a H. FRAZIER, Publisher. VOLUME 11. guolinoo glutting. DR E. L. BLAKESLEE, T)FFTSICIAB AND SURGE ) N. to locate] al Benorem.elte r qu,beani ~ .Xnety. Pa. Will awed premptly -to all eels wee yr lab be may be termed. Office it L. IL Beldam'.. July 10. MA—, . Dn. E. L. GARDNER, pRYSICIAN AND SURGEON. Montacus. Ps. Oflee onr webb's Wm. Board.. t3earlo's Lio tel. Montrose, Jane A 1814.41 GROVES & REYNOLDS, maRIONARLE TAILORS. Shop over Chandler% r rwre. public AVMS.. Lountse. June 11.111.3. Dm CHARLES DECKER, PRT , MILN A.D uUTLGIDIN. having located Movelf at Bovhs•deale, Susquehanna County. Pa., mill attend to all the Aritt) welch he may he !avored.rith prqutplassuland attend= st Ors re .ideace near ' , range Hat's. Sot. u.recardrllle, Sus a. Co.. Pl. May Zl. the tf. JOHN BEALTMONT, JUL oiltt.El4, Cloth Drawee, and Manuracturer, at the old stand known se &QUM. C.lrellns Machin. Tams mails sr wan the work Is atoned., ktan - 0 70. 1£43• Dn. G. Z DIMOCK, PIITMCIAN and SURGEON MONTROAS, Pa. Mks on meet, oppoalte the nem °Mee. Boards at sn -11111 ,, 1e1. ic•mtrose. Prhruary eth.1863.-Iyp C. M. CRANDALL, )1 0CTFACTITHER, of •Llneaorbeels, Wool wheels, - Wheel• , r 4 A , ae aad Inockols. .C. 3r. Wood-tun:dm. dope to order, L ,„ toaaner. laming Shop aud Wheel rattoryta Santa' fw.C.7 Building.. op Min. , 3.1244 80th. 180.-11 It S. BENTLEY, JR, NOTARY PUBLIC, moriTFLo T.rin •K ES ...troac.iodgment of Deeds. Itfortiesp* as., for sey .L. 4. Ir. the Ur.bed rits,tei. Pension Vouchers and Pay Cer. ,ctn.,:irdzed before dim do tot require the certified., of the of the Court. Montrose. Jan. 1.1865.—0 f, CHARLES HOLES, nEkLIR IN CLOCKN, WATCHES, AND JEWELAT u NeTair../ clo r ne mra4., Onott notice wad reasonable tezms • üb& A resua 7n F. B. Cbasellefa stem ~:sse: N.. Nov. lAGt. Dn. S. L. RANDRICK, pncorslcu, aGEOB, maw:l:ally tendon his pram .0 nom to the either' of Frieredneßle and ale-Baty. Or Ol lb! [lSt, Or pr. Leet- Boards at J. Horford'a. 'hoe:reale. Joly SY. 1884.41 E. W. SMITH, nolo SY e 001:11i8SLLOR AT LAM and UMELlied MILD. Ajext ()Eke over Lee's Druittore. ,aquelaZta r.pot J. 11117 IS. SSC ' H. BITRRITT, D sigv e a r mo-daroc s. r m c. ar..... ia 1tf0rd, 7 11,., Axil 11, 18b1.—tt S. H. SAYRE & BROTHERS, Ifs , !‘ . 3TAFITFLIG,NO3 of kllllosinlnga, Castings of 311 kinds „ <n it t6r. „ ..4lstest o fron W m area c gricoltoral . Implements. k antra, ?drossy 13,1864. BILLINGS STROUD, Fadr LIFEINBUBANCIE AGENT. Office In Late hllittil4, oast end of Brick Block. In kis abaence. bud Ain: mill be transacted by C. L. Brown. it,unse. February 1, 18114.11 J. D. VAIL, M. D., 311(60PATFLIC PHYSICIAN, has permanently locator ~matlf in ktontrole, Pa, where he will promptly attend it Ltn West With , rhtch he may favored. ofam ,4wdecc, West of the Court Hove. hear Bentley 4 - A-usx, Fehoary 1.1364 -Oct. Si, 1811. A. 0. WARREN, A rroamm AT LAW, BOUBTY. BACK PAT sed FEN MON CLAIM AOZNT. All Peaclon Chem, ertnefully prt room formerly occupied by Dr. VAIL I.W. B A:, , e.:Stur. belay. Searle's Hotel. Feb. 1,1884.-febrtyl MS. LEWIS lIIR.BY & E. BACON, ILP , nettantly on head • full enrol, of ererr e. tt 1:0-: ILI lE", and CONFECTIONERIES. By Ariel atter. ted ntlenessin drat they hope to merit the ilhern nrt public. An OYSTER end EATING SALOON 1. the Onrrery. where bivalve, In tetuton, are nerved to er .cat the taste. of the public demand, Retnewberthe Owe. Urn Grocery stud. on Moth Street, below the Postorme. Nov. 17. 11363.—mch17,13—tf Da. CALVIN C. HALSEY, DETSICIAN AND st - RSICON, AD E.ILLICINIEO SUR" I GE. oN P ENSIONERS. o . 2ce over the liter.. of J. Lyca, I mac. ?We, Aoea ne Boards at Mr. Etherldiell. a =rum klnbet, 1564-tf D. A. BAL.DWIIi, TTOILN ET AT LAW. and Pcosion. Bounty, and Back Pro .1 !amt. great Mud, Sagqnslanta County, Ps. Gnat fiend. nzuhl lA. IPtIl.-ly BOYD 4 WEBSTER, DLLIER-' n Stocea Stove Pipe, Tla, Copiper. and SLee Ware; . . n, Window Saab. rune] Toon% Wir.dou Lau.. Me Lumber,_extd all kands of Bnlldlug poo:/, of _xarlee and Carpenter Shop near the 11,,Jar. , urct 11...r.,Er. Ya .. Jantury 1, 1864.-17 DR. WILT IAM W. SMITH, SURGEON DENTIST. OElee over the Sankla; ' , Set of Oooper & (./e. AS Dente! Operation. --as vr,l, be performed le his weal Se.xl etTle sod .I.—ator. Et...member, office formerly of H. SmithSoo 1864.—tf E. J. ROGERS, Ire...it:l4E7=MM of CI desoriptlone ofV7AO - SLEIGHS, ax.., in the er.nr.teW ..talwashlo and of the beet tostertele. ...1; en, , wo mod of E. EL EWERS, o few rods cost Montrose, where he will be tosPRY to re all who want smythtos la LIU Ma int,. Jute I laal.-tf Da. JOHN W. COBB, ,r 5171 e 5 %ea SURGEON, mpectrully tenders hip serelter • :ant: tl•tqueltattna °minty. He will ree medal • • 4 •tol trrataient of &wares of the tt• „ Vt. av te roast tee relative to eargteal operattaur tt • l• ..tilte over W J RS.H IlloltorerPBt.rrt tta. te eat. of J. 8. Tart.ell'• Hotel. •an County, Ya. , June n. BILDISIN & ALLEN, n Luta, FLA)H., bait, Pork. Flah, lAN!. Grab. Pend 11. d lee. Clove, and Tinronby Seal- GROCEZIES ?. slWwe klolasees, limp., Tea and Care. Wen ride o AV , LUt nue door below ELllVidge- Mxtr,s, January 1. 1864,41 Dn. G. W. BEACH, pFTSI ^ LLN &ND SURGEON. having permanently Iscatu Etrnnklra Center. P. tender. him proteaalonal wet , catuvu of eloßsiorilitans County, Or tarot ColaMenatil • , Malple. the olikx of the late In. B. Richard .m.rilo .1. Mr.. Rchardeoe. Cyr. P... Jme 4.1864.-11 F. B. WEEKS, DTICAL BOOT AND SHOE MAKER: slam Mater ft. . ac,As leatber.artel Sboe Piacilnzv. gep t tadoto c•atnn, ato dispar.c.h. Two docosabore beads. January 1. 1611t.-tl W3l. & WhL H. JESSUP, Prr)U.NETti itT LAW. Mout:ram PL. Practice le Buseve a .2.. Bradford. Wayne, Wcomine and Lome Counties. January 14. 1861. ALBERT CHAMBERLIN, WsTRICT ATTORNEY AND ATTORNEY AT LAW.— /-f over the !Mare formerly occopled by Post Brother ~. .lr+se, Pa. January 1. /860. _ J. LYONS SON, r -+LP-Is E IN DRY GOODS. Groceries.Crockery.Bardsrare. T , sare. Rooks, Melodeons, Pianos, and an kinds of Moe ,cuts, Sheet Music, he. Also carry on the hook Bind Cavuema in all fu briindal.. J. iron!. January 1. 1861. T. A. LIDS. EL TURRELL, E &LEE Ile D 2I RU B GS. CITIEttICALB. D Pcsa,n, tills. Dye-stuffs, Varnisties. Window Ohm, Crockery. Glassware, WaA-Yaps,. J ew. t ranee o , e,Gs. Perfumery, gungreallmetrumenta, s Ske...„—and Agent for all of tbe most opl •twr.t. hie limes. Montrose. January 1. 1861 C. 0. FORDHAM, lIANITFMTIUKER of BOOTS &SHOES, liontrose, bop OVLT DeWitt' . Stove. All 'Linda of work =Ole teptdrtne done neatly. Work done etnen Wm. st.u.a. Anil 2...193/..4 CHARLES N. STODDARD, nzeLER. to Boars a MOEN Leather and I , lnd. Male on. third door helo. Searles Hotel. Lia Wort Towle to order , wad repeiring done neatly. tnawti Pe_ December 12. 1860. L IL BURNS, rrekliti EY AT LAW. olllce CM; WalLam J Tmex.ll. HosAL Penedo,. and Lundy Cialmscartul. a. P,Tc. prompqy made. 21.16A4. u. - B. R. LYONS At C 0.,„ „DRY CPJuI/J.% CiROCKICIES, BOOTS, SHOES_ iicionu. Carpets. OU Olotbii, cold Window Po. vita. Atc. Store Om auto:Mc of Public Aram, cross. - . J. D. LYONS ii iccoc.Jactuory 1, 11164.-tf READ, WATROUS it FOSTER, 45A.,,,,Ltrt, IL DRY ri?ol3b. liresot Paints . J 0 .1. 1. 4'6. poons,VanTery., dm, 8111.1. block. Montrose. • :c."tf7. " 4 . - uit, J.rhry 1. 1844. WILLIAM W. MTH, RI CABINET AND MAID 116.W17- "`'-". •- • , Kap. eonstant!y• as aand all • dr (Jamas? raniurdaa. tnr dam, and Ware !Soo= toot d /kW Bt. akauute. 11Arth L903.-tf PIIIL&NDER LINES, &HU: TAILOR. 84ek 84414 '"" 114 4 it4riertSnolfe. 1600evs•. PS. • t : . b , ~ ... _ , , , . ...,, , ......., _ .. i „ ~.,....•• : ..,. :/...„......„.:,:.:.,.„,:_ 1 I 1 . 's. . . b _.,..„. ~...:_,..„....„.„,...,,,...„..,,....„.„.„,,,, .......\., ____,. ...,,r 1 titan+ \----; , THE WILLOW. 0 willow, why forever weep, As one who mourns an endless wrong I What hidden woo can lie so deep? What utter grief can last so long? The Spring makni . haste with step elate Your life and beauty to renew; She even bide the roses wait, And gives her first meat care to yon. The welcome redbmst folds his wing To pour for you his freshest strain ; To you We earliest bluebirds sing, Till all your light steam thrill again. The sparrow trills his wedding abng And trait. his tender brood to you ; Fair flowering vines the summer long, With eitutp and kiss your beauty woo. The sunshine drapes your limbs In light, The rain braids diamonds in your hair, Th. breeze makes love to you at night— Yet still you droop and still dtpair. Beneath your boughs, at fall of dew, By lovers' lips is softly told The tale that all the ages through lies kept the world from growing old. But still , though April buds unfold, Or Summer sets the earth Meat, Or Autumn pranks your robes with gold, You sway and sigh with graceful grief. Mourn on forever, unconsoled, And keep your secret, faithful tree! No heart in all the world ran bold A sweeter grace than constancy. —Agontk Monthly . ~;p Yc t~~ 4:r. a ,eye Holy Saint Martin, once at Amlen's gate, Passing that way, where went both low and great, Saw there, a-shiver with the winter's cold, A poor halt-naked wretch. Silver or gold The Saint had none ; his kindly beaming eyes, Mild as the light of eters Within the skies, Filled with the rising plty.ln hls breast, Where dwelt all charities which make men blest, At sight clone, a soul so desolate, RODSCICSei and friendless by the city's gate, And taking from his back the coat he wore, Into two parts the garment then he tore, And, with a blessing which all lips may say, Gave to him there the half, and went his way, Next night, alien some deed of mercy bent, By that same gate thegood Saint Martin went, • And saw within its shadow, 'standing there A man of thoughtful meind presence falr, Around whom shone a miry radiant light— None like to it had ever b his sight— And in Its sheen the city'a frowning gate Seemed Heaven's own portat where good angels wait, And to the Saint's meek eyes, with wonder wide, The palms of Paradise uprods each side ; And lo! the man was Christ 4 speechless, amazed, Spellbound with wonderment, Saint Alartbagazed, And saw the ragged garment he had given , Worn on the E. houlders of the Lord from Heaven! Little Mrs. Somers stood by the cooking-stove in her bark kitchen, In no very genial humor. It was a hot, sultry, dog-day morning ; and, though the winfict.rs on both aides the room were open,. no current of pure air was wafting through it, as there should has', been (for Mrs. Somers lived in a breezy place.,) but all was close, damp, disagreeable. "Such weather Is enough to provoke a saint," had been Aunt Elvira's utterance the moment be fore; and Emily Somers was by no means a saint, but an honest little wife and mother, who, In the main, wished to do her duty, though. If the strong est desire of her heart at that particular moment had found words, they would have been, " Let me lie down in the quiet grave,where nothing can ever fret tne again." Was it the weather which had brought the once sunny-hearted little housekeeper Into thin dismal mood r That, perhaps, had something to do with it; but her soul was bowed beneath heavy burdens and chafed by sore trials. Small trials some would have called them, and it would have been difficult to put them in words; but, for all that, they were none the less real burdens and trials, which took the life out of her, body and soul. For five years after her mania,ge, her borne bad been as sunny and charming as a home onuld well he; her husband was a prosperous mechanic, and their house, though not large, a snug little place, nicely furnished; end her little Frank and Kitty the dearest little daelings eyes had ever seen—at least her eys. Was It too lovely and sweet a home for this poor, imperfect earth t Perhaps so : at any rate, at the end of those years, a change came over it. Old Mr. Someri bad died, !eating but a small property to his widow—quite too Small, In fact, to he a support for her and an rinfnarried sister of hers, who had lived with tier mini years and who bad no other home. At this juncture George and Emily had a consultation. " Somebody must take care of mother and Aunt Elvira," said George. "The other boys arc all off West ; and none of them are so well off as I am, if they were here," His wife, with her heart full of hope and kind ness, answered•at once.' "let them both come and live with us, George; we can ere up the spare bed room well enoegh, and it is the largest and pleas antest room in the house, yon know; they can hare that, and by packing a little closer, there'll he room enough left. As you say, somebody must take them, and nobody can do It so well as we." " But there', are a - good many things to be taken into aecount," , said George; " Yon bad better not be too hasty in deciding. It will make a great cbange in the ; two old people will bring a great deal of care upon you, Emily." " Yu!, I know they will; but,' said the hopeful :late wife, "mother min do a great many little things about the house,And take some care of the baby. Bhe's very fond of her, you know; and Aunt Elvine--' . _ There was a little pause, and George and Emily exchanged a look, half troubled, hall amused, as if it were rather a problem how to place Aunt Eivim eligibly. •' Aunt Elvin' is a great worker, you know," be gan Emily Yes, and a great Better, too," interrupted George, "there's no use In denying that; and now we arc about it we may as well remember that mo ther, though the's been an excellent, good mother, has a pretty strong will of her own. I'm afraid she'll interfere sometimes, and the two together will try your temper a little, I fancy." "A temper that can't bear being tried isn't worth much ; 1 don't know bow mine will bear it," said Emily, "for everybody has been so kind to me I have hardly had a chance to know what spirit lam ut " And the bright eyes gleamed with tender love and gratitude. " But," she added, more bed. °nab', "the question George, is, what is right? we most do the duty God puts before us, even if it does involve some sacrifice." " Yea, we mus fighed Georg", who was of a bra sanguine spiri e," t than his sunshiny wife, and really dreaded ouch an innovation on their tranquil home-life. " I don't well sea where else they eau go. Still yon had better not decide till you've thought about 11, for once here, they must stay ; the chief trouble will come on you, Emily, not on me ; mothers4o-law aren't generally considered very de eirable inmates, to ray nothing of aunts-in-law," he added, with a faint smile. "I know it," replied Emily, "but I think the heling is all wrong. " It's a shame," she said, put ting down her little foot decidedly, "that when a mother has worn herself out by years of ' toil for her children, she should be looked upon Oa nuisance, or at best a burden, Witten very children Think what It would be to have our Frank, or little Pet thereolreadlne to havens come to live with them And as the stooped over the.cradie a teareame Into her gye. "I don't believe it's impoe,ible for a son's wife and his mother to live together without quarrelling, especially," she added in &Softer tone, where both are disciples of Christ, and are, day by day, seeking to do his will. Little trials may come up; they will, of course, but both will be helped to do right, and they will soon pass over.— We will have the two bears in the bonne, bear and forbear," she added, laughing, "and then there'll 1 be no ' trouble." " And Aunt Elting, don't overlook her." " Well, I sup Pose she'll be a little trying some times; but there's a great deal of good In her in spite of her fauna ; an she's no other home in the wide world to go to. ,Poor Auntie I really feel sorry for her. If she' had had as good a hustamd and children as mine are . , she'd have Dem as cheer ful ard amiable as env NOY, I dare thy, 'She'll be a deal of company for mother, and may he she will • • help about the sewing; my bands am to (all of o th er things now, my sewing gets fearfully behind hand; and it would be a help indeed to bare some one do a part of that. Any way, George it's our duty we most take her, and then do our Wt." I don't see how we could very well tam 'her off on strangers," ma George's rather ungracious re , once.sp No, we won't; and I don't feel at all afraid bat that we stall get along together nicely." And so it wadtdecided that the mother and tent ahouldbecoma e int=a f =age cottiv *deb Mini Val BY N. a SIISPEELIID. THE AUNT-IN-LAW. A Domestic Story " Freedom and Right against Slavery and Wrong." IYIONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, AUGUST 22, 1865. Mrs. Somers, senior. was a very good woman in her way, but a woman with a will, which had been paramount in her own home; moreover, Emily wasn't the wife she bad picked out for George, and the highest praise ebe bad ever been known to ac cord to her was, "She's got,pretty ways enough, but what's such a little young thing as she good fort" 83, though it wan the beat thing she could do to live with George, she went with the strong conviction that nothing would be done in a proper way unlesse she looked after It herself. As for Aunt &vim though we have the greatest respect for single women, and consider them, as a whole, models of all the womanly virtues, there was no de nying she was peculiar. She was a talloress by trade, and bad cut coats, vests, and pantaloons for forty years, going from house to house with a goo-e and press-board, till her flesh, and may be her sold too, bed become as wrinkled and puckered as one of her own seams, and sorely needed smoothing and stretching out. She was one of those unfortunate beings to whom nothing good has ever happened, and who know nothing ever will. Poor Aunt El vtaa, she had been unfortuna'e; she had worked hard all her life, and laid up quite a sum of money, but the man dhe lent It to proved a scoundrel, and decamped; and though oho threatened, with ex tended hand grasping it, to send her goose after him, It never reached him, or brought back any of her bard earned dimes and quarters. She was on the shady side of sixty, and when George asked her to share his home she assented as reluctantly as if she was leaving a king's palace for his lowly cot. tae Por my part, I don't expect 'twill be very easy to put up with that doll-wile of his," she grumbled In her. afflictions, " and it's hard that a poor critter like me, who idlers hated children, can't live where there ain't a noisy pack of 'em tearin' round." So it was manifest that If George and Emily consider ed they were conferring a favor on her, they were greatly mistaken. On the first August morning when we find Emily Somers standing by the Stove in her back kitchen and wishing ahe were dead or buried, the mother and Aunt Elvim had been In the family a year and six months ; and the little wife had chosen that par ticular moment for a review of the whole period.— What years and months they had been, she thought, as she stood stirring the enttard she was boiling in a pitcher, set Into a kettle of hot water. What a happy home she and George had once, and now there was no such thing as peace and comfort!— and she fumbled with one hand for her pocket. handkerehlef,while she stirred away with her other. How she had tried and tried to please them, how she bad given up her way In everything, and had no will of her own, and all shegot for It was to be snubbed and fretted at, and found fault with perpet ually ! Even George never looked pleased, or com fortable now-a days. How could a man who al seays stood between two fires, and never knew who was most to blame? No wonder he had taken a contract in another town, and only carne home for Sundays. And the children, little cherubs they had been till they had so many mistresses, had been fretted at. and ordered around by so many different people, and now they were as cross and disrespect ful and bad tempered as two little tigers. And worst of all—yes, a great deal the worst—ehe her self, who was once so merry, and good tempered and beloved by everybody, had grown sour, and peevish, and fault finding, tier sweet temper all turned to gall, and her whole nature embittered and as hateful as it well could be Yea, if the little woman could have seen anything to be satisfied with in herself she wouldn't have wished to go in to her grave, and he forgotten; but she couldn't!— Hadn't she flared up that very morning at the breakfast table, when Annt Elvira told Frank to hold his tongue, and in no pleasant tone Informed said aunt she chose to govern her own children ; upon which Frank bad tittered, and spoken disre spectfully to his aunt, who thereupon remarked She wished she would govern them," and Katy had lifted her great blue eyes wonderingly to her her face, and asked, " What makes , two red spots ou 'oo face, mamma ?" and then Aunt Elvira - had given her hateful little giggle, and said, " Little folks ask close questions ; ' and Emily had felt all the blood In her body come Into her face, and a bit ter feeling of hate rise up in her soul. She, who had considered herself so sweet and amiable ! And yeaterday.when Aunt Elvim had Insisted on squeez ing Frank into exactly such a Jacket and trowsers as little boys wore twenty years ago, making a per lee fright of the child, how her temper had risen as she snatched away the odious garments, declaring he never should put them on again, and Aunt Eh i ra had left the room, muttering, " That's all the thanks I git for working my fingers off to make clu'es for that air young, 'nn." These two Instances were not alone ; hosts of others rose before her, when, as she now pat it, she had been driven frantic by their interference, and b'en compelled to lose her temper, and give them a piece of her mind in self-defense. Bow o'lluos nil this was—these hiekerings and strifes and sharp re torts; how unladylike and contemptible: What would she have once said bud anybody told her she would ever thus degrade herself ! "Bat," she mur mured to herself, " I cannot help it, they force me to it. It never was so till they came into the house;" and poor Emily's tears came thick and last as she remembered the first happy years c.l her married life. Was there no help [or it! Were all her future years to be thus blighted! Must her home, instead of be ing a little heaven of peat's and love, become a place of torment, where wicked mullions rage uncon• trolled ? If in one year and a half—they seemed to her like ages—she had gone so tar on a downward track, who could tell what she should nosily be come or what, her home would be at last! Wss there no help? Tnis was the question, some invisible voice asked in Emily's Goal that morning. She had taken off her custards, set them away to cool, and washed her dishes, and now she had a little lei-ure; and taking off her apron, she went into her own room and eliot the door for a little sell-communion. find we looked Into the mother's heart, and espe cially into Aunt Eivines, we should have found a very similar state of things ; there too were disepti tents, sstoulshment at the pass things had come to, and also a lurking self-blame, silenced In the same way; they too aaid, " I can't help it, she is too pro vokiug—in the old house it wasn't so; I could keep my temper there," I..^t us try to take an impartial survey of the situa tion. As we have said, Emily began with a sincere de sire to do her duty, and to make the new inmates happy; nay, more, she was confident she could. That she was a little sell-complacent in view of these new Auden was not to he wondered at, for before her marriage she had been the pet of a large circle of admiring friends, and since, she had been the darling of her husband's heart and home, caressing and caressed; why should she not still expect to please and be pit-lased? She had honestly meant to do right, to be unselfish and considerate • hut it had sit been so different from what she had expected Real trials of her temper had come; she had been tested, and failed ignominously. So she would have said ; but if some guardian angel had stood by her side through ell the conflicts of her last eighteen months, and seen bow often, though sometimes 61/ ,- mmsbinr to the spirits of evil, she had bravely fought with, and crushed them oat of her heart; how sin cerely, when overcome by them, she had abhorred herself, and resolved to be amiable, and kind, and gentle-spoken in future, be might have given a dil &rent verdict ; he might have seen that though the evil In her nature had been, brought to the surface, making It dark and turbid,' there was no Increase of evil there. The truth is, and Emily should have been aware of it, though she Was not, that several people mount live together in one family, each having an interest In all that goes on, and wanting to assist In the dai ly labors of the Inztusehold, without being trials to each other, however good they may all be. Hence comes the call, not to separate, or to despair of ever living together harmoniously, but for • special ex ercise of all the Christian graces, and for special strength from above to enable each to overcome these trials. In this cane the mother was one of those admirable housekeepers who do everything systematically, and forty years' experience had worn the grooves to such a smoothness that the do mestic machinery ran without a jar. It was Impos sible but she should see many defects in Emily's hotusekeeping, and seeing them, it was scarcely In hninan nature not to try to right them. She meant to do this wisely; she did not mean to interfere, but In fact she did interfere, and kept constantly io ex ercise a snitit of criticism which Emily felt keenly, even when not a word was spoken. Then it was not in human nature, certainly nut in Emily's nature, not to be fretted by this. " Nothing I ever do Is right," abe would say to herself, because I don't do it exactly a• mother used _ to, and in my own house I have a right to my way; she Lad her way In hers. Circumstances are changed, and it would be absurd for me to go on cooking just the same dishes she did, to just the same way, and arranging my table and rooms, and entertaining guests pro. eisely as she did; I've begun housekeeping for my self, and, so long as I consult George's interest and their comfort, vo a right to &flange tells in nay own way." Elie was right ; It Is the prerogative of every wife to preside over her own household; to plan and ex ecute according to her own judgment; but It does not follow that she should not be willing to learn from others, or take advice when rightly oft-red. Rightly offered I who in this imperfect world does or can ever offer advice rightly? In nine cases out of ten we venture to say that it Is better for a moth er-l A-law not to give advice unless she Is asked. " What!" you will say, "stand by, and see every thing go to ruin!" Yes, stand by and see things done foolishly, perhaps, certainly very differently from. what i wou ld do them; and the young wife, Vjelle be 1,0 =a t ant i rgp, RUI MOM ti/ bYldb: advise: that is the way you learned, and at twenty five you were just as impatient of Interference as she Is, and things won't go to ruin ; the ship of home, (why shouldq't there be a ship of home as well as of state?) will rock unsteadily; it will now and then give a fearful lurch that threatens to rep ots) it, and drown the crew; but it will right Itself, and take a new tack, sail out Into smoother waters, and finally reach the clear open sea, and gain a steady onward motion. Trust, and don't worry ; that is your beet motto. Tes, don't worry • don't be always Implying by words or looks that destruc tiont Is close at baud. In a majority of eases whore you want to set things right, and predict ruin If you don't succeed, the matter Is of no great conse quence; it is surely some trifling matter of conven ience, or taste; nothing vital, nothing that will shipwreck mind, body, or estate. Put your will entirely out of the question, and calmly consider the matter, and you will probably be forced to smile at your folly In making such an ado about it If the wife is grossly wanting In principle or judgment, It Is a different thing; still don't fret, don't keep throwing out hints which will ouly irritate; but after getting your own spirit Into as sweet and calm a frame as passible, take some opportunity when the young wife Is also - in her best mood, and have a frank, serious talk with her • not to gratify your own self-will, but to do her g ood; that is your only chance of really helping het. Now for the young wife herself; she should ba willing to ask advice, and willing to follow it when kindly given, and b. specially on her guard against fancying her prerogatives are being intruded upon, not letting her wilt, ender the guise of her rights, or justice to herself or husband, get the upper hand. Very careful should she be to be gentle in tone and look, and above all of a truly meek and loving spirit, for she will doubtless have sore need of these lovely graces. To return to Emily In her room. Her irritation was subsiding now; she looked down into the cradle where baby was sleeping so sweetly, and her heart grew tenderer 'till; but with the tenderness came also end thought& It was humiliating to remember how certain she was ol doing right, how pertly she had boasted that she would hear and forbear, and now to look at her miserable failure. No doubt others had been to blame, but now she was mute disposed to look at her own taidts than theirs ; and these were very numerous end very grievous, and filled her with shame and self reproach. Again re curred the question, Is there no help for thin! Is it impossible for three people to live in one home: together peaceably ? and other questions she naked. Cannot I preserve my own peace or mind and do right, if others do wrong? Must my darling Kitty grow up with an Irritable, peevish mother, fu a dis cordant home! Were then, she asked herself, all of her Lopes of being a true disciple of Christ a delu sion, all her faith in Him as one who could help her do her duty an Idle dream, which fled when help was needed! "Can a woman forget her sucking child that the should not have compassion on the son of her womb! rva, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." suddenly these words came into Emily's mind. Did her Father in heaven then really love her as she loved her little darling! was He as willing to lift her poor, weak soul over the trials of life, as she was to lift her little one's tender feet over all the rough places before her! Yea, His love was greater than a mother's, deeper and more endering, If the Bible were true. How her heart yearned to INTO her child tram all suffering; and did His heart yearn still more lovingly over her, poor, wandering child that she was! Her heart melted within her at the thought. She, so helpless and needy, yet with an Infinite Father standing close by her, on whose strong arm she could always lean, a Father so wilting and able to guide her and keep her from felling. Ob, how wondertul It was! The little room grew bright about her: her tears flowed still, hut they were refreshing tears—tears of contrition, of trust, of gratitude. Her heart grew strong; by faith, that mysterious link binding the buntaa soul to the Divine soul In a union which Christ compares to the Joining of the brarith to the vine, she took hold no the Almighty strength, drawing life from HI, life, Mace from His peace. Yea, It was very won derful, but none the less real and tens. During that half hour of silent communion the fogs had been lifted from the hills, and when Emily put back the curtain, a ray of sunlight and o breath of pure west pled stole in at the window. Yes, both without and within the darkness had fled, and the sun was shining forth. Emily shrank from go ing forth Into the cares and vexations that lay wait ing for her; but she carried out not only a new sense or her own weakness, but also a new sense of the Divine strength and nearness. Christ's words, "My grace is sufficient for thee," lay warm at her heart like an inv6ible shield, and she tremblingly hope d to keep her evil temper in subjection; If she only could keep her hold on the Almighty arm. With that peace In her soul, how easy it was to co quietly about her work; how easy to ask, when her mother came Into the kitchen, " Mother, bow long will It take to cook this joint of meat ?" or how easy to find a place on the stove for Aunt Elvira's flatirons, and to hold her peace when she kept fidgetting about the room, finding fault pith all she saw. "I do believe George Somers will end his days in the poor-house!" exclaimed Aunt Elvira„ predi rating that event on the fact that an old tablecloth had been recently transformed into dish-towels. Grace had been given Emily to answer pleasantly, 'O, I hope not, Aunt Elvlra." Yesterday, she would probably have said. " I should-like to know if I can't do what T please with my own things?" Said it to herself, if not aloud. Just then, Frank, that perpetual apple of discord, rushed in Dom school, boy-like, with a shout and a bound. " What a plague hays are! tearia a body's head off !" cried Annt Elvira, in the most abused tone Frank evidently expect...l a scene. but Instead of two red spots on mamma's cheeks, he only saw a pleas ant smile, and when quietly told he had Avt , er ;nay out of doors till dinner time, walked off wlthont a word So it was through all the day. It was trying enough to see little Kitty swathed up in n most re markably constructed garment presented to her by the indefatigable aunt, and by her denominated a tyre, and to have three mammoth yellow marigolds thrust Into her beautiful vase of flowers, " to rice some color to it, and make it smell good ;" but Em ily refrained from speech, and an hour afterwards could smile as she thought how much sooner baby would ontgrow "the tyre," than her temper out grow a twist •, and it was really marvelous how lit tle she thought about the marigolds. " Peace and good will are better in a house than tasteful vases of flowers," she said to herself. If she had snatched them out before Aunt Elyira' a eyes, as she was son ly tempted to, we dare say she would have been made far more uncomfortable all the afternoon than by the odor of the marigolds, odious as that was : and that lasted but for a day or two ; the sting of the 111-tempered act would have lasted months.— Yes, for one day at least, Emily had found, 'How strong within doth reign the calmer's power,' and she lay down on her pillow at night with a sweet sense of having been helped. " I declare," Bald Aunt Elvira, that night, as sh e took off her frisette, and unpinned her dress, with her month full of pins, " Ido believe the millen nium's a-comin' Emily is so good-nittned. I'm at raid she won't Ilve long!" We said at the beginning Emily Somers was no saint, and she sever became a saint ; but by szod's help she did become a remarkably good tempered, lovely woman, instead of the soured, fretful one she at one time threatened to change , into. She often lost her temper, but by struggling to subdue it, and looking to the Helper for aid, street last gained smelt self-control that it coat her little effort to be amiable amid the trials which every day brought. She was not "overcome with evil, but had overcome evil with eood." Aunt Etvira still enjoyed afflictions, and predicted the poorhouse, but then as Emily said one day, " It's astonishing, George, how little things trouble us when our will Isn't In the way.-- I'm convinced It's bow we take a thing, not what a thing Is, that makes the difference. When I feel right myself, I'm not a bit fretted by what vexes me beyond endurance, if I happen to be a little oat of tone. It is really wonderful how little mother dic tates when I'm willing to ask advice, and Aunt El vim don't fret half as much when I feel amiable myself; or if she does, I don't care a ilg about it." " Wall, really now = I do call Our George's wife an uncommon woman." It was Aunt Elvira who spoke, but ten years bad passed sway since she feared the millennium was close at hand, "a most un common woman. She wax always proper good to slater, and I used to say to sister, 'ulster, there an't no need of quarrelling with sons' wises ; you never did; and the very day she died—l was standin' by the bed-post, and Emily bent over her—says Rozy, says she, ' Emily, you've alleys been good to me, and the Lord will be goad to you, and bless you for it," and then turning her eyes to me, she said. " El clry says sbe, "she's been good to us both, don't forgit it of her." And I mean to give her my changeable silk gown, just as soon as ever she's out Of mournin', my blue and orange changeable, that's just as good as new. I've neversore it but tdread ful little • I used to wear it anceln • while to meet in' real little; Sundays, and to all the weddin'a In the neig borbooci, but they ain't macho! a mamba' set round here, and I ain't got much chance to wear It. Now, 'twill make Emily look as pretty as a poppet; she paint no silk gown that's got a Idle of color In it' kind o' faded out looklo ' things they all are ; but then some folks don't never know how to themselves up tasty, and I don't justly know as tber are to blame for It; vs can't have what alai gin to us, I tell 'em." Let us hope that Emily bas by ti' 'me acquired sufficient tact to steer round the hi, and orange changeable, without either wearing It or losing her temper over It. Our taste in dress might not coin *le Issigh Au,nt E . l=but Lit thotg o Vit r r peer bib/ zoo OW. Ito when her husband said, "Emily, you've proved that a woman can live peaceably with an aunt in-law." Little did the honest man know of all the tribula tions his little wife bad gone through, and he didn't quite understand her emotion as she whispered, with tearful eyes, " It's no thanks to me, George ; Ws because I have been helped." A RIOH IikIIRTAGE CEREMONY. The following description of a marriage In Illinois by a newly appointed Justice of the Peace, •ho is mmething of a wag, is taken verbatim from a letter written to a friend in this city. Be says: Having been appointed to the desirable " pettish" of Justice of the Peace, I was accosted on the sth day of July, by a sleek looking young man, and in slivery tones, requested to proceed to a neighboring hotel, as he wished to enter Into the holy bonds of matrimony. Here was a "squelcher " I bad never done anything of the kind, and had no books or forms ; yet I was determined to do things up strong and In a legal manner, so I proceeded to the hotel, bearing In my smile one copy of the Revised Statutes, one ditto Webster's Unabridged Dictiona ry, one copy large sized Bible, a small copy of the Creed and Ankles of Faith of the Congregational Church, one copy of Pope's Essay on Man, and a sectional part of the map where the victim lived. Having placed a table In the middle of the room, and seated myself behind 1, In trumpet tones, called the vase. With that the young man and wo man with great alacrity, stepped up before me. Having sworn them on the dictionary to answer well and truly all the questions I was about to ask, I proceeded. I told the young mats that, being an entire stranger, I should have to ask him to give ball for the costs. Having heard this an frequently in court. I thought it Indispensable. He answered if I meant the fee for performing the ceremony, he would deposit It then and there. As I did not know exactly what I did mean, I magnanimously waived that portion of the ceremony. I then told him it would be necessary to give bail to keep the peace. This he said he was willing to do when he arrived at home, and I then waived that point also. Having established to my satisisztion that they wanted to stet married, and that they were old enough to enter into that blessed state, I proceeded to lie the knot. I asked him If be was willing to take that woman to he his wife. He said he was. I told him that I did not require haste in the an swer, that he might reflect a few minutes If he wish ed. I told him she looked like a fine girl, and IMO no doubt she was, but if the sequel proved that he had been taken in, I did nut want to be held re sponsible. I said he must love, honor and obey her as long as she lived. He most not be "snappy" around the house, nor spit tobacco Juice on the floor—all of which he pmmieed faithfully to heed.. "Now," said I, "Georginia," (her name was Georginia,)"you hear what Humphrey says. Do you accept the invitation to become hie wife; will you be lenient towards his faults, and cherish his virtues; will you never be guilty of throwing furniture at his head for slight offences, and will you get three meals a day without grumbling. Bhe said oho would. I asked them if they believed in the commandments, and they said they did. Having read the creed and the articles of faith, as aforesaid, I erelaimed, "Humphrey, take her, she le yours; I cannot with hold my consent. Georgbaia, when safe In the arms of your Humphrey, you can defv tile scoffs and jeers of the world." I then read a little from the the " Essay on Man," including that passage, " Man waste but little here below, but wants that little long." As a finale to the scene, I delivered the following exordium: "Go in peace, sin no more." The generous Humphrey haring placed a fifty cent check in my unwilling palm, I bade the happy pair a final adieu!—Xissouri Ripublican. THE DOOTOE in HIS PATIENT. Of all the professions, trades and occupations that eneagr the min& or men, that of a pllysieian is the most diversified_ In locating be has to find out the constitution of those be is called on to visit, for It in frequently the ease that emcees. may be owing more to a deep and thorough knowledge of the constitu tion of the patient than mere commonplace applica tion As an illustration of this, we will relate an anecdote of one or our physicians, who, " if he find 3 physic will not cure, tries other means as the case may require." Dr. D. had long been the attending physican of a lady past her teens, affected with certain disorders Incident to a want of occupation and care of a &ral ly. She sends for the doctor, In and out of BPISOLI, be rushes out in a 2 40 pace, and finds hi. patient physically perfectly well, but sad and lonely, and, of coarse, afflicted with tbn blues. Ail he can do is to administer a " tincture," with a few drops of pep permint, and the patient Is well for a day (Yu one occasion, a cold, blustering night, the doctor has just turned In, wrapped himself snugly in his blankets, with the hope of a quiet sleep, when a loud rap aroused him. " Who Is sick," inquired the doctor, murmuring. "Miss Sally Strickland, sir; she's most dead; ex pect she'll die before you get there." "I'll be along," Buys the doctor, and exclaiming to himself, " I'll try to cure her this time." The doctor plods along through mod and mire, cold and rein, studying his application. When he arrived at the dwelling of Miss Bally, be found her, as usual, In a rather depressed slate of mind. "Doctor," s he said, feebly, "I expect to die every moment. lam very low. Can you do anything for me !," The doctor lelt her pulse; nothing the matter, inertly wanted company. The doctor hecomes communle-atlve: " Miss Sally, I was having a terrible dream when your servant awoke me. " I dreamed I was dead," continued the doctor, "and descended Into the lower regions, where I met the • Old Scratch,' who invited me to view his do minions. The Inmates were engaged In different occntationa—lSOTC playing cards, others swindling their neighbors; and in tine all the pursuits they followed during life they continued there. When he got through be proclaimed to the four quarters of his dominions that all should go to bed, ' for,' said he, 'Sally Strickland will be here directly, and there'll be no sleep in bell for a month!" The doctor's speedy departure was Increased to flight by the sight of a broomstick flourishing active. ly in his rear, but the remedy was effectual L Mama Cuu.n on Finfate Fasutona.—Thlnk log of the great and blessed work done during these last four yearn by women In the Sanitary Commis pions, the hospitals, and In the school-houses for the emancipated, I seemed to see a bright light dawning on our future career. But the vision re ceded in the distance, when I looked from my win dow and saw a bevy of damsels sallleg by, with hen coops In their skirts, and upon their beads a rimless pan of straw with a feather in It—utterly usele•s for defense against wind or sun. To make this un becoming head-gear still more ungraceful, there de scends from It something called by the flowing name of waterfall, but which In fact looks more like a cabbage In a net, tricked out with beads and wam pum. If I had met them in Western forests, I should have take" them for oJibbeway squaws, hot their dress Wda ala mode Pdritienne. This tyranny of France Is, I suppose, one of the things that must be endured, because It cannot be helped, till our brains are better developed. In process of time, I trust the Empreas Eugenie will sleep with her Illus trious ancestors, and that no other fantastic queen of fashion will corns alter her, to lead the civilized world sueh a fool's dance. What a set of monkeys we are, in feathers and furbelows, dancing to the tune of that Imperial show-woman! HINDOO FAMATICEL-I have seen sores who have stood on one leg for years, while others engage the sympathy and extort the charity of many by holding one arm overhead until, in time, the flesh withers and the bones set in that nosition. A few I have met, who, clenching ono hand, have kept it closed until the nails have grown right through the palm to the other side; and it is well known that many have traveled the whole extent of land from the Himalaya to the Cape of Comorin, measuring their bodies as they went. Also, there is Chamb Poja, or hook worship, in which the devotee &Howel steel hook to be placed through the muscles of his back, and in this manner is suspended from a machine ILke a windmill, to one of the arms of which the victim LB attached. On their great feast days they can be iron thus, whirling round and round, and looking all the time as pleased as if they really enjoyed their ride. All this is done with a devotion worthy of a better arse.—Soldering in Sunshine and Storm. or As Yether Taylor was giving • temperance address In Rocky Hill meeting house, • certain drunkard was so much offended with his severe gut truthful remarks, that he rose up and began to bits the speaker. Instantly Father Taylor turned {he attention of the large audience to the insolent row• dy, and then forcibly said, as be pointed to his ele tim—" There's a red nose got into cold water:— don't you hear it his& r The otiose" disappeared amid the roar that followed. Won', Pass von arr Asont.—A Vagrant called at a house on Sunday and begged for a drink: of eider. The lady of the house refused to give him soy. Be reminded her of the otbquoted remark that " she might entertain an angel unawarea."•— ta " Yega she old, 43nutletr" aogela don't go about drink. g -WOLA. ~:~sicyyl3~~'~s+:li:jei'tNk~ VT JOll2l 0. SAXE. When desply lu love with Miss Emily Prycle, I vowed lithe maiden would only be mine I would always endeavor to please her,- Bbe blushed her consent, though the stuttering hum Bald never a word except, " Yntere an ass— An ase—an zusa-idnotts teaser !" But when we were married, I found t' my ruth The stammering lady bad spoken the truth; For often, in obvious dudgeon, She'd say —if I ventured to give her a Jog In way of reproof,—" You're a dog—dog—dog— A dog—ii dog-matic curmudgeon I" And once when I said, " We can hardly afford This extravagant style with our moderate hoard," And hinted we ought to be wiser,. She looked, I ensure you, exceedingly blue, And fretfully cried, " You're a Jew —Jew—Jew— A very ju-diclous adviser!" Again, when ft happened that, wishing to shirk Some rather unpleasant and arduous work, I begged her to go to a neighbor, She wanted to know why I rude such a fuss, And saucily said,—" You're a cus—cns—ens— Ton were always no-cas-tomP4 to labor l" Out of temp.'. at Lmt with the losnlent dome, And ce.ling the woman wee greatly to blame, To geoid me Instead of caressing,— I mimicked her speech--like churl as I am— And angrily said, "You're a dam—dam—dam-- A dam—age instead of a blessing !" pil;s4:l>tytio:4 es val 4611 INTERESTING FACTS AND REICINISCENCES 07 MRS SIMARD, DT MRS. SWISBUELM WILSIIINGTON, July 30th, 1865 The pall of silence which has fallen upon the grave of Mrs. Seward Is still more remarkable than the unobtrusive quiet of her life, and I trust it la not Idle curlo•ily which makes me more anxious to know her history than that of any woman whose name have ever heard. If I mistake not, her example Is one which the women of this country cannot afford to lose, and in hope It may induce some one who knew her to give tis some incidents In her honorable life, let me tell you the little, the very little, I know. When I went into Campbell Hospital, after the battle of Chancellorsville, I called on the public for fruit acids as an antidote to thirst and hospital gan grene. The heat contribution I received was tram Mrs. Frederick Seward. It was accompanied by a note, asking me to send Ito her when anything spe cial was wanted. Some one, that I supposed told me that this Mrs Frederick Seward was the wife of a nephew of the Secretary of State,who being a bachelor had this lady to preside over his home. She afterward called at my rooms, and I at Mr. Serv• ard's house, on hospital business, I supposing she was Mr. Seward'a nieee by marriage until the follow ing winter, when there was much trouble In the contraband camps. Among the teachers was a Qnak cress from Central New York, one of those women wbo left homes of wealth and refinement to live In camp, cabin. and barrack, to distribute clothing, hooka, encouragement and instruction amongst those scattered and bereaved people. We were one day in troubled council on one of the many wrongs which had stubbornly refused to be righted. It was hard to ask Secretary Stanton to give the time nec essary to understand the case, while his ante-room xas conetanUy thronged with persons waiting on Thiportant business. What to do was the question. Folding her hands In her tau and looking down thoughtfully, this lady soliloquised: "If Mrs. Sew ard was oily here." What Mrs. Seward ? Mrs. Secretary Seward! she answered abstracted ly, and kept on thinking. My exclamation of surprise aroused her, and her surprise at my ignoratce was eqnal to mine at her Information. A question as to the presentability of that lady, since such a person did actually exist, started her to talk as I had never before heard her. She described Mrs. Seward as one of the excellent of the earth. A woman of wonderful intellectual pow er and great breadth of attainment—the companion, confidant, counselor of her husband—one who read his written speeches before the printer saw them, and gave an opinion which he valued more than any other—one who read and digested long, tiresome documents and gave film the anbstance In a few mo ments' fireside chat, thus contributing largely to the fund of information which distinguished Mr. Seward. She was his "higher law" adviser, and whenever his policy fell below that standard he had differed with bar in opinion. She evgr regarded the right as the expedient ; or, in other words, aimed always to walk In the narrow path straight toward "the mark for the prize of the high calling which is In Christ Jesse our Lord." In dress and manner this friend described her as simple and unostentatious to singularity. A smart mechanic's wile would not hays exchanged ward robes with her, and milliners' apprentices looked at her in pitying wonder fur her lust opportunities. A few days after this conversation Mrs. Seward returned front Auburn, but her arrival was not pnb hely announced The contraband trouble was ex plained to her, and a short note of modest request from her to one in authority removed the difficulty before which we had been standing in dismay. Af ter that, when I heard people remark that the Sew ards gave no receptions, I have thought of a little teacher of contrabands, in the magnificent coetnme of mixed straw bonnet and brown ribbons, dark woolen dress and shawl, and heavy shoes having marks of "sacred soil," with n little traveling bask et on her arm, going to Mr. Seward's house In the gloaming weary, hungry, disheartened and foot sore, and finding a reception, a bath, a dinner, a bed, a breakfast, a long, comforting chat, a note to re move her overhanging mountain, and saw her light ened step as she returned to her duties rejoicing I never heard what kind of jewels her hostess wore at these receptions, but calculate they were not bought at Tiffany's. A woman in Mrs. Seward's position, who simply remained outside that gilded pagoda, society, in which Het Majesty, First Family with twenty-pound of-tobacco-worth of grandmother to stand upon— tier Royal Highness Official position, with a wire pulling husband to bear against—the Duchess of Shoddy, with apedestal of greenbacks for support— the Countess of Petroleum, with a sea of light to theme her diamond., and My Lady Bloomer, radi ant in health and independence—contended so fierce ly for the precedence, she would have been worthy of study as a natural curiosity; but to know that she lived oat of the world of fashion, and in the world of duty, from a high ideal of Christian obliga tion is to know that her example is one that the world cannot well afford to Isle. Mr. Seward's recovery from the double Injuries of accident and the assassin's knife, is a common won der; and Surgeon Barnes has mid that when be left Frederick Seward on the night of the assassination, he little thought to find him alive In the morning; that for weeks the quickening of hla pulse at aoy moment must have been fatal. What secured t bat perfect repose of body and mind necessary to the re covery of both! The report of her death says it was canned by Illness occasioned by the distress in• to which the family was plunged by the attempted amassination. In other words, the devoted wife and mother died that the husband and eon might live.— Those liven In which she had merged her individual being could only be reached through hers. The dag ger of the conspiracy made a passage for her spirit out of Its clay prisod as ermtually as if It had pann ed through her heart, and In doing so was turned aside from its purposed victim. Nothing in the his tory of remarkable women interests me so much as the little 1 know of this strong, heroic, unselfish, si lent wife and mother of men whose names are known over the civilised world.—fbr. qf the Pittsburg Cbm- YR. BZWIILD DIMINO mu ILIMESS AB DESCILIZED In ECEIE3 Mr George Vocke, the soldier whom the &Wiest Director detailed to attend Mr. Seward as nurse, alter the latter's accident by a fall, has favored us with interesting verbal information, in addition to the written communications formerly published by on concerning tho attempted assassination of Mr Beward. Ile speaks with the warmest enthusiasm of the sublimity of character which the, venerable statesman evinced during that terrible period, in which George Vocke spent many days and nights at his bedside. At the time Paine, alias Powell, burst Into the sick room, Mr. Seward was asleep. While the as sassin was Inflicting his mnrderens blows, he lost neither his !tenability nor his presence of mind. Af. ter his lacerated cheek had been sewed up. his tint Inquiry was about the rendition of his son Freder ick. He was informed that under the circumstanc es, he lints doing well, and sleeping. Not ouW two months later did the surgeon deem 11 advisable to take the rather to the bedside of his goo, who, In consequence of the terrible Injuries received, had PO long lingered on the brink of death. HO an how atter receiving his own wound Mr. Seward heard of the attack on the President, which hia sharp car gathered from the by-atanders, and of the President's death he was at once Informed on Saturday morn inA. As during theendastrophe,solmmedhitely there after Seward displayed the composure of the _phil osopher. When he leamed the death of the Presi dent, he remarked to the physicians around his bed. aide that be had warned the President and also had tOlfig*"lo4l*ONtia 02.00 per annum, in advance. NUMBER 34. dreamed that they would mall a wordy wounded man In his bed. On the morning of the iumassination he said to bin nufites, his senaations immediately after the as unit bad by no means been of an unpleasant nature. lie had experienced no extraordinary pains; but while the brood was gushing from his outcries he had supposed that his end wasnigh ; and thought at the same time what a pleasant thing it was to dis than, without a bit of pain?. Toward bin nurses said Girard all who came near him during his sickness, Mr Seward was uniformly friendly, even &Mx-Hon/toti never, when shake, did Ilia philcooptdcal anon desert him. Only when asleep be would at times, during the first two weeks after the attack, suddenly start up and beat around with his hands when dreams brought the assassin to his imaglnetlon, but in two or three minutes he was always quieted. During the first three weeks Mrs. Seward was constantly, day and night, at the bedside either of her husband or that of Frederick, and these emu , Lions have since hastened the death of a lady equal ly distinguished for the excellent qualities of bar head and heart. No less noble was the conduct of Mr Seward'', daughter, Miss Fanny. Indeed It is perhaps to her courage that her father and the na tion owe the salvation of blot lite. Like her moth er, Miss Fanny was an untiring attendant upon her suffering relatives. The greateist trouble to the physicians was flew• ard's mental activity, which did not abate, even dur ing his greatest physical weakness and severest pains. in order to prevent all excitement during this critical period, and on account of the shattered jaw bone, the physicians enjoined on him not to speak, bet It was difficult to get him to comply. It was not mere loquacity that rendered silence so irksome to the statesman, bat chiefly his patriotic anxiety about the republic. He desired to express bin mind about the condition of the eountry,_to rta fill Ms official duties as Secretary of State. The at tending physicians bad prohibited speaking even be fore the attempted assassination ; but to express his thoughts by writing was also Impracticable, as his right arm was broken. But as soon as the eatidl tion of the fractured bone would allow, the medical gentlemen had to bandage and fasten the upper third of the arm, (where the fractured existed,) so as to enable him N nee the lower part and band for writing lo thin manner he conversed with the President during the last days of that lamented functionary's life. The President would aft at his bedside and express himself' on the exciting ques tions of the day, when Seward would write his views ou a elate. In the Lame manner he conducted his interviews, before and after the assassination, with Mr. Hunter, the Assistant Secretary of State, and tuns actually conducted the affairs of the Depart mtnt of State—the papers dispatches, documents, etc., of which had to be minted to his bedside, even during the critical periods of lila Illness. It was this same patriotic restleasness and saki. ,y of fir. Seward which prevailed on the physicians to send for is skillful physician of New York , who arranged an artificial wire apparatus In his mouth, which enabled him to speak without risk, even be fore his law-bone was healed. The apparatus cana rd th- illustrious patriot at drat excruciating pain, and at one time became displaced, so that the - New York physician had to be telegraphed In order, to replace it- But all those great and little annom . cell did not for a moment disturb Seward's p sophic intellect nor slacken his patriotic activity. Few meek' history have evinced as much sublimity of character and strength of mind as William Henry Seward on his bed of sickness, surrounded by the :errors of assassination and ronsplracy. He main tained these qualities even when, alter his partial recovery, he received the additional blow of the In telligence of the death of hal faithful spou.se.-Ztaata Zeitung. Some persons eat themselves to death, Omen ars dieted to death. When a man Is Melt he is weak, and concludes that as when he was well be ate hear. illy and was strong If he now eats heartily ha will become strong again; well-meaning but ignorant friends are of the same opinion, and their solicit'. done to eat become one of the greatess annoyances of a sensitive invalid. Nature purposely takes away the appetite under such circumstances, and makes the very sight of food nauseating. A sick man is feeble; this feebleness extends to every muscle of the body, and the stomach being made up of a lim ber of muscles, has its share of debility. It requires several hours of labor for the stomach to " work up" an ordinary mad ; and to give it that amount of work to do when it Is already In an ambulated condition, I s like giving a man worn out by a hard day's work, a task which shall keep him laboring half the night. Mothers are often afraid that their daughters will hurt themselves by a little work, if they complain of not feeling very well; and yet If such daughters were to sit down to dinner and shovel In enough provender for an elephant or a plowman,, it would be considered a good omen and a harbinger of convalescence. A reverse proced are would restore multitudes of ailing persona to permanent good health ; namely, eat very little for a few days; eat nothing but coarse bread and ripe fruit, and work about the house hada/trim:Ay; or, what is better, exercise In the open air Or the great, er part or each day on horseback, In the garden, or walking throng the woodlands or over the h il le t for hours at a time. Objectless walks and lazy lo lling In carriages are very little better than nothing. The effect of Interested, absorbing exercise Is to work out of the system the diseased and surplus matter which poisons It; this relieves the stomach of the burdens Imposed upon It, and allows It time to train strength, so as more perfectly to convert the food eaten into well-made, pure, and life-giving blood. A weakly but faithful servant, In the effort to get through with a specified amount of work, may per form it all, but none of it is thoroughly done; where as, If a moderate task had been assigned, all of It would have been well done; so • weak stomach, in flitted by a poor appetite, may be able to convert a small amount of food into pure, invigorating blood.• bat If too much Is eaten, th e attempt to "get through it all" la made, blood Is manufactured. but It is an Imperfect blood, It is vitiated, and mixed with that already in the system, at every beat of the heart the whole mass is corrupted, and "I am ailing all over" is the expressive desciption. In another set of eases there Is a morbid appetite; the unhappy dyspeptic Is always hungry; and finding that be feels beat while eating, and for a brief epics afterwards, he is always eating and always dying. To hear him talk, you would imagine that he could not possibly live long, and yet he does live and grow old In his miseries. Such may reasonably expect a cure. la. By eating very moderately at three specified times each day, and not an atom at any other; then In less than a fortnight sometimes these distressings cravings will cease. Sri. Spend a large portion of daylight In agreeable out-door se tlvities.—Halls Juarnal of Health OYiso)/4)00:41:11111A.*: One of the Paris Journals relates an inebient which, If not true, deserves to be so; and, at any rate, reads more like a dramatic invention than the fact which It probably may be. It is odd that a Parisian gentleman—who may be called M. Zero, In the ab -epee of his real name—received one morning, a del icate, rose scented billet-dnux, Informing him that if his heart was tree, and ho had as much sentiment an wit, he should enter a earn ke which *dab° in waiting for him et nine the next morning, dose to his house. To the driver he must say 't Forttinen and thu reply, " Mystery" would assure bim that be ors right. It was concluded with the etbserwatied that if he did not keep his appointment, It I wr be because there existed a morn fortunate woz 'who had won his affection. " I shall envy her," the hit writer said, " but hate neither her nor Yon." epistle was signed " Gabrielle" M. Zero, who Is • marked man, read It and smiled—gentlemen usually smile when they have assurance of having made • conquest Ho finished his breakfast, and proceeded to the head of the police, with whom he had an in terview. Nine o'clock In the evening attired, and Si. Zero left his house as the clock stink. Near the door stood a handsome private carriage. The driver challenged him—"wh• goes there," "Fortune"— and the countenslgn—,' Mystery." "All right,"arut the word, and IL Zero entered the vehicle In which a veiled lady. eat. Ho desired Jehu to drive to the nearest " poste," or police station, and when he ar rived there the lady was banded out to a polite po liceman, who transferred her for the remainder of the night to the custody of the person who taut charge of female prisoners. She slept soundly, was liberated next morning because no one attended tO make any chime against her, and returned home in excellent spirits. There is • key to the enigma;— Madame Z e ro wall *Jealous wife, who Ingeniously had contrived a tittle plot to try her husband's fidelity. He recognized the Menlo= as hay iNg been writ ton by Or, and resolved to pay her off in het own role, had her taken up under special arrangement with his friend of the pollee office. for an attemt4 to Mi ll s his coulogal happiness, and thus Menet wife, and quietly avenged hinmalf at the Paw time. WIWI. John Monts wu a chonis toper. One day while returning bum the tavern, he found loco motion Impossible. and brought up La the COlller of a worm fence, where he remained standing. Es bad been there only a few minutes, when the cable• ter clime along. "Uncle John," said he, "where do you suppose you will go when you come to die V' goylf I can't go i n aletter than can now, I shan't anywhere," Uncle John. PraMe.—AaMPlvm* bats WO.. DIETING.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers