Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, June 19, 1862, Image 1
ONE DDLIAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA: Thursday Morning, June 19, 1862. jsjlttftb (From The Louisville Journal.) IN STATE. 0 Keepers of the Sabred Key, And the Great Seal of Destiny, Whoe eye is the blue canopy, Look down upon the warring world and tell us what the end will be. " Lo, through the wintry atmosphere, On the white bosom of the sphere, A cluster of five lakes appear ; And all the land looks like a touch, or warrior's shield or sheeted bier. " And on that vast and hollow field, With both lips closed and both eyes sealed,'' A mighty figure is revealed— Stretched at lull length and stiff and stark as in the hollow of a shield. " The winds have tied the drifted snow Around the face and chin, and 10, The sceptred Giants come and go, And shake their shadowy crowns and say : " We always feared it would be so.'' " She came of an heroic race ; A giant's strength, a maiden's grace, Like two in one seem to embrace, And match, and blend, and thorough-blend, in her colos sal form and face. " Where can her dazzling falchion be ? One hand is fallen iu the sea ; The gulf stream drifts it far and free, And in that hand her shining brand gleame from the depths resplendently. " And by the other in it res f , The Starry Banner of the West Is clasped forever to her brest ; And of her silver helmet, 10, a soring eagle is the crest 1 " And on her brow a softened light, As of a star concealed from sight By some thin vail of fleecy white. Or of the rising moon behind the rainy vapors of the night! " The sisterhood that was so sweet— The Starry System sphered complete, Which the mazed Orient used to greet— The Four and Thirty fallen stars glimmer and glitter at ber feet. "And, 10, the children which she bred, And more than all else cherished, To make them strong in heart and deed, Stand face to face as mortal foes with their swords cross ed above the Dead i " Each hath a mighty stroke and stride, And onejs Mother true and tried, The other dark ank evil-eyed ; And by the hand of one of them his own dear mother surely died 1 " A stealthy step—a gleam of hell It U the simple truth to tell— The S°n stabbed, and the Mother fell : And ioshe lies—all mute, and pale, and pure, and irre proachable. " And then the battle trumpet blew : And the true brother sprang and drew His blade to smite the traitor through ; And so they clashed above the bier, and the night sweat ed bloody dew! " Now, whichsoever stand or fall, As GOD is Great and man is small, The truth shall triumph over all— forsver and forever more the Truth shall triumph over all!" Thus sath the Keeper of the Key, And the Great Seal of Destiny, Whose eye is the blue canopy ; And leaves His firmament of Peace and Silence over bond and free. Selected © ah, The Mystery of the Library. No searching eye can pierce the veil That o'er my -ecret life is thrown ; No outward sign its tale. But to my bosom known, Thus like toe spark whose livid light In the dark flint is hid from sight, It dwells wilhiu, alone. Mrs. Hemans. " What have you concealed there?" I said, taking hold of the heavy silk drapery attached to a rose wood-cornice, and falling in graceful folds to the floor. " Lillian ! Lillian, don't raise it !" exclaim ed Mrs. Thornton, springing from the esy chair in which she had been reclining with the list lessuess of a dreaming child, and darting to my side she pressed so heavily against the veil that I could discern the outline ola picture frame " A picture!" I exclaimed. " Oh, I must see It, for I can never rest where there is anything toysterious." " But this yon cannot—must not see." I did not reply,for having been an inmate of the house only a week, and this being my first ▼ifit to the library. I did not give utterence to the thoughts which rushed through my mind. Perhaps Mrs. Thornton divined my thoughts, as after a moment's silence she said : " You are to have access to this library at all times, even, to rummage the drawers and pigeon holes of the de.