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PUBLISHED WEEKLY IN THE CITY OF READING, BERKS COUNTY, PA.---TERMS: $1,50 A YEAR rN ADVANCE.
J. LAWRENCE GETZ, EDITOR.]
YITSLISITED EVERY SATURDAY KORAI-NO
floc, Yorth-Te'ext Fa rme r s' f Penn and Afth ',Oen', ad
joining the Bank of Reeding.
TERM OP SIINCRIPTION
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To Cirl3s: Four copies for $5, in advance.
Ten copies for I.Z.
43- An papers diseontintod at the expiration. of ate
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[Larger Advertisement. is prOpurtion.]
Executors' and Administrators' Notices, 6 insertions $2,00
Auditors Notices and Legal Notices, 3 " 1,53
special Notisee, es reading matter, 10 cis. a line for one
howl - don.
[Tr Marriage notices Vi cents each. Deaths will be
Atirail Obituary Noticee, Reeoltdions of Beneficial and
ether Private Associations, will be charged for, as adver
ti-ewents, at the above rates.
BB Advertisements for Religions. Charitable and Edo
esti-owl objects, one half !heehaw' rates.
gar All advert - Wing will be considered payable In cash,
on the first insertion.
Yearly advertisers shall have the privilege (:I' desired)
of renewing their advertisements awry three wear—bat
,dl,zer. Any additional renewals, or advertising ex
crtmeg the amount contracted for, will be charged extra
xt see-hall the rants above specified for imanalenk aaver
Lastly advertisers will be charged the came rates as
transient advertisers for all matters not relating aridly
PRINTING OF EVERY DESCRIPTION
Eneeote.l in a superior manner. at the now lowed pricer'.
Our assortment of Joe Titre is large and fashionable, and
our Work speaks for itself.
BLANKS OF ALL KINDS,
• . . . •
TECIE•1101; PARCHRERT and PAPER DEEDS, MORTGAGES,
Vorzu,‘, AUTICLES or Amtne.wurr, .LEasso, awl a variety of
Jcertose' BLANKS, kept constantly for sale, or printed to
RICHMOND L. JONES,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
OFFICE WITH J. GLANCY JONES, ESQ.,
East Penn Square. south stole, Heading.
April IS, 1563-Smo
JESSE G. HAWLEY,
ATTORNIY AT LAW,
HAS REMOVED HIS OFFICE TO NORTH
Sixth Street, °matte the - Keystone Home, Reading.
April 11, 1563-tf
NEWTON D. STRONG,
ATT Olt.N MY AT LAW,
OFFICE IN COURT STREET, NEAR FIFTH,
!leading, Pa. flilarch ]4, 1563-31 no
3011 N RALSTON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
OFFICE WITH A. B. WANNER, NORTH
Sixth Street. (above the Court House.) Rea.dlng, Pa.
February 21, ISQ-Iy
NiPLLIAM IL LIVINGOOD, ATTORNEY AT
LAW, has removed his office to the north [fide of
Court street Bret door below Sixth. [dee 2241
ATTORNEY AT LAW—HAS REMOVED HIS
Mace to the Office lately occupied by the Hoe. David
iordon, deceased, in Sixth !street, opposite the Court
Hondo. (epril 14
ATTORNEY AT LAW—OFFICE IN NORTH
sizeu tltreet, corner of Court alley. fang 13-ly
AVIIOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
..y Foreign and Domestic DRY GOODS, No. 25 East
ern street, Reading, Pa. [March 10, 1600.
United States Bounty, Back Pay and
COURT STREET, EELS SIXTH.
TTAVING BEEN ENGAGED IN COLLECT
. i ing claims against the Government, I feet confident
that all who have heretofore employed me will cheerfully
endorce my promptness and fidelity. My charges are
nwierateand no charge made until obtained.
WILLIAM ii. LIVINGOOD,
oct IS-lf] Attorney at Law, Court St., Reading, Pa.
Cis NOW OBTAIN THEIR $lOO BOUNTY
from the U. S. Government, by application to
ABNER R. STAUFFER,
March 7-tf) Collection Office, Court Street, Reading.
ASA M. HART,
(Late Hart 4‘. Mayer')
pEALER IN FOREIGN AND AMERICAN
DRY GOODS, CARPETINGS , &c., Wholesale and Re
al Philadelphia prices. Sign of the Golden Bee Hive,
14 Fan P6llll. Square. [april 17—tf
P. Bushong & Sons,
SANUFACTURERS OF BURNING FLUID,
Absolute, Deodorized and Drtiggiste' Alcohol; also,
ins Oil, which they will sell at the lowest Wholesale
prices, at Reading, Pa.
4W Orders respectfully solicited.
DR. T. YARDLEY BROWN,
GRADUATE OF PENNSYLVANIA
Dental College. Teeth extracted by Fran
' ilig s a cis' Electra Magnetic process, with Clarke's
improvement With this method teeth. are
xtracted with winch loan pain than the wand way. No
extra charge. Office in Fifth street, opposite the Presbyte
rian Church. [april 2—ly
Fourth Street, above Penn, Reading.
January 24, 18634 f
BOUNTIES & BACK PAY.
APPLICATIONS PROMPTLY ATTENDED
to. Terme moderate and no charge until obtained.
A. G. GREEN, Attorney at Law,
Jan al-amo] Office in Court tweet, Reading.
AND PENSION CLAIMS
PROMPTLY ATTENDED TO BY
A. K. STAY 'PER,
Attorney at Law, Office in Court Street,
Jan 31-01 READING, PA.
IHAVE OPENED A LIQUOR AND WINE
STORE, in the room formerly occupied by
JOHN GREEN, IN THE " SMUCKER HOUSE."
Idy friends are all invited to call and examine for them
selves. All LIQUORS and WIRES sold be me, shall be as
April 4, isas-ul JERESIIAEI D. RITMO.
