ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA : Gatnrban fUoruinn, Hlnrd) 8, 1858. Jrlcttcli |bctrn. t'tr The following exquisite lines from BUY ANT, copied in tin- Xovcmlter number of Harper, will have a mournful beauty and pathos for those who have been called to la incut ttie early " loved and lost Ob, we shall mount him long, and miss His ready smile, his ready kiss ; The patter of his little feet, Sweet frowns, aud stammered phrases sweet. And graver looks, serene and high, A light of heaven in that young eye ; All these will hannt us, till the heart Shall ache aud aclie—and tears shall start. The little how shall fall to dust, The shining arrows waste with rust: lint lie who now, from sight of men, We hide in earth, shall live again. Shall break these elouds, a form of light, With nobler mein and clearer sight; And in the eternal glory stand With those who wait at Hod's right hand. SDlttltfc C;tb. Tm Crosliy's Deed of Magic. nv sYi.v-vxis conn, JR. Turn Crosby was a Cobbler—or, at least, so liis neighbors called him—though he was in fact, one ot the best shoemakers in the country. He often had to turn applicants; away empty-handed ; for he had more work always on his hands than he could attend to. Tom's cottage was near the centre of the village, and his little shop was close by it, and from morning till night the merry music of his lapstotie rang out upon the air. Tom was a industrious man, and everv-body liked liim. He was always kind, always good-na tured. full of fun and anecdote, and above all rise, lie was one of those rare persons who sji'iul their leisure moments looking after their , own hu.-iness. Tom was now forty years of' age. and though he had always worked hard j and steady, yet he had not accumulated much property. He owned the small house and the ' -iiop. together with some four acres of land, ! which lay back of the buildings, upon which ! lie rai-ed a goodly store of fruit and vcgcta-1 hies. Ih-sides this, he had sonic one or two j hundred dollars laid safely away in a savings I hank to serve him on a rainy day. Mrs. Crosby was an excellent wife, and one I of tin- best mothers, and 110 one could have l kept the humble cottage looking more neat and tidy than she did. The little front room alway- presented the same spotless purity of floor and wainscot, and while curtains never had -pot or wrinkle. The kitchen was more fostered, but never dirty, while even the -'round floor of the woodshed was kept swept and clean. This excellent couple had four children. Young Tom was thirteen, and help ed his lather some in the shop when school *iid at keep. \\ illic was ten ; Lizzie live, and Ktlie only two. Tom named his first child hiinwlf. Mrs. Crosby had selected a very pretty name, but her husband was dctcriuiucd iat lie should lie a " voun'* '/' mi, 1 ' and the wife gave in ; but the rest of tlie children she named herself, and we can sec that her tastes ddfi-ri'd somewhat from Tom's. He had want* -d to end tin-second hoy Peter, in honor of | - grandfather ; and then he suggested the ' aim-of Hannah for the lirst girl ; lint his ■>Kw," such was the term Mrs. C. used,) ' 1 -a'-* were not quite up to the mark, llut sr children were good. They were, in fact, ■i"-< 1 liildren in the neighborhood, for ■ r lather took great pains in the formation ' their rharacfiTs, and their mother felt uo greater pride than to have tliein appear well. lVonle pointed to Tom Crosby as a pattern happiness and peace ; and yet he was not hv:iys happy. An evil genius had crept into house—into his house—and he was grow more and more unhappy everyday; for I 1 had never been happy only when he could I -t" those arouml him happy. The pain or I I 'i'lmt of a-ingle individual in his family * sure to upset his own cup of joy. N'-ev the truth is, the sweet angel of con wliirh had fo r so Jong a time kept guard r l-mis household, hail flown away, and ! "f -pirit had come in. Mrs. Crosby had ® ' "'le-'-mtented and unhappy. >She had ' the -pirit of envy to gain possession " r yul. ami from the moment she let the in, her pence of mind was gone. m 'rodiy," she said, after the children • - >ne to Letl, one evening, "what is the - "' living >,?" kiting how ?" uttered Tom, shaking the * [rum his pijK-, and putting it away. 'l'}'—living as we do now. Plodding ,- year after year in this same old train. ,: ' ro - I m almost Tit to go erazv when I | <Hof it." I''""' I thought vou used to be ? happy lu-re.'' " ■h"! -0 I did ; but what does that signify? I u '"s happy when I was a child, docs u ' that 1 should always want to be a I used to be happy here when I -'-wo were on the road to something , r , ' didn't think when you married me, to live stuck down here in this aUi i that I was to grow old and die with •Ming thurnpety thump of your old '..p- r dinging in my ears." ' u hut would you have Hannah V the ,'" !b ked, with a tone and expression of t. r "Hcred the woman, energetically. ! , Id liave some higher place in the 1 j a mere rnbb/rr's wife !" b-unah, we were once the happiest ' l "Wu, and you were then only what n ou only want what you have Mr ('roshy." I "ftiinnh. Ynu only want back that I '' ' •-icutmcnt THE BRADFORD REPORTER. " There it is again, Tom Crosby. Because I would hold my head up a little higher in the world, and be somebody then I am not con touted ! Mercy on me would you have a soul contented to see everybody else getting up, and me be obliged to dig and burrow here ?" ' " But who is getting up, Hannah ?" "\\ho ? \\ hv—there's Sarah Brown, thut was—now Sarah Wilkiifs ; just look at her. She was where I was once, but now she has her coach and servants, and dresses in silks and satin. And then look at Thompson, and Cowley, and Nathans. All of 'em building new houses, and keeping their horses and ser vants. Look at them, I gay—and then look at us." " But, my love, w here shall I find money to do such things ?" " Find it where other folks find it. Shut up your little, nasty shop, and go into some business more promising. How do other folk's find money I'd like to know ?" " But other folks have a faculty which I have not," said Tom, in an earnest", argumen tative tone. " I have found perfect happiness in my little shop, and in my neat and comfort able home. Health has been secured to us ; our children are blessings ; plenty was always ours, and no man can dun you or me for debt. Other folks may be happy with their great houses, and their servants, and their parties, but such things are not suited to us. All, Ah, Hannah, you could never be so happy as you have been were you to have Surah Wil kin's place. She may like it, but you would not." " Don't tell me, Tom Crosby. Don't you suppose I know what I should like ? 1 sav it galls me to think that I'm never going to get above this kind of life. Others, who, are no better than we are, have money enough—" " And don't we have enough, Hannah ? Don't we have everything we want ?" " No, we dou't. Look at Wilkins. See how his wife dresses, and how proudly she holds her head when she goes into meeting. Only just think how she nods at me, but never speaks. I declare, Tom, it's too bad." " And yet, my love, Mr. Wilkius came to me yesterday, and wanted to borrow a hun dred dollars." Mrs. Crosby opened her eyes, but before she could make any reply, somebody rapped at the door. Tom answered the summons, and the caller was a boy, who had come after a pair of new boots. " Boots !" uttered 3lrs. Crosby to herself, after her husband bad gone to the shop.— Hoots ! Mercy ! shall I ever escape that de grading sound ?" This simple scene will show somewhat of the state of mind into which Mrs. C. had fall en. She had not always la-en thus, though she had always held little ideas of pride which her husband had never felt. Jsut about two years previous to the opening of our story, Mr. Albert Wilkins had moved into the town, and he had brought with him for a wife one who had been Hannah's schoolmate in times gone by. Mrs. W. not only made much show of her wealth, but she also slighted her old friend, and this worked upon the fcelin/s of the more humble female. Mrs. C. began to envy the wealthy woman, and from this sprung numberless con sequences. It was sometime before she really thought of aiming at such herself, but the idea gradually came over her, and then she began to reflect upou her hus band's position, and she was not long in mak ing tip her mind that he might have heen wealthy had he tried. It was in vain that Tom urged the expense of his ehildrcn, in Vain that he pleaded his own inability, and in vain that lie urged the joys of contentment. The evil spirit had gained possession of his wife's soul, and he could not exorcise it by any argu ment or persuasion. Hannah became unhappy and miserable, and even her own children fail ed to give lu-r joy. One day Tom was in his shop nil alone, and he was weeping. He had just been to the House, and another "scene" had transpired. He had come back to his little shop, and with his hands clasped, and his eyes turned heaven ward, he prayed that God would move his wife's heart with sweet content once more.— Hardly had lie uttered this prayer, when the door of his shop was opened, and a man en tered. This was no less a personage than John Newton, an old schoolmaster of Tom's upon whom fortune had smiled most bounteously.— He had lived in a neighboring town —in a large and thriving manufacturing village—and had amassed great wealth without marring his heart. He seldom saw Tom now, when he did meet him, his greeting was as warm and genial as ever. "What, Tom !" uttered Newton, as he saw the poor cobbler's gloomy, tearful face ; "what is to pay now V t " Nothing," was Tom's answer. Hut Newton was not to be put off thus, and after considerable questioning Tom reveal ed the secret, lie knew if he had a noble friend on earth, John Newton was that friend, and he told all. For some time after he had done, Newton remained thoughtful and silent; but at length a bright gleam rested upon his face. " Tom," lie said, " Hannah doesn't dream of the thousand and one cares of which she is now free, and to which wealth would subject bcr." " Av, that's it Jack," the cobbler cried.— " That's it. She don't know much she has to enjoy. She's got her head turned." " Hut I thiuk we can turn it back again." " Kb ?" "We can turn it again. I say. Pv my soul, Tom, I have never offered money, because I knew you had enough—but I can give you something better now. I will take my wife and children out of the way for awhile, and you shall have the use of my house, plate, ser vants, dresses and all. Eh 1 How's that V Tom Crosby opened his eyes, aud as soon as he could comprehend matters fully, he sat down by the side of his friend, and they talked to gether over an hour. ***** " I say it's no use, Tom, I'd just as lief die as live so. What's the use of poking along this war /" PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " TV ell, Hannah, you shan't live so any more. Von needn't look surprised, for I mean just what I say. I've got the power and I can use it. I've found the I'hilosopktr's Stone !"' " The what, Tom ?" cried Hannah. " The Philosopher's Stoue." " But what's that ?" " Why, t's something that gives the owner power to be rich right off. If I've a mind to I can wake up to-morrow morning with you and I both in a palace, surrounded by riches." Mrs. Crosby was slow to believe this, but at length Tom convinced her. Vet she wanted to see the stone. The cobbler took a small leather bag from his pooket, and from it he drew a round white stone nearly covered with strange characters. The hieroglyphics upset the point of skepticism in Hannah's mind, and she believed. Shortly afterwards they sat down to supper. Mrs. Crosby did not Observe her husband when he put a suspicious-looking powder into the tea-pot, uor did she notice particularly that her husband drank only milk and water. She drank her tea—more than usual—and then arose. But somehow she for got to clear away the table. She sat down in her chair, and ere long she fell asleep. * * * * * Hannah Crosby awoke and looked around. She was not sure that she was awake. She leaped out upon a soft carpet and rubbed her eyes. " Tom ! Tom ! For mercy's sake, Tom do wake up !" Mr. Crosby arose to a sitting posture and looked at his wife. They were in a large room ; the iloor was covered with a carpet of downy softness ; the walls glittering with gold and flowers ; the ceiling painted sumptuously ; the furniture of the most costly kind, and the bed itself a very marvel of wondrous extrava gance. " For mercy's sake, Tom where are we ?" " Why in our palace to be sure. Don't you remember what 1 told you last night ? But come to bed now." " Arc ye crazy, Tom Crosby ? Aren't the sun up?" " What have we got to do with the sun ? By and-by I shall arise and then your servants will come in and help you dress." "Servants? Help me dress ? Why, Tom Crosby, what d'ye mean ?" " Why, you wouldu't expose yourself to your own servants, would ye ? Hereafter you must never get up till your servants come. — They'll laugh at you if you do." Shortly afterwards Tom arose, and dressed himself, and spoke to his wife. She looked at him and started upright. " Tom Crosby, is that you ?" " Who else should it be?" " Mercy's sake ! () Jerusalem !" A tul no wonder she was astonished, for never before had she seen Tom Crosby look like that. His pants were of black broad cloth, his vest of white satin, his shirt bosom of the finest linen sparkling with diamonds, and his dressing-gown of Genoa velvet. Mr. Crosby went out, and his wife was left alone. She had just got out of bed to look around, when she heard footsteps, and in a moment she was in bed again. Three stout gals entered the chamber, and approached the bed. "\\ ill your mistress be pleased to arise ?" asked the foremost one. The poor woman remembered what her hus band had said about the servants helping her dress, and at once arose At breakfast half a dozen servants waited on the table. Mrs. Crosby longed to speak to her husband, but she dared not before so many. Her cup was filled with coffee, and she drank it. It was much stronger than the was used to drinking, but so finely was it fixed that she loved it. and she allowed the girl who waited upon the table to fix her four cups. After breakfast, Mrs. Crosby was conducted over part of the house, and to her it seemed as though all the wealth of all the world must have been collected and spent in furnishing the place. The heavy gilt-framed pictures, and mirrors, the statues, the carpets, the gold and silver ornaments, the servants—all, appeared to her in bewildering profusion. " We are to have company to supper," said Mr. Crosby. " Supper '{ Have we got to eat agaiu before we go to bed ?" " Eat again. Why—you wouldn't go with out your supper '! Our friends, who have heard of our arrival, are coining in." About f) o'clock Mr. New ton and wife ar rived, and with them came three couples more, all in the secret. " Isn't that Effiecrying?" uttered Mrs. Cros by, as the distinct wailing of a child sounded upon the air. "John,"spoke Mr. Crosby, to one of the servants, "go and tell the nurse to stop that noise." " No, no," cried the startled woman—the mother starting up now—" I'll go myself.— Poor, dear tiling. She shall sec mama, so she shall. Hut Tom sprang forward and caught his wife bv the arm : " For heaven's sake !" he whispered in her ear, " you'll ruin us. Don't let such things move you." " Hut how can I, Tom ?" My soul, how can I ? Only think—our own little Effie—only a baby. Tom, I—" " Mrs. Crosby," spoke Mrs Newton, who saw the turn affairs had taken, " will you allow me," taking her by thearmand leading her to a seat, " you have a child, have you ? Ah, an iufunt ? How I pity poor people who have to attend to their own children. Such plagues. Dou't you think so ?" Mrs. Crosby said yes ; but she knew she spoke falsely. " What a miserable idea that is," continued Mrs. Newton, " which sup|>osefi that mothers must be fastened down to their children.— However, poor people can't help it, I sup pose ?" And yet Mrs. Crosby heard her little dar ling sob and cry, and her heart seemed racking with pain ; but she dared not interfere now. At length supper was announced. It was " RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." eleven o'clock. Mrs. Crosby ate considerable cake and confectionery, and at the end she had to drink wine with five different persons. Her position was painful because it was so unnatural Not one moment of peace and comfort could she find, but instead, thereof, it was one con tinual scene of trial and trouble. But bedtime came —at two o'clock—and for awhile the mar tyr felt relieved. But it was only for a moment, for u| Kin finding herself alrtne with her husband, she remembered that her lieml ached, and that her limbs were weary. " By the powers, Hannah," uttered Tom, " isn't this nice ? 'Taint much like cobbling boots and shoes, is it ? O, how fine ! I)ocsn ; t it seem as though we were born for it V The wife was silent for some moments, but she spoke at length, and iu a low, subdued tone : "Tom, where is little Effie ?" " With the nurse, to be sure." " O, do go and bring her here to ine. Do— that's a good——" " —sh ! Someliody may hear you Hannah. You know what Mrs. Newton said to to-night. She's the next richest to us of anybody iu the country." The poor woman laid her head upon the pil low with a groan. " Isn t it nice ?" uttered Tom, inn chuckling tone. "By the big hokey, Hannah, only think how we'll live." " But 'twont bo always like this, Tom ?" " No, 110—rather guess 'twont. Why we haven't begun yet. Just wait till folks* get acquainted with us and begin to come from the cities to see us. And then when we begin to give our great parties. Won't it be nice ?" But Hannah made no reply, and ere long, she fell asleep ; but she did nut rest. On the next morning, Tom was up and off before his wife awoke. The first of conscious ness she felt was a rough shaking by the shoul der, and on looking up, she saw her servants. She arose at their bidding, but she had not been long ou her feet when she sank back, for her head ached, her limbs were weary. But she finally allowed herself to be dressed, and soon afterwards, she met her husband at the breakfast table. She looked at the face of the marble-cased clock on the mantle, and saw that it was eleven o clock. She was upon the | M tint of speaking to her husband about it, but the presence of the servants prevented. After breakfast, when .Mrs. Crosby thought of going to bed again, she received an invita tion to visit Mrs. Newton. " I can't," she said. But, urged the husband, "we must go. Sir John is one of the most important men in the country. We are in for it, Hannah, and we must stick it out. Remember, you have urged it." " But—hut, Tom, I didn't expect—" " Didn't exjiect what ? Did you suppose that those who had wealth and high station enjoved the same ease and quiet that the peaceful cob bler owned By the powers, Hannah, you inusn't fail now. You filled your own station well —but you have got a new one to fill now, and you must come up to the mark. Sir John will expect us." " Sir John ?" " Yes." " Sir" John had a very noble sound, and that was a little calming to the poor woman's feelings. However, at four o'cloek the car riage was at the door, and when Mrs. Crosby saw it, she forgot her pains for awhile. The horses were coal black, and harnessed almost wholly in silver. Away the aristocratic cou ple were whirled to a noble mansion, which Mrs. Newton had engaged for the occasion, the real owner of which was introduced to Mrs. C. as a ' friend.' The rest of the day, and the night, were passed just, about the same as on the previous day, and Mrs. Crosby had an opportunity to see that all rich people must live alike. She had to take wine again at supper, and the clock was njon the stroke of four in the morn ing when she reached her own mansion. She went to lied wretched and unhappy. She had been laughed at by the servants for her awk- i ward ties*—she had been sneered at by a young, consumptive miss, because she could not plav euchre, and the whole company had giggled at her funny remarks touching some butter which chanced to be on the table. On the next morning—or towards noon— when she awoke, she found her servants about her as before. She asked them to send her husband to her ; but they could not think of such a thing. She simply sprang out of bed and caught a chair, and told them to disoliey her if they dared. They left the chamber,and shortly afterwards, Tom Crosby made his ap pearance. " Tom," the wife groaned, " I can't stand this—indeed I can't." " Why, Hannah, arc ye crazy ?—Would ye give up all your wealth 1'" " No, no, I'd like to keep the money, but— but—O, my head !" '• Keep the money : And what would you keep it for ? We had money enough before for the station we then held ; and all you used to want was to make a show like Mrs. Wilkius. Surely you wouldn't go back into your old home, and have to take care of your own chil dren, and do your own cooking, and find your own eggs in the hay, and have the fuss of your own husband, and have to go to bed every night at nine or ten o'clock. Why, you're cra zy, Hannah." " Aud is It that stone that keeps us here, Tom ?" " Yes. Tint you you sec I've guarded against any such danger, for I've put the Philosopher's Stone in a place where nobody'li ever think of looking for it." " Where is it, Torn ?" " I've hung the bag right up our chimney, here." " That is a good place," said Mrs. C. ; and after this, she proceeded to dress herself, mak ing her husband wait till she had finished, so that " them pesky sarvauts wouldn't come nigh her any more." Breakfast was eaten, as usual, and after awhile, three ladies called, and sent up their cards. Mrs. Crosby would have refused, but her husband overcame her objections. So the ladies culled in, aud Mrs. C. was once more " on nettles." At five o'clock, they left, and shortly after wards, Mrs. Crosby stole away to her cham ber. Torn had been watching her, and he stole after her, and watched her movements through the key-hole. She first threw herself upon the bed, and there she lay some time. Next, she arose and went to the fire place. She removed the gaudy screen, and then reached up and took down the little leathern bag. She took out the stone and placer] it upon the hearth.— Within the fire place stood a pair of small sil ver andirons, and with one of these Mrs. C. deliberately smashed the stone to atoms. With a peculiar chuckle Tom hastened below, and attended himself to preparing his wife's tea. — The meal to be eaten was denominated dinner, but when Mrs. Crosby came down, she distinct ly said ' supjier !' She could oat but little, but she drank free ly of the tea, and within half an hour after wards, she felt so sleepy that she could not keep her eyes opened, and she went to bed, de spite her husband's urgent arguments to the contrary. Of course she was not loug in fall ing asleep, and she slept soundly too. * * * * ♦ * " Torn ! Tom !" cried Mrs. Crosby, when she awoke. " Tom ! Tom ! For mercy's sake look. The sun was shining brightly in at the little vine clad window, and the old cat was purring cosily upon the foot of the bed. The enraptured woman turned her eyes to the little crib that stood by the bedside, and there laid her darling Effie "fast asleep. " (loudness gracious !" said Tom, starting up, " somebody's stolen our stone ! Our magic stone is gone !" " Ho, ho ! 'Twas I that did it!" the wife shouted, leaping from her bed, and dancing about on the painted floor. With that, she opened the door of the little bedroom, where, in the cot bed lay young Tom and Willie, and in the truckle bed" Lizzie was sleeping. • Tom was up by this time, and he professed to be greatly alarmed. " Alas ! Our wealth is gone !*' " Then let it go !" retorted Hannah. " Em my part, I've had enough of it. O, Tom, doesn't this place look grand ?" Hut how long will it be before you will be moaning after carriages and silks once more V' " Never ! never !'' At this moment Eflie waked up, and gave a cry of joy as she saw " mamma." Mrs. Crosby, as soon us she could collect her senses, began to think she had only l>een dream ing, but when she heard Tom and Willie talking about the new school, und saw how the dust had collected about the windows, she feared it was, after all, a reality. But by and by, she heard a liell ring, and when she found it was really Sunday she knew that her past expe rience hud been a substantial tiling of real life, for it was on Wednesday that she had first seen the magic stone. And then her headache ! and other bodily pain yet remained to admon ish her of the misery she had suffered. It was over two years before Mrs. Crosby discovered the secret of that three days' e\|ie rience she had in " high life," and even then j discovered it by accidentally overhearing a : cooversatiou been her husband and Mr. Newton. L'ntil thou she had firmly believed that she owed the experience to a deed of magic. She j now realized the many blessings she enjoyed, and no more gave way to discontent. DISCONCERTING AN ORATOR.—It is an aston ing thing how little a matter will sometimes disconcert a man who is accustomed to sjteak in public, and to have his thoughts al>out him, and ready at command on almost all occa sions. " I was once opening a speech from the stump," said a distinguished western political orator to us recently, "and was just beginning to warm with my subject, when a remarkably clear and deliberate voice spoke out behind uie, saying : " (Juess he wouldn't talk quite so hifalutina tin' if lie knew that histrowsers wast bu'st clean out behind." " From that moment I couldn't 'get on.'— The people in frout began to laugh, and there was a loud roar in my rear, and I dared not reverse my position from fear of having a new audience of my condition. I made, or rather invented an excuse for delay, and sat down.— The malicious scoundrel !" continued the ora tor, "it was only a mean trick, after all. There was nothing under heaven the matter with my unmentionables !" JrvKxn.E EXCITATION.—The other day a small boy came tearing round a corner, with his rags fluttering in the wind, his face smear ed with molasses aud a shingle flourishing in his hand, while he was shouting to another boy about the size of a peper-box, who stood nearly a quarter of a mile down the street: " (), Bill ! Bill! get as many lioys as ever you can, and as many shingles as ever you can, and come up the street, round the corner, as soon as you can, for there's a great big large hogsit of 'lasses busted on the pavement—busted all to smash !" No CHANGE.—Of a person who was a sor did miser, it was told Mr. Curran that he had set out from Cork to Dublin with one shirt and a guinea. " Yes," said Mr. Curran, " and 1 will answer for it, lie will change neither of them till he returns." A CHICAGO BROKER famous for his shrewd ness, took a trip by railroad the other day, and sat down at. the end of the last car, be cause he considered the use of money worth something while the conductor was comiug through the cars. A parishoner inquired of his pastor the meaning of this line of Scripture. "He was clothed with curses as with a garment." "It signifies," said the divine, "that the indi vidual had got a habit of earing." VOI,. XVI.—KO. 39. Appearance of the Hospital at Sebastopol. Of all the pictures of the horrors of war which have ever been presented to the world, the hospital at Sebastopol presents the most horrible, heartrending, and revolting. It can not be described, and the imagination of a Fuseh could not conceive anything at all like unto it. How the poor human body can be nmtilated and yet hold its soul within, when every limb is shattered, and every vein and ar tery is |K>uriug out the life stream, one might study here at every step, and at the same time wonder how little will kill. The building used as a hospital is one of the noble piles inside the dockyard wall, and is situate in the centre of the row at right angles to the line of the Redan. The whole row was peculiarly ex posed to the action of shot and shell bounding over the Redan, and to the missiles directed at the Barrack Battery, and it bears in sides roof, windows and doors, frequent and dis j tinetive proofs of the severity of the cannon ade. Entering one of these doors, I beheld such a sight as few men, thank Hod, have ever witnessed. In a long low room, support ed by sqnarc pillars, arched at the top, and | dimly lighted through shattered and unglazed j window frames, lay the wounded Russians, who had been abandoned to our mercies by their general. The wounded, did I say ? No, but the dead, the rotten and festering corpses of the soldiers, who were left to die in their extreme agony, untended, uneared for, packed as close as they could be stowed, some on the floor, others on wretched tressels and bedsteads, or pallets of straw, sopped and satu rated with blood, which oozed and trickled through upon the floor, mingled with thedrop piugs of corruption. With the roar of explod ing fortresses in their ears, with shells and shot pouring through the roof and sides of the rooms in which they lay, with the crackling and hissing of tire around them, these poor fellows, who had served their loving friend and master, the Czar but too well, were consigned to their terrible fate. Many might have been saved by ordinary care. Many lay, yet alive, with maggots crawling ahout in their wounds. Many, nearly mad by the scene around them, or seeking to escape from it in their extremest agony, had rolled away under the beds, and glared out ou the heartstricken spectator, oh ! with such looks ! Many with legs and arms broken and twisted, the jagged spliuters stick ing through the raw flesh, implored aid, water, food or pitv ; or deprived of speech by the ap proach of death, or by dreadful injuries in the head or trunk, pointed to the lethal spot. — Many seemed bent alone on making their peace with Heaven. The attitudes of some were so hideously fantastic as to appal and root one to the ground by a sort of dreadful fascination. Could that bloody mass of clothing and white bones ever have been a human being, or that burnt black mass of flesh have ever had a hu man soul? It was fearful to think what the answer must be. The bodies of numbers of men were swollen and bloated to an incredible degree, and the features distended to a gigan tic size, with eyes protruding from the sockets, and the blackened tongue lolling out of the mouth, compressed tightly by the teeth, which had set upon it in the death rattle, made one shudder and reel round. In the midst of one of these "chambers of horror"—for there were many of them—were found some dead and some living English soldiers, and among them the poor Captain Vaugh, of the 90th, who has since Mic urabed to his wounds. I confess it was impossible for me to stand the sight, which horrified onr most experienced surgeons ; the deadly, clammy stench, the smell of gangrened wounds, corrupted blood, rotting flesh, were intolerable and odious beyond endurance.— But what must have the wounded felt who were obliged to endure all this, and who pass ed away without a hand to give them a cup of water, or a voice to say kindly word to them ? Most of these men were wounded on Satur day—many perhaps on the Friday before—in deed it is impossible to say how long they might have been there. In the hurry oftheir retreat the Muscovites seem to have carried in dead men to get them out out of the way, and to have put them uj>on pallet&in horrid mockery. So that their retreat was secured the enemy cared but little for their wounded. Ou Mon day only did they receive those whom we sent to them during a brief armistice for the pur jose, which was, I believe, sought by ourselves, as our overcrowded hospitals could not contain and our overworked surgeon could not attend to any more. FEMAI.E " WKAKVK S." —Tliis complaint is very very prevalent just now. It shows itself in desires for hundred dollar shawls, and thuso nice looking young men who |>edd!e tape and wear their hair curled. This sort of weakness comes on about the age of eighteen, and is very apt to terminate fatally—to a husband's peaco ami pocket-book. Cure —<spend less money for bonnets, and more for books. In other words, put something iu the head as well as on it. &gr A country parson had a singular pecu liarity of expression, always using the phrase " flatter myself' instead of " I believe.'' Hav ing occasion to exhort his congregation during a revival, he " flattered himself' that more than half of them would be eternally d d ! 6ay~ Marriage resembles a pair of shears, so joined that they cannot be separated ; often moving in opjwsite directions, yet always pun ishing any one who comes between them. It is a bad sign when a preacher tries to drive home his logic by thumping the desk violently with his clenched hand. His argu ments arc so-J?.<'-icaL t&r A little girl, visiting Xiagara with her father and seeing the foam at the foot of the of the falls, exclaimed, " Pa, how much soap it must take to make so many suds r Always laugh while you can—it is a cheap medicine. Mirthfulue&s is a philosophy nor well understood Ifi-tl,e unnv-ide of existence
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers