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A Inman tiptr---ptuotth to Agriculture, fittraturt, Scitort, Art, forting, iloMtitif Olth timid jutelligetet, ttr.
ESTABLISHED IN 1813.
THE WAYNESBURG MESSENGER,
PUBLISHED BY
R. W. JONES & JAMES S. JENNINGS,
WAYNESBURG, GREENE CO., PA
irrOPPICE NELRLY OPPOSITE TILE
PUBLIC SQ,IIAB.B. ..Cii
ellatzaz a
Ailuascateptou.--$1 50 in advance; $I 75 at the ex
piration ofsix months; $2 00 within the year; 82 50
after the expiration of the year.
ADVERTISEMENTS inserted at SI 00 per square for
three insertions, and 25 cents asquare for each addition
al insertion; (ten lines or less counted a square.)
[Dr A liberal deduction made to yearly advertisers.
frIP - 'Jon PRINTING, of all kinds, executed in the best
style, and on reasonable terms, at the "Messenger" Job
orrice. •
quesburg tfusiness eartts.
ATTORNEYS:
J. A. Pumas a. .7. G. RITCHIE.
FURMAN & RITCHIE,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Waynesburg. Pa.
IT7 All business in Greene, Washington, and Fay
ette Coupties, entrusted to them, will receive prompt
attention. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
J.A.J. BUCHANAN. WM. C. LINDSEY.
BUCHANAN & LINDSEY,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Waynesburg, Pa.
Office on the south side of Main street, in the Old
Bank Building. Jan. 1, 1862.
L W. DOWN EY. EAMILTEL MONTGOMERY.
DOWNEIT dlr. MONTGOMERT
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Office in Ledwith's Building, opposite Use Court
House, Waynesburg, Pa.
R. A. IeCONNELL. JACOB HUFFMAN
ISVONNEILL 4t UUITMAN,
•TTORNEYS 4XD COUNSELLORS 4T LAM'
Waynesburg, Pa.
sW - Office In the "Wright House," East Do %
Collections, &c., will receive prompt attentfb g n.
Waynesburg, April 23, 1862-Iy.
DAVID CRAWFORD,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law. Office in Sayers'
Building, adjoining the Post Office.
dept. 11, 1881-Iy.
O. A. BLACK. JOHN PHISLAN.
BLACK 81. PHELAN,
ATTORNEYB AND COUNBELLORS AT LAW
Office in the Court House, Waynesburg.
Sept. 11,1861-17.
PHYSICIANS
DR. A. G. CROSS
WOULD very respectfully tender his services as a
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, to the people of
Waynesburg and vicinity. lie 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.
PR. A. J. EMIT
RESPECTFULLY offers his services to the citizens
of Waynesburg and vicinity, as a Physician and
Surgeon. Office opposite the Republican office. - He
hopes by a due appreciation of the laws of human life
and health, so native medication, and strict attention
to business, to merit a liberal share of public patronage.
April 9, 1882.
DR. T. P. SECIELDS.
PRACTICING PHYSICIAN.
itilike in the old Roberts , Building, opposite Day's
Book Store.
Waynesburg, Jan. 1, 1861.
DR. D. W. BRADEN,
Physician and Surgeon. Office in the Old Bank
: Building, Main street. Sept. 11, 18411—Iv.
DRUGS
DR. W. L. CREIGH,
Physician and Surgeon,
And dealer in Drugs, Medicines. Oils, Paints, Ac:.
&c., Main street, a few doors east of the Bank.
Sept. 1/, 1861-Iy.
M. A.' HARVEY,
Druggist and Apothecary, and dealer in Paints and
Oi!globe most celebrated Patent Medicines, and Pure
Liquors for medicinal purpose's.
Sept. 11,1861-Iy.
11EBROZANTEI
WM. A. PORTER,
Wholesale and Retail Dealer in Foreign and Domes
tic Dry Goods, Groceries, Notions, &e., 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,
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.
R. CLARK,
Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware, queens
ware and notions, Ap the Hamilton House, opposite
the Court House, Min street. Sept. 11, 1881-Iy.
MINOR & Co.,
Dealers in. Foreign and Domestic Dry Goode, Gro
ceries, Queensware, Hardware and Notions, opposite
tee Green House. Main street.
