H. H. FB,AZIEB, Publisher.
VOLITIfE 11.
guointoo givetterg.
Dn. A. D. TEWKSBURY,
H AVING .pent one year an Surgeon In the United Mane
sal otle
Arm
In M.
s profe lue main M Antrum Venire, and will aumbi
on.
Auburn Centre, Pa, lone SO, 1130.1.-lyp
DR. C. J. DRLNKER,
KETYBIOIAN AND SOILOSPN, Montrose. Pc Offlos with
Dr. cam, over W.J. & B. ED MolfordaStore. rsblle Ave ono
delve wltti Joseph D. Dttntet.
Montrose, Sept. MA, lASA.
DR it L. BLAKEsi.r.r.,
PHYSIC/AP/ AND SITEGICON, ban lowed at Byooklyn.Baa
quehanna County. Pa. Ww attend promptly to all ..n.
uat weld. he may be fawned. (Mee at L. IL
utooklrn, July 10.1868.—y1.
Ds. E. L. GARDNER,
nsTSIOIAR ASls`atrztosoN, monum, °Mee ore
r Webb'. Store. Boards et Searle's note.
llontroseauee
S. 1568.-tt
GROVES & REYNOLDS,
musifIoNAFILE TAILORS. Shop. CTaaApeesl
r Stm , e, Po ck Avon*.
)(carom /ate If, 1131121.
. Ds. CHARLES DECKER,
Tinstai&N SUR G E N, havi cm located blalself at
r Sasquetuaba County. Pa., .111 attend to an the
calls ettla wretch be may be favored with anLmatodeeabd atteedlon.
I.)Mc, at hu Testi:lwo, new 0 1.1 , 110ra, I.
Buthardellle,Sma. (30., An., May
JOHN BEAUMONT,
irvooL ClAlinElt, Cloth Dreeeer, and Manufacturer, at the old
IT .tarld known ea Smltiee Ilardlng Machine. Tanis made
hnown when the work Is brought,
J mop, Mart 2d.
Ds. Q. a DIMOCK, -
ron o T . s r iz , llvd op m=,a,N ai llgLir c tr o lte i i :
B O= on .
-4tr- if,r,,,,.. ll l l noroary am. tes&-typ
C. M. CRANDALL,
111ANUTACTURER of Linea-wheels, Wool.wheele, Wheel.
heals, Cloclrreets, be., &C. Wood.turnlng done to older, and
Ithe eeal.maenae. 'MMUS 5210 p and Inked Factory In Bayne'
o.aryr BnWine. uPututht.
Id re, tnee, January Both, 1855.-1.1
B. S. BENTLEY, JR., NOTARY PUBLIC,
MONTR-OSEC.
KES Ackscrerledgmeat of Deeds, /dortoges. &o, for say
T
state In the United States. Peados Vouchers sad eny Car.
Matra teknowledged before him do apt regylre the cert2Path of the
Mort or the Court. Itortredet Jas. 2. In% .--U.
Da. R. L HANDPICK,
prsiciAN.d SURGEON, rape:SNIT tendon his profits
don: lenient° the Olsen of 'Mandeville and vicinity. Of
in ofecc of D. Led. Board. at J. Roemer&
July 1804.-tf
E. W. SMITH,
2TOR.NST a COUNSELLOR AT LAM sad Lletried OWL
to Aml Once over Levy IDlzat stmt.
Snaluelmarta Depot lea nity 93.1864.
H. BURRITT,
DELLIDt 6tag: 6 o raacy Dry Goods, throe-km, Hardware,
Iron. Swam Oda. and Palrite. Boots nod Shoes. Hats
std caps, INA 21110 bea„ Orocertes . Provisions, trs.
New Iflltard, F , • April 11, 1865.-11
B. H. SAYRE &OtHERS,
If ANUS' ACTITEZED of YllleasUelp,
in Stove, Meal /Meal= W Agri C4"th l ' of all rind
tnC Dealer is Dry Goixte,Grocerlenerocre cuh r
ottrose, February ts ,l s k. - - r 7, —c.
BILLINGS STROUD,
Fn m il l, A b ra i ksra . tha
eyt cud lr.fPtildE AG . Ely. u. ol:tee It Lath
ue. beue
lieli at the °Mee will be truant-tea bill. L. Drown.
\lAutrose. February I. ISsL—t!
J. D. VAIL, M. 13,
. 11 - I .E m T r a tr PIITHICLS.II, has roa m a r lt i tl y y located
t. ..Id la his prrZaslon
Co 0 . 1.1c.h ' be y t r e ° favored t . l ' "'d
Ltd B..lddrnce Wen of the Court Hoom a t car Bentley kiltclea.
nntrow, Febnery 1,1854.-Oel. 11. 1 .
A.: 0. WARREN,
TTOIINZIr BOBRIrt BACK PAT and FEB
ba. !BON CLAIM AOSVI. All Pawl= Calm. carecapy prt
wed. ()Bee la roma forrerjr,_,e7 . ls.l ty DT. Van. la B
Pciell bantam, bekortMailies
'4. on trcce, h.. Feb. 1. 1864.-febl7yl
LEWIS KIRBY & E. BACON,
IT SEP constantly on hand • tall stp t ply of every variety cl
GaCKIZEIZSand DONIrEcTIo RIES. By chant au..
Ica to engines. and foirclmin deal, they opt to malt. the !therm
pairtmage of the public. An OYSTER and EATING SALOON is
11W-bed to the Grocery. w herebtvalvea.loeefooo. Ott .""d to et"
rT style that the tastes ofthe pablin demand. Itenamberthe Noce.
IL: n.O 24 ott Omer, stud. on lifaln Street, bolo. , the Postofilce.
!Runic.. N0t.17,1483.—mch17,68.-tf
Dn. CALVIN C. HALSEY,
iaIoHYPICIAZI AND SIMIGEON, AND EXAMINING SUR
I EON for PENSIONERS. Office OM the ewe ol LTos
5,0. Pobbc Avenue Boards at Mr. Ellaerlders.
ortrore. October, I7!t-tt
D. A. BALDWIN,
a. TTORNET AT LAW. and Panaion, Bounty, and Rack Pal
Um, Orem Bead, Basmahaana County. Pa.
Gnat Bead. A01'11.1310, Ina.-ly
EOTD & WEBSTER,
r6LALERs Stoves, Stowe Pipe, Min, Copper and Phoe
LP Iron Ware; also, WinMoar Sash, Pane/ Doois, Window
, :.ads. Loth. Pine Lnlaber,_and all lands of Boildins Materials
south of Searle's motel, and Carpenter Shop new Ws
liettoen Church.
tloarnoev, Pt.. January 1. 11361.4 f
Da. WILLIAM W. SMITH,
ogiercrc, DENTIST. Of - the
--- be pelrmed In tan m 1 goOd szyle tj a ' at
no
evratmeo. Remember, ofllee formerly of B.Smith & 800.
tf =ram lsnuary 1, 186L—tf
E. J. ROGERS, •
ANIIFACTORSEI. of all deSerlfaloss of-V7All
fll ON's, CaI;WADES. SLEII6HB, fee., In the
xnetyie of Worirmanridn and of the beet Insterielt.
0 the wen known stand of E. H. 11017ERES. • few rode mat
Searle'e Rotel In Montrose, where he will be happy to re.
mot the =lle of all who want anything his
M.trose, June 1, 186.3.—ti
Dn. JOHN W. COBB,
DRYSICTIAD sad SITHOZOR, seeped:fully tenders his services
to tee citizens of ecleeveraansCavety. He will Fns medal
a:cation to tee gargles' and medial trea tmen t of diseases of lbe
tvt , and Ear. and 'say be consulted relative to surgical operations
e-• of onarga at ola ogles over ,W J. et B. H. Melford l efitors.
P.adOdence on Maple street. ear of J. /3. 'reseal% Hotel.
Am:arose, liesq. County, Pa... Jells Sdadda.-tr
BALDWIN & ALT RN,
DCALLUS In FLOM., Salt, Part, Flab, Lard. Grain, Feed
Oaadlea. Clover and Timothy Seed. Alas GROCERIES.
