Volume 27, <£{)e Centre gemocrat. IS PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY J. J. BRISBIN. OJjlit) Reynold*' Iron I ront,-Second Ft oor. Tkrms. —$1,50 if paid in advance or within six months after subscribing,otherwise $2 will invari ably be charged. No subscriptions received for i shorter period than six months and nono dis jontinued, unless at the option of the editor, until all arrearaces are nnid. [From Harper's Weekly.] The Two Furrows. BY C. n. WEBB. The rprlng-titao came—but not with mirth— The banner of our trust, And with it the best hopes of earth Were trailing in the dust. The Farmer saw the shame from 'far. And stoppe d his plow afield ; u y; 0 t tae blade of peace, but the brand of war, This arm of mine must wield. " When traitor hands that flag would stain, Their homes 1 :t woman keep ; Until its st rs burn bright again, Pet others sow and reap." Tha Farmer sighed—" A life-time long The plough has been my trust ; In truth it were an arrant wrong To leave it now to.ru&t." With roady strength the Farmer tera The iron from the wocd, And to the village smith he bore That plough-shara stout and good. The blacksmith's arm was bnro and 1 r iwn, And loud the bellows roared; The farmer flung his plowshare down— "Now forge me out u sword !" And then a merry, merry chime The sounding snvil rung ; Good sooth, it was a nobler vyrne Than ever poet sung. The blacksmith wroitght with skill that day. The blade was keen and bright. And now where thickest is the tray The farmer leads the fight. Not as o r old ihst blade he sways To break the meadow's sleep, But through the rebel ranks he lays A furrow broad r.'id deep. The farmer's face is burned nnJ brown, Put light is on his brow, Bight well he wots what blessings crown The forrow of the p low. •' But better is to-day; success," Thus ran the farmer's word, "For nation's yet unborn shall bless This foirow of the Sword " JKVMK HOOD i THE CHILD HEPOIP OF ffiTITKT, BY CHARLIE I.AWTON LOVI2LL. One of the first settlers of Kentucky was Daniel Wood. Leavirg a comfortable home in one of the astern States, he, with his family, consisting of his wife and a li' tie daughter about eight years of age, sought a home on the far western borders of Ken tucky. Here he soon built himself a log cabin, and. assisted by a lame but faithful negro .servant, who had accompanied him from the east, he soon had quite'a patch of ground cleared, and began anew the life of a farmer combined with that of a hunter. Prosperity smiled upon his efforts, and six months passed without anything occur ring to mar the even tenor of his way. It was a bright, beautiful morning in June. Old Sol had just turned out from his' eastern couch, and peeping over the hills, was bathing the horizon in crimson with his smiles : when, armed with his trusty ri fle, and a pack of skins strapped upon his back, Daniel Wood issued from his cabin door. He was bound on a visit to a neigh boring station, some miles distant, to pur chase a new supply of ammunition and other little necessaries and luxuries that were needed at the cabin. Pausing upon the threshold of his home, he took a long and anxious around. " Keep a good lookout, Molly," he said, turning to his wife, who was just behind him, and who had come to the door to bid her husband 'God speed' on his journey.— "Keep a good lookout"; although the red skins ain't shown themselves yet, thar's no knowing when to expect the varmints ; and they might pop out on you 'fore yer knowed anything 'bout it." " Never fear, Daniel," returned his wife ; "there is no danger. The Indians have never been seen 'round hero ; besides, we have done nothing to anger them, and I don't think they will interfere with us. But look to yourself, Daniel ; the trail through the forest to the station is a long one, and you know not what danger may surround you." " Never fear for me, Molly," answered the frontiersman : '-while I have faithful Sallie here,"—and he lovingly patted the stock of his rifle—" 'twill be dangerous work for any redskin to come within shoot ing distance of me ; so never fear, but keep up a good heart—l shall be back before dark." And he pressed a kiss upon the lips of the buxom dame. Just at this moment the burly form of Lame Jake, the negro, made his appearance round the corner of the cabin, returning to his breakfast from his early labors in the fields. For a moment be gazed upon the pleasant scene, bis eyes glistening with de light and mirth : then he broke out: "I, golly, massa ! Arn't you gwine to kiss'poor old nig, too, 'fore you goes ? Yah, yah, guess you'd better ! guess you'd bet ter !" And Old Jake shook with suppressed % fjcfospaper----;|cbofcb to politics, ffitmptrantt, literature, gtimct, iljc'frts, "glttjjamcs, &gritnto, % gfarhtis, (gktitfcnt, gmtnfi |ttUigmtt, Jj| mirth at his humorous conceit. "Go 'long, you black varmint!" answer ed his master, laughter. "Git you grub and then stay around the house till I come hack; and take good care of your mistress and my little darling here." And he patted the golden tresses of his daughter. " Needn't tell me dat, massa, needn't tell me dat. Old Jake look out for dem as long as he got a single href of lite in his ugly ole carcass, dat he will. Lor' bress you, mas sa, if one of dem ar red debbils come round anywhere near ole Jake, dey git fits, now I coax you. If dis ole uig gits one of dese yer claws on nim, Ingin gone sure !" and Jake held up one of his mammoth hands. "Good bye, massa ; neber fear Ingiu as long as ole Jake's'round." And with those words old Jake disappear ed into the house, whilst the pioneer also turned to depart, waving a last adieu as his manly form disappeared in the depth of the forest. The sun had reached the meridian ; Jake, true to his master's orders, had remained in the cottage, and was now helping to prepare the noondqv meal. Jennie, the golden haired daughter of the pioneer, was setting the dishes upon the table, while the matron herself went forth to the little spring, some hundred yards distant from the cottage, to bring the pure cold water that was to be their beveige. Slowly she approaches the spring, her eyes anxiously cast around to spy any suspicious motion of a leaf or bend ing of a twig, for once or twice during Che morning hours she thought or imagined she saw the suspicious movement of the under growth in the forest. She has reached the spring at last. Suddenly she stops. What is that in yonder clump of bushes'? It flut ters in the air like the gaudy plumage of some fores? bird. It is a bird's plume, but it rests upon the head of some painted sav age. Y'ou would hardly have noticed it ; but the eves of the matron are sharp—for not only her own life, but that of her darling child depend upon her. Now for -presence of mind. She must not lot them know she has discovered them, and perhaps she may yet regain the house. Calmly she fills her pail with water and turns-to retrace her steps. Already has she passed over one quarter of the distance be tween the spring and the house. Will she reach there safely ?' her heart throbs aud ibly. When—oh, horror !—3 savage and appalling yell strikes upon her tar ; too well she knows its import : the savages have started in pursuit ! She must reach the house before they do or all is lost. She drops her bucket and starts on the race for life. Terror adds wings to her flight, and she will distance her enemies. No. one burly savage gained her side ; but he harms her not, but swiftly continues on toward the house. What means lie by that manauvre? alas ! her hearts tells her too well —the house once in the possession of the Indians, all are at the mercy of the savage foe. Loudly she called Jake to shut the door ; but the negro stands with-the handle of the open door in his hand, fierce determination depicted on his swarthy visage, 'i he mat ron and the Indian gain the house together, and both cross the threshold at the same moment. But as Mrs. Wood passed the servant, he calls to her : " Bar de door, missus 1" And with one spring he is upon the savage. -Jennie slams to the heavy oaken door as the rest of the Indians dash up to it. One of them, more speedy than the rest, gets his red visa'ge caught between the door and the post, and thus prevents Mrs. Wood from get ting the door securely closed ; hut the ma tron has, as quick as thought, slipped the bar it into its loop in one side of the door, and using it as a lever, presses the oaken barricade tightly against the body of the savage, and holds him there a prisoner, whilst his body protects the door from tbo assaults of his companions outside. But how goes on the fight inside. We left old Jake grappling with the Indi an. For once the negro had found His pratch and each, clasped in the embrace of the oth er had fallfin to the floor. Now they rolled over from one side of the room to the other, and at last it seemed the 'lndian would be the victor. lie had succeeded in getting the negro beneath him, and had drawn his knife to finish his eiemy, when, with one great effort of strength, Jake, as the knife of the Indian was about to seek .his'heart, partially relieved himself and seizing the Indian by both arms, held him motionless —the knife suspended in the air. " Old nig got you now, you red cuss," puffed Jake. "No use yer tryin', yer caD't git away ! Ole Jake ain't much on his pins dat's the truf, but jist luf him git dese yar arms onto anyt'ing and dey hoi' tighter nor def to a dead nig—shure 1" And Jake spoke the truth, for, though lame and feeble in his legs, his arms were strong enough to lift a ton. But Jake was in a bad fix ; for, although he held the In dian immovable,die was himself a prisoner, and for some time he cogitated what to do. Mrs. Wood could not help him, for she had as much as she could do to keep the door closed against the Indians outside. If he had only sized the savage by the wrists, ha might have broken them, and so make him powerless; but, unluckilv, he had caught " WE STAND 'UPON THE IMMUTABLE PRINCIPLES OF JUSTICE—NO EARTHLY POWER SHALL DRIVE US FROM OUR POSITION." Bellefonte, Centre. County, Penna., Thursday Morning, Sept. 5, 1861. ! him about the middle of tlio forearm, and with the ravage writhing about him it wa3 ; impossible to shift his hold vrith safety.— j What could he do ? A happy thought strikes him. There is a sharp axe under the bed ; could he get that. But, how could he use it? That was the question, and he took a tiger hold upon the Indian, that made him, stoic though he was, writhe with pain. " I golly ! you'll twist worse nordat, you debbil !" muttered Jake, as another idea worked its way -through his wool. Then calling to Jennie, " come here Miss Jennie. Dosen't git scart, chile, he can't git away.'' " I'm not afraid of him, Jake/' she said, as she stepped forward, her eyes flashing anger and hate on the savage foe. "What can Ido to help you, Jake? Oh. I wish I could kill him !" And she shook her little fist at the Indian. " Ugh, me kill, Scaip you, bymeby, may be !" growled the Indian, as he made anoth er attempt to free himself. "Maybe you won't, neither," answered the brave girl.. " But what shall I do, Jake —what shall I do ?'* " I tell you, Miss Jennie," answered Jake, hope beaming on his dusky countenance. " Bar's an axe nnder de bed—mighty sharp one, too. Yah, yah, ole nig sharp him up yesterday. Didn't know what for do—guess ; Indian find out, pooty soon. Well, Miss j Jennie, you git de axe, cum up behind Ingin j and gib him one good lick in de bed and kill him. Dat's what you do." For a moment, Jennie, in horror, shrank from the deed. She was not afraid, but the idea of shedding blood had something horri ble in it to the child, even if it was the Mood of an enemy. She looked at her mother inquiringly. £! Shall I do it, mother ?" she asked. "It is cur only hope of safety, Jennie," i replied the matron, after a moment's hesita tion. "Do it, if you can, daughter; it is the only way to save our lives." "I can do it, and I will!" answered the brave girl, and she sprang to get the axe. The Indian had listened attentively to the short conversation. Little as he understood he knew they were contriving some plan, but what it was he could not make out. The appearance of the axo soon enlightened him on that point, and as he saw the youg girl approach with the weapon, liL struggles to get away became almost superhuman, and he had nearly succeeded in his object as the axe descended upon his bead. A sudden movement of the Indian rendered the blow partially ineffective, and the axe glanced off merely inflicting a slight wound. But again the young heroine raised the weapon, and again it descended, this time with fatal eflect and the savage sank dead at her feet. — Dropping the axe. Jennie turned, in horror, from the sickening spectacle. Old Jake sprang to his feet with a hoop that was aud ible to the Indians on the outside, and seized upon the axe. " I golly, missus," lie shouted, "dat's de way to sarve 'em out!'" Then pointing to the savage who, a prisoner in the door, had been a witness to the fa'e of his comrade, Jake continued, "jus' let in dat udder cuss dar, an' we'll sarve him off in de same manner. I golly, I t'ink I'll hab a cut at him anyhow." And !.; hobbled towaid the door : but the Indian saw him coming, and knowing his fate if he stayed there he gave a yell and making one great struggle for liberty and life, he succeeded in releasing himself, but not without leaving a considerable portion of his gaudy dress and painted cuticle behind as the'door closed ; and Mrs. Wood joyfully fixed the stout oaken bar, that had done such good service in its place. Yell upon yell arose from the savages outside of th? house ; but suddenly they were drowned by the sharp crack of a dozen rifles, and the hope of rescue sprang up in the hearts of the beseiged. Flying to a loophole in the -wall of the cabin, Mrs. Wood looked out. — A dozen Indians lay dead on the ground, while the survivors were flying in all direc tions. And issuing from' the forest were some eighteen or twenty hardy frontiersmen headed by Daniel Wood himself, who sprang across the open pace and was welcomed with opened arms by his overjoyed wife at the threshold, The cabin was soon filled with the woods men, while Jennie —dear, brave Jennie, was lauded to the highest pitch for her couago- Nor was old Jake forgotten. The oppor tune ai rival of Daniel and his friends were then explained. It seems that one of their neighbors, while hunting in the woods, dis covered the Indians ; and watching them, had seen them make toward Mr. Woods. — ! The man hurried to the station to obtain help, and there found Mr. Wood. A party was soon raised and on the march.. Our readers know the rest. But old Jake ever after asserted . " Dat if missus had only luft dem red cus is in, one at time, Missie Jennie and dis ole nig would hab killed detn all off—Shur's yer boin." JKjylDthe battle of Bull Run, Henry Benson of Kenosha county, Wis., fought gal , antiy with his regiment, the 2nd Wisconsin. J 110 was first shot through the hand, and ex* I claimed, "There goes one band for the Un | ion. Kally, boys, and down with the trait ors !"• Just then a ball struck him near the heart. He died, exclaiming, "Tell my father I die like a man fighting for the Union." The English Press on Bull Run. When the London Times declares that the Secessionists gained a victory at Bull Run— "a complete victory—as much a victory as .Austerlitz" —one wonders which most pre dominates, its simple effrontery, its palpable ignorance, or its notorious mendacity. The London Daily Telegraph, -which sets if down as only "second to Magenta, or to So'iferino, in actual slaughter," is just as badly inform ed. Our readers should know that tbo Tele graph long had been a liberal, independent journal, but has lately become the tbick-and thin advocate ot the PalmerstOD Ministry, and especially ot the small morsel of mortal ity, Earl.liussel, who exactly realizes the idea Tom Moore's satirical poem, " There was a little man, and he had a little soul." In the battle of Magento 20,000 Austriaos were placed hors de combat, 7,000 wore taken prisoners, and 12,000 muskets and 30,000 knapsacks wer.o picked up. At Soifenno, the Austrian loss was considerably greater,— but the victory there lost Lombardy to Aus tria, confirmed the exile of the Grand Dukes, transfeired Tuscany, Parma, and Modenato Victor Emmanuel, and paved the way for the annexation of the Kingdoms of Naples Sici ly, and all the rest of Italy except Venitia and the small remnaDt of Italy not defended by French bayonets. When the news of Napoleon's victory at Austerlitz reached William Pitt, ho was al most paralyed with dismay, surprise, and anger, He grasped the despatch, and con clusively crushing it upin his hand, exclaim ed, with the energy of eonviction and grief. " Then we may roll up the map of Europe for the next twenty years." In six weeks, ho was a dead man—heart-broken by a vic tory which made Napoleon virtual master of the continent of Europe. In that battle, 10,- 000 of the Austro Russian army were left dead on the field. 20,000 were taken prison ers, 185 pieces of cannon, 400 cessions, and 45 standards were captured. The French lost 12,000 men, and Napoleon's force of 80,000 men was opposed by 84,000 of the al lied army. That teas a battle, which at once placed Northern Europe at the conq e or's feet, and closed tha o by the peace of Presburg. Compare these great Eurepean battles, which innnediaftdy decided most momentous points-name'y, the supremacy of Nop do on I , and th i liberation of Italy,—with our bat tle of Bull Run. Wer had a small force en gaged,—wr won the victory at first, —we sus tained one of those sudden and inexplicable panics which sometimes paralyze the best troopsC {as with the French on one occasion, during the Italian war of 1859 :) v c did not lose a single standard ; the enemy was either unable or unwilling to fallow up the " vieto ry ;" and our troops are now preparing for a renewal of the campaigo, with better dis cipline and better heart than before, for l.bey have unbounded confidence in the united command of General Scott and General Mc- C Han. If che London Times ebould desire to be considered " iba leading journal of Europe," (a title which it modestly claims for itself ) it must get new and well-informed writers. Every military man—every reader, in fact, of ordinary knowledge, whether derived from books or conversation—must detect, at once, the reckless and even impudent mendacity which declares liull Run to be " a complete victory—as much a victory as Austerlitz." Mr. Russell, upon whose long report The Times rests for information, saw nothing of the fight, which had been raging some seven hours before he reached Centreville, the ler mious of his journey. Indeed, he only de scribes the retreat —the rout, if the wordeuit him better. Considering that he had left his escort seven miles behind him, by the time he had reached the Long Bridge over the Potomac, and actually was one of the fore most fugitives who reached Washington, dis tancing every other newspaper man out on service that day, his sketch is very clever.— We shall not too furiously inquire how he was able to describe scenes from which be frayd'ed as fast as ever his galloping steed could carry him. We repeat, the rout has given us as a les son which was Eeeded. It has checked, and probably stopped, the tendency to be influ enced by the advice or the reproaches of ci vilians, and has placed the conduct ot the war in the hands of capable military chiefs. If Europe has any idea that the United States will not carry out the firm purpose ot com pelling the revolted South to abandon its treason and come back under the shelter of the Constitution, it will do well to think oth erwise. We won Freedom, in our struggle for Independence, by the same self-reliance aiad valor which we now shall exercise to succeed, with so just a cause as ours, would be to nullify the glory of the past—in the words of the poet: Was it for this we sent out Liberty's cry from our shore ? Was it for this that her shout Thrilled to the world's very core ? As the London Daily News says : " The defeat of the North shuts the door to com promise or to acquie6consa on any terms the South can offer. 2he Union is bound 1o conquer now. The spirit of New England and the Northwest will rise to the occasion ; and we, of the old race, tried and strengthened by many reverses, shall not be surprised if our kinsman never rest until they have turned ' defeat into victory."—Philadelphia, Press. Evergreen Mountains of Life. j ° ; There's a land far away 'mid the stars we are told, Where we knew not tlie'sorrows of time ; Where tha cure waters wander through valleys of gold, And life is a treasure sublimo, 'Tis the land of our God—'tis the homo of our soul, Where ages of splendor eternally roll— Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal, On the evergreen mountains of life. Our gaze cannot soar to that beautiful land, But our visions have told of its bliss, | And our souis by tho gale Jrom its gardens are fanned, I When we faint in the deserts of this, i And we sometimos have longed for holy repose, When cur spirits were worn with temptations and woes, And we've drank from the tido of the river that flows From the ovcrgrcen mountains of life. Oh, the star never treads tho blue heavens at night, But v e think where the ransomed have trod, And the day never smiles from.its places of light But wc feel the bright smiles of our God. Wa are traveling homeward, through changes and giooin, To a kingdom where pleasures unchangingly ciooia, And our guide is the glory that shines through the tomb, From the Evergreen Mountains of Life. THE BROKEN HEART. BT J!EB. W. K. BENSON. I saw her once and loved her. For her face and form were fair. No tear was then within her eye, Nor on iier brow a care. I saw she loved another. And em ie.i him his lot ; Oh. how I madly worshipped her ! But ycc she knew it not. Why did I let her give her heart, „ So trusting pure and kind. To one who valued not the gift, Xor-the beauties of her mind. He only loved her when she smiled, Or when she looked most fair; De sought not to retain her love By a husband's watchful eare. J saw her weeping and alone, W hv