'WATCHES, GOLD AND SILVER,
CLOCKS AND JEWELRY.
tah ItELIADLE IN QUALITY - AND AT LOW
Price, Wine R.V.P/LI/tl.4_—Watches pat in per
fent order and every sae warranted for one year.
21 North Fifth Street, Reading, ?a.
F. P. HELLER,
AND DEALER IN
WATCHES, CLOCKS, JEWELRY,
SPOONS, SPECTACLES, GOLD PENS, &c.,
10 Sign of the "BIG WATCH," No. OM Ea Penn
Street, above Sixth, north aide, Reading, Pt.
gar. Every article warranted to be what it is sold for
Watch., Clucks, Jewelry, &C., repaired with particular
attention, and gtutrante ed. [fa 1-tf
A PREMIUM WILL BE PAID ON
GOLD, 4010X-NT, SEIXMOLT.W.R.
M*.AL - I=l. xm - caoxemos
EXCHANGE AND BANKING OFFICE
G. W. GOODRICH,
Maud 10, 1801-11]
BALTIMORE LOCK HOSPITAL
grESTABLISHED AS A REFUGE FROM QUACKERY
The Only Place Where a Cure Can be
PR. JOHNSTON HAS DISCOVERED THE
moat Certain, Speedy and only Effectual Remedy in
the World for all Private Diseases, Weakness of the Back
or Limbs, Strictures, Affections of the Kidneys and Blad
der, Involuntary Discharges, Impotency, General Debili
ty. liervouannsa, Dyspepsia. Languor, Low Writs, Collin.
elan of Ideas, Palpitation ofthe Heart. 'I ixuidity, Trembling,
Dimness of Sight or Giddiness, Disease of the Head,
Throat, Vase or Skin, Affections of the Liver, Lange,
Stomach or Bowels—those Terrible Disordera arising from
the Solitary Habits of Tonth—thoso SECREf and solitary
practices more fatal to their victims than the eking 4A Syrews
to the Mariners of Ulysses, hli,tliting their m..st brilliant
hopes or anticipations, rendering marriage, stc., impossible.
Eepecially. who have become the victims of Solitary Tice,
that dreadfnl and destructive habit which annually sweeps
to an untimely grave thousaude of Young Men of the most
exalted talents and brilliant intellect, who might other
wise have entranced liskehrklhg Senates, with the thunders
of eloquence or waked to ecstasy the living lyre, may call
with fall coeldeace.
Married Paraons, or Young Men contemplating marriage,
bring aware of physical weaknoas, organic debility, defor
mities. &c., speedily cared.
He who places himself tinder the care of Dr. d. may re
ligionaly confide in his honor as a gentleman, and confi
dently rely upon his skill as a Physician.
Immediately Cared, and Full Vigor Restored.
This Distre.slogd.ffeciisti—which senders Life miserable
and marriage irdpor , silbic—is the penalty paid by the vic
tims of improper indulgences. Y...ung persons are too apt
commit excesses from not being aware of the dreadful
consegnencee that slay ensue. Now, who that understands
the subject will pretend to deny that the power of procrea
tion in toot sooner by those falling into improper habit..
than by the prudent'? Besides being deprived the pleas
ure of healthy offspring, the mast serious and destructive
symptoms to both body and mind arise. The system be
comes Deranged, the Physical awl Mental Functions
Weakened, Loss of Procreative Power, Nervous Irritabili
ity, Dyspepsia, Palpitation of the Heart, Indigestion, Con
stitutional Debility, a Wasting of the Frame, Cough, Con
sumption, Decay and Death.
Office, No. !' South rrederiek Street,
Lou hand aide going Prom Baltimore street, a few doors
from the corner. Fail not to observe name and number.
. . .
Latter must be paid and contain a etamp. Tho Doctor's
Diplomas hang in his office.
A CURE ViTAILBANTEII IN
No Mercury or Nauseous Drugs.
Member of the Royal College of Surge One, London, Gradu
ate from one of the most eminent Colleges Sn the United
States, and the greater part of whose life ban been spent in
the hospitals of London, Paris, Philadelphia and else
where, has effected some of the most astonishing cures that
were ever known; many troubled with ringing in the head
and ears when asleep, great nervousness, being alarmed at
sudden *wands, basbfrilham, with frequent blushing, at
tended sometimes with derangement of mind, were eared
Wart P.A.RTICIMAR NOTICE.
Dr. J. addresses all those who have injured themselves
by Improper indulgence and solitary habits. which ruin
both body and mind, unfitting them for either bash:less,
study, society or marriage.
Timm are some of the sad and melancholy effects produc
ed by early habits of youth, viz; Weakness of the Back and
Limbs, Pains in the Head, Dimness of Sight, Loss of Mu.
enter Power, Palpitation of the Heart, Dyspepsy, Nervous
Irritability, Derangement of the Digestive Functions, Gen
eral Debility, Symptoms of Consumption, Sic.
MmrraLLT.—The fearful effects on the mind are much to
be dreaded—Loss of Memory, Confusion of Ideas, Depres-
Alen of Spirits, Evil Forebodings, Aversion to Society, Self•
Distrust, Love of Solitude, Timidity, stc., are some of the
THOOSANDS of persons of all ages can now judge what is
the canoe of their &alining health, losing their vigor, be
coming weak, pale, nervous and emaciated, having a sin
gular appearance about the eyes, cough and symptoms of
Who have Injured themselves by a certain practice 'addl..
god in when alone, a habit freqnently learned from evil
companions, or at school, the ethaan of which are nightly
felt, even when asleep, and if not cured renders marriage
impossible. and destroys both 'Mud mud body, should op
What a pity that a young man, the hope of his country,
the darling of his parents, ehonld be snatched from all
prospects and enjoyments of life, by the consequence of
deviating from the path of nature and indulging in a cer
tain secret habit. cinch persons ausT, before contemplat
reflect that a sound mind and body are the most necessary
requisites to promote connubial happiness. Indeed, with
out these the journey through lite becomes a weary pil
grimage; the: prospect hourly darkens to the view; the
mind becomes shadowed with despair and filled with the
melancholy reflection that the happiness of another be
comes blighted with our own.
DISEASE OF IMPRUDENCE.
When the misguided and imprudent votary of pleasure
finds that he has imbibed the seeds of this painful disease,
it too often happens that an ill-timed sense or shame, or
dread of discovery, &torah= from applying to those who,
from edneatiou and respectability, can alone befriend him,
delaying till thecoustitutional symptoms of this horrid dis
ease make their appearance, such so ulcerated WS throat,
diseased nose, nocturnal pains in the head and limbo, dim
ness of sight, deafuese, Lodes on ins shin-bones and arms,
blotches on the head, face and extremities, programing
with frightful rapidity, till at last the palate of the month
or the bones of the nose full in, and the victim of this aw
ful disease becomes a horrid object of commiceration, till
death puts a period to his dreadful sufferings, by sending
him to'• that Ur.dbmovered Country from whence no trav
It is a ?melancholy fact that thousands fall victims to
this terrible disease, owing to the anskillfolness of ignor
ant pretenders, who, by the uso of that Deadly Poison,
Mercury, ruin the constitution and make the residue of
Trust not your lives, or health, to the care of many Un
learned and worthless Pretenders, destitute-of knowledge,
name or character, Who copy Dr. Johnston's advertise
ments, or style themselves, in the newspapers, regularly
Educated Physicians, incapable of Curing, they keep you
trilling month after month taking heir filthy and 'Ninon
one compounds, or as long as the smallest fee can lie ob
tained, and in despair, leave yen with ruined health to
nigh over your own galling disappointment.
Dr. Johnston is the only Physician advertising.
His credentials or diplomas always hang in his ottlce.
ERe remedies or treatment are unknown to all others,
Prepared from a life spent in the great hospitals of Europe,
the first in the country and a more extensive Private Prac
tice than any other Physician in the world.
INDORSZIUMENT OF MUM
The many thousands cured at this Institution year atter
year, and the numerous important Surgical Operations
performed by Dr. Johnston, witnessed by the reporters of
the "Sun," "Clipper," and many other papers, notices of
which bare appeared again and again before the public,
bexides his standing as a gentleman of character and re
sponsibility, is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted.
Skin Diseases Speedily Cured.
InFflu letters received unless post-paid and containing
a stamp to be seed on the reply. Persons writing should
state age, and send portion of advertisement describing
SOHN Iff. SOUNSTON, M. D.,
Of the Baltimore Lock Hoepital, Baltimore, Maryland
ON THE EUROPEAN PLAN.
• CITY OF NEW YORK.
Single Rooms Fifty Cents per Day.
City Hall Square, corner Frankfort St.,
(OPPOSITE CITY HALL.)
MEALS AS THEY MAY BE ORDERED IN
the !spacious refectory. There is a Barber's Shop and
Bath ROOIIIM attached to the Hotel.
Jail 17 ly]
(LATE WHITE SWAN.)
Race Street, above Third, rhiladelphia.
I 11115 ESTABLISH MEN T OFFERS GREAT
inducements, not only on account of reduced rates of
board, hut from Ito central loration to the OVOLIIIOti of trade,
AS Welt an the conveniences afforded by the several
Panseagcr Railways running past and contignoue to it, by
which guests can pass to and from the Hotel, should they
lot preferred to the regular Omnibus connected with the
Boom lam determined to devote my whole attention to
the comfort and convenience of my guests.
/Kir Term, $1 4.5 per y.
D C. SIEGRIET, Proprietor,
Formerly from Eagle Hotel, Lebanon, Pa
T. V. RITOADEI.CIerk. [march Ih-tf
rtIE SUBSCRIBR respectfully announces to
the public that be hos recently enlarged his itIiEWR-
Eto a considerable extent. and introduced steam-power,
India now ready to supply all demands for
StIVE3EUOa. MALT LIQUORS.
For home and distant consumption. his stock of Malt
Liquors, warranted to keep in all climates. is as follows:
BROWN ETOU I', PORTER, BOTTLING ALE, DRAUGHT
ALE AND LAGER DEER.
June 19-tf FR BDIKRIOK LAGER.
N.B.—Altheral per tentage will be allowed to Agents
Corner of Fifth and Spruce !Streets.
March 1 X. MUM X BOA.
Safe% as Siddss.
Old Caleb Graymarsh dwelt in the New Eng
land village of M—, hard by his own stone
walled, black- chimneyed factory which belched
forth fire and smoke all day, and shone like some
ogre's .palace half the night with the fires and
lights which glimmered through the windows,
and shed a crimson gleam over the waste and
barren land about the building. For it was a
stirring place, this factory, and the work people
were there among the whirring machinery night
and day—strong, stalwart fellows, with begrim
ed hands and faces—old men, who could just
totter up the stairs—women, tidy and trim, and
some of them very pretty, and the little children,
who, had they been born of wealthy parents,
would only have been permitted to leave the
nursery under the guardianship of a maid.
There was occupation for all M— at the
great factory, and, in the eyes of his employes,
Caleb Graymareh was a man of mighty wealth
and power. Fabulous tales were told of his pos
sessions in real estate, and the women folks had
a legend among them that the tea service, which
some of them had seen glittering on the factory
table, was made of solid dollars, melted down for
the express purpose, and that throughout the
house the furniture was covered with real silk
velvet. It was a pity, they said, that poor Mrs.
Graymarsh could not have lived to see all this,
but had died when Caleb was a young man,
struggling for the fortune which was now his.