Md. ea dozer; Mawr; Syrapa.'llre ead Carle. Weal Ede o"
rlblie avenue. one door Delo* J. Etheridge.
Santa:we, January 1. 11344
• •
F. B. WEEKB,
fAOTIOAL BOOT AHD SHOE MAX.EB.; aka Dealer In
Boats, Shoal, Latather,and Shoe Maar,. Repairing done
vlsh neatheu and abrprach. Two dm:manure tlearlea Bate.
Znarola, January 1, 1664.-tr
WM & WhL EL JESSUP,
TTOWNSIB AS LAW, Montrose. PA. Practice in Banger
henna. pa
e nd Wane. Wyoming and Luserne Counties.
Montrose. Pa.. Jantwry LA 18SL
ALBERT CHAMBERLIN,
rhISTECIOT ATTORNICT AND ATTORNITT AT LAW—
') °Moe OM the Stars fccemerly occupied by Pod Brother"
liontroae, Pa.Jsounry 1,16 CO.
J. LYtiNS & SON,
rt ELLERt3 IN DRY GOODS. GrocceleaCrockay.
Threrere„ Book e. Melodeons, Phnom .d kinds of Mot
cal Inecrumenta. Sheet Meals, as. Also nary on the Book Hied
hag Imbues in all Its branchen. a. LIANA.
Montrone. Jatnan , 1, 1 e 64 . T. A. LYONS.
ABEL TURRELL,
ALICE 15 D 8.1308. 11EDWIDITS. CHEMICALS.
Palnta, Otts. Div-Antra. Varalabev Wind., Glam. sa. r
L , Ooorl, Goxonfel. Oroc.Verp,Olassware Walt-Paper. Jew. 1,
r'rf. Fancy Good& Perfumery, Sonaes) Instruments. Trna
re. Clone& Granite , dm.,—and Agent for all of We most palm
sr Patent Medicine. Montrone, January t. MI.
0. 0. FORDEA.3I,
ItcLIIIIFLOTORES,of SOOTS SHOES, liloots: Pa.
:YE Shop over DeWitt a Store. All kinds of work nee
ard,r, uld repairing done neatly. Workdone ernan prom- a
o d
, red• Montrose. Awn 1./Ba•-tf
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
nzeLts In BOOTS a SHOES. Leather and rtatia.,
Lrf.lr',ArTkm'th at. t ird doter below B.''i
io dge li ca o lll7-Ir h
itontroec. r Pa... D e cem ber it. 3860.
L H. BURNS,
A IToRNET AT LAW. Mee slab WThisto J. Tureen, FAQ.
Onleite ti
c rorlea Hotel. Pension and Bounty careful.
Ift:e 'T .rl74 P 7.-. la"
.
R. R. LYONS a CO
cstralS IaMIT 000DS,OROMMIES. Boore.atiora
/Adler thiltera. Oupata. 011 (Nome, Wei sod Window Pt
M. Palma. Oils. &c. Btcde on the cog side of Public Amu,
LMOMI6
Moutrose. Januar, I. 1864:4f
READ, WATROTIS & FOSTER,
aLERS IN DRY 1 100D9, Drags, Wellkinen• Palate, Oil
a .cr np o P c th erl.. CialaeltOche".".
0 ... RIAD IL. W 4120113
flontrose. January 1, 1864.
'IOIIWILLIAM W. MTH, th
CABIN= *MD CHASE NAM
[adorer. Loops coodandy cm Madan
. Maas ordaddre rchdrruad. 'lt'
odd at don acohoe. Eh and Wen BOO= toot of Nlaha EL
M.WaCee. Pa, March S.
PHILANDER LINES,
Vpasmonana TAILOa. tak Nintiost Ra
.L....'""rfelrAaVe'
„,,,,
r
.
, i , ! It
:,
n I pe
~,_ Li L. t ,
if _._
.„..___,..
~,
. _...„,..,..,
; , ~„...„,,,,./..,...„.,..,.. 1 .
i. li , z. c. , ‘l
_:„: 7:; -; -'
” '''''.
' '.-
: 1
----, 1 ..
,E•si _ „ ,
1 b It a, I.
~
,
Since you have Baked, I needs must tell the history
Of how I gained yOn pearly little glove;
Alas! it is the key to no soft mystery,
Nor-gage of tourney 'lithe lista of love.
'Twas thus I found it—through the city bustle
1 wandered one still autumneve, alone ;
A tall slight form rothedhy With silken rustle,
And past Into a carriage, and was gone.
One glaneul had; in that,l caught the gleaming
Of violet eyes, o'er which the rippling tress
Glanced cold, a face like those we see in dreaming,
As perfect in its Shadowy loveliness.
And so she passed, a glorious light shout her
Clothed, like a suramdr-clawn in silver-gray,
And left the crowded street as dark without her
As winter skies whose moon has passed away.
This little gauntlet which her han4 was clasping,
Fell from her as she reached the carrtme door,
And floated down, as flutters from the aspen
Some trembling leaflet whose brief day is o'er.
And .I—l found It on the pavement lying
-,i •
I%le as the marble Venus' musing hand some small flake of foam which Ocean, dying,
Leaves in a furrow of the moistened sand.
She was so like some queen of the ideal—
With that bright brow, those soft eyes' shadowy
gleam—
I fain would keep this pledge to prove ber real.
To mark her difference from an airy dream.
And though her glove has unto me been donor
Of much sweet thought, yet I can think It well
That she should know as little of its owner
As I of her from whose lair hand It fell.
Why should I drag her from her high position,
Her niche sbove this work-day worloVe long reach
Hardly a fact., nor wholly yet a vision,'
She Joins for me the better parts of each.
Once a Week.
Merrily bounds the morning bark
Along the summer sea;
Merrily monnts the morning lark
Thn topmott twig on tree;
Merrily smiles the morning rose
The morning eon to see;
And merrily, merrily greets the rose
The honey sucking bee;
But merrier, merrier far than these
Who tiring on wings the morning breeze,
A music sweeter than her own,
A happy group of loves and graces,
Graceful forms and lovely faces,
All in gay delight outdoes° ;
Out down from their school-room cages,
School-room , rules, and school-room pages,
Lovely In their teens and tresses,
Summer smiles, and sn muter dresses,
Joyous in their dance and song,
With sweet Sisterly caresses,
Arm In arm they speed along.
ROW THE FIRST NEW MOM FOUGHT AT
BRANDY EITAItION
" It was the prettiest cavalry fight that you ever
saw," said the Adjutant, istretching his lege and
lighting a fresh cigar.
It Was just my luck to lose It," I answered.
" Here have I been lying, growling and grumbling
while Son fellows have been distinguishing your
selves. It was miserable to be taken sick Just when
the army got in motion, and still worse not to hear
a word of what was going on. I almost wished that
we had been a 'newspaper' regiment, so that I
could learn something about our share In that day's
work. Be a good fellow and play reporter fni• my
benefit. Freshen haws, as the nantiedl novelibta
say, end begin."
Well, we were lying at Warrenton Juncton,
making oumelvei as comfortable as possible after
the raid, vt !revolt the mOrnhag of the 9th of June.
the whole division was ordered out In the very
lightest marching order. That night we lay close at
Kelly's Ford in column of battalions, the men
holding their horses as they slept, and no fires being
lighted.
"At four o'clock on the morning of the 9th we
were again in motion, and got across the Ford with
out interruption or discovery. Yorke, with the
third squadron, wa3 in adrante, and ad we moved he
managed so well that he bagged every picket on the
road. Thus we got almost upon the rebel camp
before we were discovered. We rode right into
Jones's Brigade, the First New Jersey and First
Pennsylvania eharging together, and before they
had recovered from the alarm we had a hundred and
fifty prisoners. The rebels were then forming thick
upon the hill-side by the station, and they had a bat
tery playing upon us like fun. Martin's New York
battery on our side galloped into position and be
gan to auswer them. Then Wyndham formed his
whole brigade fora charge, except a squadron of the
First Maryland, left to support the battery. Oar
boys went in splendidly, keeping well together, and
making straight for the rebel battery on the hill be
hind the station. Wyndham himself rode on the
right, and Broderick charged more towards the left,
and with a yell we were on them. We were only
two hundred and eighty strong,' and In front of ns
was White's Battalion of five hundred. No matter
for that. As we dashed fiercely into them sabre in
band they broke like a wave on the bows of a ship,
and over and through them we went sabring as we
went. We could not stop to take prisoners, for
there in front of us were the Twelfth Virginia, six
hundred men, riding down to support White. They
came op splendidly, looking steadier than we did
oniseltea suet the Mott of the first charge. I do
not know whether Wyndham was stilt with us, or
if he had gone to another regiment; but there was
Broderick looking full of fight, his blue eyes in a
blaze, and his sabre clenched, riding well in front
It teemed but an instant before the rebels were
srattered in every direction, trying now and then
to rally in small puttee, but never daring to await
our approach. Now there were the guns plain be
fore us. We caught one gun before they could move
it, and were dashing alter others when I heard
Broderick shooting in a stormy voice. The frag
ments of White's battalion had gathered together
toward the left of the field and wetecharglng in our
rear. At the same time two fresh regiments, the
Eleventh Virginia and another, were coming down
on our front Instead of dashing at White a men
the First Maryland wavered and broke, and then we
were charged at the same time front and rear. We
were broken of course, by the mere weight of the
attacking force, but breaking them op too, the whole
field was covered with sintdl squads of fighting men.
I saw Broderick ride in with a cheer and open a way
for the men. His horse went down in the melee;
but little Wood, the bugler of Co. (3, sprang down
and gave him his animal, setting nff to catch anothor.
A rebel rode:at the bugler andaneceeded in getting
his arms before help came. As Weod still went af
ter a horse another .fellow rode at him. The boy
happened at that moment-to see a carbine where it
had been dropped after firing. He picked up the
empty weapon, aimed it at the horseman, made him
dismount, give up his arms, and start for the rear.
Thea he went in again. None of us thought any
thing of two to one odds, as long as we had a chance
to ride at them. It wasnoly when we got so en
tangled that we bad to fight - hand to hand that their
numbers told heavily- It Was in such a place that I
lost sight of Bioderiek. The troop horse that he
W 55 riding was not strong enough to ride thrnugh a
knot of men, so that he could fight them. He struck
one so heavily that he was stunned by the blow, but
his horse was still in the way ; swerving to one side
he escaped a blow from another; and warding off the
thrust of a third, managed to take him with his
point aeroas the forehead; -just as he did to, how
ever, his sabre, getting tangled with the rebel's,
was Jerked from his hand. He always carried a pis
tol In his boot. Pulling that out, he fired into the
crowd and put spurs to his horse. The bullet hit a
home in front of him which fell. His own charger
rose at it, but stumbled, and as it did Broderick him
self tell, from a shot fired Within arm's length of
him and asabre stroke upon his side.
" I saw all this as a man sees things at such times.
and am not positive cren that it occurred as I
thought I saw It; for I wash the midst of contusion,
and only caught things around by passing glimpses.
Yon see I was mysell taring as flinch as I could do.
The crowd with whom itroderiek was engaged was
a little distance from me; and I bad just wheeled to
ride up to his help when two fellows put at me.
The first one fired at me and missed. Before he
could again cock his revolver rsucceeded in closing
with him. Mr sabre took him Just in the neck, and
must have cut theingular. The blood rushed out
In a black-looking stream; he gave a borrible yell and
fell over the side of the horse, which galloped away.
Then I gathered up my ulna, spurred my horse
and went at the other one: r was riding that old
black horse that used to belong to the signal ser
geant, and it was lo fine condition. As I drove in
the spurs It gave a high leap.' That plunge saved
my life. The rebel had a steady elm at me; but
the bail went through the black horse's brain. fits
feet never touched ground again. With a convulsive
contraction of all his muscles the black turned over
in the air, and fell on hie bead and side stone dead,
pifrhing me twenty feet. I lighted on my pistol,
the butt forcing itself far into my side; my sabre
sprung out of my hand, and I lay, with ,my arms
and legs all abroad , stretched out like a dead man.
It seemed to me to have been an age before I began
Painfully to come toMayself; but It could not have
been many minute*. Every nerve was shaking;
there was a terrible pain In my head, and la numb
ness through Payette which was even wore. Fight
ks was en weeted me, and set Iliatlm•
MONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1865.
TES GLOVE.
SCHOOL GIRL
" Freedom and Right against Slavery and Wrong."
pulse was to get hold of my sword. I crawled to It
and sank down as I grasped it once more. That
was only for a moment, for a rebel soldier seeing
me move rode at me The presence of danger
aroused me, and I managed to get to my horse,
behind which I sank, resting my pistol on the sad
dle and so contrived to get an aim. A. soon as the
fellow saw that, he turned off without attacking me.
I was now able to stand and walk; so, holding my
pistol in one band and my sabre in the other, I made
my way across the fields to where our battery was
posted, tearing some with my pistol and shooting
others. Nobody managed in hit me through the
whole fight. When I got up to the battery I found
Wood there. He sang out to me to wait and he
would get me a bone. One of the men who had Jest
taken one, was going past, so Wood stopped him
and got it for me. At that moment White's battal
ion and some oilier troops ebarged at the battery.
The squadron of the First Maryland, who were sup
porting It, met the charge well as far as their num
bers went; but were, of course, flanked on both
sides by the heavy odds. All of our men who
were free came swarming up the hill, and the cavalry
were fighting over and around the gnus. In spite
of theeonfosion, and even while their comrades at
the same gun were being sabred, the men at that
battery kept to their duty. They did not even look
up or around, but kept up their fire with unwaver
ing steadiness. There was one rebel, on a spendid
hone, who salved three gunners while I wee chas
ing him. He wheeled In and out, would dart away
and then come sweeping back and cut dowu another
man in a manner that seemed almost supernatural.
We at last succeeded in driving him away, but we
could not catch or shoot him, and he got off with
without a scratch.
"In the meantime the fight was going on else
where. Kilpatriek's Brigade on our right. The
Second New York did not behave as well as It has
sometimes done since, and the loss of It weakened
us a great deaL The Tenth New York thousit went
in well, and the First Main. , did splendidly, as it
always does. In spite of their superior numbers
(Stuart bad a day or two before reviewed thirty
thousand cavalry at Culpepper, according to the ac
count of rebel officers) we beat them heavily, and
would have routed them completely if Duffle's
Brigade had come up. He, however, was engaged
with two or three hundred men on the left; and the
aid-de-camp sent to him with orders was wounded
and taken prisoner, and he is not the sort of a man
to rind out the critical point In a light of his owa
accord.
"So now, they bringing np still more reserves,
and a whole division of theirs coming on the field,
we began to fall back. We had used them up so
severely that they could not press ua very cleat.,
except In the neighborhood of where the Second
New York charged. There some of our men bad as
much as they could do to get out, end the battery
bad to leave three of its guns. We formed In the
woods between a quarter and a half a mile off the
field, another moved back to rover the left of Bu
ford, who was In retreat toward Beverly's Ford,
Hart and Wynkoop tried bard to cover the guns
that were lost., but they had too few men, and no had
to leave them. The rebels were terribly punished.
By their own confession they lost three times as
many as we did. in our regiment almost every
soldier must have settled his man. Sergeant Craig,
of Company K, I believed killed three. Slate, of
the name Company, also went above the average.
But we lost terribly Sixty enlisted men of the First
New Jersey were killed, wounded, or missing. Col.
Wyndham was wounded but kept his saddle: Lieut.
Colonel Broderick and Major Sheludre were killed;
Lieutenant Brooks was wounded; Captain Sawyer
and Lieutenant Crocker were taken prisoners; and
1, as you see, have had to come in at last and refit.
"I have spun you a pretty long yarn, and you
most feel pretty tired; but when the memory of the
tight comes over me, I get almost as enthushuttic
and excited as when It was going on. Of course I
have had to he eg,olistical, and tell you what tic
eurred to myself, as that was the most intensely in
teresting to me ; but I do not want you to Miley
that I did any better or fought any bander than the
others. In tact, I know the most of the °them did
a good deal more than I did; but not having seen it,
of course I could not describe their share of the
fight quite so well as that which occurred lo my
own nolOhorhood and to my own person.
"Vow lam going to hid you - gin - 5d night. I have
talked more than Is good for me, and you base
listened as much as is rood for you. To-morrow I
will come and tell you something about what we
did around Aldie and tipper-dile."
"0, cliff!" I mused, "the hark may be wrecked,
ruined, dashed In a thousand fragments at my feet ;
but the storms of heaven are mhthtier than thou.—
And one day their tumult shall wreck thee, ruin
thee, and dash thee in fragments likewise—serve
thee right !"
I
THE ASSISTANT TREASURY. The cliff frowned.
The leading financial institution lu the United
States is the United States Assistant Treasury at
New York. Though it is only an assistant treasury,
and the Treasury proper is at Washington, yet the
transactions of the former are so vastly greeter in
volume than the latter that the chlet work of the
Washington office 6 keeping record of the business
done by its New York branch. Nineteen-t wen
tietbs rdthe public creditors are paid here; nearly ell
the public loans are disposed of here; by far the
greater port of the revenue from customs and taxes
is received here; and hereln 'add on days lined by
law, the interest ou 52.000,000.000 of United States
securities. A business of from 5t,000.000 t 0510,000.000
Is daily done here—done quickly, quiet ly, and without
errors or disputes. No institution in the city Is
better worth inspection than the Sub.Treasnry ; and
be It said in simple Justice, no man Is more willing
to have it inspected than Mr. Van Dyck, the Sub-
Treasurer-
The vaults are a eight which cannot be witnessed
elsewhere In this country - . There are two of them ;
but one Is comparatively empty, and only holds
some 510,000,000. The other contains 0ver560,000,000,
one half In coin, the other half in paper. 11.. w
many readers have ever seen a million dollars in pa.
per or gold? We remember one of the oldest of our
Judges, a man of large experience and profound
wisdom, interrupting a party of talkers, who were
chatting about millions of gold, with the naive
questions:
"How big Is a million of gold? Would It rest on
this table? Would it go under this chair? How
many men would it take to carry it? What does It
look like?"
His Honor might have gratified his curiosity by a
visit to the Sub-Treasury. There thirty millions of
gold lie dormant, awaiting the resurrection of specie
payments. Tiny are put up in hags containing $.5,000
each, and weighing say forty-live pounds. These
bags are piled one above another in closets, which
line the inner wall of the vaults; a hundred bags
fill a closet. When filled the door is closed, Incited,
and sealed with the cashier's seal; a ticket attached
specifies that In that dark and narrow bole $.500,000
In gold lie hidden. Fifty or more such closets may
be seen, duly closed, locked, and sealed. But in
that vault, whose wealth far outshines the wildest
fables of fhiential story, bags of gold lie around in
every corner Tan kick one as you enter. Ot hers
rest on trucks waiting aepolture in the closets. They
see so plentiful, and so seemingly despised by the
of:eclat. , who handle them that insensibly the spec
tator loses his respect, for them, and forgets that the
possession of a few such bags would realize his life
long dream of material prosperity.
These bags are the products of customs' duties.
Every day between S and 4 o'clock, a little hand
cart, ark-shaped, painted red, covered over, may be
seen travelling np Wall street, propelled by two
stout men. and weeding its way from the Custom
Howse to the Bah-Treasury. There are but two
men ostensibly engaged in pushing the little red
cart. But a careful observer may discover two
other men, likewise stoht and very watchful who
lounge up the side walk on a parallel line. They
look as if they carried revolvers. In these days.
when the customs' duties are heavy, the little red
ark sometimes contains 5740,000—a prize worth the
attention of robbers. But it 16 never attacked.
When it reaches the Bub-Treasary it is unlocked,
and the bags are handed in. Each bag Is then
counted by the Sub-Treasnrcr's clerks. They Count
with both hands, and with a rapidity and accuracy
truly wonderful. They seem to possess a sort of in
stinct, the product of long experience, which en
ables them to discovers false coin at a glance.
Pieces which have been split open, the insides filed
out, and the cavity filled with iridium, the two
halves soldered together, and remitted on the edges,
are so like genuine coins that the best judges are
often deceived by them. They weigh precisely the
same as genuine coins. They are precisely the right
size. They have the ring of pure gold. Yet these
counterfeits are detected at a glance by the expe
rienced clerks of the Treasury. It used to be said
of Mr. E. IL Birrtsalt, the present Cashier, that
when he was a clerk he could, in emptying a $5,000
bag, at the first dip of his bands in the glittering
mass, pick out all the spurious coins.
There is a quantity of silver in the Sub-Treasury,
in bags and kegs, but after one has been handling
millions of gold it seems a poor sort of metal. A
Sliver closet holds $40,000; there are a few dozen of
them full to repletion. Within a short time eon-
Siderable amounts of silver have arrived here from
New Orleans—ths products of duties or the Con
fiscation Act. Many of the coins are rusty, and
dingy, and it is shrewdly suspected that, during the
dark days of rebel supremacy, these pieces slept
the sleep of the Just in damp underground boles.
One of the New Orleans batiks is known to have
buried Its coin when Confederate shinplasters made
their appearance, and the plan was doubtless
adopted by Many private individuals.
Of paper-Money the Sub-Treasury in New York
holds some !forty million... Of this over eighteen
millions are! lo fives, tens, opt twenties, and are
piled one shelf in the vault. As nearly as we could
calculate by the ere, there Is ObOlit a cord and a
half of gels money. It Might fill a twd horse hay.
cart. When a pay master calls with a draft, the
clerks give him a trunkfnll or a bushel basket. The
hotel are relied IndlierlogrOdety-401te old sad
worn, showing evidence of long service, others
new and crisp. Byand•by, when Government be
gins to call In legel tenders, woe betide the national
banks whose lemma accnmulete in this vault
The larger notes, sloo's, ssoo'e and sl,ooo's have
the honor of closet room. There la a closet there
which contains halfaadosen millions. Lying on the
top of a mountain of these notes, was a package
which we examined. It could easily have been put
in the coat pocket and carried away without Incon
venience. It coutalned one thousand $5OO legal
tenders, and was therefore worth Just half a million.
But for the contempt for money which the Inspec
tion of these enormous sums Is apt for the moment
to Inspire, one might have coveted this little pack
age. flow many able and eueeesaul men toll for a
lifetime in the hope of acquit - lug just inch a parcel?
But, if you are going to steal, gentle reader, let us
recommend coupons as the moat convenient article
to "convey." Seven-Thirty coupons are so small
that you can easily put 00,000 worth In year waist
coat pocket, and as to Ten-Forty capons, a pinch of
them between your finger and thumb Is a small for
tune. These little bits of paper, no bigger than
apothecary's labels, or half the silo of of a Ave cent
note In tractional currency, represent sums varying
-from $25 In gold to $305 in currency. Aa interest
day cornea round they pour in from all quarters—
from the far %Feat and the lately rebellions South.;
from Germany and Holland; from crowned heads in
Europe, and industrious washer-women In this coun
try. To examine and sort these little bite of paper
is no slight task. Oae of the riches: men in New
York Is said to keep hi. daughters, married and
single, busy cutting off coupons for a whole after
noon and evening before leterest-day; when the
cutting is done the eldest daughter herself sweeps
out the room to intercept walla and eatrave. Over
8 1 25,000,000 are disbursed annually at the New York
Sub-Ton:leery in partusnt of such coupons.,
The vaults of the Sub-Treasury may really be
said to defy burglars. It the first place, they are
built on thirty-Ave feet of solid masonry, so that
digging under them and working by a tunnel to the
floor would be impracticable. Then they stand In
the main hall of the Trensary building, In which a
watch Is always kept, and into which It would re
quire no small latter to intrude after nightfall. The
vaults themselves are iron chambers, with iron
floors, reefs, and wells. The latter are two feet
thick, and hollow; the hollow being filled with
musket balls, which defy the burglar's drill. Four
doors of massive iron clone the entrance to the
vault; each door is locked with two locks, so that
eight different keys of peculiar mechanism are re
quired to open the same. Uncle Samuel. poor fel
low! is not likely to be robbed at this office, how
ever he may fare elsewhere.
We remember the Sub-Treasury when Mr. Cisco
was first appointed its chief, in two rooms of the
Assay Bailding—a quiet, retired establishment, in
which nobody spoke above a whisper, and a few
clerks leisurely counted their gold, and demurely
paid the President and other public functionaries.
People went there to chat with the Bub-Treasurer—
a man of leisure and considerable Information—and
twice a year called to collect their Interest. It was
ao slow and so old-fogy an Institution that the Wall
street bankers need to laugh at it.
In these days, the Sub-Treasury at New-York has
he grip on the threats of nearly all the banker.. in
the conntry, and we notice that none of them are
disposed even to smile when the name of Mr. Dyck
is tuentioned.—llarper's Weekly.
BEA-GDILB.
I was sitting, not long sgo, on a high and very
reasonably easter° cliff, overlooking the ocean,
watching the ospreys, which, by a wonderful pro
vision of Providence, see and unerringly plunge up
on the fish in the waves beneath, without ever
missing the mark.
Providence, it is true, has made no wonderful
provision by which the fish may save himself.
That, however, i• the affair of the fish.
I did not trouble myself to explain this partiality
exhibited toward the osprey. I was meditating up
on loftier matters, and listening to a sailor singing
like the tuneful gazette of some far-olTvessel.
How alight and frail seeemed that wave-tossed
bark, compar'edortth the rocky plonekothlpak 4a.2 ,
just, men, um unit. m okatofotog my appa•nao
form.
It was, in fact, one of the sort known an "frow - s-
Mg cliffs."
Still the far-ntf mariner chanted his wild threnody
to the rising. winds, that now whitened a fringe of
fnam, ever rising and falling against a long bar that
reached nut a rocky arts into the tea.
The were flying in long lines, southward,
over this rocky promontorv.
They looked like ducks but they were geese.
I know they were geese, because they didn't stop
to take a drink at the bar.
And probably they wouldn't have another chance;
perhaps not even till they reached the lleahing break
ers of Old Rye.
The Pun sank In an angry glare among rifted
headlands of purple clouds. An It did an, the light
houses shone out, one by one, each presenting Its
star-like aureolee, to the mariner, as a beacon of safe.
ty and a guide to home.
All except one; a patent, newfangled affair, whlch
presented a revolver, instead.
At this juncture I perceived a smell of flab.
My first impression was that I was becoming an
osprey, and about to go at earning a living by my
talons instead of by my talents.
I was soon ress,ured, however, by a hiccup be
hind mc. It was not the good fish, still In the sea,
that I smelled, but the remain+ of some more :in
eient and disorganized bodies, which clung to the
overallo of o bloory fialaarsoon, and emitted an odor
like that of bad eggs on anchovy-toast •
(I wish it understood that I never ate bad eggs
on anchovy-toast. My metaphor to entirely dni.vn
from mental and imaginative sources.]
I looked around.
The bleary fisherman approached without that na
tive grace that never marks this dos of people.
"Ware yen, boss?" said he, exhibiting a tooth as
he smiled, and seated himself on a boulder, via-a via
to me. "It's a fine eyelike."
I assented.
"L's agoin' to be dirty, though. Tido's full at
midnight, to•d wind'n henna' round."
•
!" said I affirmatively.
"D'yer that 'ar queer noise down yonder, blow
ns here
I listened.
The threnody of the navigator was hushed. The
melancholy requiem of the waves came fitfully upon
the wind and with It, a subdued, strange, chattering
sound arising from the base of the cliff: A hundred
or a thousand little voices, prattling, chuckling, and
babbling all at once!
"What Is it ?" I exclaimed.
"Them's young gills," said the fishy fisherman.
"Young girls r I cried.
"Yes, bass There's more'n a million of 'em
down thar, I reckon. I seed 'em all the arternoon,
a playin', and a plungin', and a caperin' about
down thar, Jest as white, and soft, and ekeery, and
pooty as 'later!"
"Bathing ?" I suggested.
"Wal, yea, some of 'cm. Borne of 'em hangin'
ter rocks, and ecootin' round, perminus like."
"Where do they come from r said I.
"0, bless yer, there's more'n a million of 'em
lives about here! This 'ere beach Is Jest alive with
'em. They blong here."
"What a place for a poet to live I" cried I, In rare
tura. "It would be as good as being tamed loose
in a boarding school !"
"They le mighty queer critters, anyway," said the
fisherman.
"They are I" I replied, with emphasis.
"Now," pursued my companion, who seemed in
clined to loquacity, "now, them girls knows when
foul weather's a cumin' Jest as well as all git out !"
"Weatherwite, I suppose," said I, "from their
residence along-shore.'
"frm," said he. 'They's pooty wild, too. The
young 'nos are bolder, bat as they git older they git
more and more skittish. When they're full grown,
a man can't come within half-a-mile of 'em !',
"Some men might succed better than others," I
remarked with great complacency. •
0, I don't mean to say as that' Isn't some, mg
lay sports, who might. Mebbe yer'e In that line
yourself, sir ?"
I smiled, neutrally.
'But It's no use. They slat good for nothin' you
know."
"Well--not for much—that's true. But they're
rather necessary, after all."
"I don't s'pose nothtn's made in vain, sir. It
don't 'pear reaso'ble."
"How do you get down to the foot of this cliff
from here?" laid I , carelessly.
"'Dyer like to take a look at 'Cm?" asked the
fisherman.
"Well—yes; I don't mind," said I, in an Indiffer
ent manner, "If It isn't too much work."
We arose, and piloted by the old man, I descend
ed a steep and tortuous path down the side of the
cliff, illuminate by a twilight sky of royal purple.
Below, the dark-green waves dashed themsedves
Into white against the dark-red cocks, and countless
myriads of sea-gull* wheeled In and out, up and
down, hither and thither, about the face of the
precipice.
At length we reached a sort of I ling-place ;
from which several long ledges M., 3d away, the
lowest of them washed by the breakers.
"There they Is," said the ancient fisherman ; "and
et' yen
know I" ever seen more &le 'o that et wept, rd
13ke to
The ledges were perfectly covered, wh'te, with
hosts of sea-fowl, Just from the nest, In all stages of
growth and development, from the callow squab,
all eyes, to the splendid bird, snowy and shirp
winged, with jet-black Hps to his long swift pinions.
But no human thing was visible.
"Where are they l" I asked.
"Why, right afore yer eyes !"
"Young girls? I thought you said —"
"Yes, bless you! Them's all girls—sea-girls, as
some calls 'em. Thcro's 'cm I"
This was a cruel blow
I could not at that compmbend that a villainous
but common mispronunciation had so awakened
my Imagination but to deceive It.
I merely said, "Oh !" gave the fisherman half. a
dollar—he evidently expected something—and re
traced my atepa.
As my guide went out of eight, I Paid, "Hang his
young galls ! He has made one of me also!"
MEMOIR OF BRATON RICHARDSON, M. D.
Dr. Briton Richardson was born at Attlebornugh,
Bristol County, Mesa, Oct. 19th, 1803. The father
of the Richardson family emigrated from England
about the year 1666, and settled in Woburn, Mass.—
The next generation moved to Attleborntigh, where
the family became numerous. Caleb Richardson,
the grandfather of Breton, was the great-grandson
of the first settler of Woburn. He was a soldier In
the French war of 1765, and traversed the Mohawk
before any settlements were made upon it. He
went with General Bradstreet In his expedition
down Oswego River, and across Lake Ontario to
the taking of Fmntenac, at the outlet of the lake.
He was a captain in the war of the Revolution, had
command and held the fort where the battery now
is In New-York rity,while Gen. Washington retreat•
ed from New-York. After the war he was acting
Justice of the peace In his native town, and at the
termination of his appointment, his son Caleb, the
father of the subject of this sketch, became Justice
of peace, and was elected deacon of the church to
which be belonged. In 1806 be removed to liar.
lord, Buson'a County, Pa. where his remains now
repose.
Dr. Boston Richardson was the youngest of five
sons. The eldest, Rev. Lyman Richardson, Is a dis
tinguished educator, and has for many years been at
the head of the literary Institution at Harford, with
which he has been connected about 40 years. Lee,
the second eon, was a deacon and colonel of militia.
Caleb Coy, the third eon, and Lyman are the only
ones surviving Preston, the fourth son, was an
alumnus of Hamilton College. and a member of Au
burn Theological Seminary, which pulmonary hem
orrhage forced him to leave. He spent the residue
of hia dart to establishing the school at Harford, and
died in 1836.
Passing the days or his boyhood In a new country,
Dr. Richarson was to a great extent deprived of the
literary advantages which have sprung up with the
progress and growth or the people ; yet hie educa
tion was not neglected, for around his father's fire
side, he and his brothers diligently prosecuted their
atudies. In 1825 be commenced, and continued da
ring the two successive years, the study of medicine
with Dr. Thomas Sweet, of Canaan, now Waymart,
Wayne County. Pa.. In 18:9 and '29 he was a stu
dent in the office of Charles Marshall, M. D., at
Newton, Sussex Co., N -J. He attended two cours
es of Lectnres at the Western District Medical Col
lege at Fairfield, N.•T., in 18:29-Di and 1833-34, re
ceiving the degree of H. D. at Albany, In the latter
year. He commenced practice at Carbondale, Pa.,
in 1329, continuing there one year, when he remov
ed to Brooklyn, Suscmehanna County, Pa. In Sep
tember, 1840, he married Lucy Caroline Miles, of
the same place, and was there for a third of a centu
ry engaged In an extensive and successful practice,
until prostrated by the brief illness which terminat
ed in his death on the 20th day of Starch, 1884.
As a man, Dr. Richardson enjoyed in a high de
gree the respect and confidence of all classes of the
community. Possessed of more than ordinary in
telligence, his advice was often sought lo public af
fairs, and he was often called to preside at public
meetings. He was a firm friend of temperance,
good morals. and ad:real-La tea kopt htrnaatf
tonougtuy acquainted with our national affairs, and
was a hearty supporter of the government in its ef
forts to suppress the late alaveholders'
He was on several occasions school director to hie
township, which office, as well es that of coroner of
the county, he held at the time of his death. His
pastor speaks of him as cherishing a hope in the Sa
vior and evincing a hope In religion, though not for
ward to"peak of his own spiritual experience or
progress. - He was well vftsed in the Scriptures and
In the doctrines and duties of evangelical religion,
gave his Influence decidedly in their favor. He was
• man of liberal views given to hospitality. He had
no children. He and hie wife (who survives him)
were fond of the natural acienzes, and both of them
were skillful taxidermists.
As a physician, Dr. Richardson was in the fore
most rusk of the profes.ion in Susquehanna County.
Skillful and accurate in diagnosis, he was kind and
faithful in the discharge of his duties to his patients,
whether rich or poor. He despised quackery out
of the profession or in It, and Was a iesioue supporter
of the medical orgaization for its suppression. With
his professional brethren he was a strict observer of
medical etiquette, and was very sensitive in regard
to any breach of it towards himself. lie was remark
obit for his punctuality in all appointments, and
whenever absent or tardy, it was well known that
there ,must be a good reason for It. In consulta
tion be was ever frank and decided in the expres-
Ow of his opinions, and desired the same of others.
Probably no young member of the profession ever
met him on such occasions without feeling benefit
ed by his wisdom and experience. He was rarely
absent from the meetings of the County Medical 80.
clety, and was for many years its honored President,
until removed by death. For several years he rep
resented the County Society at the State Society, of
which he was one of the Censors, and twice attend
ed the American Medical Association as a delegate.
The last Illness of Dr. Richardson continued but, a
few days. The writer of this sketch and Dr. L. A.
Smith, of New-Milford, a former pupil and esteemed
friend, were summoned to see him on the 18th of
Marsh, and before the eiose of the '2oth be was dead.
His funeral was attended by an immense assembl
age of those who sincerely mourned their lose. Rev.
A. Miller, of Harford, preached an able sermon
from Col. IV. 14th, "Luke, the beloved physician,"
and his remains were committed to the earth with
Masonic honors, the ceremonies beiuz conducted
by Hon Bent. Parke, LL. D. At a special meeting
of the larwcinehannn County Medical Society appro
priate resolutions of respect and condolence were
passed, and published in the papers of the county.--
TA:nun-Nona of .Iledkci7 Society tf Pam's. CC. H.
The Mas woo OWNS HUDDERSFIELD —The Eng
lish papers state that Lady Owendoline H. Maur,
the young and lovely daughter of the Doke of Somer
set, has just been married to Sir J. &linden, the
Young Yorkshire Baronet, who owns the land on
which every house In Huddersfield Is built, save one.
Sir John has offered fabulous sums for the property,
but in vain. The land belongs to an old Quaker,
and on Sir John offering to purchase It from him
he replied: " When strangers ask thee to whom the
town of Hudderaford belongs, thou canst ray that it
belongs to thee and me." The Baronet offered to
give the owner as many sovereigns for the land as
would cover the property, when the Quaker Inqutr•
ed, " Wilt thou place them edgewise f" It is per
haps needless for ns to state, that the Baronet 'de
clined placing them edgewise, and the ownership of
the town of Huddersfield is therefore still divided
between Sir John Ranisden and the Quaker.
Hamm ON CNIVOLINN. —A country "chap," who
recently visited non-Francisco for tho first time,
gives his views of the ladles In this way:
"Somewhat's in every circumference nt silk and
velvet that wriggle. , along there's alien a woman,
I suppose; but how much of the holler Ls filled in
with meat, and how much is gammon, the spectator
dun no. A feller marry. a site, and finds, when It
cams to the p'irit, that he has nuthin' In his arms
but a regular anatomy. El' men Is gay deseevere,
what Is tobe said of the female that dresses for a
hundred and forty weight, but has n't really got as
much fat on her as would grease a griddle—all the
appearant plumpness cone itting of cotton and
whale bona.
Car Mrs. Swieshelm comes down like a thousand
o' brick upon the female clerks In Washington—their
tight sheet, pinched waists, curls, flashy dress, hoop
skirts, buds, spangles, beads, and smiles. She mor
alizes severely and denounces the vanity, insipidity
and want of delicacy of her comrades in the depart
ments. Jane G. is not lovely nor Is she young-.
that's about what's the matter.
tal'A lady wrote upon a window some verses,
letnnating her design of never marrying. A gentle.
man wrote the following lines underneath:
Tho lady whose resolve these words betoken,
Wrote them on glass, to show it may be broken.
ay - Bad men are never completely happy, aitho'
possesard of everything that this world can bestow ;
and good men are tomer completely miserable, al
though-deprived of all that the world can takeaway.
To plague poor Job the Devil took hie wealth,
Bore off his children, and destroyed his health; „
What, think your did he more to fret his life } Why, he, old Satan, left a scolding wife.
Aar* On has as mnrathead aa a good many an
ima, dad a great dial ouzo viola
LOST.
Pm thinking to.ntght of the beautiful girl,
I lost so long ago ,
Lost, lost In the splendor of Fashion's mad whirl,
Lost, lost In a shimmer of diamonds and pearl,
And laces and satins of snow.
Once she was only the beautiful flower
That grew In my heart's deepest core,
Now she is wedded to fashion and power—
Aye, wedded for lite for an old man's dower,
For We and forever more.
Oh, I cannot forget the smiles and the glance
That made me heart throb with joy,
As floating along like a star In the danc.
A tench of her hand pierced my heart title a lance,
The heart of her lover boy.
So Innocent, artless, and childlike, so fair,—
A star In the brow of Night—
Her white shoulders veiled in a lace work of hair,
Her snowy robes floating around her like air,—
Fleecy and noiseless and light.
She Is beautiful still, but haughty and proud
She tosses her queenly head,
As she flatters along with the floating crowd—
Her Jewels and velvets are only a shroud
To hide a heart that Is dead.
I'm thinking to-night of the beautiful girl
That I loved so deep and wild,
Lost., lost in the splondor of Fashion's mad whirl,
Lost, lost in a shimmer of opals and pearl—
Lost—the innocent child.
It may have been beat, hut I'm dreary to-night,
With thoughts I cannot control,
The old, old love that I quenched burueth bright,
And her face, like a star4n a halo of night,
Is shining within my soul.
HOME AND FRIENDS.
tth I there's a power to make each hour
As sweet as Heaven designed it ;
Nor need we roam to bring it home,
•
Though few there be that find it I
We eeek too high for things close by,
And lose what Nature found ne;
For life bath here no charms so dear
As home and friends around us!
We oft destroy the present Joy
For future hopes—and praise them;
While flowers as sweet, bloom at our feet.,
If we'd hut stone to raise them!
For things afar still sweetest are
When youth's bright spell path bound us ;
But soon we're taught the earth bath naught
Like home and friends around us!
The friends that speed in time of need,
When Hope's last reed is shaken
To show us still Unit, come what will,
We are not quite forsaken:
Though all were night, If but the light
From Friendship's altar crowned ns,
'T would prove the bliss of earth was this—
Our home and friends around us!
NEW YOEX EDITORS.
The personal appearance of all distinguished men
Is a matter of curiosity. and has teen from time im
memorial ; and to gratify this natural Interest con
calming editors we Jot down a few Ilmnings.
The largest of New York editors in point of size is
James Gordon Bennett. while the smallest is Henn
J. Raymond. Both of these men have been bold
editors, and yet, quite strangely, the latter has nev
er met the touch of nensonel vinlence, while the for
mer has been punished often and severely. Mr.
Raymond exhibits a marvelous contrast between
muscle end intellect. His Industry for a quarter of
a century past has been incredible, and he has the
reputation of being the hardest worker in New
York. In this way he built up the Times.
Erastus Brooks, of the /*press, is of a tall, nets
Yowl frame, indicating no ordinary degree of power,
and yet, with all his ability, he has failed to bode
up a leading paper.
As for Horace Greeley. almost everybody knows
how he looks, and we need only add that he dresses
much better than in former days, and the famous
white coat has retired from service. We believe
that the eccentricities of this peculiar man are en
tirely unaffected, and are the kliosyneraeles of his
nature. Mr. Greeley has changed but little in twenty
yearn, and wears remarkably, considering the great
amount of work be turns off daily. When we first
saw Mr. Greeley, he was a tall, slender youth, with a
peculiar freshness of countenance, and a beautiful
simplicity playing over his features. This was In
1&39, when he was struggling for a foothold In the
great metropolis, He has since become stouter.
and while be shows the marks of time, ho has not
put off the early marks of character.
His chief opponent, Thurlow Weed, is six feet
high and well proportioned, albeit we do not ad
mire his style of countenance.
We have thus referred to the veterans of the daily
press, and may remark that during twenty years or
more they have stood at the post of daily toil with
uniform industry, and In each individual case have
gained in weight slate the commencement. Not
one has died during the term mentioned.
Among the editorial corps of New York, the pub
lic interest singles out one as an object of chief en
riosity. This is Bennett, There is, perhaps, an ex
cuse to be found for this, in the fact that no public
man has said so much about himself as he. He has
even advertised his own personal ugliness, and the ,
too in a most indelicate manner. We might quote
from his own columns such references ad nauseam
but we forbear. Mr. Bennett Is seldom seen, and
while other editors are open to the public, his meth
od is seclusion. We think this habit grew out of a
sense of danger, arising from the bitterness of Ills
personal attacks, and the frequent retaliation which
followed. Mr. Bennett is understood to make ne
claim on public sympathy—he has warred upon so
ciety, and expects to receive whatever may come.
If wealth be the great end of life, be has succeeded,
since his establishment Is estimated at two millions,
but we doubt it this affords the expected satisfac
tion. In early days Mr. Bennett wall tall, slender,
ann exceedingly awkward. Ho has since become
very stout, and Is the largest, stoutest, and richest
of the New York dailies. He is descended from an
old Scotch Roman Catholic family, and was educe t•
ed for the priesthood. Of the religious preferences
of the other editorial gentlemen referred to, we may
add that Mr. Greeley is a Universallat, and Mr. Ray
mond a Presbyterian. Of the religious press, Mr.
Prime, of the Observer, is a large, well-bullt man,
with quiet and unostentatious manners. This cor
responds with the character of the sheet he issues,
which is a pleasant, readable, and useful paper.—
Theodore Tilton, of the Independent, is one of the
youngest of the fraternity, and may expect some
thing of a compliment as to personal appearance.—
The Independent, although ranking among religious
Journals, is highly literary to Its character, and
boasts in its editor a poet of no ordinary ability--
Bryant, of the Evening That, is, as all know, the pa.
trlarch of the city press; he is venerable in appear
ance, and of august yet cheerful manners, and hears
the stamp of nature's greatness. His associate and
eon-in-law, Parke Godwin, is about twenty-five years
his junior, and is a good specimen of humanity.—
Northern Journal.
JOHN ADAMS' 00138T8HIP.
The Boston Transcript says: A correspondent
sends us the following interesting reminiscence
"John Adams sought the hand of the daughter of
the Rev. Mr. Smith, of Weymouth, and Miss Abi
gail was pleased to accept the proposal of Mr.
Adams, mach to the chagrin of the parson, the ob
jection being that Adams was a man of humble mi.
gin and moderate ability, and could never aspire to
anything more than the position of eh:amble village
lawyer. Ills visits to her borne were frequent and
prolonged but no hospitalities were tendered by
Rev. Mr. Smith, either to Adams or his nag; for
while Abigail only had watchful care over him, his
'bay' passed the weary hours of night in feeding on
the hitching-post.
"Now Abigail had a sister whose name was Mary,
and who was betrothed to a wealthier and it was bo.
tiered a more promising young man, whose presence
was welcomed most cordially by the reverend's
family.
'The good parson bad promised each of his
daughters that on the occasion of her marriage he
would preach a sermon from a text of the bride's
own selection. Mary first married, and beautifully
appropriate did the father think the text: ' And
Mary bath chosen that good part In due time
Ahigall marries, and chooses for her text: 'For
John came neither eating nor drinking, end they say
he bath a devil.' Tradition does not tell us, as we
remember, how the text pleased the father, but the
sermon was preached. Mary, indeed chose a good
part; her lite was a happy one, and her husband
was a man of means end respectability. Abigail was
a woman of strong affections, a practical wife, and
poaseased.of great nobility of character, while Ihe
names of her husband and son will live es long as
the love of liberty inspires the soul of tun." •
ur Agricultural fairs—Farmer's daughters.
—What to expect at a hotel—lan•attentlon.
—A deg flies as an old man walks—by the aid of a
staff.
—Old Neptiano's breakfast, rolls are Tory capita
ble to weak stomas.
—lt you have a cough don't go to church to clis
ttirb the rattoi the congregation.
—Wby the early grub 11,1teArkelia Mo.
tat etie ;NO* bltoge oat ere
02.00 per annum, in sulviiiicke
NUMBER 48.
BO MANY aiaLS—A SKETaEL
BY !BS. MUM= =►3ppn STOWS.
It was a briak clear evening, In the latter post of
December, when Mr. A— returned from his
counting-house to the comforts of a bright coal fire,
and warm arm-chair, In his parlor at home. He
changed his heavy boots for slipper", drew around
his the folds of his evening gown, and then Idling
ing back in the chair, looked tip to the ceiling and
about, with an air of satisfaction. Still there was a
cloud on his brow—what could be the matter with
Mr. A— t To tell the truth, he had, that after
noon, received in his eounting•room the agent of one
of the principal religious charities of the day—and
had been warmly urged to double his last year's
subscription, and the urging had Dem:lionised by
statements and arguments to which be did not well
know how to reply. "People think," soliloquized
he to himself, "that I am made of money, I beliefs:
this is the fourth object this year for which I have
been requested to double my subscription, and this
year has been one of heavy family expenses—build
ing and fitting up this house, carpets, curtains—no
end to the new things to be bought—l really do not
see how I am to give a cent more in charity; then
there are the bills for the girls and boys—they all
say they must have twice as much now as before we
came Into this house—wonderlll did right In build
log It?" And Mr. A— glanced uneasily up sad
down the ceiling, and around on the costly furni
ture, and looked into thnfire In slience—be wie
ed, barrassed and drowsy, hie bead began to awbn,
and his eyes closed—he was asleep. In his sleep be
thought he beard a lap at the door ; he opened it,
and there stood a plain, poor-looking man, who in
a voice singularly low and sweet, asked for a few
moments conversation with him. Mr. A--
asked him into the parlor, and drew him a chair
near the fire The stranger looked attentively
around, and then turtling to Mr. A—, present ed
him with a paper. "It is your last year's subscrip
tion to Missions," said he, "yon know all of the
wants of that e....use that canto told you; I called to
see If you bad anything more to add to it"
This was mid in the same low and quiet voice se
before, but for some reason, unaccountable to him
self, Mr. A— was more embarrassed by the
plain, poor, unpretending gum, than he bad ever
been in the presence of any ono before. He was for
some momenta Went before he could reply at all,
and then in a hurried and embarrassed manner he be
gan the same excuse which bad appeared so satisfac
tory to him the afternoon before. The hardness df
the times—the ditikulty of collecting money—iand
ly expenses, dre.
The stranger quietly surveyed the apacions'apart
ment with Its many eleganclea and luxuries, and
without any comment took from the merchant the
paper he had given, but immediately presented him
with another.
"This is your sebseription to the Tract Society,
have you anything to add to it—you know how
much it has been doing, and how much more It now
desires to do, if Christians would only fnroishmeans.
Do von not feel called upon to add something to It P•
Mr. A— was very uneasy under this appeal,
hot there was something In the still, mild manner
of the stranger that restrained him; but be answer
ed that although he regretted It exceedingly, his cir
cumstances were such that he could not this year
conveniently add to any of his charities.
The stranger received back the paper without say
reply, but immediately presented In its place the
subscription to the Bible Society, and In a few clear
and forcible words, reminded him of its wefl.bnown
claims, and again requested him to add something
to his donations. Mr. A— became impatient
"Have I not said." he replied, "that Iran do noth
ing more for any charity than I did last year ? There)
seems to be no end to the calla upon us In these
days. At first there were only three or four objects
presented, and the sums required were moderate—
now the objects increase every day, all call upon us
for money, and all, alter we give once, want us to
double and treble and quadruple our subscliptians;
there is no end . to the thing—we may as well stop
In one place as another."
The stranger took back the paper, rose, and wag
his eye on his companion, said in a voice that thrill;
ed to his soul :
"One year ago tn-night, you thought that your
daughter lay dying—you could not sleep for aireny.e.
upon whom did you call all that night t"
The merchant started and looked up—there teem-
Ni a change to have passed over the whole form of
his visitor, whose eye was fixed on him with a calm,
intense, penetrating =prelusion, that awed and sub
dued him—he drew back, covered his face, and
made no reply.
"Five years ago," said the stranger, "when you
I.y at the brink of the grave, and thought Malty=
died then you should leave a fatally of helpless child
ren entirely anprovided for, do you remember how
yon prayed—who saved you then ?"
The stranger reused for an answer, but there vu
a dead silence. The merchant only bent forward u
one entirely overcome, and rested Ida head on the
seat herons him.
The stranger drew yet nearer, and said in a still
lower and more Impressive tone: "Do you rememh
er, fifteen years since, that time when yOu felt your
self so lost, so helpless, so hopeless, whin you spent
days and night In prayer, when you thought you
would give the whole world for one hones assur
ance that your sins were forgiven yon—wholistenbi
to you then r'
"It was my God and Savior I" Bald the merchant
with a eadden burst of remoreefbl feeling; "Oh.
yes, It was he."
"And has Hi ever complained of being celled up
on too often ?" inquired the stranger, in a voice of
reproachful sweetness ; "say," he added, "ate z cz
willing to begin this night and ask no more of
If he from this night will ask no more of you r
"mob, never, never,
never!" said the merchant,
throwing himself at his feet, but as be spoke these
words the figure seemen to vanish, and he awoke
with his whole soul stirred within him.
"Oh God and Savior I what have I been saykl?
What have I beep doing?! be exclaimed. "Take
sn—teke everything—what la all I have, to what
Thou halt done for me ?"
An Irish Story—Billeting a Lawyer.
Well mind yeraeli, now, for this Is as true as Gos
pel. It was on the 11th of May, 1839, I 'listed a re
cruit' In Dublin, and put the questions to him, gave
the shillin', glory be to God, and walked him to
the barracks as fine as a tlddle. Well, behold ye,
now, a few days either, be was claimed as'
_prentimil„
and so he was had np before the major, and he com
mitted him for trial. Well, at the following slues he
was bad no, and I was called as witness, and the
'lis
lawyer that defended him tould me that I did not
"I 'did," eald I.
"Did ye put the questions to him rightly r' says be.
"I-dtd," said I.
"By the venture of yer oath, now," gays he, - "Jost
ax me the questions, for I don't believe yon Ira
them."
"How do you know that?" says I, "for by this
and by that you wom't by."
"None of yer btusiness," says he. "Come, now,
let us hear. Put the questions to me," saysi
and he held out his hand, and accordingly I pulled
out n half crown and slapped It into his fist, and
then I up and axed him the questions, and ha said
"yea" to them all.
"Was these the same questions yd put to this
prisoner ?" says ho.
"They wor," says L
"Well, here's yer halt crown back, for rasp!
says he.
"I can't take It, sir," says I.
"Why not 7" says he.
"Why not f" says I; "why, sure I can't take It
back till ye go before a magistrate and pay the
`smart money.' "
"Yon be hanged," says he. And he put the men.
ey In his pocket, and I called to his lordship on the
bench for a witness that I bad 'listed him. And O.
but there was a roar in court I His lordship, the
Judge, laughed till the tears ran down his face, and
says be to the counsellor:
"I am sorry for von, my good man, but I hope
you'll get promoted soon."
Well, the decision of the court being In my River.
I axed the Judge at' I might take away my now re•
omit f And they all roared again, and the counsels
for got as red as a turkey cock, and as mad as a bull
with the chollc ; but at last ho made the best he
could of It, and paid up the "smart money," and I
picked op my cap to leave the court; and says 1 to
the counsellor, says I:
"Don't list In the line neat time, sir."
"What thin t" says he snappishly.
"O, yea
your erbo wu. "
no"rifles r,gays I, "stick to therilie; that's
more
Well, when I Wald* the atory to the major, I
thought he'd die, and when he'd done laughrn, he
bid me keep the "smart money" for myself,
IMPORTA3CBOP PUSOTlJATlON.—Wanted—ayomag
man to take charge of a very fine span of bona GI
• religions turn of mind.
A school committee man writes : Weber:: 'school
home largo enough to accommodate four hundred
pupils four stories high.
A newspaper sayschild wu recently run
over by a wagon about three years old and craw
eyed wearing pantalets which never spoke mother
word afterwards.'
Parasol—A protection against the sun, used II
ladles made 'ofxotton and whalebou.
An ezetuu)ge in describing a recent celebrant",
says: "Threes:don was very due and about two
miles in len h was also the prayer of Dr. Piny.
the Chaplin.
largo trio tiottO6 to toottit MAIM 00 Oa.