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(601 Ljt.t ttrt!
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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
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piration orals months; $2 00 within the year; $l5O
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ADVERTISEMENTS inserted at $1 00 per square for
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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
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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.]