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EARLY VVTI MV. . ~ . the brook the yellow golden reeds, W th no hling plumes, stand idly swaying there; , ilTe the stream the summer's flying seeds, j ce tuneless insects, a.i the balmy air. , 1,, u light upon the mountain sleeps, are hid in valley vapors wet; '■: 'hlaiol blackberry on the wooded steeps \W.irs its ripe berries of enameled jet. trlv clouds, becalmed within the sky, 1 with pale gold, like summer castles stand, in a vision by some dreamer's eye, I'r railing the sunny slopes of fairy-land. T ■ ntle winds scarce stir the fading leaves, v remove the brown and withered clover heads; A:. I undisturbed the busy spider weaves, lb im bough to bough, her web of filmy threads. ru. on the grass the brooding sunbeam lies ; I'lir wandering airs are filled with faint perfumes; i/i-r's eye along each ridge descries i'Le upland sumach's crimson painted plumes. I the topmost spray the blackbird sings, With mellow note, his silvery-throated song; drowsy b> c, with purple gossamer wings, II us his low, surly hymn the whole day long. ! ; . I lie with half-shut, dreamful eyes, Vu 1 listen to the sounds that fill the air— .... i low hum ; the wind's melodious sighs ; ! The wanton blackbird twittering blithely there, j . ion will come the melancholy d ivs, V . u Nature seems to wear u hidden grief, • ak and bare will be those pleasant ways, vVir it moaning winils shall whirl tlie faded leaf! ■ ptefdliuuflttg. EDITH. , -,■ was an orphan. In her helpless ba- j 1 they laid away in the quiet church- j ,i !:ie parents she was destined never to j . w till tliev met on the shores of another vorld. Harry Ainslie and Herman Clay had been Miniate ti en boyhood ; and it was with a i_r of' perfect confidence that the for-' r placed his one treasure in the arms of j ■ friend, ere his feet crossed the dark riv- I : to j.iiu those of the idolized young bride ; -■ guile before. " Homeless, penniless, ' lef Herman Clay ; his little Claude— '*.le, fragile, loving ; with a face like the .".urnd Christ-Child. And so the twochil "ii walked together through the years it led to womanhood ; Edith gay, affect- To, content if only his hands would lead ; Claude looking with reverent love on :u toss of the bright little head or smile the dimpled mouth ; caring more for ba words than for ail the world besides. Hut rosy childhood flitted away at last, hniigh her benefactor was in the humble of life, Edith was allowed a good ed niiiii. Claude toiled through the college i limited means until at length the dar . wish of his heart was realized, and he as Ml prepared to enter the sacred desk ■ the service of the All-father he adored, nd thus it was that years of struggle and ■"• had passed, ere the two again met enoath the lowly, yet cherished roof of ill' tude had loved the little baby-girl i;ul shared his early joys and sorrows, s iw wonder he worshipped the peerless 'nan. Tall, graceful, with her round, tiit face and raven tresses, she was a r i' werin that old homestead ; possess -1 a warm, loving heart, although away ' v " i i its depths lurked the seeds of that ii ui which had blighted her father's '"■' ii and life, and which ueeded only the ! temptation to bring them forth to u "i Claude soon found that he was not y one that loved her. Often and oft a stylish horse was fastened to the next that enclosed the pretty yard ; often H there was another who sought : - ".'iety. ■ "s Warren—young, fashionable, ' ay—had left his native town to restore • ' tiling health ; had seen tlie farmer's "'-s blossom, and resolved to call her w". frue.she was a poor country maid ' at such loveliness would grace his city : and Charles Warren understood the : winning woman's hearts. So, all tnough lie was, Claude learned to sounds of that firm tread up the walk ; to shrink from the sight of !' r, "! , l iiead bending over Edith— his ■; [or although he had never spoken ' r of love, it seemed as if he could not r up. At last he would summon 'gc, and know the worst. s " one afternoon when Edith sat idly ' 'pen parlor window window, Claude took a seat near by, and said : 1 uig \\ arren comes here often.Edith." , J "ght he spoke calmly,but the tone ''sky and abrupt. There was a start, y • and then the simple word, . -' f did not pause. He had begun "k and painful though it was he would ••'iter. a y e always been a brother to you, > ue went on, (how that word smote •w!) " may J aak jf | ie ever speaks ' of marriage." .picking up a rose from the "A '? , VLNE " utsi dc a little nervously, is that love returned, Edith ? Do "ttpt will at some future day ac- E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher. VOLUME XXVI. No one but Claude knew the effort that question cost. There was a long pause—then she sat there quiet and self-possessed. " I have accepted him." There was no emotion in the tone. The sunlight shimmered through the green leaves on the calm face, and one bird war bled on the pare tree just outside. " Edith, I love you better than my own life !" The words burst from him involuntarily. He meant to have concealed it all, but his exquisite agony wrung it forth. There was no preceptible change in the face by the window, and then the vast tide of Claude Clay's love welled forth, sweeping away the floodgate of prudence and reserve. " I love you, Edith" and the tones were passionate and hoarse, " I love you with the whole force of my being ! Year by year that love had gathered strength, till it is like a,mighty river that will not be controlled ! 1 have folded you away in my inmost heart like some priceless gem ! You have been the beacon light that lias guided me on through struggle and toil ! ! I cannot, CANNOT give you up. It would rend every fibre of my soul !" And Edith ; what of her ? Dearer than her own heart's blood was the man before her ; but he must never know it. There was a hoarse gasping in the young man's throat, and then he went on ; this time bitterly. " But I am only a clergyman at best ; and he is a son of wealth and fashion.— Of course lie could not choose a bride from the daughters of high degree, but must claim the one blossom that my whole heart craved ! Thus says fate ; but I could bet ter see you die to-day, than behold you the wife of another I" The rose was crushed till a thorn was pressed deep into her finger—but she heed ed not the pain, so insignificant it was, compared with that which was searing her heart forever There was a long pause—and when he spoke again, all the passionate harshness was gone from his voice. " May the pitying Father forgive these rebellious thoughts," lie said, in low, mourn ful tones, " I had hoped so fondly for a sun ny home in the future, that would be yours and mine ; but it is over now, 1 must be content. In God's own time, I shall know why this crushing blow was sent and with bowed head, and bended knee, ac knowledge the stroke was just. She rose abruptly. "Let this end now now," she said. "One month hence, we part before the World ; let us say good bye in reality now. Al ways your friend, Claude,"with out stretch ed hand. He looked at the dainty fingers lovingly. " I cannot take them with the feeling of a brother," he said at last, " the right to clasp them with other sentiments belongs to another. Farewell, Edith. May the good God bess you forever." And tiie roses wafted in their sweet per fume ; the single bird in the green tree-top poured forth its richest melody ; but they heard it not; while the sun showered down bis golden rays as gaily as though two hearts had not just been blighted for life. Thus goes the world. In the comonm, familiar life around us, hearts are breaking every day ! lives are hourly growing more und more a burden of misery ; and souls are blighted for time and eternity ; " But oven paced come round the years, Another Nature changes not." It was over at last, and Edith went from her early home a bride. Went to move in frigid yet flattered dignity amid a blaze of splendor; went to find how utterly cold and selfish was the man whose name she bore ; went to wear a weary aching heart beneath a silken bodice, and to realize how much better it is to '• ltange with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief." It was a gloomy afternoon in mid-winter that she sat by the window of her elegant chamber, gazing forth at the storm, feeling all the while that it was not half so deso late as at her own heart, ller husband sat opposite, dozing over a book, but rous ed himself soon, and remarking, " 1 am go ing down to do some writing wife," left the room. The door closed sullenly, the storm grew wilder without, and she sat there thinking—thinking. Four years of married life, and what had they brought her ? Throbbing brain, an guished heart and sleepless nights. So it would be in all the years to come. She looked forward towards the never ending future that lay beyond. It was utterly rayless. No pardon or peace in the world to come for one who had crushed down ev ery holy sentiment, and fostered pride and ambition in this. The storm grew fiercer. The soiled snow whirled in angry eddies hack and forth, while the wind chanted a dismal dirgd.— There was one little spot of marble pave ment that had escaped. Round and round it whirled the snow, but there it lay, white and shining ; and Edith bent forward and watched it with anxious wistful eyes, as if it had been a human soul Over it spreads the suow—off again—over it and off again; then it piled on gradually. The dark eyes were strained intensely. There was a mournful windwail; then one little glimpse of the pure stone, hut it was the last.— Swifter and swifter whirled the dark snow, hiding it deeper from view. There was a great groan that welled up from the aching heart, and she rose sudden ly, pacing the rich carpet with stony eyes and white lips ; going at last to a half open drawer, and tossing over the contents aimlessly. All at once her fingers drew forth something from one corner ; a little golden locket with pictured face therein ; a sweet mouth, earnest eyes, and white brow stamped with intellect. She grew deadly pale, and clutched at a chair ; then the reaction came. All through these days aud nights of agony she had kept it under control, while it gnawed deeper and deep er int> her heart's core, hut now the icy calmness of years gave way. "Oh, Claude ! Claude !" she moaned in frantic anguish ; "Oh, Claude, I am dyiug by inches ! Why did I refuse the heart you gave ? Why did I barter love for gold? Take me away ! take me away ! Take me into your heart again, Claude, a miser able, hrokeu-hearted being Oh take me in pity and love, or I shall lose my reason !" "And this is the woman who promised at TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., OCTOBER 5, 1865. the altar to love, honor and obey." There was no start. The passionate ag ony of her face settled down into calm, ashy whiteness, as she turned to meet her hus band. He stood there with clenched hands and sneering lip. "This is the girl who was all purity and affection," he went on ; "the woman who was all truth ; the woman who was all honor." "Proceed," she said calmly; "you can not break a broken heart." "Give mo the picture, most injured of women." She laid it in his hand mechanically. "Ah ! the country parson" he sneered. "The young hopeful of the house where I first saw you, kneading bread and making cheese." It seemed strange to speak of such horne ,ly duties to that tall, queenly woman stand ing there in her silks and jewels ; but they made no impression on the stony face. Then his irony changed to hot wrath. "The penniless puppy !" he cried, "the low deceitful, canting parson ! The pale faced baby!" and with one quick move ment he dashed the locket to the lloor, and ground it under his heel "It's like you," was all she said. "Yes, madam, it is like me !" he thunder ed ; "and let it be like you to exhibit no more of this sentimental woe, or you leave my house forever !" "I can leave it now," she said, calmly. But that would never do. Charles War ren was proud of his beautiful wife in the thronged street and gay saloon, and the disgrace of a discarded wife must not sully his haughty name. So Edith settled into her former stony apathy and stayed, with no hope iu earth or Heaven. And what of Claude? Many were the stuggles that had deepened the light in the j brown eyes, and whitened the manly cheek as the weary years rolled by. Sometimes it seemed as if he must entirely give up. Was he, into whose heart the rebellious so often entered, worthy to point out the path of life to others ? Was he who could not root out from his soul the image of an other man's wife fit to preach of that living God whose every thought was pure ? No one who listened to the musical voice, who noted the sweet smile, or gentle manner, j ever dreamed of the many dark hours that crossed his way ; of the frequent wrestles of agony in the quiet closet ; but through all the darkness, and toil, and anguish, an all powerful right hand sustained him ; a loving Father poured balin on the turbulent spirit, and out of every trial he came calm and purified, nearer the perfect day. And when the war clarion pealed over the land, Claude Clay was among the first to answer the call. Books and sermons were laid aside, and the musket and knap sack taken instead : with brain and soul i he had toiled for the nation ; and now when her rights were trampled under foot, lie would give health, comfort, life if need he, for her safety : and it would be so blessed to die for the old flag ; So he went forth " With high vows sealed, and sinews steeled," and away down on the crimson soil of'-Maryland, the bullet came. It was a wreck of manhood that lay on the narrow hospital bed, day after day, babbling of "home," and "mother," and the bright birds, violets, and buttercups of days gone by forever. At last the mind returned, and he lay there white, and motionless, so like death, save the deep, earnest look in the great, brown eyes. And then came a pale, sad-eyed woman to the bedside, clasping the thin hand with gentle tenderness. "Edith !" whispered the weak lips. "Edith at last," was the low reply.— " Edith after years of change and agony : Edith who is free, and who will love you to the end." "With this—, and this ?" pointing to the scarred brow and useless hand. "Maimed body and seared heart. We will put them together and form a life that will be true till the angel calls," was the answer of perfect love and trust. And an all-wise Maker overlooked the past, and spared the one love of her bruis ed heart. No more pains and struggles now. Hand in hand they go down life's pathway, with hearts that never falter in the great love they hear each other : with souls that would not have been so pure and lowly, hut for the mighty waves of dis appointment and agony, that deluged them in the painful past: with eyes fixed 011 the beautiful, pearly gate which they will enter at last, to dwell forever in that blessed home. " Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." NOT Goon FOR MAN TO RE ALONE.— No one will contend that there arc no crimes com mitted by married men. Facts would look such an assertion out of countenance. But it may be said with truth that there are very few crimes committed by married men, compared with the number committed by those who are unmarried. What ever faults Voltaire may have had, he certainly showed himself a man of sense when he said, "The more married men you have, the fewer crimes there will he. Marriage ren ders a man more virtuous and wise." An unmarried man is hut half a perfect being, and it rcijuires the other half to make things right ; and it can not be expected that in this imperfect state he can keep the straight path of rectitude any more than a boat with one oar, or a bird with one wing, can keep a straight course. In nine cases out of ten, where married men become drunk ards, or where them commit crimes against the peace of the community, the foundation of these acts was laid while in a single state, or where the wife is, as is sometimes the case, an unsuitable match. Marriage changes the whole current of a man's feel ings,and gives 11im a centre for his thoughts his affections,and his acts. Here is a home for the entire man, and the counsel, the affections, the example, and the interests of his " better half" keep him from erratic courses, and from falling into a thousand temptations to which he would otherwise be oxposed. Therefore, the friend to mar riage is the friend to society and to his country. And we have no doubt hut that a similar effect is produced by marriage on the woman ; though, from a difference in their labors, and the greater exposure to temptation on the part of the man, we have no doubt hut man reaps a greater advan tage from the restraining influences of mar riage than woman does. REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. WITH A LOC K OF HAIR. Go to her breast, my envied curl! And if the way be cold and wet, Cling to the bed of liquid pearl, Whose fragrant warmth breathes o'er you yet. 'Twill swell around each silken ring, As when my temples throbb'd above ; And, truants ! when you closest cling, Tell her you grew on thoughts of love! Oh, wildly envied! you will lie Upon that couch of rosy snow, While passionately fast will fly The warm transparent veins below. And you will feel the dewy swell, When dreams of love grow wild beneath, And, truants! as you love me well, List if iu sleep my name she breathe! Go to my mistress ! Softer fingers Will smooth your tangled meshes now, And while the tapering pressure lingers, Will lay you to her lip and brow. And when, amid her fragrant breath, Each silken fibre fondly stirs, Oh, truants ! toll her until death, My life, my soul, thus thrill to hers! ADDRESS OF THE UNION STATE CENTRAL COMMITTEE. We have received from the Hon. John Cessna, Chairman of the Union State Central Committee, a copy of a very able address from that body to the people of the State, on the issues of the campaign, which is too long to enable us to give it entire. We make room, however, for the following ex tracts .• THE SOLDIERS. Extraordinary efforts are being made by our opponents to obtain the votes of our fellow citizens recently returned from the service of the country in the army of the nation. In these efforts they should, and it is confidently believed that they will fail : ]. Because a vigorous prosecution of the war for the suppression of the rebellion lias ever been urged by the Union party of the country. 2. Because the war has never been sus tained or advocated by the leaders of the party opposed to the Administration. 3. Because the friends of the Union cause have always sustained and support ed the soldiers in the field, and the leaders of pretended Democracy have ridiculed and derided the soldiers of the Uniou, calling them " Lincoln's hirelings," " robbers," "plunderers," and other epithets unfit for repetition. 4. Because when volunteers were called for, they demanded a draft. 5. Because when the draft came, they opposed the commutation clause, and de clared it was a discrimination against the poor man. 6. Because when that clause was repeal ed they complained that the only hope of the poor man was gone. 7. Because they deuounced the war as a negro war, and did nothing to aid or assist in carrying it on. 8. Because they became highly indignant when negro troops were called for, and threw the benefit of all their sympathies with the South !•. Because they opposed every measure the Government found it necessary to adopt for the suppression of the rebellion. 10. Because they magnified every rebel success, and depreciated every Union vic tory. 11. Because, in 1864, they declared the war a failure. 12. Because, in 1860, they declare that the fruits of the war are "debt, disgrace and slaughter." 13. Because they tried to prevent the ex tension of the right of suffrage to soldiers in service. Their leaders opposed it in al most every form. Senator Wallace, now Chairman of their State Central Committee, said, (see Record of 1861, pages and 330,) " I vote against this bill upon principle, as form. It is said that so meritorious a class as volunteer soldiers should not be disfran chised. To this I answer that neither the Constitution of 1700 nor that of 1838 con ferred this privilege, and the act of the soldier in taking upon himself duties that are, from their nature, incompatible with the right of suffrage, deprives him of this privilege. He disfranchises himself when lie ceases to be a citizen, and takes upon himself the duties of a soldier." When the amendment of the Constitution was sub mitted to a vote of the people, many of the so-called Democratic counties gave majori ties against it, while every county in the State,(and it is believed every election pre cinct,) which gave to Abraham Lincoln a majority of its votes, gave a majority in favor of the amendment. 14.Their leaders almost invariably oppos ed giving bounties to volunteers, while the friends of the Union party always sustain ed and supported these measures. 15. Even since the war is over, they em ployed their ablest lawyers in an effoit to declarethe bountylaws unconstitutional,and really persuaded their two friends on the bench of the Supreme Court so to hold. 16. When men were greatly needed to fill up the ranks,and the Government order ed a draft, they resisted, and all their rep resentatives upon the bench of the Supreme Court declared the law authorizing the na tional government to take men out of the State by draft was unconstitutional and void. Men were only obtained and the na tion saved because their party was defeat ed at the polls in 1863, and the act of three of these Judges rebuked by the people and one of their places filled by a loyal man and sound Judge. 17. Because they have tried to injure the credit and disparage the currency of the country, by means of which the pay, boun ties and pensions of the soldiers can alone bo paid. This point they also pressed be fore the Supreme Court of the State, and failed by a division of three to two. 18. Because the platform of the Union party recognizes the services of the soldier —declares that the war was commenced by the rebels—that peace was the result of the courage and heroism of the Union army —that the cause in which he fought was holy and sacred, and that honor, glory and prosperity to the country, and not " debt, disgrace and slaughter," are the legitimate fruits of his toil. 19. Because the Union men expressed the hope that our troops might soon be able to conquer the South,even by their exhaustion and want of food, those leaders of the new Democracy declared that "wo could never I conquer the South," and that " they had more to eat in the South than we had in the North. 20. Because when rebels were starving our brave soldiers by the hundred at Libby, Belle Island, Andersonville and elsewhere, these same leaders excused or mitigated the crime by declaring that '"they fed our prisoners as well as they did their own men that "owing to the unconstitutional block ade of the tyrant Lincoln, they could not obtain a sufliciency of food." PRESIDENT JOHNSON AND TUE OPPOSITION. The Opposition have not been so consist ent in their course towards President John son as they have on the subject of the war. Prior to his renoinination they abused, vil lilied and denounced him. From the time of his nomination until the election no epi thets were too coarse. From the inaugura tion until the death of President Lincoln they continued it the same strain. After that they began to flatter—then to approach.— When he ordered the execution of the as sassins they sent forth a loud howl of in dignation. When lie ordered a trial of the Andersonville wholesale murderer, and talked of trying Jefferson Davis, they were about to give him up in despair. But now they profess to grow a little more confident. They endorse hiin in Maine and New York. They indorse him (provided he will do as they wish) in Pennsylvania. In 186-3 they spoke of him thus : Senator Lamberton Record of 1863, page 361) : " But then he was Andrew Johnson the Democrat. Now, however, he has deserted his post of honor in Tennessee ; he is stultifying his past record ; he has become a pensioner on pow er, and a defender of the usurpations of Abraham Lincoln ; and he appears among us to-day as an itinerant peddler of Abolit ionism " Senator Wallace,page 3T4 : "Dur ing all the existence of the rebellion,where iis Andrew Johnson ? In the Senate of the United States, asking protection for him and fellows under the bayonets of the sold iers of McClellan. He is never found in arms in defence of his State, or valiantly fighting in defence of the liberties of his people, against the armed cohorts of the rebellion. Never, never !" Senator G'ly mer, page 377 : " I say, sir, that his (John son's ) appointment, by the President of the United States, to that position was a usur pation of power on the part of the Presi dent." * * * " That is my position, so far as concerns this pretended Governor of Tennessee. But without regard to any question of his official position, take An drew Johnson as an individual. * * * I never, by my vote, will allow a man to come into these halls, and from this place speak to the people of this great State in support of what I know to be illegal, un constitutional and tyrannical acts of the Federal Government. 1 know, sir, that An drew Johnson has gone as far as the fath erest, and is ready to go still further, to de stroy, to uproot, to upturn every principle upon which this great and good govern ment of ours was founded. 1 knew that he has bent with suppliant knee before the throne of power ; I know that for pelf, or some other consideration, he has succumb ed to every measure presented to him for approval or disapproval." These political leaders now are simply watching their chances, hoping that some thing may turn up which may enable them to return to power. In New York they adopted a platform at variance with all their past professions, and actually refused to condemn negro suil'rage ! They hope to use President Johnson to subserve their ! selfish purposes. THE CHARGE OF NEGRO EQUALITY. For many years our political opponents seem to have a large investment in slavery and the negro. Now that slavery is pret ty generally admitted to be dead, it was thought that they might allow the old sub ject to rest. But not so. They return to the question with as much apparent zeal and warmth as ever. With a full knowl edge of the fact that negro suffrage and negro equality are not and could not possi bly be an issue in the October contest,they are making extraordinary efforts to mislead and deceive their fellow-citizens into a con trary belief. They think that our hostility and prejudices against the negro are so great, and that they have so often appealed to these with some show of success, that it is only necessary to repeat the effort in order to accomplish their designs. They tell you that efforts are being made to ele vate the negro, and to place the two races on an equality. They seem to be very much afraid that some poor degraded negro may outstrip them in the race of life. They tell us that these negroes are weak, ignorant and inferior to the whites. If so it would seem that they needed our help and assis tance to educate and instruct them. The only danger of equality we can see is, that some white men, by continuing longer in such a course of argument, 111 utter disre gard to truth, experience and history for the base purpose of reaching the prejudices of the thoughtless, may at least succeed in bringing themselves down to or beneath the level of the negro. The time was when they confidently declared that the destruct , ion of slavery would send swarms of ne groes into cur midst to drive away white laborers. Experience has shown that the few we had here ran away from slavery in the South, and that had there been no I slavery there these negroes in the North would have long since moved South. They told us, too, that in case of a war, the slaves would all fight for their masters.— Neither Southern masters nor their North ern allies have any faith in this now. But I these politicians cannot live without the : negro. He comprises nearly their entire I stock in trade. One year it is one phase of I the negro question; another year it is some thing else. The great work of Bishop Hopkins was ouce one of their standard works. It is rather dull sale this year. The conduct of these politicians towards the poor degraded negro would be past all comprehension had we not a memorable example of the same kind iu the early history of the human race. All the troublesome and deadly plagues of Egypt, including the death of all the first born of the land, were not sufficient to reach the heart of Pharaoh, nor to persuade the Egytians of the errors and sins of slavery. So that, even after the slaves had left the country, led by a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of lire by night, the ruler and his hosts of subjects followed them even into the midst of the Red Sea. Our nation has suffered more than all the plagues of Egypt. As the law of primogeniture has Sper Annum, in Advance. been abolished among us, the deaths were I not all of our first-born, but nearly one of every household ; yet these deluded hosts, J led on by hard-hearted and wicked Phara | ohs, as leaders, are still pursuing even into j the midst of the Red Sea. Will not the "waters, standing as walls of safety to the ] slave, return again and cover Pharaoh and ! liis hosts, and all that come into the sea ! after them, until there shall remain not so | much as one of them?" OCR CANDIDATES. For Auditor General we have presented : the name of Major-General John F. Hart | i aiift, of Montgomery county ; and for Sur- I vcyor General, that of Colonel Jacob M. Campbell, of Cambria. As biographies of these two gentlemen have recently been published and circulated among their fel low-citizens, it is only remaikedjhere that they are both brave and gallant soldiers, and especially qualified for a satisfactory discharge of the duties of the respective offices for which their fellow-citizens have nominated them. IMPORTANCE OF THE ISSUE. It is not to be disguised that there is a large numbers of persons,both at the North and at the South, who have not finally aban doned the hope of the ultimate triumph of the principles of the late rebellion. They hope to secure by the success of their views at the ballot box that which they failed to accomplish by aimed force. It may depend upon the decision of Pennsylvania on the 16th of October whether the war shall prove at last, a failure—whether its fruits are to be only "debt, disgrace and slaugh ter," or whether it is to have substantial re sults in the death and burial of slavery, State sovereignty aud the right of seces sion. It is a well established fact that the con test was long protracted by reason of the hope and belief entertained by the South, that they would receive aid and sympathy from the North. It is now all-important to the South that they should be assured that this hope is fallacious, and tliat the North will adhere unfalteringly to the doctrines, principles and views which carried them triumphantly through the four years of bloody war. It is best to let them know, at once and forever, that there is no hope for the final triumph of the doctrines and measures for which the}' contended in the field. We have seen that the men among us who were first to urge upon the govern ment to hold the rebels in the light of belli gerents are now the first to strive to relieve them from the consequences and penalties of their belligerency. Those who were con stant in their predictions that the " war would never end," and "that the south could never be conquered," are now most ready to insist that the war is over, and that its objects and results shall not be secured,but ! Tiat rebels shall be instantly restored to all beir former rights under the constitution and laws of the country These same men who are now appealing to the soldiers for their votes officially denounce as " murder ers" all those engaged in trying and pun ishing, by military commission, the authors of the wholesale slaughter of their compan ions in arms. All this and more they do, with the full knowledge of the law of na tions and the laws of war, which declare that these men have forfeited all their rights under the Constitution, and that they now lie prostrate at the feet of the victor as conquered,overthrown and subdued bellige rcn's, with just such rights, and no more, as a kind and merciful Government may choose to vouchsafe to them. Let the peo ple rally to the polls and sustain by their votes the great cause so bravely defended and sustained by the soldier in the field.— The future will then declare that the "Great War of Freedom " was not a "failure," but our children, to the latest generation, will learn to read with the warmest glow of pat riotism those pages of our nation's history which describe the skill and heroism of the officers and soldiers of this great struggle, and never cease to venerate their memories. The greatness, power,resouices and energy of a free people displayed in our great struggle for the preservation of the nation's life, will only be equalled by the future greatness, prosperity and success of the nation, purified, regenerated and reclaimed by the firey ordeal through which we have just passed. By order of the Committee. JOHN CESSNA, Chairman. lit: FRANK. —Iie frank with the world.— Frankness is the child of honesty and cour age. Say just what you mean to do on every occasion, and take it for granted you mean to do what is right. If a friend ask you a favor, you should grant it, if it is reasonable ; if it is not, tell him plainly why you cannot. You will wrong him and wrong yourself by equivocation of any kind. Never do a wrong thing to make a friend or to keep one; the man who requires you to do so, is dearly purchased, and at a sacrifice. Deal kindly and firmly with all men ; and you will find it the policy which wears the best. Above all ; do not appear to others what you are not. If you have any fault to find with anyone, tell him, not others, of what you complain. There is no more dangerous experiment than that of undertaking to be one thing to a man's face and another behind his back. We should live, act and speak out of doors, as the phrase is, and say and do what we are wil ling should be known and read by all men. It is not only best as a matter of principle but as a matter of policj'. ICEI> CHAMPAGNE.—A gentleman who has been in the ice trade at St. Thomas, relates funny anecdote about the natives there and their luminous idea of Boston hard water : He once sold a lump to a gentleman, who sent a colored.servant after it, with direct ions to have it kept for the dinner table. The servant took it home, and inquired of the cook how it was prepared. After con siderable discussion in the kitchen cabinet, it was decided to have it boiled. At din ner the gentleman called for it, and was in high glee,for he had drank iced champagne in the States, and he felt a mighty hanker ing for a second trial of the same beverage. Soon Sambo made his appearance, with eyes rolling on the outside, grinning like a frightened monkey. " Where is the ice, Sambo ?" said the gen tleman. " Oh ! glory, massa !" replied Sambo, "I put him in de pot and boiled him for more an half hour, and when 1 went to look for him, he was not dar." THE SHACK WHICH ARMIES OCCCFV. —The figures of Gen. Sherman's combined army, during the Atlanta campaign, footed up generally about as follows : 120,000 ef fective fighting men, 0,300 wagons, 000 ambulances, 32,000 artillery, cavalry, am bulance and draught homos, 4,600 private horses, 35,000 mules,|tnaking an aggreg i'e in all of some 72,000 animals. These figures are simply enormous, and will give the reader some slight conception of what an ariny really is, if he wili but consider them for a moment. For example, an army of 125,000 men marching in col umn four abreast, and the intervals but six feet apart, which is less than the interval of troops on the inarch, would extend over a distance of thirty-five miles, without mak ing any allowance for the usual intervals between regiments, brigades, divisions and army corps. So with the wagons. On good roads, where trains are kept well closed up, it is calculated that each mule team will occupy OM an average about sixty lineal feet; this would give about ninety teams to the mile, a large average on most marches, so that 6,500 teams would ordinarily re quire about seventy miles. If the weather or roads are bad, of course they will strug gle along indefinitely, and thus require much more. An ambulance on the march usually occupies about forty feet, so that nine hundred ambulances would occupy a distance of about seven miles. So with the artillery. An army of 125,000 men will usually have at least two guns to the 1000 men, which would make two hundred and fifty guns, or say forty batteries of six pieces each. Now, a battery on a march, as a general thing, will occupy fully three hundred yards, so that forty batteries alone would take up about seven miles. These figures, thus roughly taken, foot up one hundred and nineteen miles, as the free and easy marching distance of an ar my of the size of the two great ones that we have had operating East and West dur ing the past campaign, and this, too, with out counting in accurately the Bedonian Arabs, the cavalry, that always swarm a long for miles together, besides, in appar ently interminable columns. Of course no General with a moderate stock of brains would ever think of marching his troops thus in one continuous line, and hence the necessity of parallel roads in moving an army, to keep your troops massed and well in hand. NUMBER 10. How NEAR WE ARE TO DEATH. —When we walk near powerful machinery we know that one single mis-step, and those mighty engines would tear us to ribbons with their ponderous jaws. So when we ire thunder ing across the country on railways, and there is but half an inch liange iron to hold us on the track. So when we are on the sea in a ship and there is nothing but the thickness of a plank between us and etern ity. We imagine then that we see how close we are to the edge of the precipice. He we do not see it. Whether on sea or land the partition which divides us from eternity is something thinner than an oak plank or half an inch of tlange iron. The machinery of life and health is within us. The tissues which hold those floating pow ers in their place are often not thicker than a piece of paper, and if this thin partition were ruptured or pierced it would be just the same with us. Death is inseparably bound up with life in the structure of our bodies. Struggle as we may to widen the spaces, no man can be further from death than the thickness of a sheet of paper. CHARITY. —Let my lips be sealed with charity, that may open only for the good of my neighbors. Let my eyes be veiled with charity, that they may rest on good, and that wickedness may be shut from my sight. Let charity close my ears to all unkind and malicious slander. Let charity keep my hands busy with profitable work, and my feet turned in the path toward those whom God hath given me power to benefit. May charity keep my heart from secret sin, from evil imaginations, from the tempting whis pers of the evil one. So that shutting every door against uncharitableness, my soul may be made strong in love to the Fa ther of all men. DEACON JOHNSON is a great temperance man, and sets a good example of total ab stinence as far as he is seen. Not long ago he employed a carpenter to make some al terations in his parlor, and in repairing the corner near the lire plamfc it was lbund ne cessary to remove the Wainscoting, when lo! a discovery was made that astonished everybody. A brace of decanters, and a pitcher were coziiy reposing there, as if they had stood there from the beginning. The deacon was summoned, and as lie be held the blushing bottles, he exclaimed— " Wal, I declare, that is curious, sure enough. It must be that old Raines left them there when lie went out of this house thirty years -ago." " Perhaps he did," returned the carpenter; "but, Deacon, tee ice in the pitcher must have been friz mightp hard to stay so till this time." THE VIOLET. —The origin of the violet dates back to the age of Apollo, and asso ciates itself with the peccadilloes of those earthly gods whose highest mission was perplexing man. la, the daughter of Atlas, one of the nymphs of Diana, falls in love with Apollo ; and her mistress, determined to prevent a match of which she did not ap prove, causes the face of the nymph to be come of a violet color, to disgust Apollo. Apollo, however, still pursues her, and she, in escaping from him, is converted into a violet, preserving as a flower the beauty and the timid bashfuluess she felt before. \ building formerly used as a powd er mill near Marshal, Texas, was recently blown up, and with it four men belonging to the Bth Illinois Regiment, who were ter ribly burned and wounded. Two of them, named Davis and Little, lingered in excru ciating pain until the following morning, when they died. The other two, named Grate and Algood, will recover. taaiF Some one wishing to be witty 011 a gentleman, with a large mouth, asked him if he had a long lease of it, when he was good huinoredly answered—No, 1 have it only from (/-ear to i/-ear. teg-An editor in western New York is in a bad tix. lit- dunned a subscriber lor his subscription, which he refused to pay and threatened to ilog the editor il he stop ped the paper. " What's whisky bringing ?" inquir eb a large dealer in that article. " Bring in"- men to the gallows and women and children to want," was the truthful reply. THERE are three faithful friends—an old wife, an old dog, and ready money. " A GOOD key is necessary to enter para dise."