(NE OULAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA : Thursday Morning, July 3, 1062. Sdcricb Dffehu. SKEDADDLE. Tbesbaik-s of night were frilling frust, As through a Southern village passed A youth, who bore, not over nice, A banner with the gay device, Skedaddle His hair was red ; liis toes beneath Peeped. like an acron from its sheath, Wile with a frightened voice he sung A burderu strange to Yankee tongue, Skedaddle ! He saw no household fire, where ha Might warm his tod or hominy ; Bevoud the Cordilleras shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Skedaddle ! " 0, stay," a cullered pusson said, " An' on dis bosom res yer bed ! ' The Octoroon she winked her eye, But still he answered, with a.-igit, Skeduildle ! " Beware MCCLELLAN, HI ELL, and HANKS, Beware of HALLECK S deadly ranks ! This was the planter s last tiood Night, The chap replied, clear out ol sight, Skedaddle ! At break of day, as several boys From Maine, New York and Illinois, Were moving Southward, in the air They heard these accent* ot despair. Skedaddle A chap was tounJ, and at h.s aide A bottle, showing liuw he tiled. Htill grasping in hi.-, had ot ice, That banner with the strange device. Skedaddle There in the twilight, thick and gray, Considerably plated out belay : And tiiiongli lire vapor, guy and thick, A voice teli. like a rocket stick, Skiduceiic j$ t 1 c r f c b £ it I c. A Seeress at Fault. " WILL you come out with rne to-night?' said Br Ciuv. " There is a see res s come to Ciiasiugleu, and I aui going to have a look at her." Dr Clay was a college friend of mine, then about five and-tweuty. I was "on leave" I rum mv prolr-s.-iooid avocations m Loudon, and iiad gone down to spend a few days at Cfiasinglea, where lie liai icceutly begun to practice, hop nig to forget, if possible the existence of the pnnter'.s devil. It was my second niglit there, und a wet one ; 1 I.ad settled myself down to a cigar and a book, which 1 was not going to review, and therefore could enjoy ; for to ama teurs a bad book is bearable ; to a reviewer even a good book is a butden, and the better the hook, not unfreqnent!y, the heavier the burden. From such unwonted luxury I was loth to be roused even bv Dr. Clay, though l.e Was a delightful companion, as young phvst eiatis ot liist rate ability usually are. So 1 answersd indignantly ; " Nonsense ! You do not mean to say that you intiu I to get wet through and spend halt u crown in order to see a set of conjuring tricks badly played. Stay lu re, and I vvil! show you halt a dozen, quite as good, with a puck of cards." " I don't know," said Clay ; " I always take interest in conjuring tricks till I know how tlun done. Now, though i grant YOU that sum: of the-e clairvoyants, roe nn-i i-ts, table turners, and modern magicians ot all kinds arc the veriest quacks alive, and their jugglery as transparent us the liquefaction of B'. Jatiua rius's blood, i have seen things shown and done, my friend, which, if you can explain or reveal, you may inakn a reputation and a for tune. I iiave seen excision of the breast per formed by a mesmerist, the patient remaining perfectly unconscious the while. Not only did she not scream or speak, but tlie face gave no sign of pain. I have known more than oim case of life preset ved by a mystcr.ous warning given in a dream or waking to persons with no previous notion of impending danger, and 1 once was witness to a most extraordinary case of clairvoyant revelation, wbi h made a lasting impression on my mind, from the per fect impossibility of any trick or collision which, indeed, no one could have suspected who watched the dreamers face. And the most extraordinary part of the matter is," he lidded, reflectively' "that tlie whole story was false from beginning to end." I'fiut," iejoinei] 1, "aupcors to me the most natural and intelligible result. It will be 'he same to night. Do stay quietly by the fire." " No, I really must go," said my friend, ob stinately. " 1 can not miss even a chance of getting at some fact which may help to eon linn or destroy the embryo theory I have funned on the subject of clairvoy mce, So i am going to get wet, and spend live shillings, aiid you had better come too " So ! put down my book and went out, when the ruin speedily deprived me of my cigar.— >egot dienclied, and tiie SeerF proved us Ver J a <piuck as 1 in my impatience had pre dieted. Dr. Clay put two questions—one Willi 1,1 his own knowledge, and one to te speedily "st'trtamed, viz., '* What is my ir end's age 1' R,| d \\ hat letters have come lor me since 1 e ' l home an hour ago ?" Both were answer glibly, and both wrong. The Seeress added twelve years to uiy i-ge, and informed Dr Clay mt two letters hau come lor him—both from "dies-—whereat one or two of the little audi f °ee simpered, for Dr. Clay is a general favor l(,( but not exactly a " luriy's man," still less a d* a doctor. lie got up and walked out, l[J(1 I with him. ;; Well !" 1 said. f his is the third mere ircposter I have *-L'U in a year," remarked Dr. quietly ; " but 1 bad rather see ten such than miss one oppor tunity of witnessing u case of reai clairvoyance." " Is there such a thing ?" I demanded, skep tically' '• for my credulity goes no further than a linn belief in a fiend with inky fingers, un washed fact, and incessant craving for' copy.'" " When you have heard my first experience on the suljeet," replied he, "I think you will ask that question in a somewhat different tone. Will you come round by tuy lodgings to see if there are any messages for me? and then we will smoke a pipe at your rooms, and you shall hear the history." m There was one note for the Doctor, from an old farmer, queerly spelled and oddly de pressed ; but my friend did not think it worth while to go eigiit miles into the country that night to attend to an attack of gout, so we adjourned to my rooms, where, amidst exhala tions of smoke, I heard the following tale : It was (said the Doelor) about four years iiiro. 1 had just parsed my first examination, und one or two answers of mine had been for tunate enough to attract the attention of old ane, among whose other peculiarities is a strong penchant toward the investigation of mysteries. He took some notice of me, and I ventured to ask him questions about a clair voyanle who just then attracted considerable curiosity. She was a young and very pretty girl ; the mesmerist who had discovered her power or disease, whichever it should be called, was a gentleman—which few of thetn are—a mau of sense, honor, and considerable reputa tion as a naturalist. Vane answered me, and promised me an introduction to her. ] asked him what his experience of her art had been— whether it was a reality or a sham, and wheth er it seemed capable of being applied to any practical use. "Itis no siiatn,'' he said. "The girl her self does not know that she possesses these pow ers. Arnold never alkws clairvoyance to be; named in her presence when she is awake.— lie himself is above suspicion. As to any prac tical result, I um very doubtful. Hitherto, Eiieu has never told us any thing previously unknown. She answers correctly regarding things c rtainly unknown to her, and places she has never seen ; but she does not answer, except reluctantly and uncertainly, any qties tions concerning which no one else has any knowledge. She has told me the exact place of every article in my study, and even the con tent,- ol my table diuw ers, though she never entered mv house—nor did Arnold—and we were six miles away from it at the time. But she broke down entirely in trying to tell us what was at that moment going on in the House of Commons, in the Times printing oilice, and in Windsor I'aik—ail three easier t- guess, and at least as easy to know, one would think. But you .-hall see her yourself." A few days afier this a friend of my broth er, Cleveland by name, returned from a tour he had taken for the benefit of his health in Edward's company We had not heard from Bdwaid for some ten days or more, and it hap pened that I wished to write to him on busi ness. So. hearing that Cleveland had return ed uiiexpTtedly, I sought s him out, and in quired where my brother was. He started, and seemed uncomfortable, and then answered: " We did not agree very well ; I was in a hurry, and lie preferred to travel slowly ; so lie let me at the Aigiselioru, and I came home at once through France." The answer and Cleveland's manner were a little peculiar. Wliv did Edward " leave him," rather than he Edward, seeing that it was he who wished to travel fa-t ? And why did he seem agitated on seeing me ? But I was not much surpris dor disturbed. Probably Cleve land had behaved ill, and driven Edward to levae tiun in disgust, and was now ashamed of hiinscil. For lie had the reputation of being quarrelsome in the extreme, and was certainly stiy, nervous, restless and uncomfortable to an extraordinary degree. Edward, than whom no more kindly find patient friend ever iived, had always taken his part ; had affirmed that Cleveland was a man of genius, and thorough ly good at heart, and had chosen him, much to my surpri-e, as his companion, in the hope that travel, change of scene, and rest from anxiety and ova r-tudy might bring hire better health and spirits. Certainly the experiment tiad been a complete failure. Cleveland was pale, thin, sallow, and careworn ; his habitual restlessness greater than ever ; the unmistak able expression of nervous suffering on hisfac more marked than 1 hud jet seen it. His eyes moved incessantly, never steady for an instant in their gaze, but never meeting mine. His left hand, constantly trembling, was occupied with a paper kife ; his right fumbled continu ally at the handle of his table drawer, which tie did not open. 1 was touched by his evident niness, and turned I:on) a subject which seem t-d dainful to liiui. 1 talked unout the college examinations ; told him of my success ; and finally ot tlie clairvoyanfe, for whose levee of iliat evening I had received two cards of ad mission. " Let me go with you," lie said, sharply and suddenly. '• With pleasure," said I. " Only we have .ittle time to lose ; I must be there by seven ; it is now twenty minutes after six, and von have your toilet to make." Fur, though dressed with faultless neatness when lie appeared out of doors, Cleveland always speut his days in his room in a curious undiess ; his naked feet llirust into a pair of wo. ked slq pers, ins arms and throat bare, nis ! short curled hair covered with a Turkish fez, and lus upper garment consisting of a sort ol | suek of led flannel, falling to the knees, and with two holes cut in it for the free play of tils muscular arms. It certainly seemed as if some time would be needed to transform this strange figure iuo a London dandy. But it was done in five minutes. He turned tlie key in the table-drawer, laid down the paper knife, urssed into his bedroom, and returned in an incredibly short lime in plain black evening dress, Ins smufl hands nervously drawing on a pair of white kid gloves. I, who never wear a " tail-coat" if 1 can help it, was almost ashamed o< my own attire. We started, how ever, arm iu arm, he walking at a pace with which I could scarcely keep np. The ffante PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH. had not begun when we arrived, and the room into which we were ushered was a dark one. " Bring a light, please," said Cleveland, abruptly, giving half a crown to the servant. — And he remained iu the entrance hull till the light was brought, and we entered the room together. " I hate darkness," he observed, impatiently. " 1 always think of death." Other visitors arrived ; we were admitted to the operating room, where we sat in a semi circle, some twelve of is, surrounding the couch on which the patient sat, already in a deap mesmeric sleep. Mr. Arnold stood be hind her. She looked exceeding beautiful, I must say, and what you would call extremely fragile. I felt, sure, as Isaw her, that she was doomed ; and I was inclined to accuse the mes merist of her murder. lie did not think, of course, that lie was injuring her ; 1 did, and I think so still A few passes, and she was roused into that undefined and uncompreheud ed state of the nervous system which is pecu liar to the subjects of mesmerism, and which I can neither describe nor explain. Mr. Arnold gave permission to us each iu turn to put a question to her. Several were asked ; I only remember the three last. After all the others had been answered to the satisfaction of the querists, Vane inquired : " What is there ou the table in mv study to day V' The girl paused a moment—said : " I have been there before—Oo !" with a shudder of disgust ;"it is a hand—a womaus hand—oh, horrible, horrible V Vane whispered across Clevelaud, who sat between us : " iSlite never was there ; but she described it all perfectly last time 1 saw her. To day 1 brought a specimen, preserved in spirits, of (rightful disease of the hand. She would not, i! she saw it, know it lor a woman's" Cleveland's turn was next. lis was very pale, and iiis ungloved right hand was clasped on his heart. The glove had falleu to the ground, and lie was absently crushing it with the restless motion of his foot. " How shall I die ?" was his question, in a deep, tremulous, husky toue that made us ali start with sudueri horror. its effect ou the Seeress was stiil more maiked She sprang into a sitting position, and trembled from head to foot, seeming una ble to speak. The question was repeated. " I—dou't—know," she slowly replied: then suddenly, "Oh no, no so !" the last fc word rising to a shriek. Cleveland's face was ghastly beyond descrip tiou or conception. There was a pause : Mr Arnold exerted himself to calm the girl, and presently called on me for a liua! question. " Wnat lias become of my brother A moment's hesitating silence—a strange look of surprise, information, horror unspeaka ble. succeeding one another on her paie, deli cate lace; and then a fearful,unearthly scream which Iroze the very blood in our veins, i never knew before what " spiritual terror" mcnt. Assuredly I would rather met any bodily danger than hear that scream and see that face again. Even Arnold was appiuled, or I think he would have interposed before tlie answer come iu words :at first low, trem ulous, uncertain : the clear, rapid, agitated, while the girl's whole frame quivered with terrible excitement. " I see—a mountain of snow, a precipice on one side, a narrow winding along the edge. Down, down —at the bottom of the prcipice, in a dry bed of a stream —there is a body covered with blood oh,horrible ! I can not hear to look. It has been thrown there thrown down from the road. Wait a mo ment and 1 will teli you how. There are two men—they come out of a house, and they arc walking to the snow-mountain, along the road close to tiie edge of the precipice. One of them turns —he will not go on—he will go back. The other laughs at him ; lie speaks 1 do not hear what, they say—he speaks kindly to him. But, the pale man is angry ; he strikes his friend—oh, Goo ! he has flung him over the precipice ; he has murdered him !" I T as horror struck ; I could not rouse my self to think or speak. The gitl's look and tone catried conviction, as strong as if the scene she described it; these broken sentences had been actually passing before her eyes.— Vane's voice it was I heard text : " What is the murderer like ?" " He is tall, strong, pale—" She rprang suddenly from her seat. "He is IIF.KE !" she screamed, and, laying her hand on Cleveland's shoulder, she exclaimed, with a shriek which rang through the room, " THOU ART THE MAN 1" 1 need uotjattempt to portray the scene that followed. Indeed, I could scarcely see or hear. 1 only knew that Cleveland had sprung from his seat, dashed a-ide the arms that were stretched out to seize nan, and was gone. The girl had fallen beck upon her couch in violent convulsions ; and the mesmerist, himself irem bling in every limb, was trying to awaken her from the unnatural sleep which had been visit ed with so fearful a vision. Vuiie got me out of the room, I do not re collect how ; and when I became fully con scious of what was passing we were on our way to Cleveland's lodging. Arrived there, Vane inquired if lie was in, and was answered, Yes, Sir ; he is just gone up stares. We were quite frightened about him, he looked so ill." We ran up to the sitting room, which was on lt4c first lioor. The table drawer was open: in it my eyes caught sight of some papers tied iu a bundle and directed in Clevelauds bold but irregular hand to me. Besides these was the silver-mounted ivory butt cf a small pistol. Cleveland's hat and gloves lay on the table ; the owner was not there. My hand was on the latch of the bedroom door, and I had just become aware that it was locked, when the report of a pistol rang in my ear. I felt as if it had b en fired close to my head. In another moment Vane sprang at the door, burst it open with his weight, aud we eutered the bed room. Cleveland lay on the bed, his white shirt front souked with blood. The still smoking pistol—fellow to that in tho drawer—had fal len from his right hand, which bnng by his "REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." side. Yane tore open his dress, and we saw a small hole, just above the heart, iu the scorched vest and shirt, from which the blood had sprung over the clothes. Life was al ready extinct, of course. * * >}< * sjc 3#U The papers directed to me were produced at the inquest They contained an account, inco herent but circumstantial, of the murder of my unhappy brother, committed, said the writer, in a moment of passion, utterly unpremedita ted, and bitterly repented. The paper closed with some strange and incomprehensible pass ages, expressive of gratitude and affection for the murdered man. Vane's evidence induced the jury to return a verdict of insanity, and Cleveland's remains received Christian burial. It was not till the third night after his death that I was able to sleep. Then my slumber was deep and profound ; and it was with diffi culty that my landlady roused me at nine the next morning to receive " a large foreign let ter, which she thought mine—might be of con sequence." I jumped out of the bed mechan ically, and received it at the door. Good heavens ! it was Edward's handwrit ing—bore, too, a post-mark only five days old. It must have been posted after his death by *ome oae who had taken possession of his pa pers. I tore it open. More astonishing still, it bore date the same day which it was posted. A passage in which Cleveland's name occurred at once attracted my eye. It was as fol lows : My unlucky compagnon de voyage has left me. I was forced to let him gu : lor he quarreled with rne, aud would have struck me, on a precipitous path, whith a sheer descent of a hundred feet ou one side,and an equal ly steep ascent ou the other, where one la'i-e step would have cost one or both of us our lives. He had been moody and restless ail morning,and finally,us we reached tue most dangerous pin t ol the road stopped, refused to go any further, and declared that he must immediately return to England. ! was surprised, and, when 1 no ticed the expression of his eyes, a little alarmed. I tried, however, to laugh him out of his sudden fancy, hut had no success ; he grew angry, and, when I per sisted, struck at me with his alpenstock. I warned the blow ; and fie instantly turned and rundown tiie hi!! as if their fui ie ; pursued him. 1 waited till he was out of sigh', and then retraced my steps, hoping to find him at the hotel. Hut he had been too rapid iu his movements; had paid the bill,and was gone an hour before I arrived, nor could I follow him, for no vehicle or horse was left in the place. If he gets safe back to England, iny dear fellow, pray look alter him ; for—though you must keep it to yourself. or only hint it to Dr. Vane—l urn firmly convinced that Cleveland is, or soon will he, INSANE ! Insane ! here was the solution of the ter rible mystery. Edward was safe and well ; and the whole story of the murder was the creation of a diseased brain, of which ali who heard it had been the dupes, and of which the deluded author was the wretched victim.— The vision of the clairvoynnle, coinciding as it did with tiie story previously written out by the self imagined murderer, was a mere refiec tfnn of hie dellicinn, which hastened his end before Edward's return could dispel tiie horri ble fancy. The event gave such a shock to Arnold that he t.ever ventured to practice the art again. " And lias it not had the same effect on yon ?" I inquired, " I should have thought it wuld have caused you to shrink from all such mysteries and mummeries for tiie fu ture." " Far from it," returned Ciav, seriously,— " It seemed to throw a certain light oa a dif ficult and obtruso part of physical science for I need hardly say that I regard the pheno mena of mesmerism and clairvoyance as purely physical, however, abnormal ; and I intend to follow out the clew, at least til! I have learned whether or no all these phenomena may be traced to one cause,which we know to be oper ative iu mesmerism—the influence of one hu man mind upon another, as metaphysicians would say ; or, more properly speaking, of the brain of one human being on the nervous system of another artificially excited and pecu liarly susceptible. If it be true, as I suspect, that no clairvoyanfe ever has told us or ever can tell us any thing that has not already passed through the mind of some living and present mortal—that they all are mere recep tive miners of other minds—such evidence as I shall collect will go fae to establish the truth, and to set. men's minds at rest about the mystery ; perhaps to teach them that, while on the stage of life, we are to be indulg ed with no real glimpses behind the curtain.— You have let your pipe go out ; miue is smok ing to an end ; good-night." I did not sleep well that niglit, I confess. My Contribution. I HAD acluaiiy subscribed five hundred del lars 1 Not in all the history of my givings was there a a parallel to this. Five hundred dollars I I looked at the filled up check, alter cutting it free from its blank companions, with fond, reluctant eyes ere passing it to other hands ; yet was i not the grudging giver this little hesitation implied. My heart was iu the cause of national honor and national safety ; und in saci dicing something for my country i was but discharging a patriotic duty. This was ray contribution to a fund our citizens were raising fo" hospital and sanitary needs. If double the sum had been required of me, double would have been given. " So much for my cour try J" I said in my thought, with a feeling of self-approval. I felt that 1 was a better and truer man for the act. " If every one would do as well according to circumstances." There came a slight chill to my enthusiasm, cousequeut on the thought that I was doing so much more, according to my ability, than other people. I had seeu the subscription paper. It bore the record of no larger contribution than mine. Two citizens only had put down their names for five hun dred dollars. "To have given equally," I said within ray self, " Mr. llarland should have made his con tribution a thousand dollars instead of five hundred; and Grant should at least have come up to ray figures—dollar for dollar, he is quite as well off as I am. Then, as for Tompkins, I can't see how he had the courage to write down only fifty, in the face of half a dozen poorer men who gave each their hundred.— But we have a test of patriotism in this, and know where to place men. Love of country is a fine thing to talk about, but when sacrifice is asked, how rarely do we find word and deed in harmony." It is the most natural thing in the world to let speech betray our thoughts. As I moved about among friends and acquaintances, a word dropped here and a sentence there revealed the secret of my self approval ; and I doubt not that nearly all of them understood what was going on in my mind —how I considered my contribution to the war fuud, taking means into account, as the largest made by any man in the town. For me, five hundred dollars was a large sum to giveaway. Tens, twenties, and an oc casional fifty, under the pressure of pubiiccalls for church or charitable needs, had passed oat through the carefully loosened purse-strings, that drew back again with increasing tightness on tiie dhninished gold ; but giving after this liberal and exhausting style was altogether a new* experience. 1 feit something poorer on accouut thereof, and began to meditate econo mies. When I paid a thousand dollars for a pair of horses no impression like this was per ceived ; not even when one of them got injur ed by a fall, and I parted with him for one hundred aud fifty dollars. Here was a dead loss of three hundred and filty dollars ; bat in face of it nothing so like a sense o? poverty touched tue as iu face of my contribution to the hospipa! and sanitary fund. I did not feel poorer for the three hundred dollars expended in preparing and stocking ray fish-pond, thcugii the money paid therefor was a sunk invest ment, every dollar ; nor for the six or seven hundred paid for summer houses, garden slat nary, and fancy work about my grounds aud dwelling. All this, being for my own gratifi cation, I could afford. The expense was cal culated, and taken as a tiling of course. But this live hundred dollar gift to cur country in her time of pressing need, freely as it was be stowed, left with me a sense of exhaustion, as though weakened by un effort greater than my strength. No wonder, such being the case, that I talked rather more thau was seemly of what 1 had done. We have in onr town an excellent but plain spoken man, who, his life being one of the strictest iutogrity, does not stand iu fear of anybody's opinion. He is net a rough or obtrusive man, but as I have said, plain spok en, free from guile and flattery. You can hardly converse with him for ten minutes with out knowing yourself a little better thau when you began the conversation. Ilis name is Preston. " We have done our part," I said to him, as we stood together i:i the street one day. We had been speaking of tiie war, and the neces sity of supporting the Government to the full extent of its needs. I referred, in sayiug " our part," to the various contributions iu men aud uiuncj- which the people in our particular locality had made, and especially to the late subscription, which footed up three thousand dollars. Three thousand dollars, cf which i had given a sixth part. I could not fail iu this remembrance. " Y..-S, and nobly," he answered with a glow of enthusiasm r.ot often seen bloomiug on his quiet face. " Our people have done nobly, not keeping back their most precious things." " Three thousand dollars is a liberal sum," I said. " Yes." His voice dropped a little. " And of this sum two men gave a third part." It pressed for utterauce, and I was weak enough to let it forth. Mr. Preston u;d not answer, " And yea were one ot them " No; but said he iu a voice that still fell lower and lower, until it expressed n sentiment of reverence, " There is one incur midst who lias given more than these two men a hundred fold. But the name is not down ou any subscription paper." More precious than silver or gold ! Yes, there are things more precious than silver or gold ; and I understood Mr. Preston to refer to human life and human love. Shame touch ed me, and 1 stood silent mid rebuked. "Come," he said ; " walk with me into the next street, only a little way. It is well for us to comprehend these questions cf sacrifice and patriotism in oil their bearings. The dan ger with us all is that we magnify onr own burdens and onr own loyalty, and in doing so fail to award the honor that is due to others.' I did not answer, but in silence went with Mr. Preston into the next street. It was one in which the poor dwelt. Small houses, a few neat, and with tasteful shrubbery about the doors, bat most cf them miserably neglected and forlorn, stood on each side for a distance of three or four squares. My visits to this part of the town were cf rare occurrence. It was not pleasant to gaze upon, and so avoided.— All looked poor and mean now os my eyes ranged along the street, and I questioned with myself as to whither I was going, aud to what end. " The widow who cast in all her living gave more than those who, of their abundance, poured gold and silver into the treasury." My companion broke the silence with these words as we paused at the door of a small one story and a half lO.tage around which ever} th'wg was clean and in order, but plain and poor. His knock was net loud, but low nnd respectful.— 1 did not answer his remark, but stood beside him in a vague expecleucy. A chiid of ten years opeued the door, and looked up into bur faces curiously. I saw that she recognized Mr. Preston, but no smile lit up her young face." " How is your mcther to-day ?' was asked. " Not very well. Won't you walk in t" " No, thank you, my dear. I only stopped to inquire about, your mother. Is she abie to sit up ?" Y"es, Sir. She sat up 'most all day yes terday, and sewed a part of the time. And she's up again to day. Won't you come iu ? Maybe she'd like to see you." "Not tlrs morning ; I'll call round again.— Say that Mr. Preston caiied. I'm glad she's better. Good-by !" " Good-by, Sir !" I felt the low, almost choking flutter of the child's voice away down in my heart ; my eyes were dim as I turned away. What did it mean 1 " She has given most of all," said my com panion as we walked away. " What baa she given V " Her husband " VOL. XXIII. — KO. 5. " He is in the army " lie is dead !" "What? Dead,!" " Killed in battle." I stood still. "lu battle ?" " Yes. Three weeks ago the news came, lie rests with the slain at Fort Doneison." " Who and what was he ?" I asked, rally ing myself, for I felt an overpowering sense of weakness. " A sober, industrious mechanic ; a good husband and a good father, i saw his wife oil the day after the march with the regiment that went from here six months ago. The parting had tried her severely ; but she waa brave with it all, aud full of a noble heroism. ' He is strong aud courageous, aud will do his duty,' she said to me ; ' aud the country must have such men. I could nut cling to him weakly and ia tears, as some wives did to their husbands, and hold him back when his heart and commence bade him go. He is in GOD'S hands. Men lie at home of sickness as well as m battle. I. trust in GOD.' Her eyes were lull of tears as she spoke, and her voice betrayed the fear and suffering that wera in her heart. Ah, Sir, neither you nor I will ever fully comprehend ad that humble wife endured in parting from a good husband, on whose strong arm she had leaned for many years—in parting with him thus." V. r e walked on again,silent for soroe.momtots. How mean and poor sevuied my half-extorted gift—l say hail extorted, became there was really more of the spirit of doing to be seen of ineu than genuine patriotism in the act—to the priceless contribution of this poor woman ! I had signed a chccqne fcr five hundred dol lars, that wr.s ail. No conciousuess of the draft of that t'uecque followed. 1 did not feel my comforts diminishing ; I did not relin quish a single pleasure : there was nothing sacrificed except love of money. But she gave Lr r husband I She. poor, dependent on his life for the support of herself and her chil dren, had said, when ids country called, Go ! And the sacrifice had been complete. " The biow must have been terrible," Isaid. " Poor woman 1 Tbi- i ; indeed sorrow." " She staggered and fell," was replied.—. " For a week the struggle between life and death aud was almost evenly balanced. Then the slow reaction came, ar.d the poor crushed heart began to gather up its rent fibres, aud to string its quivering nerves for new efforts and new duties. T;.e strong arm on which she had leaned for so meny years was broken, and she must stand henceforth alone. How she faltered and staggered with uncertain steps at first I For hours she would sit and weep. Bat slowly strength came, and now, you iemcinbcr the child's words, 'fehe sat uu' rno-tj all day yesterday, and sewed part of the time.' A heavy burden has been laid upon her, and she must wr.ik henceforth with stoop ing shoulders and weary feet. Her own hands must earn the food with which her children are to be fed, and the garments with which they are to be clothed. Her toil and her care are more than twice doubled ; aud with them are the widow's loneliness and the widow's sor row. What are my war-burdens, what aro yours to this ? Ah, Sir, there is no room for complaint er boasting. It is hardest with those who are least thought of, r.ud who gets Sc.:-- . f public sympathy/' " We rati si do something fo p this woman," said I, " II::* case tenches mo deeply." " Your po-se.Kitfa and iniue would lose more than half, their value were such c/.latuity as the dismemberment of cur country to fall," — was answered. " Our enemies are men iu firms, and we must oppose man with mau io fierce battle. While they fight and die we are at home, and in their blood and suffering we iiud safety. Is tucir honor, is there justice, is there humanity in forgetting this service, and leaving the widows and orphans of our dead soldiers to bear unaided their burdens ot want and sorrow ? 1 think not. Yes, as< suredly we must do something fortius woman. She has giveu her ail,and if she have no share L.uceforth in our abundance then arc we uot guiltless in the sight of heaven." How small seemed all the contributions I had made,and of which 1 was so seif-gratulant! My cheeks were hot with shame. Not since have I referred to that last subscription in any conversation, nor has a word about the coming burden cf taxes escaped my lips. 1 would blush at complaint now. Burdens! They who seem to have the largest share feel their pressure lightest. On the poor, the humble,the too of ten despised and neglected the heaviest cf our troubles v. ill fail. Let us see to it that we sin not in forgctfulnessof what we owe to them.—* That we do not let widows and orphans cast in ali their living as the price of cur safety, " Mygracious,"scid Ike, " if some fairy would give me wings would'nt I go round among the planets, though ; I'd go to Mars aud Venus, ar.d Jupiter, and all the rest of them." " And Satan,'' said Mrs. Part : nglon, strik ing in, "and I'm afraid you will go there whether you have wings or not."' Ike whistled and turned the subject to an orange the old lady had. What is the difference between Octo ber and November? With October the leaves fall ; with November the fall leaves. All persons know when they are kuavo3, few wheu they are tools. We pity the family that sits down to a broil three times a day. A girl once applied to a clergyman to be married. The clergymau asked her what property her husband possessed. The answer was " noih ng." " And are you better off?" he asked.— The reply was in the negative. " Then why, in the name of seuse, do yen marry ?" '• Your reverence," said the girl, " [ hava a blanket, and Jack has a blanket : by put ting them together we both shall be gai&er." The clergyman had no more to say.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers