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 :
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. ~
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
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