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irrmi business in Sreeue, Washington, and Fay
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J. A. J. BUCE•11.01. WM. C. LINDSEY.
111701L&NAST & warDszy,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Waynesburg, Pa.
Orme on the South side of Main...street, in the Old
Bank Building. 1862.
1. W. R
&DOWPSY. SAMUEL MONTGOMERY.
110111/111131rMONTGOICEIT
ArICYS AND COUNISELLORA AT LAW,
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use, Waynesburg, Pa.
R. A. IIeCONNELL
alreOlininithia
lITORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW
Waynesbur Pa.
filee In the "Wright lic se '
" East Door.
E•Restione,Sce.. will receive prompt attention.
Waynesburg, April 23, 1862-Iy.
DAVID CRAWFORD,
Aitoissy and Counsellor at Law. Office in Sayers'
MbWhig. adjoining Use Post Office.
4d6l y. •
N. A. SAME. JOHN MCLAIN
BLACK & PHELAN,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW
0160 e in the Court Winne, Waynesburg.
54t. 11,1861-Iy.
PHYSICIANS
B. M. BLACHLE___ L _Y M. D.
PIETZLIMILIN INTAGNION,
01111se--Blaellers Building, Main
ESPECTFUI announces to the citizens of
IV Waynesburg and vicinity that he has returned from
the Hospital Corps of the Army and resumed the prac
tice of medicine at this place.
Warnesbirm, /tufa 11, 1369.-ly.
DR. D. W. BRADEN,
nicks and Surgeon. Office in the Old Bank
,11ainetreet. Sept. 11, 18111-Iv.
r
- :
DR. A. G. CROSS
rOl7 LD very respectfully tender his services as a
PHYSICIAN AND SITRQEON, to the people of
Waynesburg and vicinity. He hopes by a due &ppm
* ISlWlnatt lifiralad health, and strict attention to
, to twerp& 'Mare of public patronage.
Waynesburg. January 8, DM.
DR. A. J. EGGIT
ESPBOTFULLY offer, his services to the citizens
of Waynesburg and vicinity, as a Physician and
linspems. OSes apposite the Republican office. He
heves by a dee appreciation of the laws of human life
Rad besids. as native medication, and strict attention
thipasiness, to merit a liberal share of public patronage.
. April Y. IMIL
DRUGS
M. A. HARVEY,
. Druggist add Apothecary, and dealer in Paints and
Oils, the meat celebrated Patent Medicines, and Pure
Liguori for medicinal purposes.
Ks t.l I. 1861-1 .
inxiwzmirTs
WM. A. PORTER,
t Wholesale and Retail DOlll4ll in Foreign and Domes
tic Dry Goods. Groceries, -Notions, &r.., Main street.
...Sept. 11.1861-Iy.
ANDM:W WILSON,
Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Drugs, Notions,
nardw Queensware, Stoneware, Looking Glasses,
ken a a nd re,
Nails, Boots and Shoes, Hats and Caps,
wain street, one door east of the Old Bank.
'Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
R. CLARK,
Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware, Mdeens
ware and notions, in the Hamilton House, opposite
the Court Fromm. Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.,
MINOR & CO.,
Dealers in Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods, Gro
aeries, gneeneware, Hardware and Notions, opposite
dia.Green Douse. Main street.
Sept. 11, 18111-Iy, •
CLOTHING
N. CLARK,
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operas, natinus, Rats and Caps, &e., Main att. ei, np
posits the Court (Ouse. litept. 11, 1861-4 y.
A. J. SOWERS,
Dealer in Men's and Boys' Clothing, Gentlemen's Fur
sinking Goods, Banta and Shoes, Hats and Caps, Old
Sank Building, Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-4 m
=°ll7TM!==
J. D. COSGRAY,
111.61 and Shoe maker. Main street, nvarly commit.
Ste "Farmer's and Droser'e Bank." Every style of
IW4) and Shoes constantly on hand or made to order.
Sept. 1 I*. 1861-Iy.
N. 11. McClellan
Knot and Shoe nylker.Blactiley'n Corner, Main street.
Hoots and Shoes of every variety always on band or
inadeto order on short notice,
dept. 11. Mel y.
clotrnaras & vaarirrizs.
JOSEPH YATER,
Dods, la st,roCeries and Confectioneries. Notions,
Paturneinia, Liverpool Ware, &c., GUM of
allsisp r augh illiguldina and Looking Glass Plates.
wir _ for good eating Apples.
lilep I , --ly.
4011 N, MUNNELL,
Mufti in Alleasenes• and Oontectiounries, and Vane,.
GrodieswaraWy. Wasoa'a New fingding. Main meat.
!WO
*ooze, &c.
LEWIS DAY,
wiwi r i and miNtousevit.stonsio station
moo and Papers. One door Nan Pt
ate Street. Sept. It, ilefftly.
aslll7l 1,43 4 1R81N1•
„till
?rant Water #lOl4llll
, r
v.
•
"ball
Ir
I am sitting, idly sitting, where the evening
shades are flitting,
And the memory of the past is drawing
'round me like a spell;
Breathes the last tones of the nearest, the
fondest and the dearest,
Still within my ears in a tremulous fare
well.
It is hard to think us parted—trusting,
trusted--still true-hearted,
And that many links may crumble from
the lengthening chain of Time
Tire my lips shall feel thy pressing, or my
hair the light caressing
That have filled my heart with rapture
and a love almost sublime.
♦h l our lives have twined together like
the vines in sunny weather,
And we never thought to part until
death should break the chain
With which golden love had bound us,
weaving like a halo round us—
Every thought and every feeling grasp
ing joys, ignoring pain.
Yet thou'rt gone Thy country calls thee.
Faction's gory cloud enthralls thee,
And I never more may look into the
blue depths of thine eyes;
Never hear thy loved voice stealing, with
its deep, rich freight of feeling,
On my ear in gentle murmurs, as the
evening's glory dies.
J. J. HUFFMAN
Life seems rife of every beauty, I have
scarce a heart for duty,
As I sit here thinking, thinking of thee,
darling, far away.
Tsars are falling fast and faster. Heaven
grant that no disaster
May make the gloom eternal that is on
my heart to-day.
Yet, in all my pain and sorrow, could I call
thee back to-morrow,
Dear, my lips should never breaths the
word to hasten thy return ;
Tho' I sit so sadly sobbing—with a heart
so wildly throbbing
I could never quench the spark that on
thy bosom's altar burns.
No, my heart, may wander, darling—still
I see the diamond sparkling,
Of the star that yet shall dawn to bid
us hope for peace once more.
♦nd my soul leaps in its sadness, like an
infant in its gladness,
To think how fond I'll greet thee when
the bloody strife is o'er.
I'll not think of death and slaughter—
tinged with blood the chrystal water
Of the purling streams that murmur
through the forests of our land,
But of banners proudly streaming, where
the camp fires now are gleaming
Hear the rolling shout of millions peal
from Freedom's fearless band.
Mee 1 thee, hold, brave and daring, on thy
manly forehead wearing
The shadow of a purpose strong as eve
ry pulse of life,
Mee thee strike the foe before thee, while
the rolling clouds sweep o'er thee,
On mid clashing sword and sabre, in the
hottest of the strife.
I would never have thee falter—better
death or felon's halter
Than to see our cause defeated and a
nation bound in shame;
Were I a man, grim death should c'Aim
me, ere a coward's thought should
shame me,
Or the stigma of inaction rest upon my
manhood's fame.
Love God have thee in his keep* ever,
waking or in sleeping ;
Every hour I breathe a prayer for our
country's cause and thee,
41nd I feel his love will fold thee, till mine
eyes again behold thee,
In the pride of manly beauty and the
flush of victory.
Tv INTERROGATION POINT.—One
day, as Pope was engaged in transla
ting the Iliad, he came to a passage
which neither he nor his assistant
could interpret. A stranger, who
stood by, modestly suggested that
"there was an error in the print ?"
adding, "read as if there was no mark
of interrogation at the end of the
line, and you have the meaning at
once." Pope's assistant then ren
dered the passag**thout difficulty.
Pope was chagrined. ; he could never
endure to be surpassed in anything.
Turning to the stranger, he said, in
A sarcastic tone, "Will you please to
tell me what a mark of interrogation
is ?" "Why, sir," said the stranger,
scanning the ill-shaped poet, "it is a
little, crooked, contemptible thing
that asks questions !"
stir A quaint old minister, after
reading his text-,"1. said in my
haste, all men aro liars"—began hie
•sermon very thoughtfully :'Aye Da
vid, ye said it in your haste, did ye?
isr these day*, awl in
refillitAWA eiNd feta
detect gtittr.g.
TO MY HUSBAND.
BY BBLLIE Z. SPENCER
WAYNISBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1862.
D'oiottilauinuts.
A TOUCHING LETTER.
The following letter from an officer
of our army to his wife, written just
before going into battle, was read at
the Anniversary of the Fulton street
Prayer-meeting, by Rev. R W. Clark,
of Brooklyn. Its admirable spirit
and affectionate and patriotic lan
guage will commend it to all of our
readers:
"MY VERY DEAR :—The indica
tions are very strong that we shall
move in a few days, perhaps to-mor
row, and lest I should not be able to
write to you again, I feel impelled to
write a few lines that may fall under
your eye when I shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few
days' duration, and full of pleasure,
and it may be one of severe conflict
and death to me. ''Not my will, but
thine, 0 God ! be done.' if it is ne
cessary that I should fhll on the bat
tle-field for my country. I am ready.
I have no misgivings about or lack
of confidence in the cause in which I
am engaged, and my courage does
not halt or falter. I know how
strongly American civilization now
leans on the triumph of the Govern
ment, and how great a debt we owe
to those who went before as through
the blood and sufferings of the Revo
lution, and I am willing, perfectly
willing, to Lay down all my joys in
this life to help maintain this Gov
ernment and pay that debt. But,
my dear wife, when I know that with
my own joys 1 lay down nearly all
of yours, and replace th4ra in this
life with cares and sorrows--when,
after having eaten for long years the
bitter fruits of orphanage myself, I
must offer it. as the only sustenance
to my dear little children, is it weak
or dishonorable that while the ban
ner of my purpose floats calmly and
proudly in the breeze underneath me,
unbounded love for you, my darling
wife yid children, should struggle in
fierce though useless contest with my
love of country? I cannot desdribe
to you my feelings on this calm sum
mer Sabbath night, when two thor
sand men are sleeping around in
many of them enjoying perhaps the
last sleep before that of death, while
I am suspicious that death is creep
ing around me with this fatal dua
-1 sit communing with God, my caul
try, and you. I have sought mot
closely and diligently, and otter, i
my heart for a wrong motive for tin,
hazarding the happiness of those I
love, and I could find none. A pure
love of my country and the-princi
ples I have so often advocated before
the people, and another name of hon
or that I love more than I fear death,
have called upon me, and I have
obeyed.
"My love for you is deathless; it
seems to - bind me with mighty cables
which nothing but mountains could
bre*, and yet my love of country
comes over me like the wind, and
bears me irresistibly on with all these
chains to the battle-field. The mem
ories of all the happy moments I have
spent with you come creeping over
me; 1 feel most grateful to God and
to you that I have enjoyed them so
long. How hard it is for me to give
them up, and burn to ashes hopes
future years, when, Godwe
might still have lived and loved to
gether, and seen our sons grow up to
honor and manhood around us ! I
have, I know, but few and small
claims upon Divine Providence, but
something whispers to me (perhaps
it is the wafted prayer of my little
Edgar) that I shall retgrn to my
loved ones unharmed ; but if I do no'
my dear— —, never forget bow mur
I love you. When my last brew
escapes me on the battle-field, it w'
whisper your name. Forget
many faults and the many pains
have caused you. How thoughtle
and how foolish I have oftentim(
been, and how gladly would I .
out with my tears every little spot
I upon your happiness, and struggle
with all the misfortunes of this world
to shield you and your children from
harm ; but I cannot! I must watch
you from the spirit-land, and hover
near you while you buffet the streams
with your precious little freight, wait
ing with a sad patience till we meet
to part no more. .
"As for my little boys, they will
grow up as I have done, never know
ing a father's love or care. Little
Willie is too young to remember me
long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will
keep my frolics among the dim mem
ories of his childhood.
"1 have unlimited confidence in
your material care, and in your de
velopment of their characters, feel
ing that God will bleu pm in your
holy work. Tell my two mothers I
call God's blessing upon them. I
wait for you there. Come after me,
and lead thither the little children."
The audience appeared to be much
affected while the letter was being
read.
"The officer sent the letter to his
wife,'" said the speiticer,'and with the
morning elm the roil of the trumpet
coiled tun to the battle.iiiehl.
wont•ovrer to= meet. the essay. A
abettatratireisilnibrit, snd he• leis
rise no mom"
INFLUENCE OF SENSIBLE WOMEN.
It is a wonderful advantage to a
man, in every pursuit or avocation,
to secure an adviser in a sensible wo
man. In woman there is at once a
subtle delicacy of tact and a plain
soundness of judgment, which are
rarely combined to an equal degree
in man. A woman, if she be really
your friend, will have a sensitive re
gard for your character, honor, re
pute. She will seldom counsel to do
a shabby thing, for a woman-friend
always desires to be proud of you.—
At the same time her constitutional
timidity makes her more cautious
than your male friend. She there
fore seldom counsels you to an im
prudent thing. By female friendship
I mean pure friendship—those in
which there is no admixture of the
passion of love, except in the married
state. A man's best friend is a wife
of good sense and good heart, whom
be loves and who loves him. If he
have that, he need not seek else
where; but supposing the man to be
without such a helpmate, female
friendships he must still have, or his
intellect will be without a garden,
and there will be an unheeded gap
even its strongest fence. Better and
safer, of course, such friendships,
when disparities of years and circum
stances put the idea of love out of
the question. Middle life has rarely
this advantage ; youth and old age
have. We may have female friend
ships with those much older than our
selves. Moliere's old housekeeper
was a great help to his genius; and
Montaigue's philosophy takes both a
gentler and loftier character of wis
dom the date in . which he finds, in
Marie De Gournay, an adopted, "cer
tainly beloved by me," says the Hor
ace of essayist, "with more than pa
ternal love, and involved in my 'soli
tude and retirement,as one of the best
parts of my being." Female friend
ship is to a man "prcesidium et dulce
decus"—bul wark,s weuten er,orn amen t
of his existence. To his mental cul
ture it is invaluable without it all his
knowledge of books will never give
him knowledge of the world.—Bul
leer.
MORALS OF THE ARMY.
Military officers are too apt to for
get that American soldiers are not
mere "human machines," made to
load and fire Enfields, or perform
"doubls quicks." Grant all that may
be said of the "fit food for powder"
of a portion of the rank and file of
all armies, and it remains true that
our ranks of volunteers are crowded
by self-respecting, intelligent, moral
and religious men—conscious of their
rights as well as their ditties. They
may endure the petty despotism
which camp disciphne enables some
swaggering, swearing, drunken offi
cer to established over them, but
they wilt detest the despot. They
may perform the unwelcome and un
necessary fatigue of fighting Sunday
service exacted of them ; but it will
be under protest, and with the feel
ing at heart that they have been
robbed of a precious right of rest
for the weary, and worship for the
devout. They expect to return to
1,404 homes whew the war is over;
and they want to parry with them
th e essay lAriatinal, virtues which
ma d. * o w abiopopit affection in the
honteseineles s - , Wiiiinnied by camp
-44000 •it and ioWir hearts they hen
ernihoeltPribarrtefileer who seeks to
seiggikv.thfitroe,94enik, sod promote
*it itigOirm Imam They know,
too, that war is death-dealing work,
and that proper preparation for its
casualties does not lie in the pathway
of Sabbath-breaking, drunkenness
and profanity.
MY LITTLE BLIND SISTER.
Not many miles from Alderbrook,
"the dear old home of Fanny Forres
ter," lived our little blind Nellie.—
Long years, dear children, have roll
ed away, and been numbered with
those that are no more, since this lit
tle star of light was born in our
home, and yet as distinctly as the
events of yesterday, do I remember
her birth, and her sad, yet beautiful
death.
It was .morning, such a morning
as makes one feel that there is some
thing of heaven even here on earth;
the sky so calmly clear, so gloriously
radiant with the morning sun—such
as is sometimes tendered as the fare
well to the glad Summer months.
To my bedside came dear grandmam
ma, and whispered in my ear, "Darl
ing, do you know you have a little
sister ?"
A sister ! How, even now, though
the flowers bloom over the tomb of
the only being endeared to me by
that most sacred name, still, as 'then,
does it make a feeling of yearning,
and send a new thrill of life through
every fibre of my being.
Arrayed in my little pink dress, I
was led noiselessly into the room, to
see my little sister. 0 what a strange,
mysterious thing is a new-born babe!
How beautiful the room looked I the
long white curtains draping the win
dows parted carefully in the centre,
letting in the soft rays - of the morn
ing sun; the bed, with its not less
snowy curtains, and the pure white
fragrant chrysanthemums--v-every
thing conspiring to render it the most
beautiful spot for the dawning of a
w life.
Child reader, have you ever had a
little baby sister? If you have, you
,n fancy what proud and joyful feel-
gs made my heart leap--made me
'ap my bands and dance about in a
iousand curious little capers, as I
,vir this new object of love before me.
Ah, grandmama! dear old grand
\ mma ! as well might you have
Token to the running brook to cease
s murmuring, or the songsters to
ish their tuneful notes, as to strive
stay this overflowing fountain of
A few more days, and there fell
, n our household a deep gloom.—
id you ever see a blind baby, chil
dren ? Little sister Nellie was blind !
O 'tis a terrible thing to be blind !
to be shut out from the beautiful tin
d and blooming flowers, and
ver to see the light of our mother's
re. My poor mother ! for days she
tild only weep over little sister.—
tther was silent and cold. His
lde was wounded at the thought of
Iving a blind child. Thank God!
►w soon she stole his heart, and
;stied lovingly upon his bosom.
Year by year, most sweet and dear
us she grew. Though blind to all
le world, yet she was the light and
)ve of our home, and no joy seemed
)rfect, save in the presence of little
ind Nellie.
My father was appointed captain of
one of those majestic steamers that
plow the Atlantic. How welt-do I
remember that calm Autumn morn
ing when be left us. He had bade us
all farewell, and was standing on the
balcony, when Nellie stole to him,
and with upturned face, beaming
with love, whispered—
"You will come come hack to
your little bilnd Nellie—wont you,
papa ?"
"Yes, darling," he answered ten
derly; and that strong man stooped
down, and with tears pressed a kiss
on both her sightless eyes, and with
a fervent "God bless you I" stepped
hurriedly from the balcony, over the
shadows of the cedars, into the great
heart of the restless world.
Bat from that hour, mirth depart
ed from our fireside. Nellie, former
ly so cheerful and gay, grew quiet
and listless ; her little cheek paled
and she seemed like a lamb lost
from the fold. It was in vain we
moved her into the sunshine. In
har Millsboro, disturbed by dreams,
she would eall—"Papa ! papa I coma
to your little blind Neflie
A hw mere weeks, and she lay in
our mother'i arias, dyiog ; but eves
befoul she departed, •'darkness was
t here no more, nor a shadow of
doubt," for her little eyes opened to
the light of heaven, and she whis
pered—'Mamma, I see--1 see !"
Little Pilgrim.
THE LORD'S NO DEAF.
A poor old deaf man residing in a
Fifeshire village was visited one day
by the parish clergyman, who had re
cently taken a resolution to pay such
visits regularly to his parishioners,
and therefore made a promise to the
wife of this villager that he would
call occasionally and pray with 'him.
The minister, however, soon fell
through this resolution, and did not
pay another visit to the deaf man till
three years after, when happening to
go through the alley in which the
poor man lived, he found the wife at
the door, and therefore could not
avoid inquiring for her husband.
"Well, Margaret," said the minis
ter, "how is Thomas ?"
"Tae the better o' you," was the
rather curt answer.
"How, how, Margaret?" inquired
the minister.
"Ou, ye promised twa years sync
to ca' and pray ance a fortnight wi'
him, and ye never ance darkened the
door siu sync."
"Well, well, Margaret, don't be so
Short. I thought it was not neces
sary to call and pray with Thomas,
for he's deaf, you know, and cannot
hear me."
"But, sir," rejoined the woman,
"the Lord's no deaf."
And the indolent clergyman shrank
abashed from the sottage.
WHEN I AM GONE.
Lord Macaulay, a few years before
he died, had something presented to
him at a great public meeting in
Scotland; something which pleased
him much, "I shall treasure it," he
said, "so long as I live, and after I
am gone"—there the great man's
voice faltered, and the sentence re
mained unfinished. Yet the thought
at which Macaulay broke down, may
touch many a lesser man more.—
For when we are gone, my friends,
we may leave behind us those who
cannot well spare us. It is not one's
own sake,
_that the 'gone' so linked
with one's own name, touches so
much. We shall have had enough of
this world before long; and (as Uncle
Tom expressed it) "Heaven is better
than lientuck." But we can think
of some for whose sake we may wish
to put off our going as long as may
be. "Our minister," said a Scotch
rustic, "aye preaches aboot goin' to
heaven ; but he'll never go to heaven
as long as he can get stoppin' at
Drumsleekie."—Prazer's Magazine.
IF YOU PLEASE.
When the Duke of Wellington was
sick, the last thing he took was a
little tea. On his servant handing it
to him in a saucer, and asking if he
would have it, the Duke replied, "Yes
if you please." These were his last
words. How much kindness and
courtesy is expressed by them! He
who had commanded the greatest
armies in turope, and was long ac
customed to the tone of authority,
did not despise or overlook the small
courtesies of life. In all your home
talk, remember "If you please."—
Among your playmates, don't forget
"If you please." To all who wait
upon or serve you, believe that "If
you please" will make you better
served than all the cross or ordering
words in the dictionary. Don't for
get three little words : "If you
please."
SUPERFLUOUS CAUTION.—A-stable
keeper named Spurr would never let
a horse go out without requesting
the lads not to drive fast. One day
a man called for a horse to attend a
funeral. "Certainly," said Spurr;
"but," he added, forgetting the sol
emn purpose for which the young
man wanted the horse, "don't drive
fast." "Why, jest look here, old fel
ler," said the somewhat excited
young man, "I want you to under
stand I shall keep up with the pro
cession if it kills the horse !"
A QUIET JOKE.--The celebrated
John Wesley, with all his ministerial
gravity, was addicted to joking once
in a while. His servant, Michael
Fenwick, complained that his name
was never mentioned in the published
journal. Wesley, in the. next num
ber, said : "1 left Epworth with
great satisfaction, and about one
preached at Clay worth. I think
acme were unmoved but Michael
Fenwick, who fell fast asleep under
an adjoining hayrick."
IJones and Brown were talking
lately of a young clergyman whose
preaching they bad heard that day.
The sermon was like a certain man
mentioned in a certain biography,
"very poor and very pious." "What
do you think of him 2" asked Brown.
"1 think," said Jones, "he did much
"Getter two years ago." "Why, be
didn't preach then.," said Brown.—
"True," said Jones ; "that is what I
Mai"
NEW SERIES.--VOL. 4, NO. 20.
Water Drinking.
Improper drinking of water has killed
thousands. There have been instanoes
where thirsty armies, after long marches,
have come to some river, when the men
would lie down on their faces and quaff an
inordinate quantity of water, with these
results : some died almost instantly,,oth
ers became crazy and staggered like drunk
en men. Avoid drinking water as much
as possible while walking. When you
feel thirsty, rinse the mouth with water,
but do not swallow it. Drink only when
resting. Men, when heated, should not
drink anything cold. Drink slowly ; half
a tumbler of water will suffice the thirsti
est man in the world, if he drinks by sips.
In fact, it is almost impossible to get•
down a full glass of water taken in this
way.
DIALOUGE ON NEWSPAPERS
"How does it happen, neighbor 8.,
that your children have made so
much greater progress in learning
and knowledge of the world than
mine ? They all attend the same
school, and for what I know enjoy
equal advantages."
"Do you take the newspapers,
neighbor A. ?"
"No, sir, I do not take them my
self. I sometimes borrow one just to
read. Pray sir, what have newspa
pers to do with the education of chil
dren ?"
"Why, sir, they have a vast deal to
do with it, I assure you. I should as
so on think of keeping them from
school, as to withhold from them the
newspaper; it is a little school in it
self. Being new every week, .it at
tracts their attention and they are
sure to peruse it. Thus, while they
are storing their minds with useful
knowledge, they are - "at the same
time acquiring the art of reading. I
have often been surprised that men
of understanding should crverlookthe
importance of a newspaper in a Item-
"ln truth, neighbor B. I gory fre
quently think that I should like them
but I cannot afford the expense."
"Can't afford the expense. What,
let me ask, is the value of two or
three dollars a year, in comparison
with the pleasures and advantages
to be derived from a well conducted
newspaper ? As poor as I am, I
would not for fifty dollars a year de
prive myself of the happiness I now
enjoy of reading and bearing my
children read, and talk about what
they have read in the newspa
pers. And then, the reffection
they are growing up useful and intel
ligent members of society. Oh, don't
mention the expense—pay it in ad
vance every year, and you will think
no more of it. Try it.
PRAYER A UNIVERSAL ONARAO
TERISTIO OF MAN.
Alone of all beings here below, man
prays. Among his moral inatinot t s
there is more none natural, more
universal, more unconquerable, than
prayer. The child inclines to ft with
a ready docility. The old man re
curs to it as a refuge agaiset decay
and isolation. Prayer ascends
from young lips which can hardly
murmur the name of ffod, and from
dying lips, which have scarcely
strength to pronounce it. Among
every people, famous or obscure, civ
ilized or barbarous, we meet at every
step with acts and forms of invoca
tion. Wherever nfen live, in certain
circumstances, at certain hours, and
under the influence of certain im
pressions of soul, the eyes are eleva
ted, the hands join themselves, the
knees bend in order to implore or
render thanks—to adore or to ap
pease. With transportoor with
trembling, publicly or in the secret
of his heart, it is to prayer that, man
applies as the last resource to fill the
void of his soul, or to help him to
bear the burden of his destiny. It is
in prayer that he seeks, when every
thing else fails him, support for his
weakness, consolation in his sorrows,
hope for his viAne.—Guizet.
bboeklag Altair hi Harrisburg.
A Child Abducted and Murdered.—On
Friday evening a girl of five years
awed Mary Elizabeth, daughter , P ,uf'
Emanuel German, of Harrisburg, was
missed, and it was subsequently ascertain
ed had been seen in company with a man
supposed to have been a discharged sol
dier. No trace of the child was discover
ed until Monday forenoon, when two little
colored boys discovered her dead body in
a swamp near the Cemetery. The child
had been shot directly through the throat,
carrying away one•side of the neck, and
inflicting a frill tin! wound.
It was also discovered that a knife hid
been used on her throat. The psvpetrster
of the murder has not yet been disooverat
A rumor is circulated that the ehild wee
probably mistaken for a datigh t tar of Gov.
Curtin. The Governor has offered a re
ward of $l,OOO for the arrest of the 'A
lain.
I tir An idle man always thinks he
has a right to be affronted k a busy
man does not devote to him just as
much of his time as he himself has
leisure to waste. The truth is, that
our social ethics grew into their
present form at a time when the pres
sure upon each man's working pow
ers had not 'reached to a tooth of its
present intensilil