Sept. 11, 1861-Iy,
CLOTHING
N. CLARK,
Dealer in Mon and Boy's Clothing, Cloths, easel -
tastes, Satinets, Hats and Caps, &c., Main street, op•
posits the Court Hones. Sept. 11, 1961-Iy.
A. J. SOWEIRS,
Dealer in Men and Boy's Clothing, Gentlemen's Fur
nishing Goods, Boom and Shoes, liats and Caps, Old
Bank Bailding, Main street. Sept. 11,1861-4 m
BOOT AND SHOE DEALERS.
J. D. COSGRAY,
soot and Shoe maker, Main street, nearly opposite!
she "Farmer's and Drover's Bank." Every style of
Boots and Shoots constantly on hand or made to order.
Sept. 11, 1861—ly.
J. B. RICKEY,
Root and Shoe Inaker,Ellachley's Corner, Main street.
Soots and Shoes of every variety always on hand or
Ma& to order on short notice.
Sept. it, 1861-Iy.
Gitoozpaur.a & VARIETZES•
JOSEPH YATER,
Dealer in Groceries and Confectioneries, Notions,
Medieinea, Perfumeries, Liverpool Ware, Ike., Glass of
pU ship , and QM P4ouldiog and Looking Glees Plates.
cGash paid for good eating
c 11, 1861-Iy.
JOHN MUNNELL,
l=ler is Groceries ana Confectionaries, and Varjety
4issiernify * Wilson's New &Win& Mainitieet.
Sept. 11, 1661-4.
' ' IMMIX AA.
LEWIS DAT,
iiiikbool Stiroeltukeour Beaks, litition
pnerWer=tl4 Pipers One door Eameof
, • lisps. 11,1851-47.
. 1 ,1.; isrtilantouo.
Death of an Irish Refugee,
Col. Michael Dahoney, one of the
well-known Irish Refugees who took
a prominent part in the unsuccessful
revolution in Ireland, in 1848, expir
ed last Tuesday night, of intermit
tent fever, at his residence in Brook
lyn, New York, after a brief illness.
The following sketch of his life is
given in one of the New York pa
pers :—The deceased was a native of
Cashel, county Tipperary, Ireland,
and came of highly respectable par
entage. Darin.' ''' the stormy agita
tion for repeal of the Union, though
unly.a very young man, he was one
of the most conspicuous members of
the great Repeal Association, and, as
a keen debater, had few equals even
in that very intellectual assemblage.
His pen contributed some of the
most terrible leaders fulminated in
the columns of the Dublin Nation, at
a time when such celebrities as Tho
mas Davis, C. G. Duffy and John
Mitchell controlled that able journal.
He was for a long time, also, asso
ciate editor of the Tipperary Free
Press, and, we believe, at an early
period of his career served as a Par
liamentary reporter in London. Ho
was, likewise, a member of the Irish
bar, but devoted a very little time to
the practical business of the law,
being entirely taken up with the
revolutionary movements of his com
patriots.
The bold stand which he took
among the Young Ireland party in
the unfortunate fia.seo of '4B, marked
him out as a special object for the
hostility of the British Cabinet, and
a largo reward was offered for his
apprehension ; but, after a series of
hair-breadth escapes, he succeeded in
reaching England in disguise, and
made his way safely to this country.
His career hero is well known. He
was admitted to the. bar in New York,
took an active part in, political and
military matters, and was considered
an excellent stump speak. He
served for a time as Colonol of the
Ninth New York State Militia Regi
ment, and, when the war broke out,
was chosen Lieutenant Colonel of
the Tammany Regiment, but de
clined. A few months ago, he ac
companied the remains of the la
mented Terrence Bellew MCManus
to Ireland, where he was most enthu
siastically received by his country
men. Col. Dahony leaves a wife and
small family.
On the Battle Field.
The following affecting incident is
related by the war correspondent of
a cotemporary, who was at the bat
tle of Fort Donelson, and was au
eye-witness to it : "I saw," he says,
"an old, gray-haired man, mortally
wounded, endeavoring to stop with a
slip in his coat, the life-tide flowing
from the bosom of his son, a youth
of twenty years. The boy told his
father that it was useless—that he
could not live ; and, while the devo
ted parent was still striving to save
him who was perhaps his first-born, a
shudder passed through the frame of
the would-be preserver, his head fell
upon the bosom of the youth, and his
gray hairs were bathed in death with
the expiring blood of his misguided
son. I saw the train half an hour
afterward, and youth and age were
locked, lifeless, in one another's arms.
A dark haired young man, of appar
ently twenty-two or three, I found
leaning against a tree, his breast
pierced by a bayonet. He said he
lived it. Alabama; that he had joined
the rebels in opposition to his par
ents' wishes ; that his mother, when
she had found that he would go into
the army, had given him her bless
ing, a Bible and a lock of her hair.—
The Bible lay opened upon the ground,
and the hair, a dark lock, tinged with
gray, that had been between the
leaves, was in his hand. Tears were
in his eyes, as he thought of the anx
ious mother, pausing, perhaps, amid
her prayers, to listen for the long ex
pected footsteps of her son, who
Nould never more return. In the
lock of hair, even as much as the sa
cred volume, religion was revealed to
the dying young man, and I saw him
lift the tress again and again to his
lips, as his eyes looked dimly across
the misty sea, that bounds the shores
of Life and Death, as if he saw his
mother reaching out to him, with the
arms that had nursed him in his in
fancy, to die, alas ! fighting against
his country, and her counsels, whose
memory lived latest in his departing
soul."
M. E. CHURCH SUNDAY SCHOOLS.
From an elaborate statement pub
lished by the Sunday School Union
of the Methodist Episcopal Church,
we learn the following Sunday School
statistics, ending with the year 1861.
The total number of Schools is put
down at 13,600, an increase of one
huhdred and fifty over the previous
year. Number of officers and teach
ers, 149,705 ; number of soholars,
896,239 ; vohuaee in Library, 2,412,-
9, of Which naniliter 154,223 -are in
Philadelphia. There are in the total
number ashoola, .1.41030 Bible class-
IWOSAVIe do wn at schola
sl.33 rs.
578: The
oupeassear set ,
WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 30, 1862.
IGOLELLAN ON DRUNKENNESS.
Gen. McClellan sent back some time
since, as not satisfactory, the finding
of a Court Martial, with the follow
ing pointed, just, timely admonitions :
'The testimony in this case ex
hibits a most disgraceful state of
'things. An officer receives from 'a
friend,' in the neighboring city, a
case of liquors. The arrival of this
mischievous box in camp, is the sig
nal and the occasion of a most blam
able breach of discipline. It
seems that all the acquaintances, of
' ficers and men, of the recipient, were
called in to partake of this most per
nicious gift , which, if it had been
sent by an enemy, could not have
been more'perfectly adapted to work
injury to the regiment. From drunk
enness, brought on from drinking in '
this assemblage, proceeded the in- I
subordinate, the glaringly insubordi
nate,conduct of the prisoner. I
"This was no palliation of his of- i
fence, but an addition to it. (No one
evil agent so much obstru (No
this
army in its progress to that condi- 1
tion which will enable it to aecom- I
plish all that true soldiers can, as the !
degrading vice of •drunkenness. It
is the cause' of by far the greater
part of the disorders which are ex
amined by courts martial. It is im
possible to estimate the benefits that
would accrue to the service from
the adoption of a resolution on the
part of the officers to set their men
an example of total abstinence from
intoxicating drinks. It would bo
worth fifty thousand men to the
armies of the United States."
"Worth 50,000 men !" This is not
the opinion of a recluse, unacquaint
ed with the ways If the world, or a
flight of heated declamation,--but
the calm statement of ono whose ex
perience and position clothe his
words relating to such a subject with
the highest authority. The last two
sentences—the two paragraphs in
fact—deserve to be written in letters
of gold for the instruction of the
country, and poured in fire and thun
der upon the ears of drinking offi
cers.—Evangelist.
Tribute to the Irish Oharacter.
A coteinporary thus refers to a remark
able incident connected with the Winches
ter battle :
"Two companies of one hundred and
fifty Irishmen, forced no doubt, by a drafft
into the rebel army, were ordered forward
to fire upon the Union troops. The bravery
of Irishmen is proverbial, but those gal
lant fellows, gazing upon the old flag so
long hailed by millions of their country
men as the emblem of freedom, refused to
rsise a gun against it. They wore driven
forward . by a regiment in their rear, but
still they would not fire. They knew the
consequence, but they dared to meet it.—
Forty of their numbers were shot clown by
the enraged rebels behind them, but the
rest faltered not in their stern resolve.—
These forty brave martyrs and their equal
ly brave surviving comrades deserve to be
honored and held in undying remem
brance. And they will be, tears will be
given to the gallant dead, and a nation's
applause to the gallant living. The Irish
troops on the side of the Union fight with
an energy never surpassed in the history
of the great conflicts for liberty. The
terrible bravery and endurance of Colonel
Mulligan' . B Irish brigade at Springfield
has scarcely a parallel upon our continent,
and the rebels may well dread the irre
sistible prowess of tens of thousands of
Celtic avengers of the heroic Winchester
martyrs."
The Atrooities of the Rebels.
The Committee on the conduct of
the War have completed their exam
ination of witnesses in regard to the
alleged atrocities of the rebels at
Bull Run, and will this week make
a personal inspection at that place,
and soon thereafter present their
report. Members of the Committee
say it is true, according to the testi
mony of Gov. Sprague and many
others, that in some cases the graves
that contained the bodies of our sol
diers were opened and the bones of
the dead carried off to be used as
trinkets and thropies for secession
ladies to append to their guard
chains, etc., while skulls were used
as drinking cups. Those of our dead
interred by them were placed with
thair faces downward, and in repeat
ed instances buried one across anoth
er. The barbarities exceed any
thing in the history of the last
four thousand years.
The committee, under the resolu
tion of inquiry aro receiving testimo
ny from Pea Ridge, showing incon
testibly that there our dead were not
only scalped by the Rebel's Indians
allies, but in other respects outraged.
The brains of the wounded, too, be
ing beaten oat by clubs, thus con
firming the previous newspaper re
ports. In order to secure as far as
possible the decent interment of
those who have fallen, or may
fall% battle, it is made the duty of
cothmanding Generals to lay off lots of
ground, in some suitable spot near
the battle field, 's'o soon as it may
be in their poVver, and to cause the
remains of those' failed to be interred
'with head the graves"bear-
In a,n4 whet praotiotibla
the names of the persons buried in
them. A register of each burial
ground will be preserved, in which
will be noted the marks correspond
ing with the head boards.
DEATH OF HON. THEODORE FREL
INGHUYSEN.
lion. Theodore Frelighuysen died
at his residence at Newark, New
Jersey, on Saturday. He was born at
Millston, Somerset county, New Jer
sey, March 28, 1787, and was con
sequently in the 75th year of his age.
He graduated at Princeton College,
and was admitted to the bar of New
Jersey in 1808, and very soon attain
ed a prominent position as one of the
leading lawyers of the State. In the
war of 1812 he took a part as Cap
tain of volunteers. In 1817 he was
chosen Attorney General of the Sate,
and in 1826 he was elected by the
Legislature Judge of the Supreme
Court of New Jersey, but declined
the honor. In 1829 ho was chosen
United States Senator, and served in
that position for six years, during
which time he acted with the Whig
party, and was an active supporter
and defender of Henry Clay.—
He was elected Chancellor of the Uni
versity of New York, and filled that
position until 1850, when he was
made President of Rutger's College,
at Brunswick, New Jersey. In 1844
ho was nominated by the Whig party
for Yioo President of the United
States—Henry Clay having been
nominated on the same ticket for
President; but Polk and Dallas, the
Democratic candidates, were success
ful. At the breaking out of the
present rebellion, Theodore Freling
huysen gave all his symyathises to
the Federal Government, and both
by tongue and pen warmly denounc
ed the rebellion and its instigators.—
Mr. Frelinghuysen was a sincere pa
triot and a devoted Christian, and by
his death Now Jersey has lost one of
her noblest sons, whose life was al
most entirely devoter to her interests
and welfare.
A TOUCHING INCIDENT.
Mary wont out in the gloaming.—
Mary wont out in the evening with
her baby at her breast. She leaned
against the little gate and looked
back at the bright wood fire, glowing
at the hearth of the little, homely
cabin, the white bed, the baby's clean
cradle. She thought with pride of
the nicely cooked supper, ready to
place on the table. She laughed as
she pressed her baby (the baby he
had never seen) to her expectant bo
som. How often he said she would
never do to be a poor man's wife;
her hands were so small; she was too
tiny to do all her work herself.
All day she had worked cheerfully,
to make everything clean, neat and
tasteful; talking baby--talk and look
ing at the clock. .You; all was ready.
She would soon hear the roar and
whistle of the locomotive sound over
the trees. She listened—there it was
—like a huge giant's sigh. William
always walked from the station in a
half-hour. " I shall not go to meet
him, for my boy would take cold in
the night air." She turned, went into
her cabin, moved about with a beat
ing heart, laid the little sleeper into
his cradle, and thOught how kind and
good of the Colonel it was to give
William a furlough when ho told him
he had never seen his boy—the dear,
blue-eyed boy. " Yes, darling, you
shall soon smile in your father's face."
Leaving the cradle, she walked
again to the gate; listening intently,
she heard no footsteps—only the
wind sighing among the tree-tops,
and her own heart's wild throb.—
She gazed into the distant night ;
saw nothing but the darkened woods
and the old pine that stood like a sen
try at the end of the lane. But ho
does not come. If ho does not come
in twenty minutes more, I will know
he is Coming on the midnight train."
Twenty —thirty minutes— yes, an
hour—no whistle, no footsteps. She
returned to her cabin, weary, deso
late, to wait, watch, and listen for the
next train ; to reason with her fears ;
to weave conjectures why he did not
come. He had been behind time,
she thought, and missed the train—
yes, that was the reason. Oh, how
long and soundly baby slept; how
slow the clock was; the lamp was
never so dim; she could not see to
read. Mary tried to sing ; her voice
sounded so strange it made her cry.
She readjusted the dishes; she placed
the lamp in the window and opened
the door, so that the light might flash
out that ho could see it away off.—
With parched lips and throbbing
pulses, now standing in the door,
now listening at the gate, looking at
the solemn, changeless stars fail—for
it was dark but starry. Autumnal
winds moaned and made mysterious
whispers among erisp leaves, and
sighed away in melancholy sobbings.
* * * Midnight came—through
deep night the roaring locomotive
swept its sound over hills and woods,
and died among distant hills. Glad
ness —joyful expectation had full
sway ; joyfully she seized the sweet
sleeper, forgetful of the night air, and.
rushed to the gate, then to the old
fir tree ;—no whistle, no footsteps.
Chilled, weak, numbed with disap
pointment; filled with vague appr7
pension; dread of she kn ►w not what,
Mary 44sped her 1:)4y tighter, and
rslept—the uneasy half-sleep of the
anxious. In her dreams, long lines
of blue coats and gleaming bayonetg,,
marshes, hills, and flooded rivers;
moved past. It was still grey and
dark when she left her cabin, the
food cooked but untasted which she
bad intended for William. " I can
! not wait; I will go to the station and
meet the early train." The mist
rolled up, unheeded by Mary. The
rose flushed the east unseen. The
fairy webs woven from leaf to leaf,
dropt their diamonds without her no
tice. The gorgeous sun rode gallant
ly forth in the sky, but Mary saw
not. No gleesome baby-talk ;no
snatch of song or hymn beguiled her
way. Silently, like ono in a dream,
Mary reached the station long before
the proper time. Bright daylight—
the voices and laughter at the hotel
comforted her. * * " I was fool
ish to be so frightened. He could
not come before. I shall look out
for a blue coat." She looked back at
the woods she had walked through;
she smiled at herself; remembered
how each shaded nook made her
think of battle-fields where forgotten
dead might lie, with the dead leaves
falling upon their upturned faces;
faces that had been pressed in loving
embrace just where her boy's lay,
and kissed as often in lovinp. joy.
But here is the train 1 Yes;
there
are blue coats. Blinded with tears,
Mary ran out. Yes ; there are sol
diers—but not William. There is a
bustle, eager talk and newspap6r
reading. Mary hears there has been
a battle bloodshed treachery
Col. 's Regiment, Co. —, her
husband's regiment and company. *
Mary's baby wails unheeded; a kind
woman takes it from her unresisting
arms—Baby will never, never know
its father
WHY IRVING was NEVER MARRIED.
The New York correspondent of
the Boston Post writes as follows :
"Much mystery has attached to the
celibacy of Washington Irving.—
While upon every other point of pe
culiarity of the great writer's char
acter and career his familiar friends
have taken pains to inform the wide
circle of his admirers, an aggregate
reticence has always met the ques
tionings of those who were curious
as to why matrimony made no part
of his experience. There were oc
casional and very vague references
made to a slang sync' love—so dimly
distant in the past as to have the air
of tradition—and the manner of
mentioning which made Irving ap
pear the model of constancy, if not the
hero of a romance. But the circum
stance of his bachelorhood remained
a simple, unexplained fact; the
theme of many wonderings, the warp
and woof of much imagining—nay,
more, the substructure of a thousand
sweet sympathies outgushing from
other hearts whose loves had not
been lost, but gone before. It is
doubtful if a secret of the sort—all
things considered—was ever before
so carefully and completely kept.—
For once the impertinent were held
at bay, the prying were baulked, and
the sympathetic, even, discouraged.
The sot time for its disclosure has
not come, and, surely, when his inti
mates and relatives were debarred
from the remotest reference to the
subject in the hallowed home circle
of the literary bachelor, it was but
proper that the truth should burst
forth upon the world, if at all, in Ir
ving's own selected time and in his
own pathetic language.
"It was while he was engaged in
writing his 'History of New York,'
that Irving, then a young man of
twenty-six, was called to mourn the
sudden death of Matilda Hoffman,
whom he had hoped to call his wife.
This young lady was the second
daughter of Josiah Ogden Hoffman,
and the sister of those two talented
men, Charles Fenno Hoffman, the
poet, and Ogden Hoffman, tho elo
quent jurist. In her father's office,
Washington Irving had essayed to
study law, and with every pros
pect, if industrious and studious, of
partnership with Mr. Hoffman as"
well as a matrimonial alliance with
Matilda. These high hopes were
disappointed by the decease of the
young lady on the 26th of April,
1809, in the eighteenth year of her
age.
"There is a pathos about Irving's
recital of the circumstances of her
death, and of his own feelings, that
is truly painful and tear-impelling.—
Ile says: =She was taken ill with a
cold. Nothing was thought of it at
first; but she grew rapidly worse,
and fell into a consumption. I can
not tell you what I suffered. * * *
I saw her fade rapidly away—beau
tiful, and more beautiful and more
angelical to the very last. I was
often by her bedside, and in her wan
dering state of mind she would talk
to me with a sweet, natural and af
fecting eloquence that was overpow
ering. I saw more of the beauty of
her mind in that delirious state than
1 had ever known before. Her mal
ady was rapid in its career, and hur
ried her off in two months. Her
dying struggles were painful • and
protracted. For three days and
nights I did not leave the house, and
scarcely slept. 1r was by her when
she died ; all the %ugly were !mein-
bled round her, some praying, others
were weeping, for she was adored
by them all. I was the last one she
looked upon. ** * * I cannot tell
you what a horrid state of mind I
was in for a long time. I seemed to
care for nothing; the world was a
blank to me. I abandoned all
thoughts of law. I went into the
country, but could not bear solitude,
yet could not enjoy society. There
was a dismal horror continually in
my mind, that made me fear to be
alone. I had often to get up in the
night and seek the bedroom of my
brother, as if the having a human
being by me would relieve me from
the frightful gloom of my own
thoughts. Months elapsed before
my mind would resume any tone;
but the despondency I had suffered
for a long time in the course of this
attachment, and the anguish that at
tended its catastrophe, seemed to
give a turn to my whole character,
and throw some clouds in my dispo
sition, which have ever since hung
about it. ** * * I seemed to drift
about without aim or object, at the
mercy of every breeze ; my heart
wanted anchorage. I was naturally
susceptible, and tried to form other
attachments, but my heart would not
hold on; it would continually recur
to what it had lost; and whenever
there was a pause in the hurry of
novelty and excitement, I would
sink into dismal dejection. For
years I could not talk on the subject
of this hopeless regret; 1 could not
even mention.her name; but her im
age was continually before me, and
I dreamt of her incessantly.'
"Such was the language in which
Irving poured forth his sorrows and
sad memories, in a letter written
many years ago to a lady who
wondered at his celibscy, and ex
pressed the wish to know why he
had ncs•er married. Can words
more graphically describe the ship
wreck of hope, or more tenderly de
pict the chivalric devotion of a faith
ful lover? How sweetly, too, does
Irving portray with his artist-pen
the lineaments of his loved one. Ho
says, in the same letter: "The. more
I saw of her, the more I had reason
to admire her. Her mind seemed to
unfold itself leaf by leaf, and every
time to discover new sweetness.—
Nobody knew her so well as I, for
she was generally timid and silent;
but I, in a manner, studied her excel
lence. Never did I meet with more in
tuitive rectitude of mind, more native
delicacy, more exquisite propriety in
word, thought or action, than in this
young creature. lam not exagger
ating ; what I say was acknowledged
by all that know her. Her brilliant
little sister used to say that people
began by admiring her, but ended by
loving Matilda. For my part, I
idolized her. I felt at times rebuked
by her superior delicacy and purity,
and as if I was a coarse, unworthy
being in comparison.'
"Irving seldom or never alluded
to this sad event nor was the name
of Matilda ever spoken in his pres
ence. Thirty years after her death
Irving was visiting Mr. Hoffman,
and a grand-daughter in drawing
out some sheets of music to be per
formed upon the piano, accidentally
brought with them a piece of em
broidery which dropped upon the
floor. 'Washington,' said Mr. Hoff
man, 'this is a piece of poor Matilda's
workmanship.' His biographer de
scribes the effect as electric. 'lie
had been conversing in the spright
liest mood before,' says Pierre M.
Irving, 'and he sunk at once in utter
silence, and in a few minutes got up
and loft the house.' Do any of the
pages that record the 'loves of the
poets' glisten with a purer, brighter
halo than is thrown around the name
and character and memory of Matil
da Hoffman by the life-long constancy
and the graceful tributes of ono
whose name, destined to be a death
less renown, may not henceforth be
dissevered from that of the early
lost and dearly loved, whose death
made Washington IrVing what he
was and what the world admires ?"
A Fortunate GirL
It is stated that a young girl, be
longing to a respectable family in
reduced circumstances, four years
ago learned to operate sewing ma
chines, and then went out from New
York city to Peru, to teach the art
to Spanish girls and to establish the
business in that country. She has
since enjoyed uniform good health
and has realized between three and
four thousand dollars a year beyond
expense. About a year ago she
married a wealthy old Spaniard, who,
dying, bequeathed to her a fortune of
eighty thousand dollars, and thus
placed her in very comfortable and
independent circumstances. . She
now writes to urge her relatives to
emigrate to Peru and share her good
fortune.
FATAL Scouaoe.—An alarming disease
has broken out among the children at
Hartland, Conn. It is in some respects a
malignant scarlet fever, and children at
tacked by it. die in three or four hours—
sometimes
before a physician can be ob
tained. Biz children fell Victims to it be
tween Thursday aid Sunday last, and
three more were sick with it on Mends'',
NEW SERIES.--VOL. S, NO. 46.
How to Forgive a Rival.
Resolve that you will love and wish well
to the man who has failed. Go to him
and get acquainted with him; if you and
he both are true men you will not find it
difficult to like him. it is perhaps asking
too much of human nature to ask you to
do all this in the case of the man who has
carried off the woman you loved ; but as
regards anything else, do it all. Go to
your successful rival, and heartily con
gratulate him ; say frankly you wish it
had been you; it will do great good to him
and to yourself. Let it not be that envy,
that fast grow.i•ng fiend, shall 13e suffered
in your heart for one Minute.--Bq 1.
State Prisoner Shot.
WAsaniorom, April 21.—United
States prisoner, Jesse B. Wharton,
from near Ilageratown, 31d., was
shot by a sentry yesterday, at the
old Capitol prison, and died in a few
hours after_
LETTER TROIS THE.ARMY.
The writer of the following letter was in
the battle of Pittsburgh Landing, and not
having been since heard from, the pre
sumption is, that he was either killed or
taken prisoner. The letter was not intend
,a for publication.—[Eos..lfEssEmmts.}
9 'MILES ABOVE (SOUTHSAVANNA, PiTTSI3I.TRGII BATTLE 6ROG.ND ; ENN.,
My REAR .MOTI1E11:-I wrote you on the
13th, ten days ago, the morning we left
camp. Here we are now, on the southern
border of Tennessee, fifteen miles from the
Alabama line, on the battle-ground , of
March let, 1862. Signe of fighting are
not wanting—the trees and the two or three
houses that are here, are riddled with shot
and shell. I noticed one six-pound ball
buried some eight inches in a green tree;
other trees—one quite large—out right off
with a shell. The ground is ploughed up
as with a harrow. I have found mat/
balls and much shot—grape, and pieces of
bursted shells.
I've seen many old friends—eome frpm
Waynesburg, and some from Ohio, Indi
ana, and Wisconsin. Will. Smith, of
Waynesburgh, is here. 4t Ft. Henry I
saw Ike Sturgis.
I can't describe as army to you, mother,
so as to give you any idea of one. I have
often read of the movement of largs,ar
mies, but I only got an idea of one when,
last Thursday, I arrived here. Al far as
the eye can reach, lines of tents are pitch
ed: this is so for miles back. We are to
move our tents a couple of miles "back
nearer the enemy, to-day or to-morrow.—
There is constant skirmishing now between
our pickets and those of the enemy. Yes
terday we brought in four, and the day,pe
fore two, prisoners. We are now right on
the river-bank, on a high blue'. We are
expecting a gunboat of the enemy down;
to meet it we have two gun boats and one
battery planted here on the point, within
two hundred yards of my tent. There are
about seventy-eve thousand men here now;
they come in, by steamboat, at the rate of
from one to four regiments per day. Four
regiments arrived yesterday, besides a
large amount of artillery. All are genuine
Wee torn men—from 111., lowa, 14„
Wis.
All with whom I have talked agree that
the great battle of the war is to come off
—and soon, too—in this neighborhood.—
The enemy are reported to be in great
force at Purdy (distant 7 miles), and at
Corinth, 18 miles off—also at Chattanooga;
in all, ninety to one hundred and fifty
thousand. Beauregard is at one of these
points, it is said. We have about fifty
thousand mon, besides the forces here, at
Savannah—Gee. Grant's division. kisa.
Sherman's and Gen. Smith's divisions: are
both here. We are in Gen. Smith's di
vision—Col. McArthur' s (acting Brigadidr
Gen.) Brigade.
The Provost Marshal of St. Louis said
we are the be. regiment that ever repot*
to the Western Department. This is com
plimentary. Col. Noble, commandant. of
the post at Paducah, addressed us an the
occasion of a little drill we had off the
boat there ; he said he "had soitu IttarlY
all the Western troops—they are the best
in the United States—and we were 'the
best he had seen." Noble fought at.POO
elson.
I am not entirely well—hurt my beak
using an axe yesterday. We ere expiating
orders to march forward to meet the era
my soon. Come when they may, they will
Rot come sooner than expected. Thami
noi. 12th and others are under earching
orders now. When we move we wilk;he
over one hundred thousand strong. ,You
see, we are hurried right forwi,,,rd.
other regiment of our State wais soon
put , to work, or advanced so soon so far
into an enemy's country.
I almost forgot to say that all tte old
Manassas (rebel) troops are being concen
trated at Florence and Fermingt9n (now
called Corinth) with all baste. I . l :here
will soon be a fearfully bisodY ar!til
ate engagement in our departinent t4 .l,, ;
Address, Co. "9," 16th 'Reg% Wiescoai
Volunteers, Gen. smitlsie :Disrheio , ' it; PO*
burgh Landing, Tea,
G;:fftgadi
, • :
Alarch 23rd, 1862