_ . (601 Ljt.t ttrt! ),!\\i famil# Vaper—leuettli to -. lllditia, Agriculture, fittraturt, Science, Art, foreign, postai( net @turd juttiligturt, tr. ESTABLISHED IN 1813. THE WAYNESBURG MESSENGER, PI:BUSHED BY E. W. JONES k JAMES E. JENNINGS, WAYNESBURG, GREENE CO., PA ECrOFFICE NEARLY OPPOSITE THE PUBLIC SQUAW... Ca Vaal/104 SosechwrioN.—et 50 in advance; 81 75 at the ex piration orals months; $2 00 within the year; $l5O after the expiration of the year. ADVERTISEMENTS inserted at $1 00 per square for three insertions, and 25 cents a square for each addition al insertion; (ten lines or less counted a square.) Ear- A liberal deduction made to yearly advertisers. Joe PRINTING, of all kinds, executed in the best style, and on reasonable terms, at the "Messenger" Job office. aguesburg fusintss 011,arbs. ATTORNEYS: R. A. McCONNELL, 4TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAH', Waynesburg, Pa. Office in the new frame building corner of Main and Washington streets, and nearly opposite the new Hotel. Collections, &c., will receive prompt attention Waynesburg, February 5, 1862-Iy. 3. A.. 1. BUCHANAN. WM. C. LINDSZY• BUCHANAN & LINDSEY, ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW, W aynesburg, Office on the North side of Main street, two doors West of the "Republican" Office. Jan. 1, 1862. A. A. FURMAN. aO. RITCHIE. PURMAN & RITCHIE, ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW, Waynesburg, Pa. tErAll business in Greene, Washington, and Fay ette Counties, entrusted to them, will receive prompt attention. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. R. W. DOWNEY, AXorney and Counsellor at Law. Office in Led- WWII Building. opposite the Court House. Sept. 11,1861-Iy. DAVID CRAWFORD, attorney and Counsellor at Law. Office in Sayers' Building, adjoining the Poet Office. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. O. A. BLACK. JOHN PHICLAN• BLACK & PHELAN, ATTORNEYS AND ° COUNSELLORS AT LAW Office in the Court House, Waynesburg. Sept. 11,1861-Iy. PHYSICIANS DR. A. G. CROSS WOULD very respectfully tender his services as a PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, to the people of Waynesburg and vicinity. He hopes by a due appre ciation of human life and health, and strict attention to business, to merit a share of public patronage. Waynesburg. January 8, 1862. • DR. D. W. BRADEN, Physician and Burgeon. Office in the Old Bank Building, Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-IY. DRUGS DR. W. 1.. CREIGH, Physician and Surgeon, And dealer in Drugs, Medicines. Oils, Paints, Occ:, &c., Main street, a few doors east of the Bank. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. M. A. HARVEY, Druggist and Apothecary, and dealer in Paints and Oils, the most celebrated Patent Medicines, and Pure Liquors for medicinal purposes. Sept. 11, 1861—ly . MERCHANTS WM. A. PORTER, Wholesale and Retail Dealet in Foreign and Domes tic Dry Goods, Groceries, Notions, dec., Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. GEO. HOSKINSON, Opposite the Court House, keeps always on hand a large stock of Seasonable Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots and Shoes, and Notions generally. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. ANDREW WILSON, Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Drugs,. Notions, Hardware, Queensware, Stoneware, Looking Glasses, Iron and Nails, Boots and Shoes, Hats and . Caps, Main street, one door east of the Old Bank. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. 11. CLARK, Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware, Queens ware and notions, in the Hamilton House, opposite the Court House. Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. MINOR & CO., Dealers in Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods, Gro uries, Queensware, Hardware and Notions, opposite Ile Green House. Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy, CLOTHING N. CLARK, Dealer in Men and Boy's Clothing, Cloths, easel - meres, Satinets, Hate and Caps, &c., Main street. op. posits the Court House. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. A. J. SOWERS, Dealer in Men and Boy's Clothing, Gentlemen's Fur- Matting Goods, Boots and Shoes, Hats and Caps, Old Bank Building, Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-4 m BOOT AND SHOE DEALERS J. D. COSGRAY, Boot and Shoe maker. Main street, n.mrly opposite, the "Farmer's and Drover's Bank." Every style of Boots and Shoes constantly on hand or made to order. Bept. 11. 1861-Iy. J. B. RICKEY, 900 and Shoe maker. Sayer's Corner, Main street. Boots and Shoes of every variety always on hand or inide to order on short notice. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. GROCERIES & VALIELLE TIES JOSEPH YATER, Dealer In Groceries and Confectioneries. Notions, Medicines, Perfumeries, Liverpool Ware, Bm, Glass of all sizes, and Gilt Moulding and Looking Glass Plates. SWF — Cash paid for good eating Apples. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. JOHN MUNNELL, Dealer in Groceries and Confectionaries, and Variety Mepidls generally. Wilson's Ntw Building, Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. BOORS, &c. LEWIS DAY, (Maier in Schaal and Miscellaneous Books, Station ary, Ink, Magasinas and Papers, Wilson's Old Build- In 6: Matra wen. Slept. 11, 1661-Iy. BANE *AMERS' & DROVERS' BANK, Waynes'harg, Pa a A. BLACK, Pre.,'t. LAZEAR, Cashier DISCOUNT DAV, WEDNESDAY Amen. 11, 1861.1 y. 411,011.11,ZEil AND mammas& SALKUEL WAIIISTER, ' *t at i k•i f aim grElut Eintrg. LIFE'S QUESTIONS. Drifting away, Like mote on the stream, To-day's disappointment, Yesterday's dream; Ever resolving— Never to mend— Such is our progress— Where is the end 1 Whirling away Like leg in the wind. Points of attachment Left daily behind, Fixed to no principle, Fast to no friend ; Such our fidelity: Where is the end? Floating away, Like cloud on the hill, Pendulous, tremulous, Migrating still : Where to repose ourselves? W hither to tend ? Such our consistency Where is the end Crystal the pavement, Seen through the stream I Firm the reality Under the dream ; We may not feel it, Still we may mend How we have conquered Not known till the end. Bright leaves may scatter, Sports of the wind, But stands to the Winter The great tree behind ; Frost shall not wither it, Storms cannot bend: Roots firmly clasping The rock, at the end. Calm is the firmanent, Over the cloud ; Clear shines the stars, through The rifts of the shroud: There our repose shall be. Thither we tend : Spite of our wanderings Approved at the end. Macmillan's Magazine giftErt Dizttliany. ME THE BOY PATRIOT. In the year 1776, Philadelphia was in the hands of Howe and his inhuman sol diery, while the field of Brandywine gave American people an evidence of British humanity. The inhabitants of Pennsyl vania and Delaware were at the mercy of their foes. Bands of Hessian dragoons scouted the vicinity of Philadelphia for miles around, and committed acts which would disgrace a Vandal. On the evening of a delightful Autumn day, a group of boys, ranging in age from twelve to seventeen years, were gathered together on the steps of a tenantless store house in the village of Newark, Delaware. The town seemed lonely, and with the ex ception of the youthful band referred to, not a human being met the eye. All the men capable of bearing arms had left their homes to join the army of Washington on the Schuylkill, A youth of sixteen, mounted on a barrel, was giving an ac count of the disastrous battle of Brandy wine. James Wilson, the orator, was a bold boy, enthusiastic in his love for the American cause, and possessed of no little intelligence. His bright blue eyes and flaxen hair gave him an effeminate ap pearance, but beneath that plain home spun jacket throbbed a heart that never shrank before any obstacle. His father was commander of the Delaware troops and his mother was dead. The boy con cluded his narrative, and was deeply la menting that he mild not join the army. "I am not old enough" said he, "but had I a musket I would not stand idle here, with my hands useless by my side." Are there no guns of any description in the village?" asked a listening youth. "None. I have spent nearly a week in trying to find one, but my efforts have been of no avail. I strongly suspect that the Tory Livingston has several in his house, but as he permits no one to trespass on his land I am unable to say positive ly." "Why not take a party and search his dwelling ?" asked Frank Howard; "he has no one to assist him except his cow ardly son George, and I can thrash him as easy as that," and the boy snapped his fingers to imply the readiness with which he could trounce old Livingston's boy. James Wilson's eyes sparkled with joy. "If there are any three boys in this company who will help me, I will search old Livingston's house this night. All who are willing to go, just step forward three paces." Every boy in the crowd stepped forward' with out a moment's hesitation. James eyes flashed like stars. " Now, by the dead of Bunker Hill I will search old Livingston's residence, though death stands in my path." With a firm tread, and with the utmost silence, the young heroes took up their web for old Livingston's. Livinipt4m lila long been oaopoetog . of 44**4, /. 1 .04 1 4 1 , 1 1 4 , 1 4 and. ,WO 4 0,041 *lbw is WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, ARPIL 2, 1862. borers reported that he kept up a regular correspondence with the British comman der. At all events be was generally re garded by the Whigs as a dangerous man. His house was situated a short distance from White Clay Creek, on the side of a steep hill, surrounded on all sides by tall trees. It was just such a place as one might suppose suitable for the plotting of treason. At the time James Wilson and his little band left the deserted storehouse in the village of Newark, dusk had given place to the darker shades of night. Still it was not dark; the new moon was shining brightly through the clouds, and every ob ject was perfectly distinguishable. The boys walked firmly forward, maintaining solemn silence. At length they gained the bend of the creek, and slowly following the winding path soon came to a little low bridge which crossed a shallow rivulet leading into White clay, and James order ed them to halt. "Let Frank Howard and myself recon noitre the premises first, to see whether any danger may- be apprehended. All the rest stand here till we return. Make no noise, and keep a constant watch." James and Frank silently departed, and were soon lost in the thick woods through which the path run. Scarce had they gone from their companions, ere the quick ear of Wilson detected a noise. "Hist!" said he to Frank as he pulled behind a gigantic beech tree. Presently George Livingston came in sight. James Wilson started from his covert and tightly grasped the boy by the neck. The cowardly youth trembled like a reed. "Speak one word," whispered his cap tor, "and I'll toss you into the creek." The Tory's son, struck dumb with fright, found himself in the midst of the whole group of boy heroes, and the vice like grasp of James and Frank on either DIM " Now," said James, "answer me promptly and truly, or I'll make your position uncomfortable. Do you hear?— Who are in your father's house at this moment ?" "I—l--cannot tell," stammered the half dead boy. "You shall tell, or"— "Spare me, and I'll tell everything.— When I left the house there was no one there but our own family and Major Brad stone." "Who is he ?" asked James. "I don't know—l don't indeed." "Tell !" threatened Frank. "He is captain of the Yorkshire dra- goons." "The blue eyes of James glistened with joy, and he soon gained from the Tory's eon a revelation which stamped his father a traitor of the most appalling character. He discovered that old Livingston kept up a correspondence with the British com mander, but that he had so plotted in his traitorous design that the little village of Newark was to be burned to ashes and its women and children left exposed to the pitiless foe. The old Tory was to receive as his compensation, the land whereon the village stood, and an annual pension from the British Government. But stranger than all, the plot was to be consummated on the very night the Tory's son had been captured, while he was going on an errand to a neighbor two miles dis tant. The little band of heroes learned too, that the British troops had secured their horses in Livingston's stable, and in tended to descend the creek in a large boat. There were twenty of them beside their captain. Major Bradstone, the leader of the band, was in temper and heart a thorough de mon, and scrupled not in his cruelty to destroy the slumbering infant or the sick wife. Not a few in that youthful band trembled for a widowed mother or a de fenceless sister. Some were for departing immediately, but James Wilson, still re taining his grasp of the Tory's son, order ed all to be silent. The prisoner was bound hand and foot, a thick handkerchief bound over his mouth to prevent him from calling for assistance, and as tout cord fast ened to his breast, and wound about tree. All hope of escape forsook George Living ston. Wilson motioned his little band to follow him, and in a few moments they stood on the summit of a high precipice which overhung White Clay Creek. "Now boys," said Wilson, "the narra tive which we have just heard is true, and as we have no muskets and ammunition, we must make the best of the occasion.— The British band will pass thisspot in their boat, and as we have an hour to work let us busy ourselves in rolling some of those large rocks to the edge of the preci pice, and when the redcoats pass below, let us sink them to the bottom." Each boy immediately set to work, and in an incredible short space of time nine huge rocks, each half a tun in weight were balanced upon the edge of the giant preci pice. The creek at this ru.nt was not more than twenty feet wide, and was di rectly overhung ly the mass of rock on which our heroes stood. If the British descended tus It'eeletttny would certainly gong th,is spot ; OW *mai Nth." death aiss their certain fate. In about an hour the quick ear of Wilson detected the measured beat of muffled oars. "They are coming," he whispered, "let no one drop his rock till I give the word and then all at once." Peeping cautiously over the cliffs James Wilson saw the Tory boat slowly but sure ly approaching. An officer stood on the bows guiding the oarsmen by his orders, and the epaulets on his shoulders told that he was the identical fiend, Major Brad stone. "Don't drop till I give the order," again whispered Wilson. When the boat was about twelve feet from the rock, the boy leader fell securely behind his stone defence and shouted: "Who goes there?" In a moment the oarsmen ceased row ing, and gazed with astonishment about them. The impetus which the boat bad acquired, caused it to drift slowly beneath the rock, and just as it was fairly below, came forth the loud doomed words, "Cut loose in the name of liberty !" Each boy pushed his rock at that instant and as if with one impulse the gigantic stones fell. A loud shriek from the dark waters told how well the plan had suc ceeded, and as the exultant boy again looked over the rocks, nothing was seen but a few pieces of wood. The boat was burst in pieces, and the occupants found a grave at the bottom of White Clay. A cry of victory burst from the joyous lips of the youthful patriots, and it was echoed along in solemn grandeur. "Now for our prisoner !" cried Frank Howard bounding ahead; but what was the astonishment of the boys to find that while in his efforts to get free George Liv ingston had been caught by the fatal cord, and choked to death! There was no time for repining; the traitor and his son had met their deserved doom, and there was no one to mourn their loss. "Such be the end of American foes for ever!" said James Wilson. Old Livingston's house was searched, and to the surprise of every one, not mere ly guns, but three brass field pieces, several barrels of powder and an abundance of balls, were concealed in the Tory's cellar. The military stores found here was given over to the American troops, and found a joyous welcome at their head-quarters.---- Had not the British party been so signally defeated along the banks of the White Clay, the town of Newark, and the whole northern part or the State of Delaware would have been overrun by predatory bands of British soldiers, James Wilson and Frank Howard both joined the army of Greene, and served with distinction in the Southern campaign. Frank fell in the memorable battle of Eutaw Springs, bewailed by all who knew him. James lost a leg at the seige of Yorktown, and retired to his native village, but mortification ensued, and he expired with the ever-to-be-remembered words on his lips—" Cut loose in the name of Liberty!" The village of Newark still stands, and has become a town of some celebrity. The scenes of the defeat of the British by the boy patriots are still pointed out, and is a sacred spot in the annals of Newark. How Mr. Beecher Lost His Boots. The following is in Henry Ward Beecher's best vein: The difference between 7 and 8 is not very great ; only a single unit. And yet that difference has power over a man's whole temper, conveni ence, and dignity. Thus, at Buffalo, my boots were set out at night to be blacked. In the morning no boots were there, though all the neighbor ing rooms bad been served. I rang. I rang twice. "A pretty hotel— nearly eight o'clock, going out at nine, breakfast to be eaten, and no boots yet." The winter came, took my somewhat emphatic order, and left. Every minute was an hour.— It always is when you are out of temper. A man is in his stocking feet, in the third story of a hotel, finds himself restricted in locomo tion. I went to the door, looked up and down the hall, saw frowzy cham bermaids ; saw afar off, the master of the coal scuttle ; saw gentlemen walking in bright boots, unconscious of the privileges they enjoyed, but did not see any one coming with my boots. A German servant at length came round and ruddy faced, very kind and good-natured, honest and stupid. He informed me that a gen tleman had already taken boots 78 (my number). He would hunt him up ; thought he- was breakfasting.— Here was a new vexation. Who was the man who had taken my number and gone for my boots ? Somebody had them on, warm and nice, and was enjoying his coffee, while I walked up and down, with less and less patience, who had none too much at first. No servant re turned. I rang again, and sent en ergetic and staccato messengers to the office. Some water bad been spilled on the floor. I stepped into it of course. In winter, cold water feels as- if it burned you. 'Unpacked my valise for new stockings. Time was speeding. It was a quarter put eight ; train at nine, no boats Ind na bust. I slipped - 4m a paii dit sandal-rubbers, too large by inches j for my naked foot, and while I shuf -1 fled along the hall, they played up i and down on my feet. First, one shot off; that secured, the other dropped on the stairs ; people that I met looked as if they thought that I was not well over my last night's spree. It was very annoying. Reached the office and expressed my mind.— , First, the clerk rang the bell furious , ly three times, then ran forth himself, niet the German boots-black, who had boots 79 in his hand, narrow and ! long, thinking, perhaps, I could wear them. Who knows but 79 had my boots ? Some curiosity was begin : ning to be felt among the bystanders. It was likely that I should have half the hotel inquiring after my boots. I abhor a scene. Retreated to my room. On the way thought I, I would look at room 77's boots. Behold, they were mine 1 There was the broken pull-straps; the patch on the right side, and the very shape of my toe—infallible signs I The fel low had marked them 77, and not 78. And all this hour's tumult arose from just the difference between 7 and eight. I lost my boots, lost the train, lost my temper, and, of course, lost my good manners. Everbody does that losses temper. But boots on, break fast served, a cup of coffee brought peace and good-will. The whole matter took a ludicrous aspect. moralized upon that infirmity which puts a man's peace at the mercy of a Dutchman's chalk. Rad he written seventy-eight, I had been a good-na tured man, looking at Niagara Falls in its winter dress. He wrote seven ty even, and I fumed, saw only my own falls, and spent the day in Buffalo! Are not most of the pets and rub s of life such as this ? Few men could afford to-morrow to review the things that vexed them yesterday.— We boast of being free, yet every man permits the most arrant trifles to rule and ride him. A man that is vexed and angry turns the worst part of himself into sight, and exhib its himself in buffoon's coat and fool's cap, and walks forth to be jeered ! And yet one's temper does worse by him than that. And men submit to it, not once, but often, and sometimes every day ! I wonder whether these sage reflections will make me pa tient and quiet the next time my boots are misplaced ? Punishment of Children. In the March number of the At lantic Alonthly, the "Country Parson" has a charming little essay on "The Sorrows of Childhood," in the course of which he makes these remarks : "An extremely wicked way of punishing children is by shutting them up in a dark place. Darkness is naturally fearful to human beings, and the stupid ghost-stories of many nurses make it especially fearful to a child. It is a stupid and wicked thing to send a . child on an errand in a dark night. Ido not remember passing through a greater trial in my youth than going three miles alone (it was not going on an errand) in the dark, along a road thickly shaded with trees. I was a little fellow. ' but I got over the distance in half an hour Part of the way was along the wall of a churchyard—one of these ghast ly, weedy, neglected, accursed look ing spots where stupidity has done what it can to add circumstances of disgust and horror to the Christian's long sleep. Nobody ever supposed that this walk was a trial to a boy of twelve years old, so little are the thoughts of children understood.— And children are reticent : I am tell ing now about that dismal walk for the first time. And in the illness of childhood children sometimes get very close and real views of death. I remember when I was nine years old, how every evening, when I lay down to sleep, I used for about a year to picture myself lying dead, till I felt as though the coffin were closing round me. I used to read at that period, with a curious feeling of fascination, Blair's poem, 'The Grave.' But I never dreamed of telling any body about these. thoughts. I be lieve that thoughtful children keep most of their thoughts to themselves, and in respect of the things of which they think most are as pro foundly alone as the ancient Mar iner in the Pacific. I have heard of a parent, an important member of a very strait sect of the Pharisees, whose child, when dying begged to be buried not in a certain foul old hideous church-yard, but in a certain cheerful cemetery. This request the poor little creature made with all the energy of terror and despair.— But the strait Pharisee refused the dying request, and pointed out with polemical bitterness to the child that he must be very wicked indeed to care at such a time where he was to be buried, or what might be done with his body after death. How I should enjoy the spectacle of that unnatu ral, heartless. stupid wretch tarred and feathered! . rho dying child was caring for a thing about which Shakespeare cared; and it was not in mere human weakness, but 'by faith,' "that 'Joseph, when he was a dytng; ic ilm ootntnandtaent eanesrn i•if iul h A Fair Southern Traitoreese, A young man belonged to one of the Tenneseee regiments—he held the rank of first lieutenant in his company—was very dangerously wounded in Saturday morning's strife, and was not expected to live when I left Dover, where he lay in much pain and in more remorse. The young man told me he was a native of Harrisburg Pa., and had resided there until the autumn of 1859, when he went to Columbia, Tennessee, and there engaged in the practice of the law with considerable success. While in that State, he be came acquainted with and enamored of a young woman of culture and for tune, a distant relative, I understand, of Gen. Pillow, and was soon engaged to marry her. The love-streain of the young couple flowed smoothly enough until the fall of Sumter and the Secession of Tennessee, when the affianced hus bantl, a strong advocate for the Union. returned home, designing to wed after the troubles were over. The betrothed pair corresponded regularly; but, some weeks after the lover had gone to Harrisburg, the girl, who had suddenly grown a vio lent Secessionist, informed him that she would not become his wife unless he would enlist in the rebel service and fight for the independence of the South. The young man was exceeding loth to take such a course, and re monstrated with his beloved to no purpose, and at last, in the blindness of his attachment and in the absorb ing selfishness of passion, he inform ed his parents of his intention to win his mistress on the tented field. In vain they endeavored to dis suade him from his resolution. He went to Tennessee, raised a company, received the congratulations of his traitorous friends, and the copious caresses of his charming tempter. Last December the Lieut. proceed ed to Donelson, and, a few days be fore the fight, heard his betrothed was the wife of another. His heart had never been in the cause, though it was in another's keeping; and, stung by remorse, and crushed by the perfidy of his mistress, he had no desire to live. Unwilling to desert on the eve of battle the cause he had embraced lest be might be charged with cow ardice, he resolved to lose the exist ence that bad become unbearable to him ; and in the thickest of the fight while seeking death without endeav oring to inflict it, he received a mor tal wound. Before this, the misguided and be trayed lover has ceased to think of her who so cruelly deceived him; for the Lethean stream of death is flow ing around the Eternity-bound island of his soul. The double traitoress will soon learn all; for her lover dictated a letter to her upon his couch of pain. Will she be happy; can she be happy, in the rosy hours of her early marriage, when the thought of the dead adorer, slain by her hand, rises like a portentous cloud, upon the fair horizon of her life ? Will not his pale corpse with its bleeding wounds glide between her and her husband's arms, and banish Contentment forever from the profaned sanctuary of her Spirit ?--Fort Donclson Correspondence. Fightg in Tennessee and Missouri-•A Brig- adier General Captured. ST. Louis, March 13.—OFFICIAL : Our artillery and cavalry yesterday attacked the enemy's works, one and a half miles west of Paris, Ten nessee. The enemy were driven out with a loss of one hundred killed, wounded and prisoners. Our loss is Capt. Bullis, of the artillery, and our men killed and five wounded. A cavalry force, set out from Leb anon, Missouri, attacked one of Price's guerilla parties, killiug thir teen, wounding five and capturing twenty prisoners, among them Briga dier General Campbell. Kir The life of Reuben Davis, of the Kentucky Fifth, was saved at Fort I)onelson by a silver half-dollar in his waistcoat pocket. He had borrow ed that amount of a companion some days before, and offered to return it before going upon the field; but his companion told him to keep the coin, as he might stand in need of it before night. He had need of it in his greatest need, for a rifle ball struck the coin in the center arid destroyed the figure of Liberty on its face. The Beautiful. Beautiful things are suggestive of a purer add a higher life, and fill us with mingled love and fear. They have a graciousness that wins us, and an excellence to which we involun tarily do reverence. If you are poor, yet modestly aspiring, keep a vase of flowers on your table, and they will help to maintain your dig nity, and secure for you considera tion and delicacy of behavior. A Good Sign. . The New Orleans True Delta, since the recent national victories in the West, has contained several articles in favor of a re st/Katie* of Ws Union. It is reported that the state of Wags in Nov Orissa threatens open riot. NEW SERIES.--VOL 3, NO. 42. ELLSWORTH, the GALLANT ZOIIAVB Ye fathers and sons of Columbia, Ye daughters who honor the brave. Come join in my song to the memory Of Ellsworth, the gallant Zouave. Cronus—To Ellsworth the gallant Zouave, To Ellsworth the gallant and brays. Who tore down the banner of treasoo. And perished the Union to save. 'Twit./ be who first led Freedom's phalanx Across the Potomac's blue wave, Whose blood stained the threshhold .(Vss.st♦ A martyr our Union to save. Engel:a—To Ellsworth, &c. When he saw Treason's proud banner wads& No danger his valor could quell, When with his hands he tore it asunder. By a coward assassin he fell. Cfrosni—To Ellsworth, ifcc. He died, like the Spartan youth Warren, In a green but glorious grave, • Yet a nation's warm tear-drops shall yaw The bed of our gallant Zouave. CHONCS—To Ellsworth, &c. Then swore by the blood of our hero, Which flowed Treason's share to lase, To follow secession's base Nero, For revenge on our gallant Z 01111,6. CH Olive—To Ellsworth, Are. Here is glory immortal to Ellsworth, And honor to litownwell the brave, Who avenged the foul death of his Colonek, Like a true and gallant Zouave, CHOlll.75—Ti) Ellsworth, die. raititat. SECESSION REPUDIATED. The most signal victory was ob tained in the House of Representa tives at Washington on Wednesday last, by the conservatives over the Abolition Secessionists. Mr. Ashley, of Ohio, from the Committee on Ter. ritorieE, reported a bill substantially embodying the idea of Senator Sum. ner's resolutions declaring that cer tain States in rebellion have commit ted political suicide; that they cease to exist as States, and the territory once occupied by them comes under the exclusive jurisdiction and con trol of the general Government.— The bill reported by Mr. Ashley pro vided for the organization of tempo rary provisional governments over the districts of country in rebellion against the United States, and att triorized the President to take posses sion and institute such governments, appoint Governors, and establish courts and legislative assemblies, to continue until the people form new State Governments. This proposi. tion, it will be perceived, ignored the existence of the States, and endorsed the fatal heresy, that a State reayi by an act of its own, sever its eors nection with the General Govern. men t. Several members of the Committee submitted minority reports, whvn the following proceedings occurred: Mr. Pendleton, of Ohio, said: Mr. Speaker—This bill ought to be enti tled "A bill to dissolve the Union and to abolish the Constitution of the United States." As lam still unalterably opposed to the destruct tion of either, 1 move to lay the bill on the table, and on that motion I ask the yeas and nays, which wen ordered. The bill was tabled—yeas 65, nays 56—as follows: YEAs---Messrs. Ancona, Bailey, of Pa., Biddle, Blair, oj; Mo., Blair, of Va., Brown, of Va., grown, of R. 1., Calvert, Casey, Clements, Cobb, Col fax, Corning, Cravens, Crisfield, Crit. tonden, Delano, Diven, Dunn, Eng. lish, Fisher, Harrison, Kellogg, of 111., Killinger, Law, Granger, Griner, Gurley, Haight, Harding, Leary, Lazear, Lehman, McKni_ght, Mallory, May, Menzies, Morris, Nixon, Noble, Noell, Norton, Pendleton, Perry, Phelps, of Cal., Porter, Rice, of Mass., Richardson, Sheffield, Shells barger, Shiel, Steele, of New York, Stratton, Thomas, of Mass., Thomas of Maryland, Train, Wadsworth, Ward, Wester, Wheeler, Whaley, White, of Ohio, Wickliffe and Weed. NAYS—Messrs. Aldrich, Arnold, Ashley, Baker, Baxter, Beaman, Bingham, Blair, of Pa., Blake, Bif fington, Campbell, Chamberlain, Clark, F. A. Conkling, Roscoe Conk ling, Cutler, Davis, Duell, Edgerton, Edwards, Elliot, Fessenden, Franchot, Frank, Hale, Hooper, Horton, Hutchins, Julian, Kelley, Kellogg, of Michigan, Lansing, Loomis, Lovejoy, McPherson, Mitchell, Moorhead, Morrill, of Me., Morrill, of Vt., Pike, Pomeroy, Rice, of Me., Riddle, Rol. line, of New Hampshire, Sargeant, Sedgwick, Sloan, Stevens, Trow bridge, Van Valkenburg, Wall, Wel ton, of Vt., W ilson, Windom and Worcester. We regard this as the most effbe tive blow at Northern counterpart-0i Southern treason that has yet been struck in Congress, and as furnishing cheering evidence that the destruc tive and revolutionary projects of Abolitionists will not prevail. The Republican members from Penn sylvania, with one exception, vo with the extremists. Blair,Cainpb4 McPherson, Stevens, Kelley, Dal* and other Pennsylvania merabitrit voted with the Secession minority.-., Patriot and Union. j The World says that no great ap prehension need be felt of Beauregard, in the valley of the Mississippi, aerAatlease is not as great a General as ha its a liar, and Oinks that bbk,uve place would be 01 0 , 4 t? itirft onasr et: d'a jemegetle whit*. ham , 'bent 14 1,~1 dory General [BY REQUEST.]
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers