vessel; believed it was the lady he referred to, but could not be sure of tno name. Had mentiouod the matter to General Miles, asking a paas to visit; but he objected, saying the orders were to allow no communication with the ship. Mr. Davis exclaimed this was inhuman. The ladies had certainly committed no crime, and there were no longer any prison ers on board the ship when the request was made, he and Mr. Clay having noen the last removed. The lady was very seriously ill, and no officer, uo gentleman, no man of Christian or oven human feeling, would have so acted. General Miles was from Massachusetts, ho had beard, and his action both iu this and other matters appeared in harmony with his origin. It was much for Massachusetts to boast that one of her sons had been appointed his Jailor; and it was becoming such a jailor to oppress helpless women and children. * * 9 * Knfee and Spade. Those who know say the cool weather is just what is wanted to keepbaok fruit buds and tender vegetution, whiohhave a human fondness for throwingoff their winter clothing as quick as the sun be gins to produce the slightest cutaneous irritation. Inasmuch as the buds look so well, we are glad so much can be said of this raw stretch of weather by way of compensation. But every new fork and rake and spade that has been car ried out of town by amateurs and en thusiasts, will now And work enough to do. It is high time the scratching and digging and preparation for plant ing was well begun. Home soils permit much earlier operation than othors,and good gardeners do not forget it. The crying fault, however, is from begin ning too soon, and pushing ahead too zealously. When a man nogs with his garden work, it has lost its enticement for him for that season at least; it la much as it is with trout-flshlug, when the angler feels that he would rather eat his luncheon than cast his fly, he might as well Joint his rod again and wind hiß " leaders” aroundlilb hat. Gardening is an old business, although to those who love it a freßh and now in vention every year. Tho llteraturo of the garden la as fragrant os tho blos- Boms that blow in our own Now Eng land orchards. The Roman farmers used to stylo their gardens, as compared with agricultural labors, their “ dessert;” and Cicero makes pleasant mention of it in his matchless disquisition on Old Age. Tho Middle Ago monks—sly and shrewd dogs that they wore—look ed out for nice garden spots close by their keeps of learning; thoy knew what luscious fruit was on the covetous palate, and had a relish for it which their solitary way of life only heighten ed. The pleasantest portion of New England literature Is that which con tains allusions to the practice of garden ing,—one of the quietest, most human izing, and contentment breeding of all pursuits. Cowly wanted nothing more os the sum of his happiness, than ” a small house and a large garden.” Bacon’s stately and scien tific treatment of the gardening busi ness will always be admired as Bacon’s, although it does not quite apply here in New England: bpt we treasure it as a worthy memorial to so delightful a calling. Tennyson makes his verses, many of them, sing like nightingales in gardens. though the latter are rather the product of Persian and Italian sug gestions; but he admits the faot after all, that they form an essential part of domestic life in the country, by alluding to one in description as “'half-house, half-garden.” And there he has touched the secret spring of ail the charm ; the garden gate should open hard by the kitchen door. Hence life simply over flows andfllls the gardens too. A good many of our suburban friends make nonsense of their gardening efforts, by having professional workers do what they should perform them selves. It is In the same spirit—or laok of it —that some people get upholsterers to furnish their houses, and cabinet makers to build them libraries of wooden books. Ornamentation has its place and needs, certainly; but when we speak of gardening, in the true and homely sense, we refer to work such as man may do with his own hands. For six weeks to come, this work will be as entloing as any that it falls to tho lot of man to perform. The morning and evening hours attract one to his seques tered garden Bpot; there are plants to be setout. earth is to bo dug over, weeds are to be kept down, caterpillars are to be exterminated, vines are to be trained, grafting is to bo done, hoeing is to be kept up unremittingly. The singing birds will make the heaviest and sourest heart cheerful and sweet, the dews scat tered over the grasß will carry one back in . thought to his boyhood, when he drove the cows home—barefoot, whist ling and alone, and every healthy senti ment is nurtured and made strong by the undisturbed influences that take up their abode on so inviting a spot. A garden is better than the best of physicians, for very different reasons from the cost only. Before the day’s business in town, it quickens and invig orates ; after tho wearisome hours are over at evening, it soothes and solaces and refreshes. It is as good for the spirit as for the body, and that is more than half there is to be said. Professional men make it In a measure their place of study, and literary workers meditate their choicest fancies within its limited confines. Men of business rub off the cankering influences of the day’s con tracts, while passing up and down its cool alleys, and realize to their joy that the world still leaves them themselves. But with one’s own hands must the garden tasks be performed. That is the condition on which they become so dear flb us. There are certain things whicn cannot be done by proxy, and these are among them. Hiring and ordering is not gardening; we would see the owner of a rural spot hoe his own weeds, plant his own cabbages and tomatoes, graft his own fruit trees, train his own vines, and grow brown and happy, healthy and contented by the work that daily soils his own hands. A neighborhood of gardens thus person ally cultivated by their owners would make a rural society of the most charm ing character, because it would be after a truly primitive simplicity.— Boston Post, No Balm. Elder T having occasion to preach in the town of Gilead, chose, what he fancied, the appropriate text, “ Is there no balm in Gilead ? Is there no physi cian there ?" He tells the result: It happened that among my hearers was an old negro who had lived a great many years in the family of the village doctor, and nothing could rile the old fellow so quick as the mere suggestion that the doctor didn’t know any thing. Every time that I repeated the text I noticed the old darkey whioh I attribu ted to the peculiar fervency of the Afri can temperament; but, warming with the subject, I repeated the text with un usual pathos. “Is there no balm in Gilead, and is there no physician there? 1 ’ Old Pomp could stand it no longer, and, springing to his feet, he said : “ Don't know noffln 'bout de balm, massa, but dere’s jeß’ good doctor here as dere is In de world.” “ I Know He’s There.” ' The Syracuse (N. Y.) Courier tells this story: "How <V> you like Seward's Auburn speech ?” said a Democrat to Gardner, recently. “Oh, very well,” said Gard ner. “ But,”said the Democrat, “don’t you see that he commenced by an as sault on our party!” “ Yes,” returned Gardner, " but I am like the boy Who tired himself out digging for a wood chuck, when he put In his hand to find the direction of the hole, and thd wood chuck bit it badly. ‘Are you.. hurt,' said the boy’s companion to him. ‘ Yes,’ said he, ‘ but I’m a—d glad he' bit me, 1 for how I know he’s there I’ ”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers