MEM H. H. FRAZIER, Piiblishsr, VOLUME 11. guointoo gittckq. • DB. A. D. TEWKSBURY. liprAvnia qua ow rap u Simeon In tba Called swag 1.1 el mi U. In m army. a haS Mall located at Auburn Centre. end tral attend profetelon. Auburn Centre on. June 11,120.-1 yr. _ Da. C. J. DRINKER, Ell1 - 81C11.11 &ND SURGEON, Montrose.Po. Office wit. Dr. Cone,over W. J. & 8. El Malford'ablate.llo , llcAvanue dma .8/Jaepti 11. Drtaker. Montour. &pr. ten. 180. DR E. L BLAICESIMR, oHYSICIaIII 111 D aIIEkIEON, ha located at Brooklyn, Su eptebanna clonety, Pa. WM attend promptly to all ealle lon ookl welch he ma 0, pbe tavOred. Wks At L. /I.l3alpwurs. PIYO.JOI7 Da E. L. GARDN.tR, PETSICIAS !LSD etraomort, Moattosa, Pl. Oct ono Webb% MM. 8031"dt at ficarlea Hotel. Ilattroaa.Joas 3..1865.41 GROVES & REYNOLDS, FtstIioNLIJALE TALELOEM. Shop ober etandleral tore. Peqie ATM*. IN °arm.. Jane U. 1843. Dn. CHARLES DECKER" petTstorew Anti) sunosialsr. hind , loaded hihiLor at gircteedlelte, auequettemla County. Pa., erlll &weed to all the pii..lte which he may be R gredvrth prnmptnea and attentlon. OZn at re-tdeace EMU neeen mac, Erth ierdvilla, Sex'. Co., Pe.., May 1866.—tf. JOHN BEAUMONT, looL. CARTtEII, Cloth Dresser and lalarnataclarer , al the old weed known tte Smith's Carding Madan*. Terms made town when the work la brought, Jftrup.)lant 9Q Ism. Dn. G. Z. DIMOOK, roms l icuN and SURGEON MONTROSB:,Pd. Delco on I go aneet. °Divide th e =m. Boards at lateL Moran., FOmary at/a 1863.-lyp C. m. CRANDALL, IitrANITFACTIIIIBB of Linotmrbeels, Wool•erbtobt, LU omit, Clock-rook, &C. Woodma_ dam to colt,, nod the 1,4,11,5: TO.Mthe Shop trod. IND netary Sante ruandry Booduot. op &atm licntrase. January 90th, 1 RM..4 R S. BENTLEY, JII, NOTARY PUBLIC, it.IONTROBE. DHSS Aelroowednoment Deedt .a lfortmck an., roe an y yma In the I:rdtod 'Staten. Pen n Von elners and Pay Cer ti,,, l ' A,nwledred bane Win do not require the cortldade of the C•et attic COWL Idcadrose, Jan. 0, 1843.—nt. Da R L. RANDRICR, PTSICRAN ana SDROMo7l,_rertocfrAny teadtro blo prate, rnetarrilleand Hdnlry . Of. Mto ter oftco of Dr. Leet. Bouts at J. Eiosibrera. ;oily 27, 154.-t( earrH, A L1 0ti L00 0,,,, .. AT LAW cad Llceased Clain Lea: So.:me:As. Del,ol. Jllnlll4-s6:llr. Buiturr, n ILLEB m Stign z trant7 Dry Good; Oroelnery,Hardln" hon. staven Oda and Pain E ant NA A 11./. anti - Shoe; Hale Frs, nnioCimos 11. Ml rles, s, " Gen ilfo u rd, II- pril S. H. BROTHERS, it altar PACTITBBEB of Mal of all bald a mom. Tin and abeet hoe WCerelM,Fle Impletooeti wC &W. , Dry Itoode,Oroeteziee, , dec. lientiose„ Ps-, retruary x. 1854. BILLINGS STROVD, rina AND LII 1.13178.1130 E AGENT. OMn 1n Lath r rcniv buildlnt , at end of Thick Block. In Ms absenza, bzud eel it the oftce will be truant:led by O. L. Brown. tontrase, February L J. D. VAIL, M. D., 'Erma - col -2 m PIITSICLUi, has pumanently located Wm,' in Montrose, Pa., ohms he will promptly attend to Olt profoolon 'rah erblch be may he favored. Off 17.4 fte.mdroto Weet of tae Conn House, nem Beativr7 &filch's. untro, Febrary 1. Leal.-Oot. it , 1851. A. 0. WARREN, MENET AT LAW. 130171TTir. BACK PAT Led PEN SION CLAIM AGENT. All Pearl= Chime carefully pre , ret, 05cto room formerly accepted by Dr. Veil. to W. Sri". tot tiding. below Searles Hots:. Morewre. Yn.. Feb. 1. leet—rebl7yl LEWIS KIRBY 44 E. BACON, IT cET :otctsnily ma head a faL ittlpay of Arc, variety ol ft 0110 c Intl SS and CONTECTIOITERIPS. By arid ntten • public In diml, _they bum to me , ft uvon , ..r of the fairn an OYSTES Ind EARTNO SALO the O ib N It ' the grocery, where bivalves, ha season, me eland Sa ev. rr stake toss the [totes of the public. demand. Remembrr tte nin L on Grocery enamel, an Mein Street, below the PmoMee, entr,ee. Nov. 17, ISSS.—roebll,63.-tf ins. CALVIN 0. HALSEY, PE/SICILY AND AMA ON A.NI) EXAMINING SUB OWN to YENS/ONNES. Mot over Maestro of J.lyao Sot. Ntllc Avet. Bowls at Mr. Etlataidgez. ontrou. Oc.ober. ISSIL-tf D. A. BALDWIN; - A TTOELHEY AT LAW ouittranalim "BOUmM and Dart. Ple Azent, Grew.lleog Bmitchanns County. Pi. Great Bend. A Ws/ 10. IP6B-4, BOYD & WEBSTER, D U-LE / 13 'n B,o ve V,1=. 11 715. ?It. Car, and Elhee, L Ware; also. gash. Panel ooze, Window E:mds Lam, Plus sou Lumber, cad all Sunda of Buildlue Mrsteriala nx moo tb of Searle's Hate], and Cammter CdSoMst Chumis. %samosa, Pa.. lautary 1,186 L-if DA. WILLIAM W. '.- ' SMITH, 2 ': • SURGEON DlNTher. Mine over the Banking iilira:-..pCV:m omoo of a co. M/ Df-111.11 Operation, ••• erlll be ed ln his al good style and ...net,. Remember, cd!Bee formerly of H usu . Stulth ar, Bon. 000trose. January 1, 1601.—t! E. J. ROGERS lIILINUFACTUSIIII or aL deaelptions ofiN&G. 11 ova, u&SHIAGES. SLEIGHS, frto theONE ertstrie of iir , rkmanship and of the best materfata. ~te well known rang of E. H. 11.001:11.8, a few rods out s ftrle'e Hotel in Montrose, where ha .111 be happy to ria v, the rr4b of an who wont anything In tam Hos. Yestrone, one 1,1883.—tf D11..101111 W. COBB,' DRISICIaIe and SURGEON, renetetfullY tenders LN 0,710. tee eithene of gullet:tett.= Canty. 43.1, alll gloreepecia I t'm to [be eursicul and medittal treatment of dLroses of the tur. =d qur be eausuited relative to sursiopl operatic.= =ere , olice. aver W J. kS. 11. llulforofeStors. deuce o Maple alTet. Cite Of J. S. Tartelre Hotel 3i,ttrose. Sue. tiouaty. Pa., June M.1863.-tf BALDWIIi & Ati RN, TJthLERS In FLOUR, Salt, Pork, Fish, L.ard. °rale, Feed , Jendlee Clover and Timothy Seed. Alm OROO=IES etetue.Me, one do dolisesee. below J. Etheridge. Eimpe..Tea aod Ceder.. West tide et A Veror Mertrore, J.unry I, 1861.-11. 2'. 13. WEEKS, DHAOTICIAL BOOT AND BROS YEASIMI; also Dealer b Boots. Shoot. Loathe/Jim] Bhoo Rol: WADI done Iht a...toner:ad Mt:patch. Two dooriaboveliehrlea Botcl. I, wcrow.Janosty 1, 18124.-11 WM. &- WIL H. TESSITP, ITORNICIS LT LAW, Wedmore. Pa. Practice fa Basque a banns. Bradford, Wayne, Wyoming mad Lmeme Cotmtica Boatmen, P. JararneyleL. 1861. ALBERT CHAILTIERLEN, rosmlcT ATTORNEY' AND ATTORNEY AT LAW.— Omm over the Stan formerly oceoplMl try Post Brothers. Emtrose. Pa. Juatury 1. 18G0. J. LYONS & SON, DILLLERS IN DRY GOODIS. Groondes.toehrey.listemath al noloom Books. Muodaona, Pl.oo, and all kifult of Hod. lehmmentet Sheet UM*. to. law carry co. the Book Blatt kr, 013.111.35 In all Its broaches. J. =mu. hioatrofe. Jr 1. 1854. T. L. LTOXII. I=2ll ABEL TIJBBELL. II E &MR IN DRUGS. ViIDICINES. LS Paints, OHL Dyentuflk Varnisher, Wender., Loom, Groceries, Crockery, Gisarkure. Mall-Payer, Jes. el. Palmy Goods. Perfumery, Surgical Instrummats, Trus t. qiorka. Brushes; ae.,—and Agent for all of the mart Yabtt . M 092191.. January I. Inf. Q. 0. FORM:U.N. lif ANDTACTURSIL of BOOTS & ISHOEs, M r at Shop over DeWitt's Store. All Mods sr =e . 2 rltr, and repairing do= meetly. Work doze &ken prom. sod. Iforomme. Azokl ^ 18G1.-tr CHARLES N. STODDARD, - , fIEtLLEEL In BOOTS dg SHOES, Leather and risd koes. on Unto et. third door bolo. Searlea HOW. 1111 1 11‘ *. B. Work tondo to Order. and malting done neatly. Sontroee. Ya.. Bectunten• 11. 113IC L EL BURNS, TrOKNET AT LAW. (Weenrltti WHILa 3. Ttnntll.7.4p. n,pwitt &Arles Hotel. • Penotou and Bounty Minn careful 1r .n . r.ared Ootlections prompoly mane. Le:arose, 1C0v.11.1664.- tf. R. R. LYONS & CO __LLZBS SeDSTGOnDl4ol7.9o%faleff. Boors,stioas. "'".. o4l ens. Cann% 111 1 1:1101nn. Wall and Window Yo• ro. Neu, 011 e, ac. eltare Ca the eget edit of Paella Ameeue. I. LUIS!, • " • s. D.lffnia liontron..Tannary 1,111611.4 f READ, WATROUB & FOSTER, 6aLer.B IN Ma Drtup4Btedldnes. Paints. 0110 ilardwan. Jrocknri. km. Clocks. Wattles. Jew. sdr. spoons, Pertomery. /kn. Brick Mott; Mcortrose. AZAD A. ' , Anton .8.0.2V0YE1 ...trona. January 1, MIL • WILLIAM W. eDdITs; . *ARUM MID OHMS ILIUM faccarer. Sets* constant!? cm hand all - kinds of Oakum Ihnurtnllll,...tat_ jttr - Cthxd at short notice. Bhoptrod W IWO foot Maoism.. Pa, Mara /s "" t are " ac PHILANDER LINES, Fastnuatus Temos.ria4steer . MENNE - Sr ..• 71 ~,, _ -.!•; - " - -.,' 7 ,- '..4..- - C.S:i• r 'l 4 " '41 . .. r•- •:4',.. • • . r..,(1,•,!'•rf, i ,'....• 14'4' - iii '"', , —, , r,' 4. -.• 4.-^, i.' - ').( 7 .f,'' • - _ 0;:i' • .• :.• -:,'-` ir r'; • • ... „,.!, r.; ;;.,,,, 4,, , 12 4 , '. 1-4-4 -••-o Si; 4., z; ~. ri . , •-- . r : I. o - . ~ , ~,, _ ,:i.L. ', , ,, , :•' . ',... 4 ',' !..•'.! ....1, :,- !... r'r ' t .._ ,': - ,• 4 • ‘. 0,f; '... ;: . , ' , ' . . --''....-'..; ---: k . ' ...4i r l ''' '•, 4 . r , ''' - ' ' :, , I , ~ .' • ,"'''. ; ! .‘• ' ~---tN:-:, - ; . . , ........ ..,,, --, • 1141 ±- ' 6l/: - ' s '''... . 7. : r • . ; . . : , - 41 .? '''.. • • - . „ ... . , . 1 ,, ~.: ••••,- . , 4 ,1 ; 44. - 4, , / .•;?«...- 14 --:e 4 , „ -•• • ry4.l ... .ro ~ .... _ .. , f t ••••'• . •••': :"..S';', ;1,1. a '';:- 1.4 : 1 . 4 `1• 4 4 7 4' 4 , `••• •' ' . -- 1!/) ' ' ' ' '"' •- •" - ; 7 •4' - rf,• - -•%;;4 ? ".... -; . ~ TO-DAY AND TOMORROW. High hopes, that barn like stars sublime, Go down the skies of Freedom; And true Hearts perish in the time We bitter/lest need 'ear Bat never sit we dowh and say, - " There's nothing left but sorrow," We walk the Wildetnese to-day— The Promised land tomorrow. Our birde of song are silent now; There aro no, flowerm blooming: But life bums In the frosen bough, And Freedom's Spring is coming! And Freedom's tide comes up al way, And though we strand in sorrow, And our good bark-:-aground to-du— et:all float again to-morrow! Through all the long, drear night of yearn The people's my ascended, And earth ls wet with blood and tears Ere nue meek suKering ended The few shall not fotever sway, :The loan toll in Sorrow: The bars of Hell aretetrong to-day, Bat Christ shall iise to-morrow. Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes With smiling futures glisten: Led now the day burets up the skies— Lean out our souls and listen ! The world rolls Freedom's radiant way, And ripens with one sorrow, Keep heart who bears the moss to-day Shall wear the crown to-morrow! 06, Youth, flame earnest, still aspire . With enemies Immortal; To many a heaven of desire Our yearning °poi a portal : And though age wearies by the way, And hearts break In the furrow, Well sow the golden grain to-day— The harvest comes to morrow ! Build up heroic IlveS, and ail Be like the sheathed Sabre, Beady to flash out at God's command— Oh! Chivalry of Labor! , Triumph and toil are twins — a nd aye Joy emus the elonds of sorrows; And 'tin the martyrdom to-day Brings victory to-Morrow ! THE BABY SOLDIER. Another little private Mustered The army oftemptation And of Kim Another soldier arming For the strife, To fight the ,tollsome battles 01 a life, Another little sentry, • Who will gland On guard, while este prowl On every band, Lord our lltMe darling Guide and'eave, 'Mid the perils of the march To the grave! ttiE LIIItP or at,a lily husband was a sculptor. He was by birth an Italian; but we lived during our marred life in the city of New Orleans. He was not a poor artist; on the contrary' he was wealthy, and spent his money lavishly} as men of genius often do. The daintest *lands; the rarest wines, were alwajs upon -per table; and be would have dressed me like a queeir had not my Puritan tastes interposed and sobered down the gorgeous robes he would have hiti me ts-ear while on. house' was crowded with costly trif les, and our .plate the finest in the citir. Often and often friends have Spoken to us, half in jest and half in earnest, of the tempting bait our dwelling offered, to burglars or dishon est servants; but Ludivicio laughed at their warn ingi‘ and I never knew fear when he was by. SO we had lived for five years, less careful by far of bolts and bars than many who had little sate their four walls to protect, and never suf fering save from some :riettY pftfet; uteri the autumn of 18— came. We had just returned from our summer trip inland, and - jmdivico was busy with preparations for new work; fresh clay had been carried to his studio, models engaged, and every thing prepared for a busy winter. I had my new duties and Wel alto, for a little infant not three months old lay upon my breast. And we were very proud and happy in our new treasure; never in our lives had we talked so much of the future. Every hour of that coming winter was portioned oft I remember the fact now with a sort of horror, and an indescribable appreciation of the darkness which veils the fu ture from our eyes which I never felt before. Yet why should we lia've feared to hope? We were young; we were healthy; we had enough and to spare of this world's goods; and we adored each other. The; thought that all this might not last never entered my mind, nor, I believe, my . husband's. On the night I had put my babe to sleep and went out into the kitchen to see the cook, to whom I had certain orders, to give concerning breakfast, and could not fted her. Oar servants were forbidden to remain out later than nine, and it wits nearly eleven. I felt angry with the girl, the more so that she had left an outer door swinging and flapping hi the wind; and with an exclamation of impatience cent to close it. As I stood for a moment on the threshold I could see thegarden still full ofteautiful flowers. awl at its foot, leaning over the tow fence, stood the girl, Jane, talking to a Map. The moon shown fall Upon them, and I saw the features of both plainly. Sane was a light mulatto, and it was impossible to tell whether the man was of her own color ore very swarthy whits person. But, white or black, the expres sion of the face was "'Menus, malevolent, brutal, full of cunning; a face to be seen among Mons' faces- such a lace as Hogarth has drawn, and no man besides who ever handled brush. I gazed one moment; then called out, sharply and quickly, "Jane, collie in; it is too late to stay out," and retreated. In a moment Jane waS with mc, apologizing in her own servile way, and taking my rebuke very quietly. I gave her my orders and sent her to bed, and then went np stair and forgot all about the mat ter, though It was in my mind to speak about it when I watt at the door. For once in the room I 'found that my hus band had brmight In upoh a board a Oleos of wet clay and set it at theloot of the bed, and my &Rewords were: "Are yon going to work tomight,, Ludivico ?" "No," said he, "the Cloy is too wet; but to morrow the first thing lam going to begin—can you guess what?" No," said L" ' • 6 • "Our baby," said my busband; "we will make a sleeping cupid ofhim. It shall be my that work this winter." I laughed with glee. . "I shall prize itso," I said. "He is lovely, is he not?" and I kissed the child softly as he slept. An hour after. I. was sleeping also, tranquilly, dreamlessly. The lamps were out, all was darkness and peace. How long it lasted I do not know. I awoke with a start. I suppose some slight noise aroused me, for after laying awake for a moment,; I became conscious that some one was snoring stealthily about the room—some one with bare feet. _•, - I called out, " Ludiviockla that you 2' and then with terror heard •tda sleeping breath at my ear, and knew some stranger was In the room. Soon I heard a stumble and ari oath, suppressed, but plain; and then the toard,on which the clay rested seemed to be pushed across the flour. My heart throbbed fearfully; I kitow now that burglars were in the house, and thought only of our personal safety. They might take all, if they did not harm • ray husband and my child. I watehekand listened, holding my breath, until a ray of light shone In the room, and I knew the thief bad lighted a dark lantern. 1 heard the timid, of the different articles he slipped into a bag. 1 Iteard drawers Bad wardrobes stealthily opened, and I prayed that his cupidity' might be satistled c and that be might - go leaving us un- Al valuta ! Some Jae louder *writ aw4xa my hostand. .t.atiari. in . lain *Wahl Out Wm. *wag axlip MEE MONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1865. BY GERALD ILLBSBY.L' " Freedom and Right again Slavery and Wrong." the bed, shouted " Who is there?" and made for the dark spot just visible. In an instant the lantern was darkened, and a struggle in the dark commenced. I shriekq frantically. Steps and lights approached. A pistol was fired, a heavy fall followed. I heard the robber dash from the room and down the stairs, and the next moment the room was full of trembling ser vants, and I saw, by the lights they carried, Ludivico lying upon the floor weltering in his* blood. 1 called his name. He made no answer. lifted up his face. Alasl the truth was written there—the bullet had entered his heart. He was dead What need to dwell. on that sad time. Friends flocked to my aid, but I cared for nothing now that he was dead. The house had been stripped of ennobles and money. It was the boldest robbery accomplish ed for years—said the police. But despite all efforts—all offered rewards, the culprit was not to be found. He had escaped as completely as though he had vanished from the earth. When I had buried my darling In the strange city of sepulchre*, where the dead of New Or leant repose, and waited many weeks in hopes that his murderer might be found, I took my child and went home to my kindred in old Con necticut. I was wealthy, and in no fear of want during My life. But the only possession I now valued was my clild, the boy who might some day wear his father mein, and speak to me in his father's voice. I had dismissed Jane. She had been tinder suspicion, and examined carefully, but she up peared innocent Of all the servants I kept hot one •to asolat me in packing and travel North with me. While the packing was going on she came to me and said: " There is a queer bit of clay on a board un der your bed, ma am. Shall I throw it away?" I burst into tears. " The last thing his hand ever touched !" I cried. Oh, no. I will take it with me." So the dry lump made a part of my luggage, that and the dainty box-wood tools be laid out to work with: I found dear ones to grieve with me and nurse me at home, but my heart was broken. The only one object I had in life was to bring Ludivico's murderer to justice. But how, when experienced detectives had failed on the spot, was I, en inexperienced woman, so many miles away, to succeed? They treated the idea with indulgent pity, but I telt sure God would help me. ' The lace at the garden gate was stamped upon my memory. It was the only clew I had, but it was something. Boon I had another. One day 1 began to unpack my effects, and arrange them in my present home. Almost at the last of the work I came to that which was to have been our .leeping cherub, but which was now, like the hand which thought to mould it, a there cold lump of clay. I laid it on the table and looked at it. I thought to weep, but amazement checked the team There, in the midst of the dry mould, was the impress of a foot—the lower part of a coarse, large, maimed man's foot. The truth burst upon me at once. The rob ber had trodden in the clay. I remembered that Tna stairs and fhmr op , tad Ws la I membered his ejaculation and the thud of the clay acainst the bedstead. It was all plain. I locked the door, and sat down with both hands to my head. A flercejoy possessed me. I knew what to do. My bands bad dabbled in cast matting often enough. I found some plaster of Paris, end soon the foot up to the instep stood before me-+a roam, large foot, as I have said before, with two toes gone—the great toe and the one next it—and an incision in the side, as though a piece had been cut away. When I had done this, and, though it was a df Borne time, 1 said no word to any one, I broke down, and lay ill II !dug while. The t.x• citement had been very great, and brought on a brain fever, from which I nearly died. Yet, despite all this, nothing came of my dis cover. 1 waited and hoped in vain. A year passed—five—the sixth began and crept on until the winter, and yet, though I bad written to in fluential blends in New Orleans, nothing was made by my discovery. At last I said: The secret is veiled from human eyes foreVer. I must give up hope. And I w,is calmer after that. My boy was now a comfort to me, and I bad gone to housekeeping with a young sister for my companion. She was a beautiful creature, and very much admired. My house grew gay, for I could not doom her to dullness, and young voices and laughter and music filled the parlors almost nightly. Sometimes, however, I wita alone there, while she was away amidst gay scenes awl merry friends, and then I thought until thinking was a pain and the hours seemed years. One cold winter night I had been thus alone when my sister Grace came home. She was in a merry mood, and cast her fur wrappings from hergleefully as she sat down by the fire. " I've made a conquest, my dear." she said. Is that anything new ?" asked L He Is. What do you say to a millionaire?" I should ask, what is he besides a million , "Oh! a Cuban, forty odd, I suppose, and not a bit handsome; but he adores me already. It no joke, Ella; and I always said I would marry a rich man." "Not without loving him ?" "Bah 1 It's enough that he loves me. How do love-matches end? Either one dies and the other is wretched, or they quarrel and are divorced in a year or two. Better not love, say L" I sighed. She was half right after all. " He's a mystery, too," said Grace. "No one knows any thing about him, except that enormonsly rich. Ho has bought the Elms—the finest place here, you know—and they are mak ing a great pet of him—all for his money. He saw me home—to the envy of every girl In the room, and he'll probably call to-morrow to ask how I am. Will you shut me in my room and send him away, cruel sister ?" I tried to smile, and the thought came upon me that it might be better never to know the Night of happiness if one must be plunged from IL into the depth's of misery. "I shall not turn the Cuban away if he is good man and my sister likes him," I said; and Gra , te laughed and went to bed. The Cuban did call next day, but I was not and did nut see him. The neighbors spoke well of him, however; and ho had bought the great place called "the Elms," and Intended to be a resident of the town. In a worldly point of view it seemed a good match for any girl, and I waited anxiously to see the man himself Three days after I had the opportunity. Grace had been to church in the evening; my boy was ill, and I had staid away. When It was time for servicesdo be over I eat by the window watching for her. The bedrOom was dark, and the moon outside very bright ; consequently I could see the garden plainly. Soon Grace came up the path on a man's nrm. At the gate she bade him good-by, and stopped to say a few words. She stoodinside, swinging the gate In der, hand. He leaned with both arms folded on the outside. I had seen the,picturo before. Where? With a leap my mind went back to the night before my husband's murder. I saw Jane, the mulatto cook, and her companion; and, oh, merciful ?leavens the man's face was the same. This woe shaded by a fashionable hat—a fashionable collar and cravat, and an elegant over-coat finish edthe costume, while the first face was set off hysagged and ruffianly garments, but the per sons were the same. I could have laid my hand oft-the Bible and sworn to that face on the spot. M I grew positive of this my senses departed, anal my sister when she entered, found me in a. swoon upon the floor. When I recovered I doubted my own sanity. riald wheal had seen to the illusion of moon- light and distance. I argued with myself tbat Until i had again seen this Cuban I must regard the whole matter us a delusion. I waited, not natiently_but silently . Soon I met him face to face in my'own parlor. Tho moment was a terrible one. I knew now I had made no mis take., T4gis_ had never' been the Mutest dopbt ra9 to3ad.Ao Als, - 0.001404 _otAav% had been at the bottom or the dark deed of that horrible night. There ism no doubt now that this was the man; yet pny own common. sense told me that to accuse a wealthy gentle. man on such slight grounds Is the memory of a face seen once by moonlight:would be absurd. I should-be called insane. lint, if I were, this was a bold, bad man, and Grnce should have no more to do with him. I told her so that night, and she turned on me angri:y. "You should have sooken;snoner," she said. "It has gone too far. lam half engaged to him. It is a splendid match for a :poor girl, and I'll marry him." "Do you love him?" said I. She laughed. "No; but. IA I said once before, he loves use. That's enough. I shall get used to his ways and looks, no doubt; and I shall be mistress of a splendid house, carnage, horses, etc., and shall enjoy myself. It is only for his ugly face you hate my Cuban ? Don't you remember Shakespeare: '3lislike me not for my complex ion,' etc. To be sure he is suspiciously dark; bnt it ie Cuban—nothing else." Arid changing at once from angry to gay she kissed me. "He has a horrible face' I said; "hut that is not all. Grace, this meal not go on. I will tell you a secret. The lace. I saw over the gar den gate on that awful right talking to Jane ; the face of one connected, 1 nm sure, with this murder was this man's fate; and he, Grace, is the man himself" Grace auswered with a laugh. " You are wild," she sail "That, you have always said, was a ragged. wretched fellow." " Yes; hut still the man In other clothes—" "A millionaire has no n••ed to turn burglar " 4. How did this man make his money—can you answer?" "Nonsense—of course net. Cotton or sugar I suppose. I hope you art not going to have another brain- fever, my (intr." - "My brain is steady, Grace. Heed me." "That I can't; you will see your folly Bonn. The idea! Because the poor man is ugly. I'll make him tell how he came by his fortune Sleep on it, and you'll see your insanity." Site danced away, and I crept to bed with a heavy heart. - The next day she came to me eieefnliy. "My Caliban made Ins fortune in trade," she said; "took his father's busine.s, and gave it up when his million was made. He showed me papers and letters and things that I didn't understand, though I pretended to. He didn't find his mil lion in people's cupboards. And ho has popped the question, and I have accepted—so there's an end. Come, I Snow you've had too much trouble; but don't brood over it and go out of your head." She tried to kiss me, but I held her off. "Listen, Grace," I said. "If you marry this man and I discover afterwards that he - lruows any thing of that awful night I shall still de nounce him." "And welcome," she said, And then With a sudden childish burst of tears she clasped me and cried: "Oh, Ella, don't go crazy--don't go crazy! Try to take comfort; try to be yourelt 1" It was useless to argue further, and I left her So, being betrothed to Grace, the Cuban, Mr. Zenzee was his name, brought his hideous face to DIV &m um smarm I loathed it, but I had determined to watch him. With this end I endured the sight and heard him talk. At last I made him contradict himself as to the places where he spent certain years. I confused him by blunt inquiries con cering Cuba. I became convinced that he was no more of a Cuban than myself. Then watch .tase /AM Mill dower I ono, •orror tin witty in his eve. I knew the man feared some. thing. Closer and closer my fancied proofs were gathering about him, until I began to see in him the actual murderer. The man who had stolen barefooted about our room, and the clay impress of whose mutilated font I had locked in a closet in my room. Could I see his foot I could be sure—not else. And that had now become the object of my life; and, all this while, despite all my prayers and protestations, the preparations for my sister's marriage with Zenzee were going forward. The day was set. The time narrowed_ Before that wedding day I had sworn to make my di+. covery. I worked now with two ends. My old one, and that of.aaving Grace from becoming the wife of a monster. I watched the foot as a cat watches a mouse, but discovered nothing. My agony grew greater and greater. Time moved too fast for me; I could have prayed for days and hours to lengthen those months out. At last there was but one day between the present in which I lived and that in which my sister would become Mrs 7,enzee. On that morning I awoke with my plan fully matured I said to Grace at brealdhst: "Noce the wedding is so near invite Mr. Zenzeo to pass the evening with us." She looked up with a smile. " Yon are cominng to your senses," she said. I made no answer. After a while I asked again, "Do you love him, Grace?" and she an swered: "I told you once why I accepted him. That is my reason still. After all, what is love worth?" but she sighed. My heart had been at case on that score be fore. It was even lighter now. Bdt how it throbbed with anxiety The day wore on tedi ously; and evening came with a murky rain; but with it came Mr. Zenzee. He took tea with us, and did his best to be agreeable; but somehow, in spite of the handsome dress he wore, he look ed more the ruffian than ever. Atter tea we had out the card-table, and he showed us some strange tricks at cards, and played against us, and chested us both for fun, and laughed at Grace's wonder. Then Grace sang a while; and then, the clock striking ten, my time had come. "It is a egid night," said L "Bitter," said he, shuddering. "But then I come (Alm a warm climate." "Something warm to drink would be a com fort," said I. He brightened up. "It would snit me," he said. " A. bowl of punch now ?' said L Grace started. "Punch ! I thought you—" I stoped her. "This is a special occasion," said I; tell the truth. I have some prepared." "Fond of a drop yourself of a cold night, and none the worse for -it, ma'am," said he, with laugh. 1 laughed too as I left the room. In the kitchen I found my punch-bowl full. "Is it hot," said I. "Boiling," said the chi ;.and I seized It on its tray with the ladle. Then I called John, our coachman, a burly fellow, over six feet in Night. John," said I, "stay near the door. If I call you, come and do what I tell you." The man started but obeyod. I waited until I heard him plant himself upon the sill of the door, and then entered the parlor. "Taste it, Mr. Zenzee, is it not tine?" I said, and then as I stood near him, the bowl dropped from my hands, and the'contents poured over the floor and the Cuban's knees. I screamed. lie bowled, for the boiling fluid bad filled the loose shoes he wore; and down I went on my knees before the spot to which he had sprung. "Oh, what an unlucky thing! Are you scald ed? Let me see?" And as he sat writhing in pain on the sofa I tore off shoes and stockings with great pretense of compassion and grief. The feet. lay bare upon a cushion. The right perfect. The left—that maimed foot which had made its Impress in the clay on the night of my husband's husband's murder. I gave a yell of almost insane triumph, and cried aloud for John. • . " Sold him," I said. Do pot let him go. Ea is a murderer." I forget the other details of that night, or re li - member them only in a sort of dream. I know emissaries of the law soon tilled:my house. I I know my wild statement slowly gained cre dence. I had my proofs in the clay and plaster in my room above. At 'last, in the 'reeogdition of the man as a desperado of the Mississippi, and finally In his own confession. His end was the one he merited, ..nd my work was done ; Leng since Grace married.thennin Abn loved Mditar.arlinle ,nivalv and CheY oro U I—aa Fatal and roads abide ma' u l WORE THE BLUR' The following fragment describes only, one of many martyrs abused to death by the rebellions south,and whose blood appeals to the vengeance of God. The hero whose death is recorded , watt a Union Captain, captured at the battle of Fair Oaks, and starved at Belle Isle prison, and his widow tells the story of his return: Last October they brought my husband home. 0, what a pitiful semblance of the man who waved his gilded cap to me from the roadies I stood In the porch that September morning so long ago ! They left him alone in the parlor to wait for me, for I fainted at sight of him from the window—my darling Frank—this skeleton with sunken limbs and ghastly fallen cheeks and dull eyes ! Could it be he ! Only when entered the parlor where he sat, and beheld the clustering black hair that shaded his white fore- head, could I see ought of the man I had mar ried in that May night when the odor of the ap ple blossoms was in the air. He looked on me so pitifully, and raised hi. , wan hands as if to embrace me. I flew to his breast, and kissed his white cheek and colorless lips with despair in my heart, for I knew he had "come home to die." "Is this my husband ?" I murmured In a tone of awe, as I looked upon the strange, strange face. "This is what they have left of Min t " said he, smiling faintly; and I hid my face in his bo som. "Where is my boy?' smoothing my hair with his bony hand. I went for Frank, and held him np while his father embraced him in his arms. The little fellow looked into his white and bearded face with a straight, earnest gaze, and then his eyes filled with tears, and his lips began to quiver; but it wad with pity, not with childish fear, for he put up his little hand to his father's mouth caressingly, and said, "Papa sick !" The winter rolled by slowly, and he did not die. Sometimes I would feel a wild hope that he might reeover, and he, seeing it shine in my eyes, would smile and shake his head at the un sp.ken thought "In the spring," he said very often, "in the spring I shall die." "What do ,yon see out there, Captain Frank ?" asked Dr. Thomas one day, as he entered the room "I am looking southward," whispered Frank. "There will be good news from the front very soon. That Is what lam waiting for." Presently Philip came in sight around the bend in the road. lie was waving the newspa per in the air ; and shouting something, but we could not here. The orchard abut him from view a moment after, and I ran to meet him and get the Repubtitan. "Hooray P' said Philip; "Victory I" I devoured the news with quick eyes, and then ran up stairs to Frank and knelt by his chair. "Dear husband," said I, "the news is grand.— Do you think you can bear to hear it?" "Mary," said he, "I shall never be stronger than I am this hour. It is my last. Tell me the good news. I have waited long for it." Amidst myeara evacuated,ona and our troops occupied Jeff. Davis was flying for his lite, and Lee's whole army had surrendered to Grant. An or• der had been issued to stop recruiting and draft ins., Peace bad already dawned. Ile listened with close ears, an expression of unutterable happiness on his white face. "Glory I" he murmured, when I had done.— aTtm mins re ptimeri. - year wire, - ram - nappy now. I knew I should live to see the dawn.' An hour later he passed away. I eat at his side, clasping his hand in mine. "Mary," he whispered, "you know the legacy I leave my boy. He is too young to undeptand now, but but as he grows up, teach bins its priceless val ue. The day will come when he will be proud er to know that his father died one of the mar tyrs in freedom's cause than he would be if he had made him heir to millions. I was a soldier, too! I wore the army blue!" , Ills breath became fainter. His hand grew lifeless in my clasp. Then he rose up In his chair, gazed with brilliant eyes out at the win dow toward the south, waved his bony hand in the air, and fell back upon the cushions. I touched his cold forehead with my trembling lips, and heard his last faint whisper: "Mary, don't forget ! I wore the blue l" PW,M V IIMM!'M ' IrM DV REV. JOHN TODD, D. D. Do animals reason ? I have no doubt that they au. They have memory certainly. They can he instructed np to a certain point. What is called the "cunning of the fox," is nothing but his quick sagacity. A multitude of stories, even enough to make quite a volume, could be gath ered, illustrating the sagacity of the elephant, the horse, the dog, and other animals. Even the stupid "ass knoweth his master's crib." A fox has been known, so I have been told, to cars ry off a small pig. in the course of his way back to the woods he had to cross a deep creek, setting np from the Rea. He could Jump over it himself, but could he Jump over it with the pig in his mouth ? That was the problem to be solved. Ho went off a little way and came back with a pine knot, a piece of a broken limb in his mouth. It was Just about as heavy as a. pig. "Now," says he, "if I can jump across this creek with the knot in my mouth, I can also with the pig." In a moment he gave the leap, and over he went. He then laid down his knot, jumped bark again, seized his pig, stood a moment, as if weighing and comparing the two. He hesitat ed hut a moment, when, presto! he.was over— pig and all. Was this not reasoning and logic ? Could a philosopher or a divine have drawn a more accurate inference ? A dog had been accused of killing sheep. He and his master were very fond of each other. It was a long time before the owner could be made to believe the ill report about his favorite. At last he was convinced that poor, Rover was guil ty. As he could not bear to kill him himseli,he came Into the room one morning and said : "Peter, after breakfast you may take the dog off and shoot him. Mind and kill him dead." " and, to The dog was in the room and heard it. In an instant he darted out of the room, and was off in a straight line. No calling or shouting could cause him to turn his head. Straight as an ar row, he shot across the lots, and went out of sight Every hour they expected him back. At night he certainly would come. But no, he never returned. Many months after Oils, his master was riding on horseback in a wild lone ly place. Just as he came between two banks. through which the road had been cut, ho saw poor Rover standing on one of the banks. His heart yearned toward his old friend and he spoke to him very kindly. But Rover's heart was hardened. He gave one growl, snapped his teeth at his old master, and again scampered off at the top of his speed. Unforgiving Rover l I Thy memory was good, thy will wasstrong, and thy anger lasting I One more example. A neighbor of mine had a knowning cat. Of course 'fah was a great fa vorite with the family. At a time when Tab bad a fatally of kittens, beautifal kittens, too, and wben it seemed as if it was too much for her to take care of them, one of them was given• away to a neighbor. Little kit was carried off in a covered basket, and was warmly welcomed. In a day or two, the door being opened, in" walks Mrs. Tab,whoseized her kitten and made. off With it, seeming delighted to find her child. In about three weeks she came again tugging her kitten and laying it down at the feet of the mistress of the house seeming to say: "Madam, this kit was too young when you' took it before. It needed my care. ' Bat now it is grown up, and can get along very, well.' You: may now bare it." With that. litre . Tab walked of?, leaving her: kitten, andinover returning for it t illy little readers will ask ate, ff animals rea son thus, and have memory, and• mind,. and forethought, why are they not to be immortal like ourselves, How can we know that they noitfi r ve bereallsr; iiirwe)l s 4 V* iht tad kitowliotbftliVa ft', 1f flit ; had not told us. There God has told tufthat He has made man to love and serve Hire forever; but the animals He has made for the use of man In this life; they aregiven to man, and have p:o higher Cud. So at death they cease to be.:* "Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth n •-• • - All their intelligence Is given Them to aid them in taking rare of themselves and in being =ore happy here. And they do have much en joyment; bet. -God don't love them as We does those created in His own image and likeness, and redeemed by the blood of His own Son. ....... MIXER WIND. ET WILLIAM CVLLEN BRYANT It is a sultry day. The sue has drunk The dew that la upon the morning grass; There is no ma tting in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and Its shade Scarce calls me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, and then again Instantly on the win* The plants around Feel the too potent fervors : the tall maize Rolls up Its long green leaves ; the clover droops Its tender follsge, and declines its blooms. But far in the tierce sunshine tower the bills. With all their growth of woods, silent and stern, As it the scorching beat and dazzling light Were but an element they loved.. Bright clouds, Motionless pillars of the blazen heaven.— Their bases on the mountains—their white tops Shining in the far ether—fire the air With a reflected radiance, and make turn The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf, Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun, Retains soma freshness, and I woo the wind That still delays its coming. Why so low, Gentle and voluble spirit of the air? Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth Coolness and life. Ia it that In his caves He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge, The pine is bending his proud top, and now, Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak Are tossing their green boughs shout. Ho cornea ' Lo, where the grassy meadow rims in waves! The deep distressful ,fiance of the scene Breaks up with mingling of unnumberpri sounds And universal motion. He Is come, Shaking a shower of blossoms froth the shrubs, And hearing on their fragrance; and he brings Music of birds, and rustling of young trees. And sound of swaying branches, and the voice Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs Are stirring in his breath ; a thousand flowers, By the roadside and the borders of the brook, Nod gaily to each other; giOsßit leaves Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew Were on them yet, and silver waters break Into small waves, and sparkle as he comes. y.. ,d y• ~t y.. , t In the prison cell I sit, Thinking, mother, dear, of yon, And our bright and happy home so far away ; And the tears they 1111 my eyes Rpite of all that T can do, Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, Cheer up, comrade., they will come; And beneath the starry flag. We shall breathe the alr again Of the free land in our own beloved home. In the battle front we stood When their fiercest charge they made, And they swept us °Tit hundred men or more, But before we reached their line They were beaten back dismayed, And we heard tho cry of victory o'er and o'er. Tramp! tramp! tramp! efc. Bo within the prison cell We are waiting for the day That shall come to open wide the iron door, And the hollow eye grows bright, And the poor heart almost MY, As we think of seeing home and friends once more. Tramp! tramp! tramp! de. EAOR MAR TO MS OWN TRADE. There is a sharp country lawyer ant in the county of Allen, whose name is Mehany, ly of the Hibernian rersunslon, wlio, baying sue. ceeded in the way of making money, turned his attention to real estate, tanning, etc. Amone hispurcbases was a fine- flouring mill on the waters of Hog Creek, which was superintended by a competent miller and did a thriving busi• Once upon a day, it felt out that the miller was away on tbrlough, to be gone all day, and the proprietor happening at the mill, tound a small boy in tattered garments sitting astride a bac of corn, which lay across the back of a sor ry-looking nag. The boy said his mother had no meal, and would have nothing to eat unless -the corn could be ground. The proprietor said he knew nothing about running a mill. but, dime the case looked like a desperate one, he would try his band at converting a sack of corn into q sack of meaL So lifting the boy off his grist, he took the corn to the hopper, threw it• in and started the mill, which rattled off in good stylei eat np the corn but returned no meal to the box: In short, the grist was totally lost The man and the boy hunted the mill high and low, but the meal could not be found I The man was in a high quandary, the boy was in distress ; nothing at home to eat, and the grist lost beyond recovery. The kind-hearted pro prietor looked over his stores, and found a few quarts-of his own meal, which he tied in a con ner of the boy's sack and sent him home, telling him that would keep his mother from starving until the miller should return to find whore his grist had gone tn. The boy's corn being all ground, out of the hopper, the proprietor undertook to stop the mill, but it would not atop! He pulled one lev er and then another, but the mill rattled on with all its might. The mill-stones, having , nothing to grind, took to grinding each other;. presently they waxed hot, then hotter; the fire began to fiy, and the proprietor became alarmed. Fle rushed to his house, mounted a fleet horse, and told his wife that he was going in search of the miller, and if any bigger fool than himself should happen along, tor heaven's 'sake to get him to stop the mill Away rode the man, and having . found hb miller ordered him to mount the horse and run fur the mill before the thing should set itself on fire. The miller was not slow to obey, and having shut the gate, the mad wheels stopped, and nli was quiet once more along Bog Creek. But the lost grist—where had it gone to ? The proprietor showed the miller where he put it hi, and the whole mystery was solved 'I The grist, had been put into the wheat-hopper, carried up In the elevators, • depOsited In 'the bolt, through which it could not sift so as toXetteh . the .b.ol, and there it was inside the wheat bolt, where the miller could go in and.out: And that Is how a lawyer _undertook to inn a mill and lost a grist.—.Egehanga. . . . Woltra—The following charming psitsego is from "Rural Hours," by Ditss Cooper, daughter of the late J. Fennimore Cooper. it so beautiful ly expresses the sentiments of all women of pure feelings and correct principle, that it should , be widely circulated : - "We American women certainly owe a debt of gratitude to our countrymen for their kind ness and consideration of usgenerally.. Gallant ry may not always .take a graceibl• form In this ' part of - the world, and mere flattery- Inso:be' worth as little here as elsewhere- but there ii h glow of generous feeling toward woman in the-. hearts of most American. men, ' width' isblgbly honorable to them as k individ uate,- ,In no country is the protection , given t• woman's helplessness more full and .free-1. 11 , 0 country is the assistance she receives - fro tun stronger arm so general—and .co col re dens her weakness meet with more forboranng and consideration. 'Under 'such cirAmstanceS , it must be woman'sown fault if On bn n°tlex mighty respected:also.. . The posithin..acco d .to her is avertible; ..it re mains.for her tr..-1111 if in a- manner worthy ecv own 1301 .1 - 13 1 ,40 111 3% Madly, and a i r n [ dy ; . with truth aria lard qtity' . 'of..l ( L ille hearten:id 'life ; -unwavering. fldeli • ottjseling. and-principle p 'IOW Patt:e, se% cit , ell encl. s arillutogr ocom Able r ti,e.o;Fi NmmElt owT izi=r; oppuoms .or Tuz 7dTA9Y Ormaniak,o7 The following lettewr have Just been made GENERAL GRANT TO GENERAL SHERMAN. Dann SHERMAN :—The bill reviving the 'grade of Lieutenant General in the army hsaPeeeme a law, and my. name Una ] been sent tollte :Senate for the place. I now receive orders to report at Washington. immediately in perm! which in dicates a ant3ratation Or a llkeilba Of affir mation. I start in the morning to comply withlho or der. Whilst I have been =M eta Jn this war—in, at least, gaining the confidence of the public—no one feels more than I bcormacl. of this success is due to the energy, skill; and the harmonious pntttig forth of that energy and skill, of those whom it has been - my good. .for tune to have occupying subordinate positions under mc. There are many ofliceis to whom these re marks are applicable to a greater or lesa degree proportionat. to their ability ea soldiers; _hut what I want is to express my thanks to you and McPherson, as the men to whom,_ above all others, I feel indebted for whatever I have bad of success. How far your advice and assistance have been of help to me you know. How far your men tion of whatever has been given you to do en. titles you to the reward I am receiving, you can not know 118 well as L I feel all the gratitude this letter mould ex press, giving It the most fluttering construction. The word "you" I use In the.pitt.•sl, intending ft for McPherson also. I should write . to him, and will some day, but starting in the morning, I do hot know that I will find time just now:— Your friend, U. Et Gnaw; Afrijoi4erieraL GENERAL IREERMAN'S AEPLI Sherman received this letter near Memphis on the 10th of March, and Immediatelyyeplied: Dr.A.n GENE:IIAL :-I have your more, .than kind and charactertsticletter of the .1111;irtinant. I will send a copy to General McPherson .at once. Yon do yourself injustice and „us trio' much honor in assigning to us - too large a elasittotthe merits which have led to .yourbigli Aritraii4e ment. I know you approve the friendship I have ever pmfessed to you, and will permit me to continue; as heietofore, to manifest it mall proper occasions. You aro now Washington's legitimate success- OP, and occupy a position of almost dangerous elevation ; but gym' can continue, as heretolerts, to be yourself, simple, honest, and unpretending, you will enloy through life the respect and love of friends and the hotnage of the millions of human beings that will awardyou. &large clime In securing to them and their descendants a government of law and stability. I repeat, you do General McPherson and my self too much honnr. At Belmont you 'mani fested your traits, neither of us being - near. At Donelson, also, you illustrated your whole char acter. I was not near, and General McPherson to too subordinate a capacityto influence you. Until you had won Donelson I cOnfess I was almost cowed by the terrible array of anarchical elements that presented themselves at every point; but that admirtrA a ray of light I have followed since. I believe you are as brave, patriotic, and just fi a.-4.a6 10 ,.t. prototype, Washington; as kind h: and honest asuman shouldba Bat the chief characteristic is the simple' faittr in success you have always manifested, Wkith'i can liken to nothing else than the faith ar eltrigt imi has in the Saviour. This faith gave you victory et Bhiloh and Vicksburg. Also, when you have completed your preparations, you go into battle, without hesitation, as at Chattanooga—no doubta;nci re serves: and I tell yon it was this that made vs act with confidence. I knewv wherever. L was, that you thought of me, and ill. got in a tight place you would help me out, if alive. , ltly only point of doubt was In your knowl edge of grand strategy and of•hisAsof eChnice and history; but I confess your commtm sews seems to have supplied all these.- Now as to the future. • Don't' stay in . Wash ington. Come West; take to yourself the whole Mississippi valley. Let CIS make it dead sure, and I tell you the Atlantic slopes and the .Pacidc shores will follow ha destiny, as .sure ,as the limbs of a tree live or die with the malq,trunk. We have done much, but still ;much-remains --- Time and time's influences are with • us. We could almost afford to sit still: and let these in thinners work. Here lies the seat of the eoming eMpire „end from the West, when our tali{ IS done,, we will make short work of Charleston, and-Riehmand and the impoverished coast of the Attantic..,. Your sincere friend, W. T. Szenaus. TSS LORT ABM A great deal of nonsense has been uttered by sensation lecturers and magazine writers about wonderful arts which perishedwith the ancients. To trust in the lamentations of these wiseacres over the "lost arts," one would think we had fallen upon very degenerate times indeed, .Bat none of the doleful stories are true.. Cleopatra, no doubt, was a very fine won :ant; but alien/mu dissolved pearls in wine.-' Archimedes was, a great man In his day, but he :nerr set fire to the Roman ships with burning glasses as the fable relates. . , • The ancients had no.useful arts which we do not understand better arid practice mbreakillitd ly than, they did. The humblest'Atztedese chanie Could teach the polished. Greek iind ,the cunning Egyptian sciences and arts of which they'never dreamed.Theaneleitte,tideed, did many wondefui things whlch have net been since repeated; bukthey were only such thingsas are not worth doing over skein If we bad occasion to build such foolish 'things ae , a, Tin& mid, we would improve upon our model ,in ev ery respect;.and Instead of keeping - hundred thousand haltatarved slaves at 'the , tiork-for twenty years, we would tun:tit out finished in few months. George Law and • hundredothers would bo willing to take the contract at day's notice. • If any people, now.a•days,lived in a condition like the ancients, they would be object* for dn. care pity, and it would be our duty speedllyto send Missionaries among them.. What a lament able sight would be a nation of gent ' metal vigor, half clothed end poorly fed, tilling As earth with wooden plows •, ' without soap, pins, friction, matches, or India rubber? ../loWtlueee• ly would one of our fastory_girls appear to them Row magical the art of e Yankee elockmaker. Sqgata , new-a-days, with, regard to.the Substan tial comforts of life, fare better: that ihtlerli k pur modern'elvilizatlon "is surely. just Wind la suited for the welfare of liiimanirr. The steam engine, politics, electricity, morality, ;and every 'good thing moveor, bamnonloualy, We lob& flack Into the mist; to note. as , warnings, the paths of error whiclke_or _predecessors trod , and we push on- chwymu and confidently feel that the present SDa the f ut ure are of thentmost importance to us .-Beienulls American, iftr if o rt sfatfax. tholums.-;-It aiddlhat.,tha editors ° PAO - French doily PaPers 4 . •911..aitctpt r oans ' Amin from thPir contributors auxin": odd 4 .nr ...-giona If this imblio , are• zdeasedAslth a •, - .40fil it is.to he extended so as to , lastammral months; it it dots not make a :hit, plot ts Ito be completed' and the' Offline . imnight OA a week's notice. One publishes ordered a note. list to finish at oncxfa . narrativei having-liftema characters.' , foie daisloniteen oft em" had bdeokilled,ify A Vitriettotviolent deaduff ttnt inOt' Oen he COW , •Imitged hit 0 ;1#1 64 n th Stc,lfY contittued ,Indotinitftlyoll4,Wc•oa- Jo 4 writer IttrOnco clostedcit ;Awl/ant - orAgar. amen"Jumnother•ing•inertnthslai n- igho wattpublisidng Mdailrnumoon , Pattisi a , tranalatioirpfMrs. Beim Woad% `Mud lyttni. o #+ool,d? sta R._cm' • ' ' ;t 2 • Vri, . . =I =il =1 Eedil ()ppm
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers