Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, September 04, 1862, Image 1

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Thursday Morning, September 4.1862. j
Thf apples are ripe in the orchard,
The work of the reaper is done,
And the golden woodlands redden
In the blood of the dying sun.
At the cottage door the grandsirc
Sits pale in his easy chair
While the gentle wind of twilight
Flays with his silver hair.
A woman is kneeling beside him,
A fair young head is prest,
lu the first wild passion of sorrow.
Against his aged breast.
And far from over the distance
The faltering echoes come
0! the living blast of trumpet
And the rattling roll of drum.
And the Gradsire speaks in a whisper—
" The end no man can see ;
Ilut we give him to his country,
And we give our prayers to Thee."
The violets star the meadows,
The rose buds fringe the door,
Ar.d over the grassy orchard
The piny-tvhite blossoms pcur.
But the graiulsire's chair is empty,
The cottage is dark atid still ;
There's a nameless grave on the battlefield
Aud a new one ui.der the hill.
And a pallid, tearless woman
By the cold hearthstone .-its alone,
And th- id clock in the corner
Ticks on with a steadly drone.
IU isci 11a \\t au s.
" Your face lias tost something, Helen.—
What is it?"
Tiu-re w a- a look of cou erii iu the speaker's
inquiring eves.
•• Ten years of sunshine—fruitful years—
llele.i.sliounl give the heart nti übiiudaut store
of e<>rii ali i wine. Your hives are fuil of
bunny "
Tito shade fell deeper on Helen's face.
" I urn pained at this," said the friend.—
41 Your let it-is have not betrayed the existence
ci a secret trouble."
" I was guarded."
41 Guarded I"
41 You kt.'jw," answered Helen, rallying
herself, and affecting a lighter state of uiitid,
44 that every house has its skeleton
44 11 ■.l or imaginary Most ol these skele
tons are but shadows."
44 Mine is real."
Tfie two friends met now for the first time
in tea vcurs, looked at each other iu a stranje
\v:iy. The lightness of tone had died out in
the sentence —"Mine is real."
44 Tiie best of husbands, good children at
home like this ! \N here s'unds the skeleton ?
1 can see no place for so unseemly au in
t ni ieiv'
44 And yet, Margaret, the intruder is here,
grinning at tne ail the while, aud growing
more and more ghastly."
" Dear friend, how you afil ct me !'
Helen Ashby's face bad become pale in this
reference to a hidden sorrow which had nev
er found voice ho fore.
44 lr almost kiiis uie to, Margaret ;
Lot—" M s Ashby checked the sentence ere
it lound utterance.
4t But what ? Trust me Helen. GOD gives
wi.-dctu to love. Through my love He may
tend healing to your soul. Let me look down
into tins haunted heart chamber ; let me see
the ugly skeleton !"
" 1 am not lovtd as 1 once was, Margaret!"
There was a cold shiver iu Mrs. Ashby's
" Not so loved, Helen !"
" Not loved by my husband." Tears fell
silon'ly over Mrs Ashby's face.
44 You are under a dark delusion. '
" No. Love has been steadily failing for
several years—slowly, almost imperceptibly,
but surely. 1 shudder at t lie contrast when 1
measure its height and depth, its length and
breahth today, and then think how immeas
urable it seemed ten years ago !"
44 I am pained beyond expression, dear
friend ! Surely you are iu a dream ! My
brief observatiou of your husband, since I
came, reveals nothing like coldness or aliena
tion. lie i> kind, gentle and tranquil. A- I
watched his countenance last utght, while he
talked, and dwelt on the sentiment's that fell
from his lips I could not help saying, " he is
fas' growing to the stature of a man—that is,
of an angel !" This could not lie, if he were
getting cold toward the wife of his bosom."
" Oh, he is good, and tine, and excellent 1"
answered Mrs. Ashby. 44 A purer,better man
es not live. 1 reverence, 1 idolize him !
He stands in my sight the embodiment of hu
man perfection ? But all the while lam cou
motis of an increasing distance between us
-• are not so close together as we were one,
b*o, three,four or five years ago My friend
fiiis is terrible ! Is it to go on—this widen
big of the space between us until he vanish
es out of sight, and I am left shivering alone
in a universe of darkuess ? Give me aunihi
lation rather !"
litis was the skeleton in Mrs. Ashby's house;
to phantom of the imagination, but a real
Si-T ton. Tiie fnend sat long before replying.
" but Helen now said brought into light
B ' 4: 'ie tilings casually noted since her arrival
Bome Holms which had been felt as iulmnno
"toijs. Let us briefly refer to them: Au awk
ward or contusu! servaut spilled some water
1 'be lea tattle at tea time, iu tilling a glass.
His Ashby, instead of passing the incident
Without notice, reproved her sharply. Mr.
Ashby was taikiug at the time, but resumed
:tJ a few minutes. The most ordinary observ
er would have preceived a change of tone,
marked by a certain depression of feeling.—
Soon after the conversation was resumed, Mr.
Ash by referred to a lady acquaintance, and
spoke of her as au accomplished singer, when
his wife threw iu some remark disparaging to
her as a woman. To these Mr. Ashby offered
a few mildly spoken excuses ; but his wife
| tore them away with an unseemly asperity of
i munuer, that, say the least, was uubeautiful.
I Her husband changed the subject. Again he
mentioned with praise a lady friend; and again
! Mrs. Ashby came in with a " but" and "if,"
veiling the good and exposing the detects of
her character. Two or three times during the
meal Mrs. Ashby spoke impatiently to the
1 children, and with a quality of tone that left
on the ear an uupleasaut impression.
1 The friend now recalled these little inhar
monious incidents. They gave her glimmers
1 of light.
1 " Love is never constrained," she said,after
a long pause.
Mrs Ashby sighed deeply.
" True love is of the soul. Why do you
! love your husband ?"
" Because," answered Mrs. Ashby, " he is,
' in my eyes, the embodiment of all manly per
! fections. He is just, pure truthful, full of geu
-1 tleness and goodness.'
! " Aud if such be his qualities, Helen can
he love iu a wife anything that is not pure
aud gentle, truthful and good ? Hive you
ever asked yourself a que-tiori like this ?"
M:s. Ashby's form was lifted to a sudden
erectuess. Her brow contracted slightly; her
' eyes lost something of their softened expres
sion ; her lips grew firm.
" Forgive rue, Helen, if I hurt or offended.
I love you too well to give you fruitless pain,"
said the friend. " 1 was only trying to lead
your !n, , 'h t s inward. If, as you seem to
fear, your husband is receding from you, it
must be in consequence of inharmonious states
| of mind—of dissimilarities, or antagonisms.—
There must be affinities, or there can be no
conjunction. Our souls must be beautiful, if
would be truly loved. Have you ever pan
dered these things ? If not, the time bus
: come when you shold, in nil faithfulness aud
ail serii.u-ness, do so.
If your husband be indeed advancing to
wards ail true manly excellarice, be growing
: spiritual in ?duure, vvi.l he not, unless you aiso
| advance aud grow toward womanly excellarice
' aud perf-c it n nle .e from you—get so fur
; beyond as to be out of sight / Are not spir
! itua! laws as unfailing as natural laws ? '
1 Mrs. Ashby's face had already lost its gath
! ering sternness. IL r friend paused.
| " Why have you said this to me ?"'
" Because I love you ; Helen, and desire
i vour happiness."
Mrs. A-hby sighed deeply, dropped her
gaze, and sat looking inward for a long time,
i'lten she sighed again, and looked up into the
! face of her friend."
" What have you seen, Margaret ? Deal
with me honestly, as a friend."
" A temper and disposition which your bus
I band cannot approve."
" Margaret
" You have a.-ked me to deal honestly, as
i with a friend. Shall Igoon !"
J " Yes, yes ; speak o' all that is iu your
i mind."
j " Your husband is gentle and considerate,
i reudv to excuse faults, tree from hardness and
: burliness.
i " None more so."
" 1 saw that ycur impatient words, when
! a servant spilled water on the table last even
ing, jarred bis feelings. He was talking cheer
' fully at the time ; but the change in It's tone
j thai followed showed a depressed state. It
was plain to me that you hurt him by your
sharp reproof, more than you hurt the servant.
Iheu 1 noticed that as often as he spoke iu
| favor of a certain person, you placed evil
| against their good, and not in the most amia
! Ide spirit. Once or twice he tried to defend
j the good, aud then you set yourself against
, him with a ,egree of asperity that must have
I produ ed in his mind a sense of pain. He
| did not contend ; though, J tear had he done
i so, you would have been ready for a shary
conflict. Before tea was ended, your bus
band, who conversed at the beginning in an
easy, cheerful way, was sitting almost silent.
Evidently you had reacted upon him in a muu
nea to depress his feelings. 1 did not compre
hend this at the time, but it is plaiu enough
" I think, Margaret," said Mrs. Ashby, as
her friend ceased, " thai you hud on magriify
! ing glasses la>t evening. A stranger listeuing
■ to your speech, wouid set me down as ill ua
j tured, if not quarelsome.
Henry would smile to hear you. lam not
j perfect, I know, and my husband understands
this, and makes all due allowauee for iufirmi
-1 ties of temper.
" Can he in spirit, Helen, conjoin himself
' to these or any other iufirmaties ? Does their
indulgence dr.iw him nearer or away from
you. Can he love them ?"
Mrs. Ashby's countenance changed, she did
not reply.
" Would he choose to live forever conjoin
ed to a disturbing and iuhartnoueous spirit?—
No matter how feeble the disturbing or slight
the lack of harmony, if conjunction must be
i eternal, would not conjunction be avoided as
j a calamity ? We cannot bind the soul, my
; friend by any laws but its own. Love is
drawn by likeness of quality. Your hearts
must so beat that the flow of life is reciprocal,
and the pulse moves iu nnitv.—You must be
! coine like htm, or he must become like you.—
Iu which contingency lies the surer hope ?
Answer to jour own soul mv friend, ll fie is
receeding from you, getting ul! the while to a
farther distance, who is it ? What Joes it
mean ? is he rising or decending ? Growing
| better or worse ? Which is it, Helen ?
"He is rising He is growing better."
" And yet receding 1"
" 1 have felt it for a long time, Margaret."
" Then girl your loins—bind sandals to your
feet—up, my friend and press onward in the
way you see him going, aud draw once more
j close to his side. As you love birn with a
pure heart.tenderlv seek for the graee of spirit.
for the quality of soul he loves. Cultivate all
heavenly affections. Be geutle, kiud, consid
erate, loving—in a word, seek all the Chris
tian graces—and there will be 110 happiar
wife in all the land. With such a husband as
yours—and I will take your own portraiture
—what can stand in the way of all felicities
but an undisciplined will ?"
" If he will only love au angel, there is no
hope for me," replied Mrs. Aabby. " I am
but a woman iniirm of will, stumbling along
darkly in my path of life. Oh, Margaret 1
you are giving me light only to show me the
hopelessness of my case."
" Mot so," replied the friend. " Your hus
band is not very far from you. If I were talk
ing with his owu state, he would use language
(piite as strong as yours. The infirm will, the
darkened way, the stumbling feet—they are
his, as well as yours and mine. Tbose who
are in advuuce of us do not walk as serenely
as wo think. There are always dificulties in
the way, and the further advance we make,
while in this would, the more of them we shall
find ; but for these a higher strength, with
patience and humility, are given. Begin by
shunning such things as, in light of reason and
GOD'S Word, you kuow to be wrong. Lay a
tranquil baud on your temper, and hold back
from utterance all harsh words that can do no
good, llave charity for the weakness, the
infirmities and short comings of others ; and
if you cannot speak approviugly, say no ill.—
So shall you move onward in the way your be
loved is going; so shall his soul reflect your
soul, and the unity of life be attained which
of two, one forever."
" And you think there is hope for me, Mar
ret— hope lor winning back that love that
.-eeuis vanishing '{" said Mrs. Ashby. 44 I see
tiie way it has gone, as my eyes follow your
I ointiiig finger."
" I'lie lovely are beloved, Helen."
" 1 must become lovelier then 1"
44 In spirit, for love is of the spirit. If you
indulge in passion, iil -nature, envies,evil speak
ing and uncharitableuess, can one who is try- i
ing to put these unclean things out of his
heart—who turns from them as foul and hate
ful—draw closer to you, and take you as the
embodiment of all perfection into Ins soul ?
it is simply impossible, Helen. The good
c :iinot love. us, unless we are beautiful in spir
it. To ask their: to do -j is to require an im
possibility " More than a minute passed.—
Then lilting her eyes from the floor, where
they Imd been resting, Mrs. Ashby said :
44 Whereas I was blind, now I sec. Oa, my
friend, von have come as au angel to lead me
out of the wilderness into a plain way. If
my husband is advancing while I stand still,
what wonder is it that lie itceus ? If I do
not wa k by his side as he ascends the mount
ain of spiritual perfection, the necessity that
divides us is of my own creation. As you
have urged, my friend, so will I do—gird up
my loins, bind sandals to my feet, and press
onward iu the way he is going."
14 And sooner than yau think for, Helen,'
was answered, 14 will you be at his side ? He
is not very far iu advance. The road to per
fection of life is never passed over with tapid
feet. Slow ly the steps are taken. Your bus
barm loves you,but he connot love in you what
is unlovely. Put away all the uubeautiful things
that veil yourattractions. Be in his eyes geutle,
loving,cnaritable and kind. Be more ready to
see as tie sees titan lindgrouud of difference. It
you do not see in the light of Ids understand
ing, wait and reflect, but do not argue and
oppose. To be truly united, as to tire spirit,
is to be one in affection aud thought. If there
is no harmony in your thojghts, the Closer you
draw together the more you will disturb each
otlii r. But why should 1 say more? Tour
eyes are open and you see. The way is plain,
walk iu it, and find peace and joy.— You have
a true man for a husband ; be to l.iui a true
wife, anil happiness beyond anything conceiv
able now shall be yours in the age of eter
dent, writing from the scene of the recent bat
tle of 44 Slaughter Mountain " —a hill farm of
a Preshyteriuu Minister—gives the following
incidents :
All our dead, so far as I saw or heard had
been plundered of their money, arms, and iu
some cases, of their clothing. I think that we
have had cue hundred and fifty dead. I found
them grouped in the edges of all the woods, in
one case, twenty-two together. Several of
these appeared to be killed by fragments of
shells and one man's head was missing. In
curious juxtaposition to these ghastly objects,
I saw an old fashioned plow that had beeu
struck by solid shot and broken in half. War
has leveled the earliest and last indication of
industry. By the kindness of the Rebel cav
alry, Geu Stewart, to whom I shall presently
reler, I was allowed to ride with Lieuteuaut
.Johnson across the rebel lines, aud examine
the enemy's dead. As most of these had
bem buried, I could not tell with certainty the
rebel loss, but it could scarcely have beeu less
than ours.
Eight North Carolinians in a row by a
fragment of fence—stout, stalworth rustic iu
homespun clothes, who had perhaps been drag
ged as conscripts from their homes to perish in
an unholy cause. A few of our grave diggers
had mingled with rebel grave diggers,and both
suspended their functions to hold an argument.
The Lieutenant ordered the Federals into
their own lines, and prevented, it may be, a
miniature battle among the disputants. 1
must say for my conductor that he had a
frank face and a fair manner, a goodly mingl
ing of the polite citizen with stem soldier
We rode into a piece of woods not half a
mile from Slaughter Mouutain, and beheld the
spot where Union and Rebel had tugged and
tusseled face to face, parrying and thrusting
with cold steel.
Some of the rebem seemed to have edged
over to our d ies, and fell among our mcD,
while some of the Unionists were quite turn
ed round und lay iu a bevy ou their enemies.
BS- A Scolding Mother makes a miserable
The Plan of Negro Colouizatin in Cen
tral America,
Commissioner Pomeroy's Address
to the Coiered People.
WASHINGTON, August 25,1802.
Senator S. C Pomeroy has, by request of
tho President conseuted to organize emigra
tion parties of free colored persous for settle
ment iu Central America, and been commis
sioned accordingly. This gentleman's former
success, iu organizing emigrant expeditions for
the settlement ot Kausas and Colorado affords
a guarautee of hispreseut plaus. The govern
ment proposes to send out the emigrants in
good steamships and provide them with all
the necessary >iniplemeuts of labor and ulso
sustenance until they can gather a harvest.
The following address, prepared by Senator
Pomeroy, has been sanctioned by the Presi
dent :
The hour has now arrived in the history of
your settlement upon this coutient wheu it is
within your power to take oue step that will
secure, if successful, the elevation, freedom
and social position of your race upon the
American coutiueut. Tho President of the
United States has already signified his desire
to carry out fully, iu the letter and spirit of
the late act of Congress, the desire of the na
tional legislature, which made an appropria
tion to facilitate your emigration aud settle
went in some favorable locality outside of
these States ; and at bis request I have con
sented aud agreed with lit a to aid you iu
organizing this emigration and iu selecting a
locality that rill be valuable and attractive to
your people iu itself,as well as give the promise
to you and to us that it shall be a suitable lo
cation for a great, free and prosperous people.
I now address you as oue awake to the mornen
tous revelation in American history,alive also
to your interest in this conflict of arms, where
by you are led to hope that in thus unsettling
established institutions your prop e may go
This, then, is the hour for you to make an
earnest effort to secure your own social posi
tion and independence, by co-operating with
those who now reach out their hands to aid
you. I you to do this by the pride you
may have to make another exhibition to the
world of the valor, heroism aud virtue of the
colored race ; by the love you may have for
your struggling and oppressed people now
among us, as well by the hopes you may iu
duige of making smooth and prosperous the
pathway of coming generations.
1 propose, o the first day of October next,
to take with me one hundred colored men, as
pioueers in this movement, wiio, with their
families, may equal the number of 000 souls,
and for whose benefit the appropriations iu
the acts of Congress referred to were made.—
The President will provide us the means of
transportation and the protection of the settle
ment. Being familiar with organizing and
settling the early emigration to my own State
(Kansas), 1 indulge the hope that that exper
ience may be made serviceable to you. 1 am
in earnest for the welfare of your people, pre
seut and prospective. I want you to cousider
this as au auspicious period for you.
If this travail aud pain of the cation bo
come the birth day of your freedom, let us
plant you free and independent beyond the
reach of the power that has oppressed you.—
Consider this as nu opening by the wisdom of
Divine Providence, when you are called of
God to go with me to a country which your
oppressed people are soou to receive for their
'I propose to examine, and, if foand satis
factory and promising, to settle you at Chiri
qui, in New Granada (with the approval of
tne government), only about one week's sail
from Washington, D. C All persons of the
African race of souud health, who desire to
take with me the lead in this work,will please
send their names, their number, sex and ages
of the respective members of their families and
their post office address to tne at the city of
Washington, D. C. No white person will be
allowed as a member of the colony. 1 waut
mechanics and laborers, earnest, honest and
sober men ; for the interests of a generation,
it may be of mankind, or involved in the suc
cess ot this experiment, and with the approba
tion of the American people, and under the
blessing of Almighty God, it cannot, it shall
not fail. S. C.POMEIiOY,
United States Senate.
Senator Pomeroy has entered heartily into
the President's colonization scheme. lie has
become a thorough convert to the President's
policy, and lias a colony ready to start with
hint for South America about the Ist of Oc
tober. Mr. Pomeroy devotes his attention
practically to this subject, without any pecu
niary compensation or benefit.
A PUNNT INCIDENT —On the steamer Indi
ana, on one of her trips down the Mississippi,
there happened to be on board a Iloosierfrom
the Wabash, going to New Orleans, who had
an old fiddle npou which he continually scrap
ed away, to the annoyance of the passengers.
A Frenchman of delicate nerves and musical
ear was greatly annoyed. He fluttered, fidget
ed, swore at the fiddle,and begged the Hoosier
to stap ; but it was no go. The Hoosir swore
he'd " music as long as he pleased." At last
a big Kentuckian piaeed himself before the
fiddle,sajing,"l'll fix h ra,"and commenced brag
ing with all his might,and drowned the screech
ing of the fiddle. The discomfited lloosier
beat a hasty retreat, greeted by the shouts of
passengers and the delight of the Frenchman.
During the night the Kentuckian lett the boat.
The uext morning before breafast the passen
gers w. re stirt: d by the discordant sounds of
the old fiddle again. Hoosier had discovered
that the coast was clear, and was bound for
revenge on the passengers. The Frenchman,
just seated to read his paper, one the first
round arose, and looking anxiously around,
shrugged his shoulders, and then shouted :
" Varo is he ? Vare is be ? Qaick ! Quick 1
Vare is Monsieur Kentuck, de man vot play
OD the jacka3S ?"
Died Last Night.
Coupled with the bridals, printed in little
type, leading of the advertisements, jostled by
a sorry jest, hard behind a market, close be
hind a cotillion, what a place a newspaper is
to put a death in.
We are reading something about a heme,
and all at once we are in a place of graves ;
we are looking over the testimonials to the
Elixir of Life, aud come, before we know it,
upon a 'Died Last Night.'
If there were ouly some retired and shad
ed corner in a newspaper, with a willow or an
urn in it, where the names that have no
owners could be recorded, and we could go
when weary with rambliug through the columns
of bustle and business, and read ; aud think
how surely one alter another, all names tend
thither ; those that stand at the head of the
columu editorial in capitals ; those that are
pointed at with a finger, and woudered over
with exclamation points, and asked after with
interrogations ; those that were brides the
other day, and are brides still, but with new
bridegrooms ; those that were heroes, and
found place in the 'leader ;' or beautiful aud
woven in a wreath for 'Foe 's Corner.'
But there is no such retreat—nothing but
a narrow black like —, to keep the world
out ; to prevent the rail way train, whose
times are advertised below from ruuning
over the names and obliterating it. And so
it is like grove in a thoroughfare, covered
with dust, and jarred by passing wheels ; it
gives us pain to look at it, aud we are glad
it is ouly for a day.
4 Died last night.' It was nobody that
you, know, you thiuk, and so you pass on to a
sale or bargain that you see beyond, aud
forget that there was ever such a name or
such a dying in the world. How apt we are
to forget that there are those who can
hardly see the Dame for the heavy rain that
is lulling, while the heavens overhead are
bright and clear; that eye? do rest thereou,
that see a world put out where you discern
a name ; that wonder how the sun can
shine, since sundown came to them who hear
with their hearts tiie idle laugh that's passing
ou the wind.
' Died last night.' A pleasant time to die,
but not last night—ab, no—some other night,
a great, while yet to come. To go abroad by
the true iight of stars, to find the way out
from the pat of earth by everlasting lamps.
4 Died last night.' How many died? how
many beautiful and good ? how many young
and fair ; how many reverend and wise ?
Some that you know and we know ; per
haps oue that you and we loved. \\ c
shall hear of it by aud by, and then wo
shall remember that it was last night she
To die at any time 'is a dreadful and awful
thing ;' to die wheu day is breaking ; to die
at high noon ; to die wheu the pearl aud
gold of morning and the glow of noon are
all blended upon the palette of, the West,
till the sky looks like a great tinted shell
thrown up upon the shore of Eternity. But
to go from this world to that, iu the night,
by the pale light of stars, is most solemn and
beautiful of all. And theu there is a dignity
about that going away alone ; that wrapping
the mantle of immortality about us ; that put
ting aside with a pale hand the azure curtains
that are drawn around this cradle of a world ;
that venturing away from home for the first
time in our lives, for we are not dead : there
is nothing dead to speak of; and seeing foreign
countries that are not laid down on any maps
we know about. There must be lovely lands
somewhere starward, for none ever return that
go there, and we very much doubt whether
any would return if they/could.
4 Died last night.' Well, in a few days,
as soon as they can—they take down the old
family Bible, somewhere, and they write a de
parture —the clearance of a soul. Sometimes
it is a bud, but as rare. Ben Johnson said, so
everybody thinks :
" Twas but a bud, yet did contain
More sweetness than shall bloom again."
Sometimes a blossom wafted from the trec>
by some retuuriiing breath, to heaven. How
different the record on the other page, a year
or so ago, when they set down the new name
—the same name they write now but owner-
Mess; that may he heard a few times, but not
in the crowd, not iu the merry festival, but in
the twilight hours, at home, and then be sylla
bled no more.
Alabama kept a demijohn of Jamaica in his
private office. The judge bad noticed that
on Monday morniug his Jamaica was lighter.
Another fact had gradually established itself
in his miDd. His son Sam was missing from
the pew in the church. On Sunday afternoon
Sam came in and went up stairs rather heavy
wheu the Judge bailed him ;
' 3am, where have you been ?"
" To church, sir," was the prompt reply.
" What church, Sam ?"
" Second Methodist, sir."
" Had a good sermon, Sam ?"
" Very powerfull, sir ; it quite staggered
me, sir."
" Ah ! I see," said the Judge, " quite pow
| erful, eh Sam ?"
The next Suuday the son came home rather
earlier than usual, and apparently not so much
" under the weather." llis father hailed
him :
" Well Sam, been to the Second Methodist
again to-day ?"
" Yes, sir."
" Good sermon, my boy ?"
" Fact was, father that I couldn't get in ;
church shut up and ticket ou tho door."
" Sorry, Sum ; keep going—you may get
good by it yet."
Sam says on going to the office for his usual
Spiritual refreshments, he fouud the " John "
empty, ar d bearing the following label :
" There will be no service hero to-day, this
church being closed for repairs."
ffcy An emiueut physician has discovered
thai the nightmare, in nine cases out of ten
j> produced owjng a fc>U! fef * newspaper.
VOL. XXIII. —KO. 14.
What a Bayonet Charge Is.
It is said that, severe as the battle at Pitta
burg Lauding undoubtedly was, but one
bayonet wound has beeu discovered by our
surgeons there, aud that was inflicted by a
barbarous rebel upon a sick soldier lying iu
bis tent. Some surprise has been expressed at
this fact ; there is a general impression that
after a bayonet charge, if the contesting
forces ure composed of brave meD,there should
be a great number of such wounds. The truth
is that a bayonet charge is a very different
affair from what it is generally supposed. In
the fiist place, the regiment or other force
which makes the charge, though probably
rauged as near as possible squarely opposite
its enemy, cannot keep up tbis formation dur
ing the quarter of a mile or more of groaud
which must be traversed by it before the foe
is reached. Even with the best drilled and
bravest meD, one end of tbe line lags behind,
and if the enemy should stand still to receive
the charge, only a part of the line would be
engaged at lirst. In practice, however, mili
tary writers mu>.t confess that bayonets are
very rarely actually crossed. A charge usual
ly lakes one of three turns : either the charg
ing party, with its firmness and impetuosity,
throws the opposing force into a panic, aud it
breaks rank and Hies without awaitiDg the
thrust of the bayonet ; or, by firmness aud a
well delivered volley at short distance, the
side which is attacked drives off the other; or,
in the fewest cases, both sides behave well,
aud then, in the words of one of the most ex
perienced generals, " the best sergeant decides
the fate of the charge"—because only the
sergeant and one or two of the men at the end
of the line which first comes iu contact with
the enemy's lines arc really engaged during
the few decisive moments, and thus the con
duct, individual bravery and strength of per
haps half a dozen men, w ill aloue cross bay
onets with the enemy, gain the victory for
the side to which they beloug. " What do
you suppose we keep our bayonets bright for
but, to scare the enemy ?" a distinguished
general said to one who was inquiring into the
nature of bayonet charges ; and a Marshal of
France wrote : "It is not the number of
men killed, but the number of frightened, that
decides the issue of a hattle." Jomini says he
saw but oue bayonet fight iu all his military
experience ; and it is related by one of the
historians of Napoleon's wars, that when tbe
French were once charging the Prussians, with
the bayonet, when the latter would uot or
could not retreat, there ensued a spectacle un
expected by the officers on either side. The
French and Prussian soldiers, w hen they got
within striking distance, apparently by mutual
consent, clubbed their muskets, and fought
desperately with their arms reversed.
Lesson from History.
The nearest historical paralled in modern
times to the present position of the Uoited
States, is that of France duriug tbe great rev
lution in ITG3, after the execution of Louis
XVI. The Government of the Republic was
harrassed with all manner of domestic difficul
ties, from factious, conspiracies, rebellions, aud
financies disordered to the last degree of con
fusion and discredit. In the midst of these
interual troubles, war was declared against
France. Not by England aloue, but by Aus
tria, Holland, Spain, Portugal, Sardinia, Na
ples, the Pope and several of the German
Principalities—in all thirty States, great and
small, the greatest being the chief powers of
Europe and the world.
They took the field with great armies, and
approached France from every point; this.too,
at a time when in France whole provinces
large cities like Lyons, Toulon and Orleans
were in arms against tbe Republic, and the re
volt in many places formidable and for a time
successful. To meet these various enemies,the
Freuch Convention at first called out 500,000
men. This force did uot prove sufficient, and
a few mouths later a decree was issued pat
ting in permanent requisition every citizen.—
All the yong married men, or widowers with
out children, from the age of eighteen to
twenty-five were to compose the first levy.—.
They were to assemble immediately in the
chief towns of the diatrieis, to be ready to
! start for the scene of war at a moments no
The men b;tween twenty five aad thirty
! were notified to get ready, and meanwhile,
' were required to suppress the revolt of the
Vendeans and other insnrgeuts, and to keep
the peace of the interior. The men between
thirty and sixty were held iu reserve for the
more graceful arming of the population. In
certain parts, such as the Departments adjoin
ing La Vetidso, Lyons, Toulon and the Rhine,
the whole population able to bear arms was at
once called out. The means employed to arm,
equip and subsist these levies were adapted to
the circumstances. The first levies produced
in a month six hundred thousand men,bnt these
were uot soldiers, and for four or five months
the armies of tho republic suffered a continu
ous series of disaster from panic and want of
skill both in troops and commanders. But the
tide at length turned, and the Republic not
only expelled the invaders, but carried its vic
torious standard into the adjacent countries.—
What France did thtu the Uuitek States can
do now, if the exigencies of the case demand
" ffulius, why did Gen Grant rest un
easy de night 'fore he took Fort Donelson ?"
"J)unuo, Massa Johusou; 'spose he didn't
feel sleepy."
"No, sah! 'Twas kasc he'spected to git a
Pillow aod only got a slip"
ttg" A young conscript fell sick and was
sent to tbe military hospital. A bath was
ordered. It was brought into the chamber
where the invalid lay ; be looked at it bard and
for some time, then he threw up Lis hands and
bawled—" Doctor ! I can't driuk all that !"
B igr Gen. Butler's proclamations are so
sharp t'lat be needn't file them