-k, if your curiosity de mauds it ; but you must not look beneath the veil that hides this picture?" and her pale lips trembled, her dark, expressive eyes were fixed upon mine. "Just one glance," I said pleadingly; but she moved her head negatively, and I went on ; " How can I stody with that mystery ever beiore nse, and then I shall never sleep sound ly again, btit dream the livelong night of this tnystical veil, and that it hides some strange, weird image ; or worse,become a somnambulist •nd Irighten every servant (who happens to fear shots) from the house by my midnight ex plorations and wanderings " " No eye but mine ever looks upon this veil *d picture. It is sacred, for it is the ouly relic I have preseived of my past life ; ail that I have to remind me of happy days too bright to last —of a brief period when life's pathway was strewn with flows, and I dreamed uot that THE BRADFORD REPORTER. beneath those fair, perfumed flowers, petals, sharp, piercing thorns were hidden." Her face was pale as deatn, and those deep, dark eyes moist with pearly tears. I saw that her heart was deeply pained ; that swelling from memory's fouut came pain lul remembrance, and truly penitent I said, " Furgive my thoughtless words, aud I promise never to raise the veil from this picture, nor pain you by my questions." An intense smile stole over her pale fea tures, aud kissing my cheek, she murmured, " Dear child, pe~haps some day I may lift the veil aud tell you all." • Then turning away to hide her tears, left me standing before the veiled picture. It was rather curious how 1 came to be a dweder in the house of Mrs. Thornton. Two years before, when but fourteeu years old, I came to New Haven to attend school,and soon after my father leaving home for Europe,where he expected to remain three years, intrusted me to llie guardianship of Mr. Howe, an old friend of his college days. It was at the house of Mr. Howe, that I first met Mrs. Thorutou. She went but little into society, and my guar dian's was one of the few families she visited Her pale, expressive face attracted tne, and then, too, there was an indefinable something in her dark, liquij eye®, now so sad, aud glow ing with an intense smile, that awoke an answering echo in my young heart. She always called me to her side to ask me about my studies ; and when a new book was announced which she thought would be suitable for me to read, she placed it in my hand with my name engraven cu the fly leaf in her own hand writ ing. Was it struuge that my heart wanned toward her; that her coming was looked for ward to wiih pleasure, cr that I vlteu begged for the privilege of visiting tier, in her quiet, pleasant home. My visits there were not V( ry frequent; and when there we sat in her boudoir, which was fitted up with artistic taste, and having never been admitted to the library 1 hud never seen the veiled picture. I nad a pleusaut home with Mr. Howe's family, yet it was a glad surprise when he said that 1 could board with Mis. Thornton, if 1 wished, and thought I could b: happy there. Mrs. Ti 0 i ton had propose I i', as Mr. Howe's family anticipated being abseut from the city most of the summer, and the following Satur day 1 removed to her house. it was my first holiday in my new home, and I had gone to the Iturary with Mrs. Thorn ton to select a book when on passing around, my eyes fell upon the silk drapery shading the walls in the furthest corner, and was about to draw it aside, when her exclamation prevent ed me. I had pri raised nt to look beneath the mysterious lolds o: Vat sukeii veil, yet 1 was not satisfied; curiosity proniytcd me to try to catch a hasty glimpse when Mrs. Thornton was occupied, but honor farbude. Summer and autumn passed, and the long winter evenings were spent in the cosy, cheer ful library; and though I cast many a furtive glance toward the veiled picture I dared not question Mrs. Thornton, and began to despair of the da wing of that day when she would re late the history of the picture. It was a mild evening in spring, and we were sitting before the grate in the library; I watched the fast dimming coals that had burned low, while Mrs. Thornton with closed eyes, sat near in the easy chair. My reverie was broken by the tremulous tones of her voice, saying: " Lillian, do you remember your mother?'' Then I answered that, though I turned leaf after leaf of memory's book, yet I could find no record of a mother's love 6he died when I was about two years old, yet my fath er had been kind, and, as far us possible,filled the place of both father and mother. Mv childhood had passed happily; my father was both friend and instructor, and my first great grief had been when I was seul to school und my father sailed for Europe. " Was your mother's name Lillian ?" and tliore was something iu the tone of her voice that startled me. " Iler name was Flora—Flora May. Was it not a sweet name ?" " Very pretty," and the glowing intensity of her eye, as I met its gaze, made my heart throb with a struuge sensation. " I can't tell where she was buried. Once when I a>ked my father, he said it was fur away, and we would go to the place of my birth when I was older. My father was lonely after mother's death that lie sold his home in New York and removed to Ohio. I have no recollection of my first home, but shall ask my fathrr to take me there before we return to Ohio.", " And your father loved his wife?" " What a strange question," I said. Yet she appeared to have spoken without thought. " If he had not loved her, do you think he would have remained true to her memory fif teen years." " 1 have a headache, and shall retire," Mrs. Thornton said, rising; and coming to my side, she kissed me tenderly, and with a flushed cheek left the library. For a long time I sat gazing into the dying coals. Weie her questions the magic key that had u: locked the casket where the mem ories of ray childhood were stored ! I could not tell. Yet there came a dim remembrance of a time when I was playing alone in the garden, and a strange face peered into mine, as some one clasping me in her arms kissed me again aud again, while my face was wet w.th tears. I n ver knew whence s! e<ane or whither she went, and it seemrd strange that dim memory should come back then. It pass ed, and a bright dream flitted before my wak ing vision, my father would return iu a few months ; he would meet Mrs. Thorton ; she was so gentle and winning he would not fail to be pleased with her, and I might be per mitted to call her mother. My hand was on the knob to open the door, but i hesitated. It was late, and the house was still. How easy it would be to solve the mystery, and Mrs. Thornton never know it.— For months that veiled picture had Daunted my waking aud sleeping visions, why should I longer preplex my tniud with vain conjecture ; aDd crossing the library, I placed the lamp so PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH. I its light would fall directly upon the picture. Was it the rustling of the silk or the faint echo of geutle footsteps that startled me ; but list j ning intently, I found all silent within and without. Ah ! it was the wispering of the j still small voice, and should I heed its prompt- I iugs ? She would not know it, curiosity whis ! pered ; so I raised the veil ; but as my eye I caught, a glimpse of the gilded frame the dra pery fell from my hand 1 I remembered my promise never to raise that veil, and I turned away wondering why so costly a frame was hidden beneath those dark folds. From that night the mystery of the library deepened. 1 hud a nervous dread of being left alone with that veiled picture, and my im aginative miud pictured a scene of horror that would thrill every nerve aud freeze my heart's blood ! My futher returned, and when I told him how kind Mrs. Thornton had been, he called to thank fifer in person, but she was ill aud could not leave her room. Wondering what could agitate her so, I returned to my father, saying she would be better iu a day or two, and he must not leave the city until he had seen her. But he was firm in his decision to leave the next day, and I must accompany him.. Then I expressed a wish to visit my mother's grave. He drew me to his side, and with his arm encircling me, and head resting upon his bosom, told me of my mother. To him the memory of the past was painful, and I mingled my tears with those of my father's while ugaiu I seemed to hear that strange face peering into mine. In two hours I would leave my kiud friend, and I was going without the mystery of the li brary being solved ; so I_ ventured to hint that, when I come to visit her liie next year, I hepe 1 to see the veiled picture unveiled. She did not reply, but taking my baud led me to the library. She would tell me all, she said, .or perhaps we might never meet again. Mrs. Thornton told her siory briefly. She was the only child ot wealthy parents, und married at the age of nineteen. For three years she was happy in the pleasant home to which her husband took ber ; then a cloud of midnight darkness overshadowed that home. Some one envying her, circulated reports in jurious to her reputation, and these coming to her husband's ears, he, being naturally of a jealous disposition, believed them. The wife loved her husband devotedly, and being inno cent, hnv could she bear patiently his taunts and uncalled for surveilanee ? So she propos ed returning to her paternal home, und the husband said go, only she must leave her child. She did go, uud three years after, her parents being dead, she went to Europe, where she remained eight years. Returning to America she came to New Haven, where under the as sumed aauie of Mrs. Thornton, she had since resided. Once she had visited the home ol her husband during his absence, and bribing the housekeeper by the present of a well filled purse, procured his portrait ; and in all her wanderings it had been her companion, though closely veiled, lest some one should recognize it, and thus her early history become food for idle gossip. Then, too, she had seen her child, and for a brief moment pressed it to her bo som, but words could not express the agony of her breaking heart as she turned away from her child. " Your bus' and's name," I said, sinking at her feet and gazing wonderingly into her pale face and the dark liquid eyes, bent so lovingly upon me, for a strange hope made my heart i throb wildly. " I cannot repeat his name, lint you may : look upon his counterpart," she said, rising. Slowly, almost reverently, she put hack the folds of that silken veil, while 1 stood half j breathless beside her. Was it a dream, or I was it reality? There was no mistaking that I likeness ; and involuntarily the words " My ! Father !" burst from inv lips. Then, like a j swift moving panorama, it ail passed before my mind, and throwing ray arixs around her r.eck, I called her : "My mother, my long lost mother ! My father told tne ail yesterday," I said, when I had become more calm. "He learned the re ports were without foundation,and hearing you had gone to Europe, for three years he lias sought you there, and now his heart is sad be cause he can find no trace of you. Will you see him ?" She did not reply, but I read her answer in the beaming eye, and hastily donning bonnet and mantle, ran to the hotel, and surprised ray father by rushing breathless into his room. "Come with me; Mrs. Thornton will see yon now," I said, nervously clutching his arm, and pulling him toward the door ; but he, re sisting. asked what had occurred to excite me so. It is not there that I would explain, so lie followed my rapid footsteps along the street and tip the shaded walk ; but then I threw open the door leading to the library She had risen ; how lovingly she looked then—her pale brow, her bright eye, and a crimson spot burn ing on either cheek. One moment my father stood as though chained to the spot, then ad vancing, he exclaimed : " Flora, my wife !" " Herbert," was the soft reply, and she was clasped in his arms. " Forgive und forget the past," I heard a manly voice murmur ; and then my name was repeated in soft accents. I went to my moth er's side, and the happy husband and father pressed his wife and child to Lis heart as in reverent tones he implored God to bless our reunion. The veiled picture was unveiled, the mystery of the library solved ; and returning to our Western home, once more a happy family group dwelt beneath its roof. A gentle, loving Wifc&molher was the guiding star of that home. £§?■* Brown was speaking of Joe II to a friend one day and said to him ; " Joe is a first rate fellow, but it must be confessed he has bis failings. lam sorry it is so, but I can not tell a lie for any man. I love Joe, but I love the truth more." "My dear Brown," said Joe, who overheard the remark," I never thought you would prefer a perfect stranger to an old acouaintance " "REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." How Sut Lovegood's Daddy Acted Hoss. " Hold that ere hoss to the yearth !" " He's spreadiu' his tail to fly now !" " Keep him wharhe is 1" " Woa, shavetail !" These aud like expressions were addressed to a queer-looking, long legged, short-bodied, small beaded, white haired, hog-eyed, funny sort of a genius, fresh from some second hand clothing store, and mouuted on "Tar poke," a nick tailed, long poor hoss, half brandy, half devil, and enveloped all over in a perfect net-work of bridle, reins, cruppers, martingales, straps, surcingles, red ferretiu', who reined up in front of Pat Neck's gro cery among a crowd of wild mountaineers, full of light and bad whiskey. " I say, you darned ash-carts, jist keep your shirts on, will ye. You never seed a raal hoss till I road up. Tarpoke is jist next to the best hoss that ever shelled nub bins, and lie's dead as a still-worm, poor old Tioky tail 1" "What killed him, Sut," said an anxious inquier " Why, nutbin,' you tarnal fool ! He jist died—died a standin' up at that. Waru't that good pluck? Froze stiff—no, not that adzacly, but starved fust, and then froze af terwards so still", that when dad an' me push ed him over, he jist stuck out so, (spreaking his arms aud leg-;,) like a carpenter's bench, and so we waited seventeen days for him to thaw afore we could skin him. Well, tliar we was—dad an' me—(counting on his lingers.) Dad an' tne, Sal, an' Jake, (Fool Jake, we used to call him for short,) an' Pbinens, au' Simeon, an' lonas, an' Cliarloteann, an'Calline Jane, au' Cashtts Henry Ciay, an' Noah Dan Webster, an' me, and the twin gals, au' Catli rine Second, an' Cleopatry Antomy. an' Jane Lind, an' Tom Bullion, an' the baby, an' marrn herself, all left without a hoss to crap with.— Taat was a nice mess for a 'spectable family to be slasliin' about in, warn't it ? I be darned it I didn't fesl like stealin' a hoss sometimes ! Well, we waited an' rested, an' waited until well into strawberry time, hopin' that some stray boss moot come along, but dog my cats, ef eny such luck as that comes whar old dad is, lie's so dratted mean, an lazy, au' ugly, an' savage, an' trifliu' ! " Well, one nite.dad he lay awake nil nite a snortin' an rotlin' an' whisperiu' at mam, an' next mornin', sez he : "Snt, I'll tell you what we'll do; I'll be hoss myself, and pull the plow, while you drive me, and we'll break up corn ground, and then the old quilt (that's niarm) and the brals kin plaut it or let it alone, jist they please." "So out we goes to the Paw-paw thicket, and peeled a right smart chance of bark, and mam and t'aem made gears for dad, and they become him mightily ; then he would have a bridle, so I gits an old umbrella what I found —it's a little forked piece of iron, sorter like onto a pitchfork, ye know—and we bent and twisted it sorter nntua bridle-bit, small shape, (dad wanted it kurb, as he said he hadn't worked for some time, and he might sort feel his oats and go to cavortin'.) WeD, when we got the bridle all fixed on dad he chomped the bit j st like a hoss, (he alwasamost complicat ed darned old old fool, eny how, and mam always said so, when he warn't about,) then [ put on the gear*, and out dad and me goes to the field, I a leading dad by the bridle, and tot in' the gropher plough on my back. When we came to the fence, I let down a gap end made dad mad—he wanted to jump the fence on all fours, hoss way. I hitched him to the gopher, and awav we went,dad forward to his puliin. right peart, and we made sharp plowin', dad goin' rite over the bushes and sprouts, same as rale hoss, the ouly difference is he went on two legs. " Presently we cutn to a sassafac patch, and dad to keep up karacter as a hoss, bulged square into it, and tore down a hornet's nest nigh onto as big as a hoss' head, and all the tribe kivered him right strate He rarrd and kicked once or twice,.and fotchcd a squal wus nor ary boss in the district, and sot into runn iu'away just as natural as ever you seed. I let go the lines, and hollered, 'woa, dad, woa!' but you might as well have said woa to a lo coraotive. Ge whillikins ! how he run; when he cum to a bush, he'd clear the top of it,goph er and all; p'raps he thought there must be another settlement ov bald hornets in it, and that it was safer to go over than thrue, quick er done; every now and then he'd paw one side of his head with his fust one tore leg and then t'other, then he'd gin himself au open-handed slap, that sounded like a wagon-whip, and running all the time, an' carrien that gopher just about as fast and high from the yearth as ever a groplur was karried, 1 swar ! "When he cum to the fence he busted right thrue it, tearing down nigh onto seven pannels, scatterin' and brcakin' the rales mightily, and here he left the gopher, gears, single-tree, and klevis, and ali mixed up, not worth a durti. Most ov his shert struct on to the splintered end ova broken rale, and nigh onto a pint of hornets staid with the shert a stinging it all over, the balance ov 'em, about a gallon and a half, kept on with dad. He seemed to run adz icly as fast as a hornet could fly, for it war the tighest race I ever did see. Down thrue the grass they went, the hornets making it look sorter like a smoke all around dad's bald head, and he with nut li in' on but the bride! and nigh onto a yard ov plough line a sailin' behind him. " I seed now that he was aimin' for a swim tr.in' hole in the creek, wbar the bluff is over twenty five feet perpendicular to the water, and it's nigh onto ten feet deep. To keep np his karacter as a hoss, w hen he got to the bluff be jjist leaped off, or rather kept on run ning. Keresplurge into the kreek he went ; I saw the water fly plum above the bluff from whar I was. Now, rite thar, boys, be over did the thing, if that was what he was arter, tor there's Hary a hoss ever folded dtirnded fool enough to leap over sich a place; a cussed mule might have done it, but dad warn't act ing mule. I krept. up to the edge and looked over; there was old dad's bald bead, for all the world like a peeled onion, a bobbin' np aud down, and the honets a sailin' and a circlin' round, turkey-buzzard fashion, and every once iu a while, one, aud sometimes ten, would make a dip at dad's head. He kept up a rite peart dogging under, sometimes they'd hit him, and sometimes hit the water, and the water was kivered with drownded hornets. " What on earth are you doin' thar, dad ?" sez I. " Don't (dip) yon see those infernal var mints (dip) alter me ?" " What,' sez I, 'them are hoss flies thar; ye uin't really afraid of them, are ye ?'' " Hoss fl es !" sez dad; "they're rale (dip) genuine bald hornets, you (dip) infernal cussl" " Well, dad, you'll have to stay till nite; and arter they go to roost, you cum home and I'll feed you !" " And knowing dad's unmodified natur, I broke from 'em parts and sorter cum to the copper-mines. 1 staid out uutil the next ar ternoon, when I seed a feller travellin," aud sez I : " What was going on at the cabin this side of the creek when you passed it ?" " Why, nnthiu' much only a man was sit ting in the door, with nary shirt on, and a woman was greasing his back aud arms, and his head was about as big as a ten gallon keg, and be hadu't the first sign of un eye, ail smooth." "That man is my dad," sez I. " Been much fitiu' in this neighborhood late ly ?" sez the traveler, rather dryly. " Nuu wuth speakiug of personally or par ticularly," sez I. "Now, boys, I hain't seen dad since, and would be afraid to meet him in the next ten years. Let's drink." And the last we saw of Sat, he was stoop ing to get in f o the doggery door, with a mighty mixed crowd at his heels. Waking Fun of Them. The Nashville Union has been " having its little" joke at the expense of discomfitted se ! cesh of that city. The Union purports to review the " Rev. D. McFerriu's Confederate Primer," and gives some choice extracts from its pages. The Primer, after giving the alpha bet in due form, offers some little rhymes for young Confederates, from which we select a few as samples : N. At Nashville's fall We aiuued all. T. At Number Ten We sinned again. F. Thy purse to mend Old Floyd attend. L. Abe Lincoln bold Our ports doth hold. D. Jeff. Davis tells a lie And so must you and I. P. Brave Pillow's flight Is out of sight. B. Buell cloth play And alter slay. O. Yon oak will be the gallows tree Of Richmond's fallen majesty. The following are taken from the " Bio graphical Questions aud Answers for little children : Q —Who was the first man ? A. —General Pillow—because he was the first to run from Fort Donelson. Q —Who is the strongest man ? A. —Geueral Price—for you can smell-him a mile. Q. —Who is the wisest man? A. —General Wise—for he has that discre tion which is the better part of valor. Here is a reuding lesson from the same ad mirable work : LESSON FIRST. The Swart Dixie Boy. Once there was a lit-tle boy, on Iy four years old. llis name was DIX Y. His father's name was 1 SHAM, and his moth er's name was AI.L SHAM DIX Y was ver-y smart. lie conld drink whisky, fight chick ens, play pok-er, and cuss his mother When he was only two years old, he could steal su gar, hook pre serves, drown kit-tens, and tell lies like a man. DIX-Y died and went to the bad place. But the Devil would not let Dix r stay there, for be said, " When you get big, DIX-Y, you would be head Devil yourself." All lit tle Reb els ought to he like DIXY, and so they will, if they will stud y the Con-fed er ate Prim er. YE SHALL REAP.— Think of this, you that are well-nigh weary of well doing, you that stand alone in a godless household, and who sometimes grow dish arteued amidst the cold ness, and ihe opposition, and the jeering ; you that have enlisted under Christ's banner, but who. if you have not actually forsaken house and lands for His sake, have at least felt con strained to let pass many a golden opportuni ty ; you who have been for years watching for a soul, if happily ye might win it, and who still tee it as far from the kingdom as ever ; you have bug been contending with a wicked temper or an unholy passion, and who dare not say that you have gained any sensible ad vantage over it—o, be not weary ! Think of the day when yon shall rest from your labors, and these works shall follow you. Thiuk of the day—the humbling, affecting, overwhelm ing day—when the cup of cold water reappear as an ingredient in the everlasting glory. Be not weary in well doing, for in due season you shall reap, if you faint uot. A NICF. MAN FOR A SMALL PARTY. —A conn try magistrate, noted for his love of the pleas ures of the table, speaking one day to a friend, said, " We have jnst been eating a superb tur key ; it was excellent, stuffed with truffles to the neck, tender, high flavor ; we left only the bones." " How many of you were there said his friend. " Two," replied the magis trate. "Two!" " Yes, the torkey and my self." The crow is a brave bird ; he never shows tbe white feather VOL. XXIII. —XO. 3. The Goddess of Poverty. Faths aanded with gold, verdant heath*, ravens loved by the wild goats, great moun tains crowned with stars, wandering torreuts, impenetrable forests, let the good Goddess pass through—the Goddess of Poverty ! Since the world existed, since men have been, she trav els singing, and she 6ings working—the God dess, good corse her. They found her too beau tiful, too gay, too nimble, and too 6trong.— " Pluck out her wings," said they ; " cbaiu her 1 bruise her with blows, that she may suf fer, that she may perish—the Goddess of Pov erty ! They have chained the good Goddess ; they have beaten and persecuted her; but they cannot disgrace her. She has taken refuge iu the soul of poets, in the soul of peasants, in the soul of saints —the good Goddess, the God dess of Poverty." She has walked more thau the Wandering Jew ; she has traveled more than the swallow; she is older thau the Cathe dral of Prague ; she is younger than the egg of the wreu ; she multiplied more upon the earth than strawberries in Bohemian forests— the Goddess, the good Goddess of Poverty ! She always makes the grandest and most beau tiful things that we see upon earth; it she who has cultivated the fields, and pruned the trees; it is she who tends the fields, s' jging the most beautiful airs ; it is she who sees the first peep of dawn, and receives the last smile of evening —the good Goddess of Poverty. It is she who carries the sabre and the gun; who makes war and conquests ; it is she who collects the dead, tends wounded, and bides the conquered —the Goddess, the good Goddess of Poverty 1 Tby children will cease, one day, to carry the world upon their shoulders ; they will be rec ompensed for their labor and toil. The time approaches when there will be neither rich nor poor ; when all men shall consume the fruits of the earth, and equally enjoy the gifts of God. But tbou wilt not be torgotten iu their hymns—oh, good Goddess of Poverty!— George S and. m&m A Keen Picket Encounter of Wits. AT times, as I said before, the rebels arc quite communicative,as the following dialogue, which occurred at Yorktown betweeu Joseph D., of Leeds, Wis., and one of them, when within ten rods of each other will show : The parties were separated by a low, deep swale, covered with water and thick brush,and were unable to discover each others person.— Joe hearing a noise ou the other side, yelcd out in a loud voice : Hallo, Mike ! Have you got any tobacco? Secesh (with a strong Hibernian accent) Yes bejabers, and whiskey, too. Joe—Come over, we'll have a quiet smoke! Secesh—l'll meet you half-way. Joe agreed to do so, and advanced soma distance through brush and water, and then stopped. Secesh —where the devil are you ? Are ye comin'? Joe—l'm half-way now. Can't go any fur ther without swimming. Secesh —Haven't ye a boat ? Joe—No I have not. Secesh—Where's yer gun boat. Joe—Down taking care of the Merritnac. Secesh —Then come over iu that big bal loon. [Much laughter a'ong the rebel lines.] Joe—Have you a boat ? Secesh—l have sure, and I'm coming over. Joe then inquiring the news of the day, and if his companion had a Norfolk Day Book. Secesh —J. have. Have you got a Tribune? Joe answered that he had uot. Secesh—Where is Gen. Buell ? Joe—Buell's all right, and surrounds Beau regard. Secesh—Where's Gen. Prentiss ? Joe—How about Island No. 10 ? Secesh —That's evacuated. Joe—How is it that you left 100 guus and 6,000 prisoners ? Secesh —Sure, they (the prisoners,) were not much account. Joe—How about Fort Pulaski ? Secesh—That be olowed ! It was only a rebel sand bank. But tell me what made ye leave Bull Run 1 Dick B. (Union)— We had inarching or ders ! This caused great laughter among the reb els, some exclaiming, " Bully Boy J' Dick B.—Where's Zollicoffer ? Secesh —Gone up the spout. Joe —Why don't yon come over ? Secesh—CanT get through the brush. At this moment a rebel bullet come whiz zing over by our meu, and Joe angrily inquir ed who fired. Secesh—Some fool over this way. An order was then issued to stop firing. Joe —Ain't you coming ? What regiment do you belong to ? Secesh —Lighteeuth Florida. What regi ment do you ? Joe—Berdeu's First regiment Sharpshoot ers. Some of his comrades here warned him to look out. Secesh—Wo ild yuo shoot a feilow ? Joe —No; but I will stack arme and smoke with yuo, if you will come over. Here a rebel officer ordered him back, and the Secessionist refused to communicate fur ther.— Cor. Milwavka Sentinel. customers of a certain cooper in a town ont West, caused him a vast deal of vex ation bv their saving habits and | existence in getting all their tubs ana casks repaired and buying little work. " I stood it long enough, however," said he, " until one day old Sam Crabtrce brought iu on old bunghole, to which he said he wanted a new barrel made. Then I quit the business in disgust." tSf Wrinkles are the ruts made by the wheels of time. A woman's pride and a sailor's guide —The needle.