TEHMS OF PUBLICATION. .RErouTEitis published every Thursday Morn '' v , o. Goodkich, at *2 per annum, in ad l- it'ITSEMENTS are inserted at TEN CENTS 1 , , lii si insertion, ami nvK CENTS per line ' insertions. A liberal discount is i. 't'o p rsous advertising by the quarter, balf vi tr -Special notices charged one-half '; ..m n gular advertisements. All resolutions 1 itious : communications of limited or 111- iutcrest, and notices of Marriages and ■ ding five lines, are charged TEN CENTS • jjU6 1 Year. 61110. 3 mo. . *SO *35 *2O cue m-aunn,... Siiiiare. 16 x . <1 * '.tnitor's and Executor s Notices.. S2 00 ...r i .nds, five lines, (per year) 500 ,vh nit- and others, advertising their business, •i, T-'.-d *ls. They will be entitled to 4 , , iiiiuvd exclusively to their business, with ji , of change. libvrtisiug in all cases exclusive of sub , tion t" the paper. 1 HUNTING of every kind in Plain andFan ,lone with neatness and dispatch. Haud liUnks. Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., of every va -stvle, printed at the shortest notice. The Oitice has just been re-fitted with Power and every thing in the Printing line can ■at, ,1 iu the most artistic manner and at the a, . TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. r.rr.dfovtl filcportTT. THE PUNISHMENT OF TREASON the last few years there have two examples of rebellion against the fth United .States, distinguished attev disregard of human life, and the <~i property. The object to be at ,,! in the one case was the slavery and iation of a certain class of our pop i and in the other, the emancipation „ii same class from the pains and peu . i hereditary bondage. ;:, rs Uo- f the race lie sought to enlarge, r wv can look upon it in no other light I ■ a> -i manifestation of the wildest in- I- y—,m insanity which the lightest : reason had the power to dissi- I u! em which was fed and nourished I" • v litiun and a choice. y the criminality of John Brown's 1 ■'iking. Such cases often occur: a • nisiasni operating upon an excit-j , ' i niiciit and and ardent irnagina- I ■ impulsive longing desire to right) | wrung, and to vindicate some j ■ a principle of race, —a glorious, F ■" ; -illation against some oppres stice, —a sympathy for fallen - • . humanity, all conspire to ! ml perceptions and the will agent of crime, even when the ; : 'apt* it to better things. •i"Wii died because every man who cut blihid in resisting the due !i < law is worthy of death. No I : -:eiit is secure where its law is i " y trodden down without due at i t0 it* majesty—even a bad law is i hedience, because, even that • v ' 'VEREinxTY of the government, I 'aw will eventually be repealed, i - time, even as those legalizing '"! age awaited theirs. There inls of hearts that prayed that --'t be spared the death he de milune stood the inexorable law, inexorable judge, and there !Il cxorable rope. It is worthy of . lt the inexorable functionary, -e have saved hiui from death, is '"tut ;i convicted traitor and a ■ • the mercy he denied this poor "tefl man, whose power to injure ! departed forever. Did the tho't I * '".ml ~i Gov. Wise that he, in so • K , would be a suppliant for par tuij"g a worse form of treason browns ? No, verily; and ... tiie n °bility of mind of the one, "Jumous meanness of the other. E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher. VOLUME XXVI. John Drown, with a lofty contempt for his enemies, refused to ask for a pardon ; but Gov. V\ ise prostrate himself in the dust to live a few years longer in the disgrace he has so well earned. John Brown atoned for his crime in resist ing the law by his death, but what shall be the meet expiation for the one a thousand times greater, perpetrated by Jefferson Davis? Are they parallel cases? Is not the guilt of Davis the same in kind though immeasurably greater in degree ? And if the majesty of law demanded its full and entire satisfaction in the one case, will it he content with anything less in the other? One struck for the freedom of the slave,the other to perpetuate his bondage. Let im partial justice say which most deserved death. The American People have this solemn question to answer. " The voice of our brother's blood cries to us from the ground." Prom the summits of a thousand hills and battle fields, from the shores of a thousand rivers, and bays, and gulphs, from innumer able prison-pens reeking with the filth and ; slime, and offal of a starved and famish ing soldiery, there comes up one long,loud, deafening cry for JUSTICE, not revenge, but justice, justice upon the guilty traitors who compassed the downfall of the only free government upon Earth. And treason has ever been punished with death if we except the case of one Euro pean nation, in which, for minor degrees, perpetual banishment to a cold and inhos pitable clime is substituted. Great Britain has always decreed death to the convicted traitor—that has ever been her law,though we may except a recent instance where her policy decided the question, as in the Cana dian outbreak a few years ago, as well as in that of Ireland, also quite recent. How many sturdy warm-hearted Scotsmen, how many patriotic Irishmen, how many poor ignorant Hindoos have paid the penalty of death upon the scaffold, because they lov ed their own native country best? Let her own history answer, and then, having truly answered, let her dictate to us our duty. Do we not know that an order was sent to the commander of the British army in the war of the Revolution, to hang or to shoot our own beloved Washington if he became a prisoner ? It is entirely unnecessary to notice at length the instances in which the punish ment of death lias been inflicted for the commission of treason. In all ages, and climes and countries, the traitor has yield ed up his infamous being—who that in sav age or civilized life, there is one universal law of humanity that decrees his doom. The human heart must change, it must turn trai"vr to its most conservative in stincts, ere it overturns the base of all so cial organization and order, and govern ment, among men. Those who would persuade us that it is the part of clemency as well as of policy to spare the life of Jefferson Davis, forget that he of all other men is most responsi ble, most guilty of the crime and bloodshed of the last four years. There is not a sin gle moment of all that time in which he, his own solitary self, might not have quiet ed the angry and mistaken prejudice of the j .South, and have opened the way to an ac i commodation. It was his voice, that first : " fired the Southern heart," his act, which spread broad cast the seeds of secession, his advice, and example which for long years marshalled the moral forces of rebel lion, and at the critical moment brought them in direct antagonism to the Union.— And when resistance and war became a "fait accompli " he, as President of the Confederacy, directed every movement and organized every opposing force. Let every man who indulges in a clemency for hint, read his proclamations to the South, charg ing the Northern soldiers with the per petration of the most horrid and unnatural crimes—crimes which he knew had never been committed —let him revert to his mes sages to the Rebel Congress—written to influence the action and opinion of foreign powers—messages which in every line be tray the demagogue, and in every utter ance asserts what he knew was false, and ' then let him say in his heart if Jefferson Davis was not the head and front of the re bellion, and directly chargeable with all its violence and bloodshed, —and if he should not be, by human law,-held respon sible for all its wickedness and atrocity. It is not denied that there were others as zealous in this insane movement, but what was their power, their opportunity for mis chief? Nothing in comparison with his— nothing. He was the Alpha and the Ontega, tiie beginning and the end of this Great Rebellion that sunk thousands of millions of Treasure and sacrificed more than a half million of lives upon the altar of Jefferson Davis' ambition. FIN is the most conservative element of society, and ought to he cherished and en couraged by all lawful means. People never plot mischief when they are merry. Laughter is an enemy to malice, a foe to scandal, and a friend to every virtue. It promotes good temper, enlivens the heart, and brightens the intellect. Let us laugh when we can. A OI'EST at the Duke of Wellington's ta ble blurted out the rpiestion, " Pray, were you not surprised at Waterloo ?" With what a neat and easy turn the Duke ran the unhappy man through—" No ; but I am now." TOVVANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., SEPTEMBER 14, 1865. YOU KISSED ME. You kissed me! My head has dropped low on your breast, With a feeling of shelter and infinite rest, While a holy emotion my tongue dared not speak, I lushed up like a flame from my heart to my cheek; Your arms held me fast—oh! your arms were so hold, Heart beat against heart in that passionate hold : Your glanees seemed drawing my soul through mine eyes, As the sun draws the mist from the sea to the skies ; And your lips clung to mine, till I prayed in my bliss, They might never unclasp from that rapturous kiss- Y'ou kissed me! My heart, and my breath, and my will In delirious joy for the moment, stood still ; Life had for me then no temptations—no charms— No vista of pleasure outside of your arms ; And were I, this instant, an angel, possessed Of the glory and peace that are given the blest, I would Ring my white robes unrepiningly down, And tear from my forehead its beautiful crown, To nestle onee more in that haven of rest, With your lips upon mine, and my head 011 your breast. You kissed me! My soul in a bliss so divine, Keeled and swooned like a foolish man drunken with wine, And I thought 'twere delicious to die then, if death Would come when my mouth was yet moist with your breath ; And these are the questions i asked day and night, Must my life taste but one such exquisite delight ? Would you care if your breast were my shelter as then ? And if you were here, would you kiss me again ? NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING. " This must be the last of your wedding gifts, Vaiiinka," said Madatu Brcnton, hand ing a small package to her daughter, "as you are to be married to-morrow, and it is now quite late in the evening, I think there will be 110 more." "Mother," said the young girl, in a frigh tened tone, holding up a small jet necklace, the contents of the package, " see, it is black ! It is ominous. Oh ! what grief can be in store for Henry and me?" " None, none, Yaninky 1 this is mere fol ly," said her mother, in a tone of rebuke. But it was some minutes before the young maiden recovered her calmness. Then con quering her weakness by a violent effort, she said, lightly : " I am not silly, mother ! You will laugh when I tell you it, but my blood run cold and my flesh seemed to creep as I touched this bauble, as 'f it had been a serpent. — See, 1 do not mind it now !" Vaninka Brentano was the only child of a wealthy Prussian commoner. She had been long betrothed to Henry Werder, a young officer in the Prussian army ; but owing to the wars in Europe their wedding had been long delayed. Now, however, there was peace, and the lovers were to be united the day after the one toward the end of which my story commences. Van inka was devotedly attached to her be trothed, and too happy at the near ap proach of their nuptials to allow the black necklace to disquiet her long. Her parents left the room, and, throwing herself into a chair, she leaned her head against its back, and sank into a reverie, her fingers me chanically playing the while with her last gift. It was easy to see that her reflec tions were of a pleasant nature, for ever and anon a beautiful smile stole over her features, and fading gradually away still left the same expression of quiet happiness. She had been setting there some time,when another person entered the room. The in truder was a young handsome man, dressed in a full Prussian uniform. His face was pale,and wore an agitated look,strongly con trasting with the peaceful smile onVaninka's lips. She did not hear him enter,and he-stood for a moment looking, with his eyes beam ing with tenderness upon her ; then, with the air of a man who has a distressing du ty to perform, he advanced and stood be fore her. " Henry !" she exclaimed, starting to her feet, " I did not expect you this evening ; has anything happened ?" " Much, much, Vaninka. Sitdown again and 1 will take this stool at your feet. My own beloved, 1 come to tell you that our wedding must be postponed." " Our wedding day !" cried the astonish ed girl. " Even so ! You are astonished, perhaps hurt ; have 1 told you abruptly ? Look in my face, Vaninka, and see what I have suff ered before 1 would grieve you with my bad news." " But, Henry, I do not understand. Why must we wait still longer ?" " Because 1 must leave you in twenty minutes." " Leave me ?" "Yes. Napoleon has left Elba, and is even now in Paris ; our troops leave the city in half an hour." " Henry, am I awake ? No, no, Henry, you are not in earnest. Ah !" said she, shuddering as she caught sight of the neck lace, " I said it was ominous I—I—I—Hen- ry, yon cannot leave me. To-night too ! the very night before the wedding 1" "Vaninka?" he cried, straining her to his breast, " I must go; see, the clock points to the time I set to leave you. Van inka ! She has fainted. Better so." And kissing her pale face again and again, he laid her on the sofa and went in search of her parents. A few words told them all, and bearing their fervent blessings, he de parted. Weeks passed, and Vaninka heard noth ing from her lover. She grew pale and thin ; her movements were languid, and her former light step grew slow and heavy. She no longer sang at her work, and would let her hands fall listlessly into her lap,and heave deep sighs, while sometimes the great tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. At length, there came the news of the battle of Waterloo ; Napoleon had been de feated, and all Europe was ringing with the tidings. Vaninka's suspense now am ounted to perfect agony. " Henry ?" she would cry, "is he killed ? Oh when will he come V One morning when she was seated with her mother, sewing, she was told that a REGARDLESS OK DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. Prussian officer wanted too see her. With her heart throbbing between fear and hope she obeyed the summons. As she slowly entered the room, a stranger rose, and ad vanced to meet her. ''Mademoiselle Brentano ?" he inquired, bowing. " The same. Will you be seated, Sir ?" " I am Frederick Listen ; 1 served in the battle of Waterloo, in the same regiment with Henry Werder, and he requested nte to deliver this to you." And as he fin ished, ho placed a small package in her hands. " Why don't he come himself? He is not dead ? OH, say he is not dead !" she said in a voice of such imploring agony that the young soldier felt the tears rise in his eyes. " Lady," he said, in a sad tone, " Henry fell at Waterloo." Site did not scream nor faint, but sank into the chair near her, with only a moan of agony. He mistook her silent, tearless agony for calmness, and began to relate the particulars of his comrade's death, and de livered his dying message to his betrothed. Vaninka heard every word, but she neither spoke imr stirred, but with her eyes fixed on the little package he had given her. He left, and her mother found her half an hour after still in the same position. "Vaninka," she said, "who was your visitor ?" There was no auswer. " Vaninka," she said again, "you are ill," j and she laid her hand gently upon her. " Dead, mother, dead 1" she said, now raising her eyes. " Who is dead, darling ?" asked her mother, frightened at her strange tone. j Vaninka slowly opened her package, and drew out the ring and hair it contained, murmuring : " Henry ! Oh, mother he is | dead 1" she fell sobbing in her mother's arms. ***** We change the scene now to Waterloo in the latter part of the battle between the armies of Napoleon and Wellington. The morning we choose was the one in which the Imperial Guards of the Emperor threw themselves between the advancing Prus sian forces and the English army to pre vent their joining their forces. Henry YVerder at the head of his regi ment, felt his heart throb with intense ex citement as the two immediate columus— the flower of the French army, advanced upon the English troops. They came on in silence, until within range of the batteries prepared to receive them ; then a terrible discharge, seeming to rend heaven and earth, scattering death among their ranks. Still these veterans advanced. The honor of their nation was in peril ; they could die, but not txnn before the enemy; another discharge of the Prussian troops, who had been rapidly nearing the scenes of action, then lashed amongst them. The Garde Im perial de Napoleon was utterly annihilated. One exultant shout was raised by the al lied armies as this fearful crisis was de cided in their favor. But where, in the moment of victory, was Henry? Stretched upon the field, his head supported by his fellow officer, Fred erick Listen, and the life-blood flowing from a wound in his breast. " Frederick," be murmured, in a dying voice, "you will see Vaninka." "If I live," answered his comrade, with deep emotion " You will give her this ring, aud cut some of my hair off for her. Tell her my dying thoughts were all of her—Heaven bless you, my comrade. Farewell," and his head fell heavily back. " Dead," said Frederick, " and I must leave hini here." Frederick was mistaken. Henry was not dead—he had only fainted. Some hours afterward he was lying on a hospital bed in a raving delirium. For weeks his life hung upon a thread, then a young constitution triumphed, and he began to mend. His physician positively forbade his returning to Prussia, and warn ing him that his lungs were much affected, he recommended a winter in Italy. Writ ing a long letter to Vaninka to explain his long absence, Henry made his prepara tions, and, after an illness of over three months, started in the early part of Octo ber for Naples. He remained there, gain ing strength and health until the next June, and then started for home. During his residence in Italy, he had written again and again to both Vaninka and Frederick, and wondered why he had received no let ter in answer. His epistles never reached them. We now return to Vaninka. Contrary to the fears of friends, she had seemed to bear her loss with calmness. She had been so long in a state of agonizing suspense, that any certainty, even this direful one, was a relief. Stili her step did not regain its elasticity, and her grief, if not loud,was deep. Her friends mistook despair for calmness. She grew paler and thinner, and now frequently kept her room for days together. Her lover had been gone some eight months, when her hand was again sought in marriage. George Weimer was a gen tle, mild old man of about seventy years of age, wealthy, and of large influence in his native town. He was an old friend of Vaninka's father, and had long thought of seeking Vaninka for his bride. When, however, he had seen the place coveted about to be worthily filled, he had become silent on the subject of bis desires, and cultivated the acquaintance of his lady love's betrothed. Now, deceived as others were by Vaninka's quiet demeanor, he ad vanced his suit. Her parents knowing that he would spare no pains or expense to make her happy, urged their child to accept his offer, and consented to see him. " Mr. Weimer," she said, " I wish to tell you how grateful I feel for your kind and flattering offer, and to place my situa tion fully before yon. Since 1 heard of my irreparable loss, I have felt that I should soon join him ; still I have endeavored to faithfully peform the duties left to me. I do not think I shall live long. But if I can by any means add to the happiness of an other, God has granted me the will to do so. If you will accept my hand knowing that my heart is in Uenry's grave, it is yours, and I will endeavor to fulfill my du ties as a wife, trusting to your love and in dulgence to forgive if I fail to make you happy while I am with you." The good old man was too happy to have his offer accepted on any terms, and he thanked her warmly. A day was soon set for the wedding, and all things were mak ing ready. Mr. Weimer hoped by traveling and other diversions of iter mind, to raise his bride's spirits and prolong her life. ***** Again it was the night before Vaninka's wedding, and again she was seated, lost in thought, it the same chair that we first saw her iu. Now, alas, the reverie was a very painful one, and low, choking sobs took the place of her former happy smiles. She was setting painfully reflecting on the past, when a shadow fell on the ground be fore her, and raising her eyes, she saw a stranger standing looking at her. He stood with his back to the light, and she could not see his face, but something made her heart stand still as site arose to greet him. ITe only said one word, "Vaninka !" and exclaiming " Henry !" she sprang to his embrace, lie caught her passionately jto his breast, and held her there as if he feared another separation. " So," said a pleasant voice at the door, " there is a change in bridegrooms," and Mr. Weimer entered the room. Vaninka stood a moment confused, but taking her hand he placed it in Henry's, saying : " Take her, Henry ; she is too young, good and handsome for an old man like myself. I was an old fool to think of it. Take her, and rny warmest blessings attend your union." And with a kind, Learning smile, the old man left them tug ther. This time Vaninka's wedding was not postponed, and as Henry and Vaninka stood before the altar, Mr. Weimer, watch ing the happy, blushing face of the bride, J owned that he could not have called up, with all his devotion, such an expression of perfect love and jcy. SCENES AT SALT LAKE- Mr. Bowles, of the Springfield, (Mass.,) Republican, who makes one of the party accompanying Hon. Schuyley Colfax in a trip across the western plains, sends a pleasant rambling- epistle to that paper, from which we extract as follows : This, is f tail—these the Mormons. Ido not marvel that they think they are a chos en people ; that they have been blessed of God, not only in the selection of their home, which consists ol the richest region in all the elements of a State between the Mis sissippi valley and the Pacific shore, but in the great success that has attended their labors, and developed here the most grand and self-sustaining industry that the west ern half of our continent witnesses. Surely great worldly wisdom has presided over their settlement and organization ; there have been tact and statesmanship in the leaders ; there have been industry, frugal ity and integrity in the people, or one could not witness such progress, such wealth, such varied triumphs of industry and in genuity and endurance as here presents themselves. No internal city of the continent lies in such a field of beauty, unites such elements of nature's formations, holds such guaran tees of greatness, material and social, in the good time coming of our Pacific devel opment. I met all along the plains and over the mountains the feeling that Salt Lake was to be the great central city of the West. 1 found the map, with Montana, Idaho and Oregon on the north, Dacotah and Colorado on the east, Nevada and Cali fornia on the west, Arizona on the south, and a near connection with the sea by the Colorado river in the latter direction, sug gested the same. I recognized it in the Sabbath morning picture of its location and possessions ; I am convinced of it as I see more and more of its opportunities, its developed industries and its unimproved possessions. The Mormons and Gentiles rivalled each other in their attentions to the distinguish ed visitors. Among the entertainments was a serenade, an excursion on the lake, a visit to the strawberry patch of one of the saints, and a peep in the harem. A good account is given of President Brigharn Young, who one day graciously presented himself, attended by a crowd of high dig nitaries. He is a very hale and hearty looking man, young for 64, with a light grey eye, cold and uncertain, a mouth and chin be* traying a great and determined will—hand some perhaps as to presence and features, but repellant in atmosphere and without magnetism. In conversation, he is cool and quiet in manner, but suggestive in ex pression - t has ideas, but uses bad gram mar. He was rather formal, but courteous, and at the least affected frankness and freedom, if he felt it not. To his followers, I observe that be was master of that pro found art of eastern politicians, which con* sists of putting the arm affectionately around them, and tenderly inquiring for health of selves and families ; and when his eye did sparkle and his lips soften, it was with most cheering, though not war ming effect—it was pleasant but did not meet you. Of his companions, Ileber (J. Kimball is perhaps the inast notorious ; his free aud coarse speech lias made him so. He nasa very keen sharp eye, and looks like a Westfield man I always met at the agricultural fair in Springfield. Dr. Bernhiscl has an air of culture and refine ment peculiar among his associates ; he is an old, small man, venerable and sugges tive of John Quincy Adams, or Dr. Garnett of Boston, in his stile. Two or three others of the company have fine faces.-—such as you would meet in intellectual or business society in Boston or New York, but the strength of most of the party seems to be in narrowness, bigotry and obstinacy. But hospitality is not all couliued to the Mormons, the Gentiles having made up a brilliant social party, in which ladies of in | telligence and culture joined. The writer says : The Gentiles, or non-Mormons are becom ing numerous and influential here, and cit izens and soldiers comprise many families of culture and influence. They are made up of officers of the Federal Government, resident representatives of telegraph and staae lines, members of eastern or Califor nia business firms having branches here, and a very fair proportion, too, of the mer chants of the city. Some of the more intel ligent of the disgusted and repentant Mor mons swell the circle. LEAVES are the lungs of plants. Proba bly more than half the food of plants enters the leaves in the form of an invisible gas. per Annum, in Advance. COLONEL JACOB M. CAMPBELL. The importance of the pending political campaign in this State, and the enthusiasm everywhere created among loyal men by the nomination of two distinguished soldiers for the only offices to be filled this year by general ticket, naturally call for more than a brief reference to the antecedents and characteristics, of our standard-bearers.— In another place we give such information as we possess concerning the civic and mil itary record of Major General Hartranft,the candidate for Auditor General, and in this article we propose to tell what we know of our friend and fellow-citizen, Col. Compbell the nominee for Surveyor General. Jacob M. Campbell is a native of that old Whig stronghold, Somerset county, where lie was born just forty-four years ago. When a mere youth his parents removed to Allegheny city, where he went to school until 1835. In that year, being fourteen years old, he became an apprentice in the office of the Somerset Whig, a Democratic newspaper, in which he remained until he had mastered as much of the printing busi ness as could be learned in a country office of that day. Jn 1840 he left Somerset and worked for some time "at case" in ilie office of the Literary Examiner , a monthly maga zine of considerable merit published iu Pitts burg. From here our "jour printer" found j his way to New Orleans and into another printing office. But his active nature was satisfied. The steam-boat trade on the low er Mississippi presented in 1<340, as does the oil business in 1865, tempting induce ments to enterprising spirits who care less for hard knocks than for the substantial benefits which they sometimes produce.— Laying down his composing stick, the boy of nineteen became a steam boatman, and for several subsequent years tilled succes sively the positions of clerk, mate and part ; owner of a vessel, always, however, making Pennsylvania his home, which he frequent ly visited. In JB4 7 the iron business of our State attracted his attention, and he embarked in it at Brady's Bend. In the : same year he married. In 1851 he follow- ( ed the course of empire to California, but did not luug remain there, and in 1853 we find him in Johnstown, assisting in the j construction of our mammoth rolling-mill, j With this splendid enterprise he remained j connected up to the breaking out of the war, holding all the time au important and responsible position. He was one of the j few men who knew tunc to build and man-! age successfully the greatest iron establish- ; ment in the Union. lu April, 1861, Fort Sumter was bombar ded and the first call appeared lor volun teers to •'rally round the ilag.'' At this time Mr. Campbell was first lieutenant of a volunteer company in Johnstown, and this company at once tendered its services to the governor, who promptly accepted them. Jt taw thejirnt company t<> enter Camp C'ur tin. Upon the organization of the Third regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers, Lieu tenant Campbell was appointed Quarter master, a position which he filled with great acceptability until the regiment was dis charged. On the 28th of July he was mus tered out of service, and on the 30th was commissioned to recruit a regiment. In due time the regiment was raised, the com panies composing it having beeu mainly re cruited in Cambria and Somerset counties, and two in Lehigh and Northampton coun ties. The regiment was designated the Fif ty-Fourth. For two years this regiment performed the arduous duty of guarding sixty miles j ot the Baltimore and Ohio J'ailroad, and i while thus engaged really protected the | Maryland and Pennsylvania border from I rebel invasion and guerrilla outrages. It I is a fact which may not be generally known 1 to Pennsylvaniaus that to the Fifty-Fourth 1 regiment they owe much of the security 1 they enjoyed in their persons and property i during 186*2 and 1863, the two most critical \ years of the war. The position of the Fifty i Fourth was, at all times, anexeedinglv try ing and dangerous one, requiring the exer cise of the utin >st vigilance and the sound-' est discretion. During its guardianship of ! tiie railroad, it was frequently engaged in skirmishes with the enemy, and upon more j than one occasion gave timely and valua ble information ot his movements and de signs. In addition to his ordinary duties ' as commander of the regiment, Col. Camp bell was almost daily called upon during j this period to decide disputes between reb- 1 els and Unionists residing along the line of i the railroad, and it is no exaggeration to i say that in no instance was justice cheat ed or rascality rewarded. It is not our as j sertion merely, but the testimony of all are cognizant of the facts, that the com-1 mander of the Fifty-Fourth manifested on , all occasions the possession of judicial tal- j ent of a high order. Of his purely execu- j tive ability, the successful and always sat- i isfactory manner in which the regiment 1 guarded those sixty miles of railroad in a hostile territory is the only proof that we need to cite. We had almost omitted to j mention that from March, 1863, until March 1 1864, Col. Campbell was in command of the ' Fourth brigade, First division, Eighth army ! corps, in which was his own regiment. j Early in 1864 Gen. Sigel took command j of the Department of West Virginia, and | moved with all of his available troops to t Martinsburg, preparatory to a movement J up the Shenandoah Valley. In a reorgani- i zation of the troops which took place, Col. Campbell, at his own request, returned to ' the command of his regiment. At the bat-' tie of New Market May, 15th, the regiment suffered severely. It occupied the extreme left of the liue, and was the last to leave ; the field. Under Hunter the regiment took a prominent part in tlx- battle of Piedmont, June 2th, again occupying the left of the line, and this time flanking the enemy's right and attacking him in the rear. After the battle Col. Campbell was assigned to the command of a brigade, and as a special favor his own regiment was transferred to it, that it might remain under its old com mander. The brigade suffered heavily in the attack upon the entrenchments at Lynch burg, and covered the retreat of Hunter's army when the attack failed. July 24th the brigade participated in the battle of Winchester, and upon the fall of Col. Mulli gan Col. Campbell took command of his di vision. He continued in its command until its consolidation into a brigade, consequent upon its many losses in killed and wounded, and afterward commanded the brigade.— After Sheridan came to the head of the De partment, he participated in the engage- uirmt#* In the Slmnadoah under that renown ed chieftain until hff was mustered out of servico nearly two months after the expira tion of his three years' term of enlistment. His total period of service, including the three months' campaign, it will thus be seen, covered nearly three years and a half. (JoL Campbell's record as a politician will bear examination. Reared in the school of Jackson Democracy, he voted in 1844 for Polk and Dallas. In 1848, however, he abandoned the party which, he had become convinced, was the champion of slavery ex tension and the foe to Pennsylvania's best interests, and voted for the Free Soil candi dates, Van Huron and Adams. His resi dence in the South had shown him the evils of slavery, and he therefore gave his vote against the party which sought its exten sion. In 1852 he voted again for the Free Soil nominees, llale and Julian, and in 1856 was the delegate from Cambria county to the Fremont Convention. He took an ac tive part in advocating Republican princi ples in his own county during that year, and at once took rank with the people of the county as a politician of fairness, abili ty and zeal. His influence in county poli tics continued to be felt during succeeding years In 1851) he was presented by the Republicans of Cambria for the Senatorial nomination in the district then composed of Cambria, Blair and Clearlield, and a little more than one month ago he was again un animously selected as the choice of the Union party of Cambria, Indiana and Jeff erson. That he was not nominated on ei ther occasion by the district conference was not owing to a want of appreciation of his worth and services, but to the sup posed superior claims of the county which was honored with the nominee. Such is, in detail, the private and public record of our candidate for Surveyor Gener al. If it is not a brilliant one, it is, at least consistent, manly and patriotic. NUMBER 16. Of Col. Campbell's mental and moral char acteristics it becomes us to say but little, lie is a shrewd business man, a public-spir ited citizen, a good worker and an honest man. Without having enjoyed the advan tages of a liberal education, he is, neverthe less, one of the best read men in the State. He is a clear thinker, and remarkably cool nd cautions in judgment. In a long ac quaintance we have rarely known him to err in his estimate of public men or the wisdom of public measures. He is a man of marked sagacity. His social character istics are of that class which never fails to create the warmest friendships and to com mand the respect of all. That he is worthy of the office for which he has been nomina ted is conceded by those who know the man. That he and his gallant colleague, General Hartranft, will be elected by overwhelming majorities, is already a foregone conclu sion.—Johnstown Inbuilt. A GLORIOUS EVITAPIT. —On a grave-stone in New London appears the following in scription. The records of ancient Greece or Home do not exhibit a nobler instance of patriotic heroism: " On the 20th of October, 1781, 4,000 Englishmen fell on the town with fire and sword. A line of powder was then laid from the magazine of the fort to the sea, there to be lighted--thus to blow the fort into the air. William Hotmau, who lay not far distant, beheld it, and said to one of his wounded friends,who was still alive, ' We wiil endeavor to crawl to this line.— We will completely wet the powder with our blood. Thus will we, with the little life that remains to us, save the fort and magazine, and perhaps a few of our com rades who are only wounded." He alone had strength to accomplish this noble de- sign. In his 30th year he (lied on the pow der he had overflowed with his blood. His friends, and seven of his wounded compan ions, by that means had their fives preserv ed." After this simple narrative are the fol lowing* words, in large characters : " HERE LIES WILLIAM HOTMAN." TEE NUMBER OF LANGUAGES. —The least learned are aware that there many lan guages in the world, but the actual num ber is probably beyond the dreams of ordi nary people. The geographer, Babi, enum erated eight hundred and sixty, which are entitled to be considered as distinct lan guages, and five thousand which may be regarded as dialects. Adelung, another modern writer on this subject, reckons up three thousand and sixty-four languages and dialects existing, and which have ex isted. Even after we have allowed either of these as the number of languages, we must acknowledge the existence of almost infinite minor diversities ; for almost every proviuce has a tongue more or loss pecul iar, and this we may well believe to be the case throughout the world at large. It is said there are little islands, lying close to gether in the South Sea, the inhabitants of which do not understand each other. Of the eight hundred and sixty distinct lan guages enumerated by Babi, fifty-three be long to Europe, one hundred and fourteen to Africa, one hundred and twenty-three to Asia, four hundred and seventeen to Amer ica, one hundred and seventeen to Oeeani ca—by which term he distinguishes the vast number of islands stretching between Hindostan and South America. FREAK OF NATURE. —A story is told of an apple tree planted over the grave of Roger Williams to this effect: The tree had pushed downward one of its main roots in a sloping direction, and nearly straight course, toward the precise spot that had been occupied by the skull of Roger Wil liams ; there, making a turn conforming with its circumference, the root followed the direction of the back-bone to the liips, and thence divided into two branches, each one following the leg-bone to the heel, where they both turned upward to the ex tremities of the toes of the skeleton. One of the roots formed a curve at the part oc cupied by the knee-joint, thus producing an increased resemblance to the outlines of the skeleton, as if, indeed, molded thereto by the powers of vegetable life. This sin gularly formed root has been caretully pre served, as constituting a very impressive exemplification of the mode in which the contents of the grave had been entirely ab sorbed. JOKE OX A MINISTER. —A young fellow was taking a s'eiglr-ride with a pretty girl, when he met a Methodist minister who was some what celebrated for tying the knot matri monial at short notice, lie stopped him, and asked, hurriedly— "Can you tie a knot for ine ?" " Yes,'' said brother I? , " I guess so; when do you want it done ? " Well, right away," was the reply ; " is it lawful, though, here in the highway ?" asked the wag. " Oh, yes ; this is as good a place as any—as safe as the church itself." " Well, then, I want a knot tied in my horse's tail, to keep it out of the snow !" shouted the wicked wag, as he drove rap idly away, fearing lest the minister, in his profane wrath, should fall from grace.