XK RMS UF PUBLICATION. r IBTEB is published every Thursday Mor- FB T V-N (JCWPKIOH, at $2 per annum, in ad mtf' b - v E ' exceeding fifteen lines are rted at TEN CENTS per line for first insertion, '"TNVE CENTS per hne for subse XT '*• o nA Vdmiuistrator's and Executor s Notices... 200 Ynditor's Notices.... 2 50 Business five lines, (per year) 5 00 Merchants and others, advertising their business will he charged S2O. They will be entitled to 4 column, confined exclusively to their business, with | privilege of change. ■(r Advertising in all cases exclusive of sub sfript ion to the paper. ,ii ij: PRINTING of every kind in Plain andFan ,v coh rs, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand bills, lllanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., of every va rltv and style, printed at the bhortest notice. The KEI'OIITEB OFFICE has just been re-fitted with Power presses, and every thing in the Printing line can be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. SfoUAti l THE BEAFTV OF OLD AGE, I often think each tottering form, That liuips along in life's decline, Once bore a heart as young, as warm, As full of idle thoughts as mine! And each Las had its dreams of joy, Its own unequalled, pure romance ; Commencing when the blushing boy First thrilled at lovely woman's glance. And each could tell its tale of youth, Would think its scenes of love evince Mure passion, more unearthly truth Than any tale before or since. Yes ' they could tell of tender lays, At midnight penned in classic shades, I Of days more bright than modern days— And maids more fair than modern maids. 1 if whispers in a willing ear ; Of kisses on a blushing cheek ; Each kiss, each whisper, far too dear (>ur modern lips to give or speak. ()f passions too untimely crossed— < >!' passions slighted or betrayed— (if kindred spirits early lost, And buds that blossomed but to fade. Of beauteous eyes and tresses gay, Elastic form and noble brow, A . i forms that all have passed away, An ! left them what we see them now. And is it thus—is human love s i . , ry light and frail a thing V Ami n ist youth's brightest vision move I itver on Time's restless wing? .11 the eyes that still are bright, And all the lips that talk of bliss. And 11 the forms so fair to sight, II rt after only come to this ? 1 hen what are all earth's treasures worth, II we at length must lose them thus— H It all we value most on earth Ere long must fade away from us ? THE PINK CALICO. •Jtiliii," Hitid old Mr. Morton, taking off nbis g>l.l-rimmed spectacles and putting ■ them nit tiiodically in their cases as he (■sp.ke. "John, come into my study, I want ! :i Lav-• .1 talk with you." ' Tt.f tild gentleman said this with such l.tiii u;r 1 importance that John Morton, al ;ir't nf a phlegmatic temperment, not easi er astonished at anything, arose and fol x- ! his father with no little surprise and i :r: -ity upon his handsome features. I| W hat on earth can the Governor have a his mind?" he asked himself; " I hope i . isn't going to fail or give me a step- S .i ti. r, hut he looks solemn enough for | UYthing."_ > -ieuiii indeed was the old gentleman's c .ntriiiiice as he sat down opposite his j • ! led his hands on the green cloth of | between them and began : Im, if I am not mistaken, the day af -1 " ' >rrow is your thirtieth birth-day." •"' it is, by Jove," said Johu, " I'd quite || hrg'itten it." dour thirtieth birth-day," continued the | gentleman, " and really when a man 1 to be thirty, it is my opiuion he 'Jght it least to begin to think about a K I married your poor dear mother n 1 was five and twenty, and felt none | tou v 'Ung. And as my sous have grown ; iam glad to say they have generally ■ Imy example. lliram made a fine ! Bsatcli whea he married Miss Gower—and ' jugii Peter's wife was not such an heir | si ris a good woman and a pretty one I —and r.ot extravagant —and as for William | 1' ui in't wish him a better partner than j | girl he married last year. You are the !l ' y bachelor of the four, and I must con- i •ss 1 am extremely anxious to see you ' %■ aarried before I die—aud 1 am an old man, lui, and can't live a great while." " As to that, father, you'll live, I hope, to j -e a hundred," said John. "But 1 will |; 'ik about me, aud if 1 see the girl I fancy, ! •'I p>p the question. In fact, I've been j : ing that these ten years, only the right j ■ person hasn't come along." I see, 1 see," said the old gentleman ! with a sly chuckle, " you want a good wife - a good, sensible girl, who knows how to take care of her husband's home—eh ?" Well, yes," said John with a yawn. A handsome girl—with bright eyes— and rosy cheeks with dimples in them—and nice hair aud taper waist." " \ou're quite a judge of beauty, 1 de clare, father," said John. " Well, 1 should want a pretty wife, that's certain." A little wife with a little something of I lf;r ow,1 > too,' said the old gentleman, "in r ict , a " heiress. To sum up the whole—a I sensible, affectionate beauty, with a for ; tune. That's your wife, John." I f can find her, father," said Johu | Morton. " But you see all the good things I in the world are seldom given to one wo- I man. The heiresses are often frights, and | the beauties poor, while half the time one I doesn't care to hear a pretty one speak or | > t ok at a sensible one. And as for pru o'-nce and economy, they are handed over ' > grandmothers, and affection is quite old •ashioned. However, find me such a para | - 'li as you describe to-day, and I'll lay my I' a , u,1( l heart at her feet to-morrow." Will you ?" I by, course I will, sir" ' t AN ' ja ' you're a married man then, 1 1 louud her for you yesterday." | "mo Morton's eyes opened wider than ■ 'azy wont with a.-touisliment. | ho is she ?" he asked. ' She's a Miss Spice," said the old gen : 'nan, ' Baxter Spice's daughter. I met A tliere yesterday, and the moment I set } eyes on her I said that's the wife for E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher. VOLUME XXVII. my sou John. A beauty—aud such a nota ble domestic little body—and every cent old Spice calls his own will be hers some day. 1 want you to go down and see her." John laughed. " Perhaps she's engaged to somebody else," he said. " People seldom leave such tempting fruit on the bough long—no doubt she's appropriated." " She's only eighteen !" said Mr. Morton, " and—ahem ! 1 happen to know she's not engaged. I had a talk with the old gen tleman. He wants to see her married, but she don't fancy any one. She has a notion you see, that the young men are thinking of her money, and declares she will die an old maul. Between you and me, Spice ex pects you down." " And the young lady ?" Oh ! she don't know a word about it, not one, I assure you. You will go, won't you ?"' John yawned. " I don't mind running down that way," he said, " but really I can't promise to ad mire, you know." " But you will without promising," said the old gentleman. " You can't help it. I've some business for you to make an ex cuse of, a couple of horses old Spice wants to sell, which are just thiug for you. And he is a hospitable old fellow, who will make you stay a week if you once get there. Go up to-morrow and fall in love with Miss Spice, you rascal." Ihe rascal laughed. He bad his own opinion about the probable beauty of Miss Spice, knowing that a fortune is apt to blind old eyes to many deficiencies, but theie WHS A savor ol romance in lug search for ;• wile that pleased him after all, and he determined to enjoy it to the full Consequently, on the following morning, he started, with his valise well packed, his dressing-case fitted up in exquisite style, and a secret determination to flirt with Miss Spice if she was in the least attrac tive. As for any serious design of woo ing and wedding, nothing was farther from John Morton's thoughts. \\ hen the train had screamed and whis tled over the necessary number of miles, it steeped according to custom, at the lit tle depot of 1) , and there, with others, the traveler alighted, amidst a whirl of country dust, betook himself to that por tion of the village wherein the residence of the Spices must be located were his direc tions right. He found it, at last A rather preten tious mansion, built on a rising ground, with stone steps leading to the garden, wherein a white fountain kept guard over sundry geometrical beds of flowers. Ev erything about it was trim aud neat, and delightfully cool. To one of John Morton's rather indolent disposition the shady colonnade, and the rural seals under the great elms behind the house, had a woudrous charm. It would be a glorious place to live in, he thought; especially were one rich, aud able to for get all tormenting business details, and fortune-making, and other bores of the kind, and lounge all day with a book and a Havana under those trees. " I wonder whether Miss Spice appreciates her resi dence." As he thought thus, John Morton coolly sauntered, valise in hand, up the broad gravel path, aud rapped in his own care less fashion at tiio door. No one answered the first time, and a second application on ly brought out a white poodle with a pink ribbon at his neck, who barked w-ith puny fury at the stranger ; but on a third trial, the door opeued suddenly, and there stood before him a pretty girl in pink calico, with a white apron on, and her sleeves pinned up, exhibiting the plumpest arms in the world, with dimples at the wrists and el bows. In one hand she held a dusting brush in the other a dust-pan, and keeping both tidily away from her dress, she seem ed to aw T ait for his inquiry. It came prompt ly : " Is Mr. Spice iu ?" " Dear me, 110 sir," replied the girl. "The family are all away—called very unexpec tedly to se. a sick relative. But—l beg. your pardon- are you Mr. Morton?" " That's my name," said the young man " Oh, in that case, Mr. Spice left word that he was very sorry to go, and that if you came you would oblige him by staj-ing until his return. Martin, the coachman, could show you the horses, he said, and we were to make you comfortable." " Will you walk in, sir ?" John Morton hesitated a moment, and then crossed the threshold. The girl push ed open the parlor door and ushered him iu. " John shall show you to your room," she said, " and I will have a lunch for you when you come down, Mr. Morton. People gen erally find an excellent appetite after a journey." And away she ran humming a tune, and leaving John Morton to remember her smiles and dimples and pleasant voice. " If Miss Spice is not a very pretty girl, she must be jealous of this little creature," he said to himself. " What eyes and snow white teeth ! I wonder who she is ?" An hour after, when fresh from his toilet he took his place at the tempting lunch ta ble, he had a chance to ask the question : " Excuse me, he said, as he took a cup of tea from her hand, " but what shall I call you ?" "Oh, I am only Hetty," said the girl. " Hetty ?" 6 es, sir. I don't call myself a servant, for they don't pay me any wages ; but the , old gentleman and lady give me my board and clothes, and I make myself generally useful. lin quite one of the family. Do i help yourself, Mr. Morton." I hank you, Hetty and he took a sandwich In a moment he began again : , "Mr. Spice has a daughter hasn't he." " Oh, yes. sir." " Very handsome, I've heard ?" ' " Handsome !oh dear, no, not in the least i handsome." 1 astes differ, Hetty." I know it. But, really, Miss Spice is, I should say, quite plain. Won't you have ' some more jatu, sir ?" | " Not any, thank you. I presume Miss Spice, being so amiable, is considered hand some on that account." " Amiable ! Oh, mercy ! " Why, is she not, Hetty ?" " I shall not tell you, sir," said Hetty. Its not my place to talk against Miss Spice, but—amiable—ha ! ha !" John Morton shrugged his shoulders and TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., NOVEMBER 22,1866. looked at Hetty. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks dimpled with merriment. Iu his admiration lie forgot the subject of conversation, and from Miss Spice turned to other subjects. Hetty on these grew eloquent. She talked well, and had the sweetest voice ever heard ; she told the city stranger of the pretty country places close at hand, of the brook where the trout were found, and the soft green grass and purple flags beside its margin ; of the high hill whence such a view could be had ; of the stoue church ninety years old where they went every suuday ; and of her own great love for all these things Aud as John Morton listened he thought. " Tins girl is above the sphere of dusters and brooms and scrubbing brushes. She is as much a lady as any in the land." Theu he tried her on other things, and found she had read a good deal, and that the books she had chosen were not trash, aud without in tending to do so, expressed his surprise. The girl looked down demurely. " You see I read Miss Spice's books," she replied, " and I have picked up a good deal that way." And then, lunch being over, she left him to pass the time as he chose, and to go with Martin to the stables and admire the gard en. But at mealtime she acted the part of hostess, and after tea sat demurely at her work on the porch for au hour or two. That night the gentleman who came to woo Miss Spice, the heiress, dreamt of Het ty, who " made herself useful, for her board and clothes." Mr. Spice and family would not return | for several days—so said Hetty—even if the relative whose illness called tbem away grew quickly better. Aud in that time | there was nothing for John Morton to do but to idle about the grounds, saunter into the stables, aud get up a flirtation with Hetty. Demure and shy she seemed at times ; at others merry and self-possessed. She was a puzzle to him ; and, becoming interested 1 in her, he tried to " make her out." The j result was another puzzle more difficult than the first, but one fine morning John Morton awoke to the knowledge that he ; was in love. How it began he could not tell. The girl was comely and pleasant to look at, but not beautiful. Ho was proud and this half-menial position would have seemed ail insurmountable barrier between himself and any woman. But the fact re mained the same. He loved her. One ' bright hair of her head was worth all oth-: er women put together to him The thought j of parting from her was intolerable. He ; could not, would not, turn away and say, j " This love of mine is too humble for me." j Yet what a position. He was there as an I aspirant for the hand of the mistress, and, ere she came, he had given his heart to the maid. For a few hours he had a mighty strug gle with himself. Then he conquered and lie sought Hetty. She was iu the garden amongst the flowers. Surely nothing, not even those sweet roses, could be fairer or sweeter than the girl. Her eyes were cast down. Her ta per fingers busy with some frail plant beat en down by the summer's shower. As he came she looked up with a smile. "My poor cypress vine is almost dead," she said ; " and this rain has done more harm than good to the garden. I'm sorry, j for the family will be home to-night. We received a telegraph dispatch this morning I to that effect." Home to-night. John Morton had known of course that they would come. He could not have been wild enough to fancy that Mr. Spice had deserted the villa for his sake, and left his free to idle there and make love to Hetty forever. Yet the revel ation was a shock. Home ! And Miss Spice, that ill-temper ed, ugly heiress would be there,and Hetty's place be in the background. Stay—woo and win the lady and forget the girl. Not he. He would transact his business with Mr. Spice and ride away at once. But something must be done before even this could be accomplished. Something in which Hetty was interested. He stooped down and touched her shoulder with his hand. " Hetty," he said, " leave those flowers a while and come and walk by the brook with me. I have something to say to you. Don't re fuse me. It is something serious, Hetty." Hetty arose, tied on her garden hat, and looked down at her flowers still. She would not lift her eyes and he saw on their lashes two tears. Those, and a smile about her mouth, made a perfect April's day of her face. " You will walk with me, Hetty?" he asked. And for an answer she turned and took her place beside him. So they sauntered on down to the brook side, where the pur ple flags grew amidst green sedge, and deep in the clear water you could catch a glimpse of shining trout. For a while both kept silent ; then John Morton spoke sud denly : " Hetty, do you know I love you ?" Hetty stood still ; her hand trembled in his—her bosom rose and fell. In a moment she began to sob. Then John Morton's arm crept around her waist. "My darling," he said, " look at me— speak to me. Tell me that you return my feeling—tell me that you will one day be my wife ?" At that she pulled her hand away from him. "You came here to be Miss Spice's suit or," 6he said ;" I know it—l heard it talk ed over when I could not help listening. Say those words to her—not to me." "To her !" I hate her very name," said John. " I love you, Hetty." " A poor girl, almost a servant 1" " Why should I care ? I love you, oh, Hetty, I love you better than I love my life. Hetty, answer me—will you be my wife ? It needs but one little ' yes.' " An odd convulsion, between laughter and weeping, passed over her face. But she commanded her voice and said slowly : " You belong to Miss Spice." Her words made John Morton flush scar let. " Miss Spice is nothing to me," he said. " I've never seen her nor do I desire to see her ; Hetty answer me." Hetty turned quite away from him, and in a sort of choaking voice replied ; " This is the only answer I can give you: If Miss Spice will not be your wife, I do REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. not know of any woman in the place who [ will," and fairly ran away. John Morton followed her, only a little way however, for, coming to a spot where the path took a turn, he spied her through the bushes, sitting under a great tree,laugh ing in the merriest manner. The sight turned his heart to stone. "The heartless jade," he muttered ; "and for her I would have given up anything be side iu the wide world. All woman are alike. Rustic simplicity in pink calico dif fers not whit form city airs and graces iu morire antique. I'll go home. Miss Spice may come or go, for all I care. Oh. Hetty, Hetty !" With these last words on his lips, John Morton made his way to Spice Villa,mount ed to his own room and proceeded at once to pack his port manteau ; cramming his wardrobe iu pell inell, and using no gentle language towards the innocent, garments which gwould bulge over and forbid the fastening of the lock. .Just as the packiug was completed there came a sudden racket in the garden, a sound of wheels and mer ry voices. And his attention attracted to the window. There at the gate stood a lit tle carriage, from which descended a stout old lady and a stout old gentleman. Mr. and Mrs. Spice returned without a doubt. " Five minutes more I would have been clear of the house. However I'll not stay long and with this determination he de scended to the hall, just in time to see Het ty rush into the old gentleman's arms with the exclamation, " Dear papa." Out of them she came in a moment, turn ing rosy red as Bhe murmured : " Oh, papa, I quite forgot"-this is Mr. Morton." John Morton stood like one petrified, lie 1 hardly heard the old gentleman's apology for his absence, or the old lady's welcome 1 he truth which was slowly dawning np on him made him oblivion-, to all else, lie I stared at Hetty, whose mischievous face [ was dimpling and blushing iu the most be witching way And slowly his lips formed two words—they were—Miss Spice !" " Eh 1" said the old gentleman ; " 1 real ly didn't understand you." " The gentleman wants an introduction," said Hetty. " Please till him that lam Miss Spice, your daughter." Then she burst into a peal of laughter that made the old house ring, and brought on her head a maternal repro if for being " so wild before a stranger." Poor John Morton believed himself a vic tim of a dream. But two hours alter he had recovered his senses, and sitting- close by Hetty on the porch in tho moonlight whispered : " Hetty, do you think Miss Spice will say yes ?" Hetty answered, " I think she will." After awhile she said -the old lady's ab sence and the old gentleman's nap favoring whispers : " Never say I told you any stories. I told you 1 made myself generally useful, and that they gave ine my board and clothes didn't I ?" " Yes." " Well, that is true." " Ah I" " So you fancied me a servant of your own accord, sir. How could 1 help that ?" " Oh, Hetty, Hetty ! But one story—nay, two—you have told. You said Miss Spice was ugly and cross- I know she is pretty and an angel." Then there was a sound suspiciously like a kiss, and there were but thre on the porch, and Mr. Spice was snoring so it could not have been he. One mouth after that there was a wed ding, and Mr. John Morton was united to Miss Spice ; and if all weddings where the beginning ol years as happy as theirs have been since then, is would be well for mar ried folks the worlu wide over. Though Mrs. Morton is a little mischievous, and tells a story of a gentleman she knew who traveled miles to woo and wed an heiress and at the end fell in love with a girl in pink calico. THE BODY OF ROGER WILLIAMS ABSORB ED BY THE ROOTS OF A TREE The following curious and interesting statement is from the pen of Rev. J. 11. Mc- Carty, who is writting a series of articles for the Ladies' Repository, on Roger Will liams, the founder of the State of Rhode Island : Ninety years after his death, in 1771, steps were taken to erext to him some suit able monument,but the storms of the revol ution came on arid the work was forgotten. And recently the question has been agitated anew, and Williams may yet at least, have some outward sign to mark his greatness and perpetuate his name. During a period of one hundred and eighty three years not even a rough stone has been setup to mark the grave of the founder of Rhode Island, till the precise locality of his grave had been almost forgotten and could only be ascer tained by the most careful investigation.— Suffice it to say, however, the spot was found a short time ago, though there was little to exhume, on scraping off the turf from the surface of the ground the dim out lines of seven graves, contained within less than one square rod, revealed the burial ground of Roger Williams. In colonial times each family buried near their residence. Three of these seveu graves were those of children ; the remaiuiug four were adults. The easterly grave was iden tified as that Mr. Williams. On digging down into the 'charnel house,' it was found that every being had passed into oblivion. The shapes of the coffins could • nly be tra ced by a black line of carbonaceous matter ; the thickness of the edges of the sides of the coffin could,with their ends, be distinct ly defiued. The rusted remains of the hin ges and nails, with a few fragments of wood and a single rouud knot, was all that could be gathered from his grave. In the grave of his wife there was not a trace of anything save a single lock of braided hair which had survived the lapse of more than one hundred and eighty years. Near the grave stood a venerable apple tree, when and by whom planted is not known. This tree had sent two of its main roots into the graves of Mr. and Mrs. Wil liams. The larger root had pushed its way through the earth till it reached the precise spot occupied by the skull of Roger Wil liams. I here making a turn, as if going round the skull, it followed the direction of the back-bone to the hips. Here it divided into two branches, sending one along each lug to the heel, where they both turned up ward to the toes. One of these roots form ed a slight crook at the knee, which made the whole bear very close resembleuce to a human form. This singular root is preserved with great care, not only as an illustration of a great principle in vegetation,but for its great his torical association. There were the graves, emptied of every particle of human dust ! Nut a trace of anything was left ! It is known to chemistry that all flesh, and the gelatinous matter giving consistency to the bones, are dissolved into carbonic acid gas, water aud air, while the solid lime dust usually remains. But in this case even the phosphate of lime of the bones of both graves was all gone ! There stood the guilty ap ple tree, it was said at the time, caught in the very act of 'robbing the grave.' To explain'the phenomenon is not the de sign of this article. Such an explanation could be given. Aud many other similar cases adduced. But this fact must be ad mitted : the organic matter of Roger Wil liams must have been transmitted into the apple tree ; it had passed into the woody fibre and was capab e of propelling a steam engine ; it had bloomed in the apple blos j sums, and had become pleasant to the eye ; and more, it had gone into the fruit from year to year, so that the question might be asked, who ate Roger Williams ? NASBY. A CABINET MEETING—LETTEBS FBOM REV. HEXBY WARD BEECUEB, GEN. CUSTAB, HENBY J. RAY MOND AND HON. JOHN MOBRISSEY. [From the Toledo Blade] CONFEDKIT X ROADS, j (wich iz in the St ait uv Kentucky,) V November 7th, 18t>6. ) I wuz called to Washington by our pat ron saint, the President, to comfort his wounded sperrit. There aint no disguisin the fact, the sperit of Androo Johnson is wounded. He has endoored the stings and arrers uv more outrajus fortune than any other man who lies lived seuce the days uv Hamlick—more, indeed, than Ham lick endoored—twice over. Ilamlick's father wuz pizoned, and his mother married agin afore her mourn in clothes wuz wore out, suthiu no savin, prudent woman would do ; but what was that to what A. John son endoors every day? Nothiu. The cabinet rneetin to wich I wuz sum moned wuz called for the purpose uv shed din a tear or two over the election returns, aud to considder a variety uv letters wich His Eggscelieucy had received within a few days I may remark that the cabinet had a gloomy aud mildewed look. The fust wuz from Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Mr. Beecher remarked that he hed the highest possible respect for the oilis wunst held by the good Washington, the great Adams aud the sainted Linkin. lie omitted rernarkin anything about Pierce and Bookannan, out uv regard for the feel ins of the present incumbent, wich, cf he hed read history correct, wuz a ardent sup porter uv the Administrations of both uv them men, wich he considered stains upon the pages uv Amercan history wich he cood wish might be obliterated. But what he desired to say wuz that he hed a higher regard for the good opinion uv mankind in general than iie hed for the good opinion uv the accidental incumbent uv any offis, and ez he hed, in an hour uv temporary mental aberashen, wich hed happily passed, endorsed the Administration, wich insan ity hed worked evil unto him, he reques ted ez a simple act uv justice that the President shood cause it to be known that he (Beecher) wuz not considered by the Administration ez a supporter thereof. "I do this," sed the writer, "becoz the impression that I am in the confidence uv yoor Eggsclency, wich is onfortnnatelv abroad, hez seriously damaged my reputa tion. Trooly yours, et settery. The readin of this letter wuz fullered by a minit uv profound silence,wich was brok en by the President. "Let him pass," sed the grate man who hez the dispensin uv post orifices, "let him pass. But here is another," sed he, bustin into tears, 'read that." It wuz from Gen. Custar, him uv the yaller hair, wich hed some reputation door in the war as a cavalry commander. It wuz to the same effect. He hed when he spoused the policy uv the President, wich he esteemed ez he must any man who held the exalted position wunst occupied by the good Washington, the grate Jefferson aud the sainted Linkin— "The ongrateful dog doesn't respect me," sed Androo, "it's the offis I fill," and he burst into a fresh Hood. When he sposed the President's poli cy wuz sich ez a soldier and patriot cood endorse, he endorsed it. But he diskivered that it led him, back foremost, into com pany wieh doorin the late war he hed alluz visited face foremost and on horseback, and therefore to save his reputation, he must beg that the President wood give it out that he (Gen. Custar) wuz not nor never hed been a supporter uv his policy, and oblige, Yours trooly, ez before. J. wuz too hart-broken at this to make any reply, and Cowan and Doolittle wuz in the same fix. The Kernelcy wich wuz giv en to Custar to keep him in poieheu, hed bin promised to a demokratic captin, who wuz led by a company in the first Bull Run fight, and who threw up in disgust the next day, not liking the manuer in wich the war wuz bein conducted, but now the Kernelcy wuz gone and Custar too, and wat wuz worse, there wuz no sich thing to be thot uv ez dismissing him. The entire company yoounited in minglin their teers. The next letter wuz read by Seward ea it wuz addressed to him. It wuz from Raymond. He opened with the remark that for the Presidential offis he hed the highest respeck. Aside from the consider ashen that it bed bin wunst okkepied by the good Washington, the great Adams, and the sainted Linkiu, the President mite be considered the Father of his country, hevin so large a number ot helpless chil dreu to provide for, and besides he hed a instinktive respeck for the dispenser of anything. It was difficult for him, being a open and simple minded man, not to ad here to the President, but— "Good Heavens !" shreeked Johnson, that little fox aint a goin to speak uv HIS reputashen ?" "Dooty requires the reedin uv the entire dockeyment, painful to my feelins ez it 0a per- Annum, in Advance. I may be," sed Seward. 'He concloods thusly "I am forced to ask you ez one enjoyin confidenshal relations with Him who oc cupiez the Fresidenshcl chair, to hev it given out that I stand in opposition to him. A doo REGARD FOR MY REI-CTABHEN impels me to this course." I remain, Yoors trooly.. There wuz 2or three more. Gen. Carey, uv Ohio, requested the President to move him from his Collectorship, ez the holdin uv it wuz injoorin his REPUTASHEN ; an edi tor out West, who wuz sedoosed into takin a Post Offis, begged to hev it taken off his hands, that he might save his circulashen before it wuz everlastingly too late : and finally we cum to wun, the seal uv wich wuz a coat uv arms, bull dog rampant, bowie-knife couchant, supported by trottiu horses, on a field uv green cloth. It wuz from Hon John Morrissey, who bed just been elected to Congress in Noo York. Mr. Morrissey remarked, that ez one uv the pillars uv the Democrasy, he felt he hed a rite to speek. He wished it to be under stood that he washed his hands uv any con nection with Johnson or his party. He hed seed a life. In States where the Democra sy, uv which he wuz a piller, hed tied them selves to Johnson, they hed gone down to a prematoor grave. Pes peck for the high offis restrained him from sayiu that the De mocrasy coodent carry such a cussid load, but he wood say that the result uv the election in New York, where they dependid solely on muscle and nigger, wich is the reel Democratic capital, and succeeded, while, where the Democrasy wuz loaded dowu with Johusouiauißm, they failed, sat isfied him that the President wuz a inkubus. He said this with all doo respeck for the offis. Mr. Morrissey further remarked that he hed also personel reasons for making this request. He commenced in a humble position, aud hed filled the eye long enuff to satisfy his modest ambishen—he hed walloped Sullivan and Heenan—hed owned the fastest horses and won more money at faro than any man in Amerika. His ambish, en wuz satisfied so fur ez he was concerned but he hoped to leave behind him for his infant son, (which wuz only twelve years of age, and wich hed a development of in telieck and muscle remarkable for one so tender, hevin already walloped every boy in the skool to wich he wuz a going,) he desired to leave that son a honorable name. It hed been given out that he wuz a sup porter uv the individooal who okkupied the Presidenshal offis, and it wuz iujoorin him. He wished that stigma removed—a regard for his repctasiien forced him to insist up on it. And this epistle was dooly signed, his John X Morissey, M. C. mark. There wuz silence in the Cabinet. This last stroke intensified the gloom wich hed settled onto the government, and ez I turn ed my tear-bedewed eyes I saw the great drops coarsin down the cheeks uv every one present. Mr. Seward retired without sayin anything about ninety days, and one by one they all departed. It was a solemn time. Ther wuz other letters yet to be read, but no one hed the heart to open 'em. I made a move in that direckshuu, but Androo prevented me. "I'm sick," murmured he in a husky voice, wich showed that his heart wuz peerced—"Help me to bed." I saw the great man bury his intellectooal head beneath the snowy kivrin ux his oneasy couch, all but the nose, wich in hi in is the thermometer uv the sole, and wich accordingly glowed,, not with the yoosooal brilliant hue, but with a dull, dead aud ghastly bloo. Noticiu the convulsive heavins uv the kivers, wich betrayed the agitashen uv the breast beneath, I whis pered in his ear ez 1 handed him his uite drink uv rye whisky flavored with bourbou, that he hed one hold, ez Delaware had sus tained him. A flush of satisfaction passed over his nose, but it subsided in an instant. " Troo," gasped he, " it's ouru now, but be fore the uext election a couple uv them Massachoosits abolishuists will buy the cus sid State and re-people it to soot 'em, and he gave a convulsive gasp and sank into a troubled slumber. It wuz a techiu occasion. Pi.troi.ec m V. Nasby, P. M., (wich is Postmaster.) JOSH BILUNOS ON MOSQUITOES. —Mr. Bil ling's thus expresses himself 011 mosquitoes: " We ere told that there want anything made in vain. This is so, but I have tho't the time spent in manufacturing musketoze must have been wasted if the musketoze want. How they were put together, I nev er could tell ; and there was one commer cial peculiarity about the muskeeter trade, and that iz, the supply always ex ceed the demand, and yet the production is not diminished ; I kant understand this no how. They are born of poor but industri ous parents, and are brought up with great care under the auspices of some uvour best families. They have great impudence, and don't hesitate to stick their frends with a bad bill. They have also consummate cour age. I have known a single muskeoter to fight a man and his wife all nite long and draw the first blood. It is very easy to kill musketoze when you kan. But in striking them you are apt to hit the exact plase were they recently wuz. They are cheer ful little cusses, singing as they toil." ggk. A well-known missionary at an anni versary said ; "My dear friends, let us avoid sectarian bitterness. The inhabitants of Hindustan, where I have been laboring for many years,have a proverb that "though you bathe a dog's tail in oil, and bind it in splints, you cannot get the crook out of it." Now, a man's sectarian bias is simply the dog's tail,which connot be eradicated ; and I hold that every one should be allowed to wag his own peculiarity in peace. "I bequeath," said an Irishmau, iu his will, "to my beloved wife, all my property, without reserve, and to my eldest son Pat rick, one half the remainder, and to Den nis, my youngest, the rest. If anything is left it may go to Terrance McCarty." THE editor who "did not mind his stops," introduced some verses thus : '' The poem pub lished this week was composed by an esteemed friend ./ho has lain in bis grave many years for his own amusement. SWISS FUNERAL CUSTOMS. [From the Letters of Rev. Mr. Prime to the New York Observer.] Long before Abraham asked a burying place to put his dead out of sight,the living had their fuueral rite- and cermonies. And it is wondeiful how widely they differ, ii different parts of the world. There is doubt less, a great difference in the customs of the various Cantons of Switzerland, for though the whole twenty-two of them would not make a State larger than New Jersey, they have a costume or dress peculiar to each, and many of their habits are equally singular. lam in the Canton of Appenzell, in sight of Lake Constance, and by it sepa rated from Germany. The language of tin people is German, and their manners are German more than French or Italiau, and their customs are in a great degree like those in the country over the lak>\ Their funeral rites may be more or less common in Switzerland, but I cannot say how far they prevail. In this rural and elevated region, (and this morning as I walked out and looked upon the hill and valley landscape, green as green can be, and lighted with a glo rious sun, I thought a lovelier picture could not be seen in all this beautiful world,) here, where it would seem that sorrow and sickness and death would not come, they die, as they die all the world over ; and when they die, they must be buried out of sight. Indeed, they die often here. It is usual to have the funerals, if possible, on the Sabbath ; more, I presume, to save time thau from any other cause. It is so in other Christian countries, our own a? well. If the weather will permit, it is customary here to defer the funeral until Sunday,even if the person dies on Monday ; and thus it often occurs that there are two or three on the same day ; and sometimes more. In a population of 3,000, ail belonging to one church, the funerals beiug held in it, the number is frequently more than one or two at the same hour. The average number of deaths is about ninety in a year. Last Sun day there were three funerals here. The friends of the several deceased meet in front of the respective houses where the dead were lying. None but the relatives enter the house. The three funerals were to be attended at the village church,and all the same hour,as early as nine in the morn ing. The body is placed in a plain deal coffin, sometimes, but rarely, painted. And the custom of the country forbids the rich to have a coffin more elegant than the poor ; the idea being that death abolishes all dis tinctions, and a plain coffin is good enough to be hid away in the ground. At the hour the coffin with the dead is brought out of the house, and on a bier is borne on the shoulders of the nearest male relatives or friends. One of these funerals was that of an aged mother. She left eight sons and two daughters ; six of the sons were grown men, and they bore their mother on their shoulders to the grave. The three proces sions met near the church, and the three coffins were then borne in the order of the ages of the deceased, to the church, but not into it. The body is never taken into the church. But when the relatives and lriends have entered, the body is carried by the bearers immediately into the Gottesacker, God's Acre; the graveyard, which usually adjoins the church. It is there buried,while none are present except those who do the work. I Btood at a little distance while this melancholy service was performed. It was not pleasing to me,that the dead should be thus put away unwept. And another custom was equally unpleasant to me. The graves are arranged in regular order, with out any distinction of families, and as each person in the place dies, he is buried in the grave next to the one who was buried before him. It may have been a neighbor with whom he was at enmity, but now in death they sleep side by side, and know it not. Families are separated by the grave, as well as by death, aud no two of them, uu less they die together, may be laid togeth er in the grave. This is surprising when we notice the remarkable attention they bestow on the Garden of the Dead. For when the dead are buried, the friends come, day after day, aud adorn the grave with flowers, and surround it with u border of green, and water it with their tears of love. While the body is thus cared for by the bearers, the funeral service is proceeding in the church. This is similar to the ser vice in our own country, the prayers aud selections of Scripture being read, aud a sermon preached, the same discour&e an swering, of course, for all who are buried on the same day. At the funeral, all the men in attendance wear a black mantle of bombazine or serge, which they may get, for a trifle, of the undertaker, who keeps them for hire. Persons of property, have them of their own, to wear only on funeral occasious, but the most of the people hire them when wanted, and thus every man at the funeral appears as a mourner. All the women dress in black when attending a fu neral, and they never go to church in any other than a black dress. This is a very peculiar custom, but is invariably followed by all the people of this country. Not a light-colored dress appears in the great congregation on the Sabbath day, or at a funeral. I cannot learn that anywhere in Switzer land the German practice prevaiis of hav ing a house for the dead to repose in, while it is determined whether or not they are yet alive. Such a place is prepared iu con nection with the burying ground in macy of the larger towns in Germany. In Mu nich, the dead of the city are brought to this house "prepared for all the dead," and are arranged in ghastly tiers The brid ■ arrayed for the marriage altar, but who died in the extacy of hope, still wears the orange flowers on her stone-cold, marble brow. The wasted form of one who wore out eighty years of life and at last died of old age, sleeps by the side of the young bride, in the arms of deatn. Fifty are some times seen at one time in this melancholy hall of silence. Each one h.*s thimbles on his or her fingers which are attached to a wire that reaches a delicately hung bell. The least pulsation vibrates along the wire, and gives the alarm to an attendant,always in waiting for the dead to come to life.— But they do not come to life. Stories get afloat in the community and arc handed down by tradition, gathering horror as they roll, but it is not probable that one in a million is ever restored to life through the aid of this life-saving arrangement. Indeed. I asked the attendant at one ot them, who had kindly showed me the apparatus, il he had ever known or heard of any one being found alive after being brought to this chamber of discovery. He said unhesita tingly, No. Tradition had reported a case in another city, but he did not think there was any well authenticated case of recov ery from the grave by this 'twell meant,but very useless practice. It would be well, however,if there were greater caution exer cised in burying the dead in all countries. Some families hurry their dead into the tomb. Many will hasten the fuueral to take advantage of a Sunday. It is safe and pru dent always to delay the burial, until na ture herself gives undeniable evidence that all hope of life is lost. NUMBER 26.