A few years before there had been a simple white
slab in the grave-yard, bearing the words, "Kitty
Graymarsh, aged 20." lint of late, a splendid
marble monument had arisen there, with a flow
ery inscription on he face, and the figure of an
angel bending over it. A showy thing, with
nothing artistic about it; yet though the dead
girl, who would have been an elderly woman by
this time had she lived, slept no more peacefully
under the costly structure than she had beneath
the simple slab, there was something in the sight
when one thought that by its erection the old
man had striven to make his lost wife participate
in the only possible way in the wealth which he
R. FRBIiCEI, Proprietor
It is hard to think of most old business men
as young lovers—strange to believe that smiles
On a weary slope of Apptuine,
At saber dunk of day's decline,
Oat of the solemn solitude
at Vallanihrmues A11[1(1110. wood.
A withered woman, tanned a nd bent,
heatinx her bundled brudiwood went,
Pulsing It on her palsied heed,
As if in pellAUCe for prayers unsaid.
Her dull Awaits channeled were with tears,
shed iu the iiorrus of eighty yearn:
nor wild bat...fell in suuty flow
White as the foamy brook below :
I till tolled she with her load alone,
With feeble feet, but steadfast will,
Tu gain her little home that Moue
Like a dreary lantern on the hill.
The mountain child, no toll could tame,
'With lighter load Imelda her came,
Spoke kindly, but its accents fond
Were loot—noon lost on the bights beyond.
There came the maid in her glowing limes,
The wild-eyed witch of the wilderness,
Her brush load shadowing her face,
ller upright figure lull of grime,
Like those tall pines whose only houghs
Are gathered ronud their dusky brows ;
Singing, she waved her hand, •` tiood night,'
And round the mountain passed from night.
There climbed the laborers from their toll,
Brown as their own Italian roil;
Like Satyrs, some in goatskin suits—
Some bearing home the scanty fruits
Of harvest work—the swinging Harks
Of oil or wise, or little casks,
finder which the dull mule went.
Cheered with its bells and the echoes sent
From others on the higher Light,
Saying to the vale—. 4. Good night "
" Good night "—And still the withered demo
Slowly staggered on the same.
Here, astride of his braying beast,
A brown monk came, and then a priest;
EaCh telling to the shadowy air,
Perchance their "Ave Maritt" prayer ;
For the sky was full of vesper showers
Shook from the many convent towers,
Which fell into the WOllllll'S brain
Like dew upon en arid plain.
There pions men beside her rode—
She crusted herself beneath her hood,
As best she could—and so," Good night,
And they rode upward out of sight.
How far, how very far it 'seemed,
To where that starry taper gleamed, .
Placed by her grand•cblld on the sill
Of the cottage window on the hill !
Many a parent heart beside,
Has seen a heavenward light that smiled,
And knew it placed there by a child—
A long gone eh ild, whose nevi°. face
Gazed toward them down the deeps of optics,
Loving for the loved to come
To the quiet of that home.
Steeper and rougher grew the road,
Harder and heavier grew the load;
lier heart beat like a weight of stone
Against tier breast. A sigh and moan
Mingled with prayer escaped her lips
Of sorrow, o'or sorrewing night's eclipse.
" Of all who pass me by," she said,
"There is never one to tend me aid;
Could I but wain yon wayside shrine,
There would I rest. this load of mine,
And tell my sacred rosary through,
And try what patient prayer would do."
Again she heard the toiling tread
Of one who climbed that way,—and said
" I will be bold, though I should see
A monk or priest, or it should he
The awful abbot. at whose nod
The [righted people toil and plod
I'll ask his aid to )otider place,
Where I may breathe a little apace,
And so regain my home." He canto,
And, halting by the ancient dame,
Heard her brio( story and request,
Which moved the pity in his breast;
Ant so he etealgldway took Ler load,
Toiling beside her op the road,
Until with heart that ovettlowed,
Site begged him lay her bundled sticks
Close at the feet of the crncillx.
So down be bet her brushwood freight
Against the wayside mons, iced 6traletk
She bowed her palsied bead to greet
And kilts the sculptured Saviour's feet,
And then and there she told her grief,
In broken sentences and brief.
Sod how the memory o'er her came,
Of days Warn out, like a taper llama,
Never to be relighted, when,
From many a bummer bill and glen,
She culled the loveliest blooms to shine
About the feet of this same shrine ;
But now, where once her Bowers were gay,
/Caught bat the barren brushwood lay!
She wept a little et the thought,
And prayers and tears a quiet, brought,
Until anon, relieved of pain,
She rose to take her load again.
But ;o! the bundle of dead wood
Had burst to blossom! and now stood
Dawning upon her marvelling sight,
Filling the air with odorous light !
Than apake her traveler-friend " Dear Soul,
Thy perfect faith hath made thee whole !
I am the litirtben-Bearer,—l
Wilt never pass the o'srladeu by.
Ply feet are en the numutain steep ;
They wind through valleys dark and deep;
They print the hot duet of the plain,
And walk the billows of the main,
Wherever in a load to bear,
My willing shoulder still is there!
Thy toil is done!" He took her hand,
And led her through a May time land;
Where round her pathway seemed to wave
Each votive flower she ever Save
To make her favorite altar bright,
As if the angels, at their blight,
Ilad borne them to the fields of blue,
Where, planted 'mid eternal dew,
They bloom, as witnesses arrayed
Of one on earth who toiled and prayed.
SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 9. 1863.
or frowns from one woman were once of greater
moment to them than the rise or fall of stocks
has now become. And the grim old factor, whose
brows were puckered into a continual frown, and
whose mouth hed become a straight stern line,
with grooves like wrinkles on either side of it,
scarce looked " the hero of a love tale." Yet
Caleb Graymarsh had been young once, and had
loved his little Kitty with a strong, manly earn—
estness. She was the sole love of his life, the
only woman who had ever made his heart beat.
When he won her, simple country girl though
she was, no monarch was fonder of his queen,
although all but his wife believed him cold•beart
ed, and wondered what charm young, blue eyed
Kitty had found in his stern face. Only Caleb •
Graymarsh himself know how well he loved his
wife, and when the sod was piled above her
breast, he knelt shove it, tesirless and speechless,
and prayed silently that God would let him die
We talk of wishing for death very often, but,
only those who have drained the cup of suffering
to the very dregs ever pray for it so earnestly
that they would not shrink and tremble if their
sinful prayer were answered and the bolt from
heaven were seen descending. One of those rare
and terrible moments came to Caleb Graymarsh
as he knelt above his young wife's grave, but
none who knew him ever guessed it. They saw,
a few moments afterwards, a plain, homely
working man, with a crape about his hat, rise to
his feet, and plod slowly homeward, and, seeing
no tears in his eyes and hearing no complaint
from his lips, thought he did not feel much, and
so left him. But Caleb Graymarsh, having no
living kindred, and not being at that time rich
enough ta have made friends, took the wailing
baby from the woman who had eared for it, while
he had followed its mother to the grave, and
nursed it all night., feeling a strange comfort in
the soft cheek he held against his own, and in
the unconscious trifling of those tiny fingers
about his face.
He had thought very little of the baby while
his wife lived, save as a pet and a plaything, it
was well enough for him to have; but now he ex
perienced a new feeling towards it. It would
grow, perhaps, to have her form and features.
He wished it were a girl instead of a boy ; and
yet even now he felt he was not quite desolate.
since God had left him this. And so, when the
morning dawned, and the golden sunbeams crept
through the bed-room window, they fell on Caleb
Graymassh fast aelesp, with his baby an his
Re put the child to nurse the next day and
went about his work as usual. Whatever were
hit feelings, he never spoke of them to any one,
and, young as he was, he had a grim, unsocial
wny with him which encouraged none to seek his
confidence. On Sundays, instead of going with
most of the other men to drink and frolic, or
joining the few more sober-minded at church,
Caleb Graymarsh went to the country place,
where his baby was at mass, and kept it with
him under the green trees all the day long. And
the child, unconscious as it really must have
been, was so strangely happy and contented that
one might easily have imagined that its little
eyes could see and read the tender secret of that
rough workingman's soul.
Year and year passed by, and plodding care
and industry helped Caleb Graymarsh to climb
the ladder of fortune, At first, acme deft han
diwork brought him higher wages; then he be
came foreman, and at last a partner in the very
establishment which he had first entered a friend
less boy, ordered and cuffed about by any one
who chose to take the trouble. The steps were
short and easy after this, and twenty years from
the day on which he had knelt beside his young
wife's grave, the black chimneys of his own fac
tory arose above the roofs of the trim New En
gland town, and people spoke of Caleb Graymarsh
as a person of wealth and influence.
In his life this man had married two strong
passions—the love for his dead wife, and the
greed of wealth ; not a miser's love of hoarding,
but the pride of possession. Caleb Graymarsh
liked to Bee envious eyes turned upon him, and
was fond of boasting and display. Very little
sympathy had he, either, for a poor man. What
he had done he believed that others might do al—
so. Those who worked for him knew this, and
expected no kindness from him. He was strictly
just, and sometimes even rewarded success by
liberality , but he never commisserated failure or
misfortune. Few heartily liked him, but all,
with one accord, seemed to warm towards his son,
young Harry Graymarsh, a genial, good.humored
fellow, just come to man's estate, and handsome
enough to turn the heads of all the girls in M—.
He was, as Caleb hoped he might be, his mother's
image. lie had her blue eyes and fair hair, her
gentle smile and impulsive heart. Old Caleb had
merely education enough to enable him to read
and write and cypher in an imperfect manner ;
but his son lied been taught as well and thorough
ly as any lad throughout the land. The grim
factor looked what he was, a working man risen
to prosperous circumstances and wearing good
clothes; but the son might have been of royal
blood for anything you could have guessed to
Once home from college, young Harry Gray
marsh was often seen in the factory, passing,
with a kindly look and a laugh, along the ranks
of the grim workmen who toiled in the lower
part of the huge building, or pausing to chat with
some blushing girl, who moved with light step
and graoeful arms, bare to the dimpled elbow,
amongst the whirring wheels and spindles upon
the upper floor. Even the bent old men and the
pale factory children had a word from him, and
many a comfortable blanket and warm shawl found
its way at, Christmas, to the dwelling of some old
work woman, "dreadful bad with the rheum,-
Liz," at the bidding of "young Master Harry."
There came at last amongst the forces in the
women's room, one who, to the rapturous eyes of
Harry Graymarsh, was wondrously beautiful.
An Italian sort of face, with liquid black eyes,
and hair so dark that there really was a purple
gloss upon it in the sunshine. It was the face
which first attracted the factor's son, but it was
the soul that riveted the chain which beauty
first twined around his heart.
She was not ignorant, and poor though she
was, there was an innate refinement in every
movement. And so, by slow degrees, from a
casual interchange of words, they came to whis•
pored conversa ti ons by the river side, and long
summer evening rambles in the green woods, and
before long, he had told her how beautiful she
seemed to him, and how tenderly he loved her;
and the eri, by blushes and silence rather than
by words, had revealed the secret of her heart
And then, one glorious day, when the sun was
setting and great Books of birds wore flying
homeward across the cloudless sky—when the
distant mountains were all aflame, and every
quivering leaf upon the tree-tops a shimmering
point of gold, Harry Graymarsh and Alice Lee
were betrothed to each other; and so perfectly
did she love him and trust his love for her, that
she never thought " He is rioh and I am poor,"
but only, " Ifs loves me."
Whether in those summer rambles Harry
Graymarsh ever thought of his father, I do not
know. He had never been thwarted by him in
' all his life, and perhaps he could not imagine
that the rod of parental authority should first be
wielded in a matter of such import; besides,
what was there in modest, beautiful Alice Lee to
awaken any one's aversion ? Certain it is that
when one evening, sitting on the hank beside the
river, with his arm about the waist of his be
trothed, Harry lifted up his eyes and saw his
father standing behind him, he felt bashful and
confused, but not alarmed.
The old man vanished as softly as he had ap
peared, and poor Alice did not even see him, but
a storm was brewing, and it broke over Harry
Graymarsh's head that veryening.
" Do you know you are the eon of the richest
man in the place ?" said Graymarsh, standing
crimson with rage before his son ; " that you
might marry au heiress if you like ? and here I
find you making love to a girl in my own factory,
and you saLyou mean to marr her—you actual
ly say thaff my face."
'4 "I repeat it," replied Harry: "we are be.
There were hot words between the father and
son after that; taunts and reproaches, the first
which had ever passed their lips, and the sun
went down upon their wrath. They parted for
the night in anger, and neither slept. It is an
awful thing when those who love, first quarrel,
and wounds are made which are the harder to
heal for the memory of past tenderness. Old
Graymarsh had been in his own way a tender
father and Harry always a dutiful son. A stern
parent and a bad child could have been recon
ciled more easily.
Since affluence had given him the opportunity
to be more idle, old Caleb had felt some touches
of the gout, and one of them twinged and tweak
ed him the neat morning. Therefore he sent a
grudging message to Harry, telling him that he
must go in his place to the factory that morning,
and received an angry but obedient answer.
Then, before Harry was off, a servant left the
house with a note for Alice Lee, bidding her not
to go to work that day, but present herself before
him in an hour's time. She must. be got rid of,
he thought. Ile would bribe her to go to some
distant place. This common factory girl could
not wed his Harry. But when she stood before
him in her modest beauty, it was very hard for
him to speak to her as he had intended. This
was no coarse creature, ambitious of wealth and
setting snares for the rich man's son : something
of the soul of Harry's dead mother shone upon
the old man from her earnest eyes, and he felt
They were together in a little room, the win
dow of which looked upon the factory; she was
standing near the casement with her eyes upon
the dark pile ; he seated at the table trifling with
some papers and wondering how to begin. In
the silence, the whirr, whirr of the machinery
came plainly to their ears, and Caleb thought
the noise was strangely loud and distinct He
remembered that impression long after, and
wondered that it did not trouble him more at
that moment. As it was, he only thought—
"what shall I say; why does that girl in her
shabby dress look so much like a lady that I am
afraid of insulting her by words that seemed so
easy to say awhile ago ?"
Softened though Caleb was, he was still a grim,
hard old man, and his mind had been made up
too firmly to change it now. He opened his lips,
closed them again, and cleared his throat and
"Miss Alice Leo, I have something to say to
you. I shall make you angry, I suppose, but I
can't help it. You'll please attend to me."
She did not look at him, but stood staring, in
an awful manner, from the window.
"I am speaking to you. Do you hear me ?"
the old man repeated; but before the words bad
left his lips, Mice had turned and caught him by
the arm, and then with an awful roar, like the
voice of some fiend, an explosion occurred which
shook the house, a chorus of wailing screams and
groans, and then a terrible silence.
There were great black torrents of smoke
pouring from the windows of the factory, and
the wall toward the side where most of the great
engines were, bulged, and tottered, and fell, and
the roof caved in, and before them in an instant,
as though some fiend had been at work, stood a
ruin, black and horrible, a smokhig and steaming
mass, and seeming with its awful yawning jaws
to groan and scream. And from the lips of the
father and those of the betrothed maiden broke
one word, simultaneously— , . Harry!"
It united them in their great love and terror.
They clung together, feeling the link between
them for the first time. Both loved him, and he
—oh 1 what was he now ! a living, breathing be
ing, or a mass of crushed flesh, senseless, help
less, lost to them forever Y Together they rush
ed out into the open air, seeking him or what
Oh, the awful sight that summer sun shone
upon ! Men, dead and dying, crushed and mu
tilated, lay stretched upon the ground. Tho
women of the village came into the street, some
with their bare arms wet with soap-suds, some
with babies on their bosoms, wailing and shriek
ing, Bobbing and fainting, clinging to corpses
which an h.uir before had been breathing men,
peering with livid faces into horrible black hol—
lows in the wall whence hands and feet protrud
ed, listening for groans under those piles of rub
bish, that they might hear the voice of some
loved one amid those awful sounds; and there
amidst the ruins of his mighty factory, stood the
old man, calling aloud for help to save his Harry.
Li There is no hope for him, sir," said one of
the few workmen who remained unhurt. "He
went down to see what was the matter, when the
odd noise tir:t began, and never came up again."
hush !" cried the old man, "Do you dare
to tell me there is no hope. They SHALL save
Harry !" And then turning to the trembling
girl beside him, he repeated in a caressing way
[VOL. XXIV.-NO. 3.-WHOLE NO. 1967.
"Never fear, my lase, they shall save my Harry,
and he shall have you or what else he likes. I'll
never thwart him again. But if there's a God
above us, he'll save my Harry."
This was the burden of his talk, while labor
ers were hard at work digging away the rubbish
and bringing out dead bodies by the score. Men
ground to pulpy horrors! beautiful girls with
torn limbs! and children so alike in this awful
death that every one was claimed and struggled
for by twenty mothers.
AU day long they dug and lifted iron weights
and masses of stone, but there was no sign of
Harry's body yet. At the bottom of that awful
pile no doubt he lay mangled into shapelessness.
Alice knew that it must be so, but the old man
kept saying, still—" They shall save Harry."
Dusk had come, and they worked by torch
light. now. All hnd been, found dead or dying,
wounded and maimed. They were carried to
their homes. Yet still the crowd was thick about
the ruin, waiting for the moment when what was
left of Harry Graymarsh should be brought into
the open air. An awful silence prevailed, only
the click of spade and pickase broke it.
Suddenly LITT.° was a shout, a lifting of those
hundred voices. They had come to the lower
door of the building, and part of it remained en
tire. There was a little hope ; yes, more than a
little ; for listening, they heard a faint voice
calling to them, so it seen ed, though the words
were inaudible. Faster now—there a great raft
er to lift, and piles of stones and machinery to
east out. But that voice inspires them. They
work as they never worked before, and at last
they hear the cry again. It comes from the part
of the cellar where the floor remains. And one
great man, crouching on his face, forces himself
down into the blackness and screams—" Who is
And the answer is returned from the awful
cavern—... Harry Graymarsh. Help me if you
Then the men came out with a glorious shout,
and set to work like giants; and even women
came to help, as they thought of the fair young
face buried in that darkness. Ile may be maim
ed and wounded, but at least he lives. And there
is no pause, no respite from that toil. At an
other time many there would faint beneath it,
but not now, for every lifted stone brings them
closer to the buried man, and gives him a firmer
lease on life. As the morning broko the last is
heaved aside, and the bronzed giant, who before
crept into the cavern, leaps down now and van—
ishes in the shadow.
Silence, in which you might hear a pin fall or
a heart beat—silence that freezes the blood—and
then, breaking upon it, a woman's scream ; a
shriek from the lips of Alice, as they bring the
form of her lover, blood-stained and senseless, to
the light. Not dead ! oh, no ! she thanked God
for that. The great beams bad protected him.
Ile was bruised and wounded, but not mortally,
and in a little while his blue eyes opened, and his
pale lips whispered, "Father!"
Then the old factor, kneeling by his child as he
had knelt upon his dead wife's grave so long
ago, took the white band of Alice in his own and
placed it in his son's. "She is yours," he said,
"take her Harry and be happy. Wealth isn't
worth as much as love. I should have known
that all along," remembering Kitty. " Live,
Harry! only live! and I'll never do anything to
grieve you !" -
And Harry did live. Long before the winter
snows had come, he stood—a little paler and
thinner than before, perhaps, but well and strong
again—before the altar of the little church, with
Alice by his side, and, that night, when the moon
was high and no one watched him but the angels,
the old factor stood beside his Kitty's grave, and
whispered words of yearning love, which told
that the soul of the young lover only slumbered
in its iron-bound case, and that when death
should set it free it would rise, pure and unsul
lied, to meet its angel wife in heaven.
SPEECH OF HENRY CLAY,
In the 17. S. Senate, Feb. 7th, 1.838.
MR. PRESIDENT: At the period of the forma—
tion of our Constitution, and afterwards, our
patriotic ancestors apprehended danger to the
Union from two causes. One wag the Allegheny
mountains, dividing the waters which flow into
the Atlantic Ocean from those which find their
outlet in the Gulf of Mexico. They seemed to
present a natural separation. That danger has
vanished before the noble achievements of the
spirit of internal improvement, and the immor—
tal genius of Fulton. And now nowhere is found
a more loyal attachment to the Union, than
among those very Western people, who, it was
apprehended, would be the first to burst its ties.
The other cause, domestic slavery, happily the
sole remaining cause which is likely to disturb
our harmony, continues to exist. It was this
which created the greatest obstacle, and the most
anxious solicitude, in the deliberations of the
Convention that adopted the Federal Constitu—
tion. And it is this subject that has ever been
regarded with the deepest anxiety by all who are
sincerely desirous of the permanency of our
Union. The Father of his Country, in his last
affecting and solemn appeal to his fellow.citizens,
deprecated, as a most calamitous event, the
geographical divisions which it might produce.
The Convention wisely left to the several States
the power over the institution of slavery, as a
power not necessary to the plan of the Union,
and which contained the seeds of certain destruc
tion. There let it remain, undisturbed by any
Sir, I am not in the habit of speaking lightly
of the possibility of dissolving this happy Union.
The Senate knows that 1 have deprecated allu
sions, on ordinary occasions, to that direful
event. The country will testify, that if there be
anything in the history of my public career
worthy of recollection, it is the truth and sincer
ity of my ardent devotion to its lasting preserva
tion. But we should be false in our allegiance
to it, if we did not discriminate between the
imaginary and real dangers by which it may be
assailed. ABOLITIONISM should be no longer
regarded as an imaginary danger. The Aboli
tionists, let me suppose, succeed in their present
aim of uniting the inhabitants of the free States,
as one man, against the inhabitants of the slave
States. Union on the one side will beget union
on the other. And this process of reciprocal
consolidation will he attended with all the violent
prejudices, embittered passions, and implacable
animosities, which are possible to degrade or de
form human nature. A virtual dissolution of the
Union will have taken place, Whilst the forms of
its existence remain. The most valuable element
of union, mutual kindness, the feelings of sym
pathy, the fraternal bonds, which now happily
unite us, will have been extinguished forever.
One section will stand in menacing and hostile
array against the other, The collision of opinion
will be quickly followed by the clash of arms. I
will not attempt to describe scenes which now
happily lie concealed from our view. ABOLITION
ISTS THEMSELVES WOULD SHRINK BACK IN DISMAY
AND nonnon at the contemplation of desolated
fields, conilagrated cities, murdered inhabitants,
and the overthrow of the fairest fabric of human
government that ever rose to animate the hopes
of civilized man.
Nor should these Abolitionists flatter them
selves that if they can succeed in their object of
uniting the people of the free States, they will
enter the contest with a numerical superiority
that must insure victory. All history and expe
rienee prdlie the hazard aticl uneertaioty of war.
And we aro admonished by Holy Writ that the
race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the
But if they were to conquer, whom would they
conquer ? A foreign foe ? No, sir; no, sir. It
would be a conquest without laurels, without glory;
A SELF, A solutes'. CONQUEST; a conquest of
brothers over brothers, achieved by one over an
other portion of the descendants of common an
cestors, -who, nobly pledging their lives, their
fortunes, and their sacred honors, had fought
and bled, side by side, in ninny a hard battle on
laud and ocean, severed our country from the
British crown, and established our national inde
I am, Mr. President, no friend of slavery. The
searcher of all hearts knows that every pulsation
of seine beats high and strong in the cause of
civil liberty. Whenever it is safe and practica
ble, I desire to see every portion of the human
family in the enjoyment of it.. But I prefer the
LIBERTY OF MY OWN RACE to that of any other
race. The liberty of the descendants of Africa
in the United States is incompatible with the
safety and liberty of the European descendants.
Their slavery forms an eteeption—aa eiception
resulting from a stern and inexorable necessity—
to the general liberty in the United States. We
did not originate, nor are we responsible for,
this necessity. Their liberty, if it were possible,
could only be established by violating the inoon
testible powers of the STATES, and SUBVERTING
THE Uurox. And beneath the ruins of the Union
would be buried, sooner or later, THE LIBERTY OF
How fearfully are these words of wisdom and
prophecy now being fulfilled I
Change in the Law Relative to School
The following act was puloccl by the Legiels
ture at the late session:
Relative to the Term of Office of School Directors.
SEC. 1. Be it enacted by the Senate and House
of Representatives of the Commonwealth of
Pennsylvania in General Assembly met, and it
is hereby enacted by the authority of the same,
That the term of office of School Directors, from
and after the first of January, Anno Domini one
thousand eight hundred and sixty-four, shall
commence on the first Monday of June in each
and every year ; Provided, (That) the term of
office of School Directors now in office, shall
severally be extended until the first Monday of
June of the year in which their term of office
expires : And provided further, That the organi
zation of each Board of School Directors, as pro
vided by the twelfth section of the act of eighth of
May, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-four,
shall be within ten days of the first Monday of June
in each year: And provided further, That the
school tax for each year shall not be levied until
after such organization and before the first of
July of each year: Provided, That the provi
sious of Ibis act shall not extend to the city of
Philadelphia, nor to the county of Allegheny,
nor to the cities of Reading and Lancaster.
APPROVED—The 22d day of April, 1863.
A. G. CURTIN.
This brief section effects several important
modifications of the school law, which eemn to
require immediate explanation:
I. It iwnvides that after Jan. 1, 1864, the term
of office of Directors shall commence on the first
Monday in June next after their election.
1, This means that, no matter in what month
elected, after Ist Jan., 1864, Directors shall not
take their seats in the board till the first Monday
in the next succeeding June—that is, till the first
day of the next school year.
2. This does not affect persons appointed to fill
vacancies. They at once take their seats, and
continue in the board till the first Monday of the
June in which the term of the persons whose
places they occupy would have expired, had they
remained in the board,
11. It. extends the term of all Directors ig in
office" (whether by election or appointment) on
the day of its passage (22d April, 1863) from the
day on which such term would otherwise have
expired till the first Monday in the next succeed-.
1. This means that Directors' terms ez;sting at
the date of the act (22d .tpril, 1863), shall be
continued front the day on which they would
otherwise have expired till the next succeeding
first Monday in June, so as to retain a full board
till that time.
2. This does not mean, however, that Direc
tors, whose term expired during the winter or
spring of 1863, but prior to 22d April, 1863, are
to resume anti continue their office till the first
Monday in June, 18621 foe, their term having
expired before its passage, this act can have no
operation upon them.
3, Hence this also means that Directors whose
terms expired an/ time before April 22d, 1868, are
not to be admitted into the triennial conventions
to elect County Superintendents on the first
Monday of May, 1563 ; but that their successors
duly elected or appointed, whether before or af
ter the 22d. of April, 1863, are to be admitted as
members of the conventions.
111. It postpones the organization of Boards
of Directors (that is, the choice of President,
Secretary and Treasurer) till within ten days
after the first Monday in June annually.
1. This renders an election of officers for or
ganization indispensable within ten days after
the first Monday in June, 1863; and annually,
thereafter, within the first ten days of each
2. But, inasmuch as unbroken organization is
indispensable to the operations of the system,
this not only also admits of, but requires, an or
ganization of each board for the interim between
the annual election and the first Monday of June,
in 1863 ; within ten days after which last named
day the first regular organization under the new
law must take place.
3. Hence it follows, that all official acts by
board officers, chosen prior to the first Monday
in June of 1863, and in accordance with the old
law and the rules of the proper board, will be
legal and binding, till the first election under the
new law in June.
IV. It prohibits the levy of school tax, till the
period between the annual organization of the
proper Board and the first of the following July.
1. This means that the amount of tax to be
collected within the then current school year,
shall not be fixed by vote of the Board, till be
tween the date of the regular annual organization
thereof and the first of the next July. In other
words, that the official ads prescribed by section
28 of the school law of 1854 are still to be per
formed, but at a different time.
2. This also means that the school tax for the
school year which will commence on the first
Monday in June, 1863, is to be "levied" or fixed
in Juno, 1863, under the new law, and not "on
or before the first Monday in May," as required
by the act of 1854.
E. As this act does not specify the time when
the tax is to be "apportioned" and the duplicate
made out, which the old law did, (via: on or
before the let Monday in June,) it follows that
the duplicate may and should be made out as
soon as practicable after the levy in June.
V. It excepts the city of Philadelphia, the
county of Allegheny, and the cities of Reading
and Lancaster, from the operation of its provi
1. This means that those places are excepted
from the operation of all the provisions of this
act, and not merely from some of them.
2. It leaves the county of Allegheny and the
cities of Reading and Lancaster, exactly as they
were prior to 22d April, 1863, in reference to the
term of office of Directors, the right of Directors
to vote for County Superintendents, the organi
sation of school boards, and the time of levying
school tax. THO. H. BURROWES,
Superintendent Common Schools.
SCHOOL HAPAITYNNT, HUMMING, APri/ 2 6 , iBO2.