g DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
£t]ursdaD HlornitiiJ, Jannarn 15, 1858
jStlettrti laetrit.
THE WINTER OF LIFE.
BY MRS. BCKGOYNS.
The snow of winter gently faffs.
And whitens o'er the ground ;
Thus, with the snowy wreaths of tiiea
The brow of age is bound.
It never melts, but slowly falls,
Silent and scarcely seen,
Until the heads of those we lovo
Glitter with silver sheen.
Time never heeds the pain or grief
Which human nature feels ;
No backward movement ever makes—
Hut only rolls its wheels ;
Regardless of the bitter wail
Of hearts by anguish riven ;
The songs of youth, the plaints of age
Unheeded, rise to heaven.
Oh, could we find the fabled spring
Which would our youth restore ;
Or gaze, like traveler outtvord bound.
On the receeding shore ;
But all in vain—the bounding wave
Still bares us from the strand ;
The mystic water's power is naught
But tale of fairy laud.
Better to bear with cheerful heart
The change that time may bring
And garner treasure for old age,
Thau sigh for endless spring
Treasures of faith, of hope, and love,
"Freely to mortals givea ;
Death will restore our youthful blown—
There's no old age in heaven.
Selttlti) Citle.
THE SNOW EXPRESS.
Many year? ago, while a subaltern, I was
stationed at Blockhouse Point, at the mouth
of the Green Snak* River, on the north side
of L ike Huron. This now dilapidated strong
hold was erected, o:i a sandy point stretching
out into the lake, in the days of the Indian
wars, and I could fancy its slender garrison of
sharp-shooters watching from their loopholes
the clustering forms of their Indian foes as
they stole along the borders of the forest.—
The bullet-holes that riddled its massive walls,
and its charred and blackened surface, sug
gested grim conjectures respecting its brave
defenders who tilled the graves around its
fuot.
But now there were no Italians to employ
the leisure of the unfortunate company of reg
ular troops, that grumbled away their days
within the humble fortification that now sur
rounded the old blockhouse. Our only ene
mies were bears and foxes which skulked about
the woods, and the only Indians who sought
admission to the post were those from a little
village about seven miles Hp the Green Snake
River, where a peaceable party of Ojibbeways
had taken up their abode.
In this dot in the wilderness, I and two bro
ther officers lived the lives of anchorites, only
i.-s contended, and by no means forgetting the
worhl by which we seemed very nearly forgot
ten. Not hut what letters reach us—some
times—during the summer, by an occasional
shooner coming up along the lakes. It was
Tiring the other half of the year, when the
ikes were bound by the universal fetter of
ire, that we lived iu unblis'-'ful ignorance.—!
Twice, however, during each long, long winter, j
irreat excitement prevailed at Blockhouse j
Point. It was when Indians, travelling over
tie snow on snowshoes, were expected to ar
rive with the "express." Day after day we
'i ; ed walk for miles, hopingto meet our bronze
Mercuries : and when at length they came in
"i-'ht, with what trembling hearts we returned
to the,post,to await the opening of their sealed
ballets by the proper authority, in ignorance
of what tidings " the mail " might coataiu
for us!
On one occasion the news I got was sad
enough. My dearest friend was to be tried
I'V court-martial on a serious charge. He hail
not written to ine himself, but a mutual friend
"iforraed me that, before another month was
P'gt, Lowther's fate would be sealed ; and
biis month's delay had only occurred in conse
quence of uu imporaut witness being required
•rum the lower province, I saw at once it was
•n Div power to disprove the gravest part of
the charge, akhougn Low ther did not know it
let, Wore the spring should come and the
• 3 kes he open to enable me to reach head
quarters,- the trial would be over, and my
'•"tend, in all probability, condemned.
Jlhe dreadful thought that he might be sac
r: '-ced for the want of may testimony haunted
' ne - 1 could not sleep that night. Many
1 : 1S disturbed my mind. Couid 1 not write
®y statement, and send it by an Indian ex
l,rtss •' Undoubtedly I could. But, when I
jU'tie to count, I found it would not arrive in
unless some one was ever at hand to
,rr y the messengers on. Why not I he of
l!,€ express party ? I was young, strong, ac
•j e . and accustomed to exertion. Surely,
*> ; ut Indians could do, I could do. There
"Ba uot an hour to be lost. At daylight I
0 Gained leave from my commanding officer—
a Ujcre matter of form—for both he and my
-.f"? r heartily rejoiced at the prospect of Low
acquittal. Two Indians were quickly
, aiue< l. and everything was made ready for
Jl 'l'urture i n a few'hours.
Tot *i V - ° re a stran S e looking party. Our ob
. being speed, each carried his own traps,
j n ' as of them as possible. I was clad
■ a itaver coat and fur cap. My kit consist
l.ij' a 'Junket, a bearskin, and a wallet to
brctK )r ° V ' S ' ODS '. two lodiaDS, who were
i* ere similar| y equipped. With rifles
itself oa , or a °y game that might present
a nd snow-shoes on our feet, we set out.
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
In case we succeeded in getting to bead-quar
ters at the time appoiuted, a gratuity had
been promised to the Indians (which I resolv
ed to give, whether won or not,) and they
tmmurmuriugly pressed on, nearly the whole
day, ou their cumbrous show-shoes, scarcely
giving time to cook the game we killed ; then,
shouldering their packs, off again. They en
deavored to beguile the weariness of the way
by lively sallies, at which they laughed till the
silent woods rang with their merriment. —
Chiugoos (the ermine), the younger brother,
was the most joyous as well as most active of
us all ; and however wearied he might be
when when we stopped for the night, he laugh
ed and jested as he cut with his tomahawk
the evergreens which were to form our not un
comfortable shelter, and be strewn beneath
the bearskins on which we slept. Shegashie
(the cray fish) was our cook and firemaker ;
and the rapid way in which he heaped on
scores of dry branches, and raised a blazing
pile above the snow, always excited my admi
ration.
When we had accomplished nearly half our
journey, we had uot overstepped the time we
allowed ourselves ; but the continuous exer
tiou was beginning to effect our limbs, and the
perpetual glare of the sun on the snow inflam
ed our eyes. This we found by far the greater
hardship of two. I shall never forget the joy
we felt, one morning, when the sun remained
bidden beneath the heavy cloud-banks iu the
east. Almost forgetting our swollen limbs in
the gladness of being delivered from his daz.
zling rays, we travelled merrily on through
leafless forests of gigantic trees ; through tracts
of smaller trees, thickly studded with the larch,
the spruce, and the fir, whose dark foliage
gloomed almost black against the stainless
snow ; through woods tangled with wild vines,
and fragrant with juniper bushes, until at
length we reached the shores of a small frozen
lake.
Once more we rejoiced that the day was
dim ; for, in erasing lakes ai d rivers, we al
ways suffered most, being deprived of the net
work of branches which yielded us a shade ;
sometimes almost impenetrable. But our ex
ultation was short-lived. An exclamation of
disappointment burst from the Indians, and,
looking up, I saw a few large snow flakes float
ing slowly through the air.
" Let us put off our snow-shoes," said She
gashie ;" we must halt here." " Why ?"
" Because the snow will blind our eyes to
the path."
The path, however, was an Indian figure
of speech. We were traveling through au un
trodden wilderness, guided from point to point
by some rock, or bank, or quaintly formed
tree. But these objects dwell vividly in the
Indian's recollection. They had travelled this
road twice before ; and what an Indian once
sees remains imprinted in his memory forever.
At Shegashie's announcement I looked over
longingly. I could not bear to lose au hour,
far less a day ; and i said perhaps we might
get across before the violence of the snow-storm
came on. My guides shook their heads.—
However, after a time, they agreed to make
the attempt.
Accordingly, off we started across the lake,
the snow-flakes floating and playing lazily
around us ; aud, more than once, we congrat
ulated ourselves that their appearance had not
deterred us. But, when we had got about
half-way across, the snow-storm came dashing
down in our faces with a fierce gust that al
most threw us off our feet. Staggered aud
breathless, we stopped. N ear as the brothers
were. I could see no more than the outlines of
their dark forms through the thick curtain oi
snow which fell between us ; while nothing
wus visible beyond but dazzling snow-flakes
tumbling, whirling aud rushing down to over
whelm us.
"We must," cried Shegashie, " keep the
wind in our faces, or we shall uever reach the
shore."
He at once led the way, his brother and 1
following, and with difficulty distinguished him
as he shuffled heavily 011 before us. Already
the weight of snow upon our snow-shoes im
peded us greatly, and it increased dach mo
ment, until we could scarcely drag them along.
The snow blew in our faces, sharp as icicles,
whirling past us, in wild eddies, almost heating
us down. As the storm increased, the wind,
which had hitherto blown steadily in our faces,
began to waver, and to dash the snow down
upon us in every direction. It was impossible
to go on.
The last faint lingering shadow of hope pass
ed away, and we felt there was nothing left
hut to die. Once or twice I wondered I did
not feel the torpor, which is the precursor of
death among the snow, steal over my senses ;
but we determined not to die inactive, and the
violence of my exertions heated to such a de
gree, that more than once I found myself wip
ing the moisture from my brow, as I lought
the hopeless battle against the whirlwind.
That I am alive to write this is a proof of
the unsluinbcring Providence watching over
all; for there was 110 earthly hope lor us,
when an unseen hand guided us to saefty.—
llow we reach the shore none of us ever knew;
but, at length, still battling against the blind
ing snow, Shegashie'ssnow-shoes struck a tree.
Close behind it a thicket of dwarf firs, and we
shrank into its shelter—saved for the time.
For hours the the suow continued to fall, as
if inexhaustible ; at length, however, it ceased,
and the setting sun shone out in the western
sky, red and angrily. The Indians said that
another snowstorm was at band. So we set
about making the best preparations we could
for the uight. Our friendly thicket was no bad
shelter, and Chingoos and I set to work with
our tomahawks to cut away the branches, uu
til the place somewhat resembled a bower ;
then shaking the cut branches free from snow,
we laid them up in soft piles to sleep upon. —
Meantime Shegashie busied himself in making
a fire and collecting fuel. We were short of
( food ; for, during the last day or two, game
had been unusually scarce. But we had suffi
cient for the night, and hoped to obtain more
on the morrow ; Shegashie having set seven. 1
suare6 around our camp for the small Arctic
hares which abound in those forests.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA„ BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
Soon after dark the snow recommenced ; and
although we were unusually well sheltered, 1
never felt cold so intense as I did that night,
night. 1 have rarely felt more rejoiced than
I did when I saw the early dawn steal over
the landscape, and was able to rise from my
freezing couch and waken my companions,who
rose looking as uncomfortable as myself : espe
cially Chingoos, who trembled as if he had an
ague fit. But a little hot coffee revived him.
Shegashie weut to inspect his snares ; and,
to his great disappointment, he found that
they had not been disturbed ; so there was no
thing for it but to start afresh without break
fast. Just as we had tied ou our snow shoes,
a few flukes of snow, like fciny birds, came
floating between us and the clear bine sky.—
They were true harbingers ; and within a few
minutes, the clouds began gather and the snow
to darken the atmosphere. Warned by the
past day's experience, we remained in our
camp. Hour after hour the snow poured
down in driving masses ; but we were sheltered
from its fury. We had fire, and the snow set
tling on the roof and sides of our bower made
it warm ;so we felt that we had more cause
to be thankful than to complain, though we
were compelled to fast.
Before long, Chingoos's indisposition of the
morning returned and as day wore on, he con
tinued to get worse ; until, by evening, it was
quite evident that he was in the first stage of
a fever. We did the best we could for him,
giving him hot coffee and such other trifling
comforts as our slender stock afforded.
The next morning broke bright and beauti
ful ; but it was at once evident that poor Chin
goos could not travel that day. The fever in
creased, and the agin so shook him that it was
with the greatest difficulty he could take the
coffee from our hands. The snares were still
empty, and this day also was passed without
food.
On the third morning Chingoos was still
worse. No game had been snared or shot, and
hunger-pangs were becoming very fierce. We
were so weak that we could scarcely creep.—
About mid day a hare come leaping by, through
the stiow. I shot it, and we dressed it imme
diately; To this day 1 think that that was
the sweetest ineal I ever tasted. We made a
part of the hate into soup for our poor patient ;
but he was unable to take it—to our surprise,
for it seemed to us delicious beyond expres
sion.
From that day we never wanted food, and
wore able to give ail our thoughts and anxie
ties to Chingoos, whose last hour was evident
ly drawing near. He held out his hand to his
brother, and Shegashie, forgetting the stocial
demeanour of his race which he had tried hard
to maintain, burst into tears as lie folded it in
his bosom. When he released it, it fell cold
and stiffened upon the snow.
Shegashie did not speak for hours, but wept
incessantly. The earth was frozen too hard
to admit of our digging a grave. We were
therefore compelled to lay the lifeless Indian
deep in the snow in a shady place, until his
brother could return in the spring to bory him.
On the following morning we resumed our
journey ; but it had now become a melan
choly pilgrimage. The day seemed long and
dreary without the joyous youth, whose lively
jests and ringing laughter had echoed among
the old trees. Towards evening, for the first
time in all our travels, we came 011 the signs
of a human being. The broad trail of a pair
of snow-shoes preceded us along the course we
had to follow.
Mv guide, judging by the tracks, announc
ed the wearer to be au ludian, and not one of
the white hunters who are sometimes to be
met in these forests. He was right. The
wearer of the gaily trimmed hunting-shirt whom
we overtook about two hours after with his
dirty blanket, rifle, tomahawk, and knife, his
arms covered with bracelets, aud bunches of
car-rings weighing down the lobes of the oars,
fully attested the accuracy of Shegashie's fore
knowledge.
The Indians greeted each other with grave
courtesy, and the same polite reception was ex
tended to inc. But, in spite of all their gravi
ty, I fancied I perceived a gleam of joy in the
wild eyes of the stranger. No wonder, poor
fellow ! I thought. Perhaps he has passed
the whole winter without looking on one hu
man face. He belonged to a party of Indians
living far to the north of Green Snake River,
and his dialect was a great trial to my Indian
erudition. v
As his path for the next day or two would
he the same as ours, the stranger proposed to
join us. Though I must confess that the sight
of lii.s blanket, caked with filth, made me feel
a repugnance to his company, yet I was too
prudent to object ; and afterwards, when we
stopped for the night, and I found that, leav
ing the fire-making to Shegashie, he was eon
tent to bustle about to collect fuel, and to as
sist tlie in forming our night's shelter, I felt
more charity towards him, and was more re
signed to his raising his pile of branches near
my own.
As we sat, that evening, round our camp
fire, I had a better opportunity of observing
our new acquaintance. He was a tall, finely
formed Indian, and more muscular than I had
ever seen any of his race. Moreover, there
was an unusual fierceness in his demeanor and
a strange fire gleamed from his eye. He took
the tobacco we gave him with great pleasure,
but he was disappointed that our fire-water
was all expended. However, he did not let
that damp his spirits, but talked 011 with more
than Indian volubility. Shegashie's stock of
of news, for which he asked, was soon exhaust
ed. Poor fellow ! he had little heart to talk
of anything except his beloved brother, to
whose story the stranger listened with a con
tracted brow ; but with few indications of sym
pathy. In his turn, he treated Shegashie to
a number of amazing and horrible stories which
were current in the woods.
I lost the gist of many of these through not
being able clearly to comprehend hislanguage.
But there was one I understood somewhat bet
ter than the others : it was concerning a very
fierce Indian called Mamiskogahjhe (Great
red-nailed Bear), who came from far beyond
i the Great Lake (Superior), end who, on his
return home from a hunting expedition, had
found his squaw and children the prey of a
band of cannibal Indians. Enraged at the
sight, this hero fell upon them single handed,
and took the scalps of all except one. That
one had.fled ; and, ever since, Mamiskogahjhe
had prowled through the woods, gnashing his
teeth and seeking him everywhere. The mis
sing ludian had shrouded himself in every sort
of disguise, " But all to no purpose," said the
stranger savagely, " for Mamiskogahjhe slays
every ludian he meets, so that the vidian must
fall beneath his knife at last."
When I had got over the novelty of the
stranger's excited manner and gleaming eye, I
became somewhat weary of this Indian hyper
bole ; hut Shegashie listened to every word
with breathless attention. I was lounging
beside the fire, more asleep than awake, when
I was aroused by the sirauger abruptly de
manding of my guide if he had ever seen this
redoubtable brave, the great red-nailed hear ;
to which the youug Indian replied in the nega
tive.
" Liar !" thundered the savage, springing
to his feet. "I am Mamiskogahjhe !" and iu
a moment he stabbed my compauiou in the
chest.
I sprang upon him in an instant, and seized
his right arm ; which, by a violent effort, lie
succeeded in disengaging. He aimed a deadly
blow at me with his knife, hut I evaded
it. and drew rny own. Willi a yell at his dis
appointment, he began to draw his tomahawk
from his belt with the view of hurling it at my
head ; but I darted upon him, pinioning his
arms. His feet gave way, and we both roll
ed together on the snow. A struggle for life
between us succeeded. The Indian kept mak
ing littie digs at me with his knife, but he
could not get purchase enough to do more
than penetrate my clothes and inflict slight
wounds upon me. lie rolled over with me,
hoping to get me undermost ; but I always
rolled farther than he wished, and got 011 the
upper side again. At length I lost patience ;
and, stili holding his right arm tightly down,
I loosened the hand which held my knife.—
But, quick as thought, Mamiskogah jhe chang
ed his knife into his left hand also. Then com
menced another rolling and tearing struggle,
more like that of tigers than of men, for my
foe assailed ine fiercely with his teeth. We
stabbed ut each other wildly, and many a
wound I gave and received. At length the
Indian relaxed his hold, fell hack, and I arose
victorious.
My first thought, now, after a fervent pray
er for my deliverance, was for my poor guide.
I found that, though desperately wounded and
bleeding profusely, he was not dead. I hound
up his wounds as I best could, and placed him
011 his bed. My own wounds, though nume
rous, were marvellously slight ; more cuts than
stabs, and even those my thick clothing had
prevented from doing much damage. I dres
sed them, and, heaping more wood 011 tlie fire,
sank dawn beside it to watch my poor She
trashie.
The next morning Shegashie was so weak
from ioss of blood that each moment 1 expect
ed to see him pass away, and leave me alone
in the woods, to die in my turn. I now bit
terly regretted that I had ever entered on this
disastrous enterprise. However, there I was,
and I had nothing for it but to make the best
of it ; so I set to work, buried my dead ene
my in a snow bank, collected wood, shot a
hare, dressed it, and returned to my sad task
of watching my wouu Jed guide.
At the end of ten days, despite every ad
verse circumstance, Shegashie was a great deal
better ; yet it was evident to both of us that
it would he a long time before lie could trav
el. The poor fellow earnestly entreated ine
not to stay with him, but to leave hiin to his
fate ; aud lie directed ine in the right way to
pursue my journey. I would uot have desert
ed an enemy thus, much lews one with whom
I had faced sorrow, danger, and death. Yet
powder and shot were rapidly failing. After
much cogitation, I took ail the spare snow
shoes, and, by the aid of a bearskin, succeed
ed in making a sleigh capable of holding She
gashie very comfortably, as well as ail our be
longings. 1 rose proudly the next morning ;
and, placing my companion in the sleigh, re
commenced my journey.
It was weary work to drag that clumsy
sleigh, the wasted Indian looking out now and
then to direct me 011 our way. I was often
obliged to make long detours to avoid thickets
and places where the trees grew too close to
admit my sleigh between them. When day
was done, I hud the fuel to collect, the fire to
make, shelter to prepare, Shegashie to move,
his wounds to dress, and then the game to cook
which I had killed during the day. Many a
time I thought I should he obliged to give up
the struggle. When I lay down to rest I v;as
sometimes so tired that I could not have re
sisted another Mamiskogahjhe, had he come
#0 end the work the first one had begun ; and
when morning reappeared, 1 recommenced my
tugging and dragging with arms so weary,
that I did not care if another snow storin came
and sent us to sleep till the great day of awa
kening.
Neither Indian nor snow-storm came, and I
was compelled to go on from day to day en
acting by turns the parts of horse, forager,
lireniaker, cook, builder and nurse. At length
I became so exhausted, that one morning,
though it was scarcely mid-day, I began to
look about me for a suitable place to cncauip
for the remainder of the day and night : hop
ing, after such a rest, to start fresher 011 the
following morning. Suddenly, a thin column
of smoke, ascendiug from the trees at a short
distance, caught my eye ; and, turning off
from our route, I made the best of mv way
towards it. It rose from the hut of a newly
arrived settler. The man gave us a heaity
welcome, and we slept beneath a roof, for the
first time for considerably more than a month.
The next day be put his horse to his wood
traiu ; anil, in two days more, brought us to
head-quarters—less, I believe, for tlie reward
I promised than from pity for our worn uml
miserable condition
The time appointed for the trial was now
nearly three week* past, and I did nb douiM
! that it was over. But the severe illness of
the accused had again deferred it The pro
ceedings were only now coming to a close. So
far, they left on the iniuds of ul! who witness
ed them but one impression—that iny poor
friend's military career was ended. Suddenly
I entered the court, attired in worn-out rags,
my face haggard, my eyes inflamed, my swol
len feet hobbling awkwardly on the floor.
Order restored, ray testimony was received
with the greatest attention ; and Lowther
was acquitted with honor.
Poor Shegashie ! When the spring came,
lie left me, and returned by a schooner to
Green Snake River, whence, accom|ianied by
his relatives, lie travelled down to the scene
of his only brother's death. They dug a deep
grave for Chiugoos, ami laid him in it on the
spot where his life had departed But She
gashie never more returned to his native vil
lage. Parting from his relatives at the grave,
he returueil to me, and remained with ine —a
gentle, unobtrusive, faithful friend—until con
sumption, the bane of his race, took him from
me a few years ago.— llousehoU Words.
IDlOTS. —ldiocy is arrested development.—
There is, in all cases, a deficiency of brain, a
low physical organization. The humane and
accomplished Dr. Wilbur says : that out of a
class of twenty pupils, only three could count
ten. Their almost universal fault was glutto
ny. Their great want, is attention. Many
cannot talk ; it often requires two or three
years to enable them to utter a single word
distinctly. In almost ail cases, home treat
ment only confirms the malady. In three hun
dred and fifty nine cases all hut four origina
ted in parents, who had brought on some con
firmed disease by the violation of the laws of
nature. In every instance, the four excepted,
either one or both parents were unhealthy,
scrofulous, disposed to insanity, indulged iu an
imal excesses, or had married blood relations.
Let every reader commit to memory these five
causes, fur to have an idiot child, how terrible
the infliction ! More than one-fourth of
three hundred and fifty nine idiots were the
children of drunkards ; one out of every twen
ty was the child of the marriage of near rela
tions ; in one such family five children out of
eight were idiotic. If, then, health, temper
ance and chastity arc not duties, then we are
irresponsible. So says Hall's Journal of
Health.
AXI OLD ADVERTISEMENT FRANKLIN'S
BREECHES STOLE — From, the Pennsylvania Ga
zette, of Lcb, 22, 1738.— STOLEN. —On the
loth inst., by one William Loyd, out of the
house of Benj. Franklin, an half worn Sagalhe
roat, lin'd with silk, four home spun shirts, and
a Hue Holland Shirt, ruffled at tlie hands and
bosom, a pair of black broad cloth breeches,
new seated and lined with leather, two pair of
good worsted stockings, one of a dark color,
aud the other of a lightish blue, a coarse cam
bric ha' dkerchicf marked with an F. in red
silk, a new pair of calf skin shoes, a boy's new
ea>lor hat, and sundry other things.
X. B. The said Loyd pretends to under
stand Latin and Greek and has been 11 school
master ; lie is an Irishman, about 30 years of
age, tall and slim ; had on a lighti.-h colored
great coat, red jacket, a pair of silk breeches,
an old felt hat, too little for him, and sewed
011 the side of the crown with white thread,
and an old dark colored wig ; hut may per
haps wear some of the clothes above mention
ed.
Whoever secures the thief so that he may
be brought to justice, shall have thirty shil
lings reward, and reasonable charges paid by
B. FRANKLIN.
Philadelphia, Feb. 22, 1738-9.
IICAY OLD BILLY G. WAS BAPTISED. — Poor
people have a hard time iu this world of ours.
Even in matters of religion there is a vast dif
ference between Lazarus and Dives, as the
following anecdote will illustrate :
Old Bil'y G had attended a great revi
val, and in, common with many others, he was
" converted" and naptised. Not inanv weeks
afterwards, one of his neighbor's met him reel
ing home from the court ground with a con
siderable brick iu his hat.
" Hello, Uncle Biliy," said the friend, " I
thought you had joined the church ?"'
" .So 1 did Jeeius, and would would 'a been
Baptis', if they had had n't treated rue so
everlastiu' mean at tlm water. Didn't you
hear about it, Jeeius ?"
" Never did."
" Then I'll tell you'bout it. Von see, when
\vc cum to the baptism place, there was me
an' old Jenk's, the rich old squire, was to be
dipped at the same time. Well, the minister
tuck the squire in fust, but I didn't mind that
much, as I thought 'twould be jest as good
when I ciiiu ; so he led him in, and after dip
pin' him, lie raised him up mitetv keerful, wip
ed his face, and, led him out. Then cum my
turn, and instead of lift in' me out like he did
the squire, ho gave me one slosh, and left me
crnwlia' 'bout 011 the bottom like a mud tur
tle."
THACKERAY. —Thackeray likes to dissect an
ulcer or ari aneurism ; he has pleasure in put
ting his cruel knife or probe into quivering,
living flesh. Thackeray would not. like all the
world to be good ; no great satirist would
like society to be perfect. Some people have
been in the habit of terming liini the second
writer of the day ; it just depends 011 himself
whether or not these critics shall be justified
in their award. He need not be the semnd
God made him the second to no man. If I
were lie, I would show myself as I am, not as
critics report me ; at any rate, I would do my
best. Mr. Thackeray is easy, and indolent,
and seldom cares to do his best. Charlotte
Bronte.
The only financial crisis I ever experi
enced. said a friend, the other day, was when
I tried to pay for a sixpenny plate of corned
beef with a snspender button. That, .was in
deed a financial crisis.
V 01.. X VIJ I. —K O. 32.
GOVERNOR'S MESSAGE.
To the Jfonornlle the Senators ami Members of
the ]louse of Representatives of the General
As sanity -.
GENTLEMEN—Hv the suffrages of your fel
low citizens, yon have been churned with the
duty of representing them, and the interests
of the Commonwealth, in the Legislative
branch of the Government. The responsibiii
t'es you have assumed and the duties to be
performed should ever be regarded as para
mount to every selfish partizan consideration.
The prosperity of the State and the general
welfare of the people,jshould receive attention
and be the aim and end of your legislative ac
tion. To promote these objects, I will cheer
fully, in every legal and constitutional manner,
during the continuance of my oificial term, co
operate with you.
The past year, with the exception of recent
Gnancui embarrassment, has heeu one of gen
eral prosperity. No foreign wars,no frateri.nl
strife, lias disturbed the peaceful quiet of our
homes. Unwonted health, with its blessings,
has been vouchsafed to us. Seed time and har
vest have not failed—the earth hath yielded
her increase, and richly rewarded tiie labor of
the husbandman. The Arts and Sciences have
been advanced, and the great interests of Ed
ucation, Morality, and Religion liberaHy en
couraged and sustained. Our Nation in its
unity—our free institutions in their integrity,
with our rights and priveleges, civil and reli
gious have bet n preserved. Recognizing in
these blessings the goodness of the Almighty
God, we should render to Him the homage of
grateful hearts and the devotion of our sincere
praise ; and whilst humbly acknowledging
Ilis mercies to us as a people, let u still fur
ther express our gratitude to Him, by acts of
individual charity and kindness to the poor
and helpless in our midst. Sorrow now fills
the hearts, and adversity darkens the homes of
many of our citizens. Our liberality should be
generous ; our benefactions munificent ; and
whilst the wants of the poor and suffering are
relieved, the generous giver will find a rich re
ward in the pleasures that result from com
municated good.
The finances of the Commonwealth are in a
very satisfactory conditio!?. During the past
year ev> ry demand upon the Treasury has been
promptly paid, from the revenues derived from
the ordinary sources. The operations of this
Department will be presented to you, in detail,
in the report of the State Treasury.
For the fiscal year ending Nov. 30, 1857,
tlie receipts into the Treasury, including bal
ance in the Treasury on the Ist day of Decem
ber, 1856, of $1,244,795 42, were"55,935,383
26. The aggregate expenditures for the same
period were $5,407,276 79. Balance in the
Treasury December 1, 1857, $528,106 47.
Excluding the balance in the Treasury on the
fir-t day of December, 1856, the receipts from
all sources were $4,690,587 84. The ordina
ry expenditures for the same period were $3,-
992.370 29 ; exhibiting an excess of receipts
over expenditures of $698,217 55. The ex
traordinary payments for the year were sl,-
414, 906 50, as follows, to wit : To the com
pletion of the Portage Railroad, $40,061 92;
to the North Branch extension $139,798 85;
to relay the South Track of the Columbia rail
road, $91,405 46 - to enlarge the Delaware
Division, $46,263 00 ; for motive power in
1856, $81,604 24 ; for repair in 1855 and
1856, $49,564 78 ; for the redemption of
loans, $820,097 03 ; damages on the Public
Works, $46,552 65 ; old claims on the Main
Line adjusted under lite several acts of As
sembly, $46,548 57, ami for the new State
Arsenal and Farmers High School, $45,000
00.
The interest on the funded debt, due in Feb
ruary and August last, was then promptly
paid, find that falling due in February next,
will be paid out of available means now in the
Treasury. By virtue- of the provisions of the
Act of the 13th of October, 1857, entitled
" An Act providing for the Resumption of
Specie Payments by the Banks, and for the
Relief of Debtors," the Slate Treasurer will
be enabled to pay the interest due in Februa
ry, in specie or its equivalent. The credit of
the Commonwealth has been fully and honora
blysnstained. The promptness with which every
legitimate demand upon the Treasury has been
met, lias inspired public confidence in our se
curities ; and although recent and existing fi
nancial revulsion may embarrass the operations
of the Treasury, and reduce, to some extent
the revenue, yet the ability of the State to
meet her engagements and maintain her cred
it, under an honest and economical administra
tion of Imr finances, is undoubted. The honor
and credit of the State must and can be pre
served intact.
The Commissioners of the Sinking Fund, re
port the sum of $414,920 20 as now in tho
Treasury to the credit of that fund. This
amount will be applied to the redemption of
that fund. This amount will be applied to tho
redemption of Relief Notes yet in circulation,
and to the payment of the funded debt of the
Commonwealth.
The Commissioners of this fund, on the 7th
day of September last, reported to me that
the sum of sl, 042,857 04 of the debt of tho
Commonwealth, was held by them, as. follows,
viz :
Loans of lath of April, 1553, over due, tem
porary • fno.ono Oo
Louii- tij' t'lh vi. May, Is"'4, over due tempo-
Miy " 164,000 00
Certificates <>l -to k, loans of April'll, 18-
I*-. G per cent 66,50100
Certitic .tes r>! stock. loans of various dates.
5 percent. , 0,316 6i
Reliei Xote ca> reiled and destroyed 373,040 00
" " in Treasury, ret aside lar can
celation 30,000 00
Total $1,01.',867 0 4
A:- required by law, I directed the certifi
cates, and evidence of this indebtedness to bo
cancelled ; and on the of September,
1857, issued my proclamation of declaring tho
payment, extinguishment aid final oi chargo
of one nii'lion forty-two thousand eight bun
drod and fifty-seven dollars and sixty-four cents
I ,042 857 641 of the public debt,
' In addition to the amount rcportrd t be ic\