• . . . • 00 .! ; , - I 11 ' • : • • 171 I • _ 1 - - i t- Cti tir • L • ) 1 1 ; , , I -- 1 , ) ( 21 , . ) t ,;eroLic 4 4 , ) - =SEEM M fano fapermiltnottis to ;Igintiturt, fiterature, Science, Art, foreign, pouttstic anti Gant juteitigenct, fir. ESTABLISHED IN 1813. THE WAYNESBURG MESSENGER, PUBLISHED BY 8. W. JONES & JAMES S. JENNINGS, WAYNESBURG, GrREENE CO., rA qv -OFFICE NEARLY OPPOSITE TIRE PUBLIC SQUARE. .J eLazi,Ta;.‘Ji Etunseatirriox.—sl 50 in advance; 81 75 at the ex piration of six months; 82 00 within the year; 82 50 after the expiration of the year. ADVERTISEMENT& inserted at 81 . 00 per square fur three insertions, and 25 cents a square foreach addition al insertion; (ten lines or less counted a square.) 118 - A liberal deduction made to yearly advertisers. ~ Jon PRINTING. of all kinds, executed in the best style, and on reasonable terms, at the "Messenger" Job • office. ittlavutsburg usiness Garbs. ATTORNEYS •. 1. PURM . .1 0 RITCHIE PURNIAN & RITCHIE, ATTORNEYS AND MUNSELLORS AT LAW, Waynesburg, Pa. fErmi business in Greene, Washineton, and Fay- alto Counties, entrusted to them, wilt receive prompt attention. Sept. I. 1861-Iy. sJ. A J. Enema)! As. WM. C. LINDSEY. BUCHANAN & LINDSEY, ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW. Waynesburg.. Pa. Office on the South side of Main street, in the Old *auk Building. Jan. I. 1862. IK. DCIliATNlEtinr, ierlostx BY AND COUN r?rELLOR AT LAW. frrOffice in I edwith's Building, opposite the Court Rouse, Waynesburg, Pa. It. A. M'CONNELL. J. .I. lIUFFMAN. iIIE'CON"BrELL &. ITToRNEYS coCrArsELLoRs AT LAW W aynesbur Pa. STollita la the "Wright It: se," East Door. collections, he.. Will receive prompt attention. Waynesburg, April 23, 1562-Iy. DAVID CH.ANN FORD, Attorney and Counsellor at Law. Office in Sayers' %dieing, adjoining the Post Office. Sept. 11, 185/-Iy. MIMEO BLACK & PHELAN, ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW Office in the Court House, ‘Yaynerburg. Sept. 11,1801-Iy. PECIrSICI.ANS B. M. BLACHLEY, M. D. 'PHYSICIAN dc, SURGEON, 4Dilieo—lllaehleyts BnMing, Maio St., peeESPECTFUI 1.17 announces to the citizens of , Waynesburg ami vicinity that he him returned from hospital Corps of the Army and resumed the pmc of medicine at this place. Waynesburg, June 11, lrit.-ly. DR. D. W. BRADEN, , Tbroirian and Surgeon. Office in the Old Bank mg • Main street. Sept 11, 1861—Iv. DR. A. G. CROSS 11 - 7 - or 1.11) very respectfully tender his services as a V PHYSICIAN AND 81iltGEON, to the people of Wayamsburg and vicinity. He hopes by a due apple /loins of human life sad health, and strict attention to imminess, to merit a share of public patronage. Waynesburg,. January 8, 1882. DR. A. J, EGOY -JRESPROMFITLLY offers his services to the citizens of Waynesburg and vicinity. as a Physician and utgeon. Office opposite the Republican office. lie Imes by a due appreciation of the laws of human life isnd health, so native medication, and strict attention ,to business, to merit a tiberalahareof public patronage. ' April 9. 1802. - - DRUGS M. A. HARVEY, Druggist and Apothecary, and dealer in Paints and Oils, the most celebrated Patent Medicines, and Pure Liquors for medicinal purposes. IVIERCZUUtTTS =i=lll WM. A. PORTER, Wholesale and Retail Deagei 1n Foreign and Domes li e Dry Goode, Geoceties, Notions, /se., Main street. Kept. 11. 1881-Iy. ANDREW WILSON, Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Drags, Notions, Ilaroware. glicensware, Stoneware. Looking Grasses, Iron and Nails, Boots and Shoes, Ilatq and Caps, Main street. one door east of the Old Bank. Sitpt. 11. 18151-Iy. H. CLARK, Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware, Qneens ware and notions, in the Hamilton House, opposite the court House. Main street. Sept. it, 1861-Iy. MINOR & CO., Dealers in Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods, aro emries, Queensware, tfardware and Notions, ~pposite the Green House. Main street. Sept. It, ISC—ly, CLOTHING N. CLARK, pester in Men's and !Boys' Clothing, Cloths, Cassi sneres, Satinets, fiats and Caps, &e., Main strt et, op. polite the Court House. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. A. J. SOWERS, Dealer in Men's and Boys' Clothing, Gentlemen's Fur nishing Goads, 000t1/ and Shoes, Hats and Caps. Old Bask Building, Main street. Sept. 11. 1861-4 m SOOT AND SHOE DEALERS J. 11 COSGRAY, Hoot and Shoe maker. Main street, n , arly opposite' }he "Farmer's and Drover's Hank." -Every style of Boots an d shoes constantly on hand or made to order. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. N. H. McClellan 'foot and Shoe maker,Blachley's Corner, Main street. floats and Shoes of every variety always on hand or made to order on short notice' Sept. 11, ISM —IY• OROCIERIES & VARIETIES. JOSEPH YATER, °miler in Groceries and Confectioneries, Notions, Medicines, Perfumeries, Liverpool Weireeecc., Glass of eilkizes , and Gilt Mouidint and Looking Glass Plates. iu-Gash paid for good eating Apples. --- - JOHN MUNNELL, Leffler in Groceries and Coafeetiosiaries. and Variety abode Generally, Wilson's Nt.w Building, Main street. Sept 11. 18151—ly. BOOMS, &o. LEWIS DAY, Dealer in School andldiseall...neous Books, !Station ery, ink, Magazines and pagers. One door east. of 'Poker's Store. is Street. Sest. 1861 ly. Trikainms. , stAlitftP iviqUisTEß, • sadoe, up** iod Trap* Makor, Bard/ j ibt, *Warw. I, mai—ly. THE ENGLISH PEASANTRY. Poor, toiling, ill-fed, hopeless peas ant! Bound, as with chains of ada mant, to a destiny immutable and eternal of poverty, and hardship, and soi row, and ignorance, and brutish ness; in the very midst of enormous wealth, and overflowing superfluity, and inordinate, unbounded luxury, and refinement of self-indulgence, such as the world has never seen.— Gathering the full sheaves into the crowded garners of his sumptuous master, and then returning weary and hungry, to his humble cottage to rejoice with his Rife and little chil dren over the handfuls of wheat-ears which they have toiled patiently the 'ivelong day to collect. The most abject and fOrlorn of serfs, in a coun try which boasts without ceasing to the wide world of its universal free dom ! Aye, freedom to him to toil in most absolute and humiliating de pendence, and abject, despairing penury, till death. What knows he of any other? What the grand ora tors can mean when they tali: about the freedom which every stranger '-as as soon as ever he touches the soil and breathes the air of England. full well he may wonder. lie touch es the soil every day, and breathes the air. He is an Englishman, be sides, and not a stranger; and the clergyman teUs him on Sunday, that DO other is so blest and happy as England, and no glory so great as to be an Englishman; and he wishes he could believe it; but he knows that his bondage is bitter, though the grand orators and the clergyman call him free He feels the iron en tering deep into his . soul, though he wears no outward chain; he knows that England's glory, whatever it may be, brings small joy to his heart, and he sees no hope that his shackles will fall till he reaches the place where the servant is free from his master, and the viesry are at rest. * * Pl.) lug The ten o'clock lunch of a New England farmer's man would be a dinner for him, and ample too. Very often have we seen them sitting at noon on the ground under the green hedge, wits each a large piece of bread, and a small piece of hard, skim-milk cheese, cutting, with a jack-knife, first from; one, and then from the other; and this, with a draught of cold water was the whole of their dinner. This was the whole of their dinner, not for one day or a week, but continually, week after week and month after month, and worst of all, in quantity so stinted that the poor men rose from under the hedge and went hack to their work with appetites blunted but not satisfied. We remember having called, on a bright spring morning, at the cottage of a peasant, whom we found eating a piece of dry bread, without butter, or cheese, or tea. It waft ten o'clock, and this was his breakfast, and the first mouthiul he had eaten that day, though he had gone to his at four, and had toiled six hours till he was faint and trembling. And this he did day by day continually, because he had found that his meagre pit tance of food would "go further," as the poor man expressed it, than when any portion of it was eaten be fore going to the field. He had made a careful reckoning as to the quanti ty of plain food which his scanty wages would allow to each member of his family, including himself; his wife and four children. The eldest child was a great girl, was growing fast, and had an appetite not easily satisfied with her share, and the ten der-hearted and pitiful father (her mother was dead) gave her each day a part of his, insufficient at the most. And this was a healthy, sober, indus trious man, in full employment, and on full pay. his master being a rich man and a gentleman, in one of the very best agricultural counties in al) England. The man talked freely of his circumstances, and told us that he never had meat at - all in any shape, his children did not know the taste of meat, unless, perchance, some kind neighbor sent them a small joint at Christmas. Plain bread, hard, unnu tritious cheese, potatoes, a little but ter, and a little cheap tea, made up all their substantial dishes and all their luxuries, and even these in in sufficient quantity, as we have seen. That they were in a "state shocking to humanity," may b.?, readily grant ed; yet, so far from doubting the poor man's statement., we only won dered how he could procure even these things, in addition to the rent of his cottage, and fire, and 'light, and clothing. For the amount of his wages was only eight shillings sterl hip', or two dollars a week, with the deduction of every day that was lost from bad weather or any other cause; a practice which explains the fact, that you see English laborers out all day in weather which, in Massachu setts drives every man to seek a shel ter. Out of his eight shillings, the man paid one 4and sixpence a week for rent; and the meanest black tea, such as nobody drinks in our country, was sixty-two cents a pound, four fifths of that sum being duty paid to government in a time of peace. Al imost all other things that this,peas- iottitaittrato. WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1862. ant's family consumed were in pro portion. And it was true that his wages did not purchase these things, for his wife was compelled to leave her infant child with an older girl, and go out washing, and scrubbing at a shilling sterling a day, in order to eke out their miserable income.— Boston Review. A LITTLE HERO. Grace Greenwood writes the fol lowing little story—and a true one it is-for the Little Pilgrim, a child's papiir. She gets the facts from an incident described in the Illartfbrd Daily Times, some years ago, as having happened in Colt's Meadows: In the city of Hartford, COlMCC ticut,lives the hero of the true history I am about to relate—but no longer "1 ittle" as the perilous adventure, which for the time made him famous in his native town, happened several years ago. Our hero was then a bright, ac tive boy of 14 years—the son of a mechanic. In the severe winter of 18—, the father worked in a factory, about a mile and a halt' from his home, and every day the boy carried him his dinner, across a wide piece of meadow land. One keen, frosty day, be found the snoW on the meadow nearly two feet deep, and no track of the little footpath remaining. Yet he ran on as fast as possible, plunging through drifts. keeping hint wlf warm by the most vigorous exercise, and brave, cheerful thought. When in the midst of the mea,low, full half a mile from any house, he suddenly felt himself' going down, down, down ! He had fallen into the well ! He sunk down into the dark, icy water, but arose immedi ately to the surface. There he grasped hold of a plank, NN hich had fallen into the well as he went down. One end rested on the tottom of the well - While the other rose about four feet above the surface of the water. The poor lad shouted for help till he was almost helpless and speech less, but all in vain, as it was impos sible for him to make himself heard at such a distance from ctny house.— So at last he concluded if he was to be saved at all, he must save him self, and began at once, as he was getting extremely- cold in the water. So he went to work. First, he drew himself up the plank, and braced himself at the top of it, and the wall f the well, which was built of brick, and had ; become quite smooth, then he pulled off his coat, and taking out his pock et knife be cut off h's boots that he might work to greater advantage. Then with his feet against one side of the wall, and his shoulders against the other, he worked his way up by the most fearful exertion, about half the distance from the top. Here he was obliged to pause to take breath, and gather up his energies for the work yet bet Ore him. Far harder was it than all he had gone through, for the side of the well from that point,i completely covered with ice, he must cut with his knife, grasping places with his fingers, slowly and carefully all the way up. It was almost a hopeless attempt, but it was all he could do. And here he lifted up his heart to God, and prayed fervently for help, fearing that he could never get out alone. Doubtless the Lord heard his voice from the deep, and pitied him. Ile wrought no miracle to save him, but breathed into his heart a yet larger measure of calmness and courage, strengthening him to work for his own deliverance. After this the little hero cut his way up inch by inch. His wet stockings froze to the ice and kept his feet from slipping, but his shirt was almost torn from his back, ere he reached the top. lie did reach it at last—crawled into the snow, and lay down a moment to rest, panting out his breath in little white clouds on the clear, frosty air. He had been two hours and a half in the well I His clothes soon froze to his body, but he no longer suffered with the cold, as full of joy and thankful ness, be ran to the factory where his father was waiting and wondering. The poor man was' obliged to go without his dinner that day, but you may be sure he cared little about that, while listening with tears in his eyes to the thrilling story his son had to relate to him. He mast have been very proud of his boy that day, as he wrapped him in his warm overcoat to take him home to 'mother.' And how that mother must have wept and smiled over her boy, and kissed him, and thanked the Lord for hi rn. Flavel said that if men should rise from the dead and read their epitaphs, sume of them wJuld think they had got in the wrong grave. ter Old age is a relentless tyrant: it forbids the pleasures of youth on pain of death, ZME=III war Envy is unquestionably a high compliment, but a most ungracious one. TOUCHING INCIDENT. Who can read the following with out tears ? Wb copy it from the Press Several charitable ladies lately vis ited one of our military hospitals.— Every refreshment that could be furn ished, they supplied. Ice-cream was banded round, and the poor invalids eagerly partook of it. In one corn et of the room, however, the spoon and saucer had not been touched.— On the bed, by the little table con taining them, lay a young boy, his features pale, his eyelids drooping.— A lady gently fanning his fair fore head, softly whispered, The poor little fellow is asleep, we must not distnrb him." "No, ma'am, I'm not asleep," he answered. It was a silvery voice, full of the sweetness of innocence and boyhood. Well my little fellow," continued the lady, as silo nearer drew, "are you not fond of ice-cream" -Very much so." he replied. "Didn't you see me place this on your little table?" reaching for the plate of cream. "Oh, yes ,' he answered tremu lously, "but I shut my eyes and cried to myself." -Cried, my child why, what made you cry, my dear r "Oh, madam if you will pull the quilt down a little,you will see.' The lady did so, and found that he had no arms! Both of them he had lost in battle. Poor little fellow the sympathy of silence and tears was all that could be bestowed upcn his wounded spirit. The remembrance of sister and brother, of rather and mother, of childish frolics and playmates lov ed of yore. was awakened to soothe the fancy of the little sufferer. and to wreathe his young brow with the still tenderer beauty of resignation to the will of God. COURTSHIP IN "HARD TIMES." The following, story of an English merchant's courtship when business was -pressing," may serve as an ex ample while times are so very "hard":—"The lady called at, his counting-house, and said that her business was to consult him on the propriety, or otherwiße, of her ac cepting an offer ( f marriage which she had received. Now, for the first time, occurred to the merchant the idea of the holy estate in his MU case. 'Marriage,' said he, listlessly turning over some West India cor respondence. 'Well, I suppose every body ought to marry, though such a thing never occurred to me before.— Have you given this gentleman an affirmative answer '!"No."Are your feelings particularly engaged in this matter ?"Not particularly.' 'Well, then, madam,' said he, turn ing round On his stool. 'if that be the case, and if you could dispense with courtship, for which I have no time, and think you could be comfortable with me, lam your humble servant to corn man(l.' There were some people who thought that the lady had a purpose in going there ; but if so, she prudently disguised it. She said she would consider the matter. The merchant saw her out with the same coolness as if she was merely one of his correspondents, and when she "was gone five minutes. was once more immerged in his let ters and ledgers. A clay or two after lie had a communication from the lady accepting his offer, very consid erately excusing him from an elabor- ' ate courtship, and leaving him to name the 'most convenient day '— They were married.- THE LAST OF THE BYRO The dullness of London at this season of the year has been relieved for the day by a glimpse into the romance of the peerage. Last week there died at Brighton, at the early age of twenty-seven, Byron Noel, Baron of Ockham and Wentworth. The heir of a large fortune, the , "Somewhat—why ?" grandson and last direct representa- , "Because," he added, "my horse is tive of the English poet's the young a high-spirited fellow, and he has a peer had—so the world might have bad trick of throwing folks. Few judged—a brilliant career before him. can ride him without getting hurt.— He was the son of Ada Byron, the The fact is, I didn't sleep a wink last poet's only daughter; and this is al- night worrying about consenting to Most all that is known of him. posi- let you have him ; and I don't feel tively. For some cause unknown,' right to let him go without speaking and only faintly surmised, the young of it." baron never assumed his rank, never "How does he throw his riders?" I took his seat in the House of Lords, asked. never even made his appearance in "By suddenly jumping to one side. the fashionable world. Very early He's powerful at jumping—beats all in life he broke his connection with the horses I ever saw in that line," his family, willingly or not, served said he. on board a ship as a common sailor, "I can look out for him :" then supported himself as a hired "He'll outwit you, Elder; hope laborer in a Thames dock-yard, and you won't try it." was engaged (if he was not actually But it was too late to go in search married) to a bar-maid. The last of of another, and pleading urgent bus the Byrons is dead ;• and the story iness and willingness to incur all of the latest descendent of that risks, the formidable beast was led strange race is buried in the grave out —a powerful, intelligent, fiery an with him.—. London Letter. . imal, black as a raven. ~.... 1 What can be more inspiriting than a horseback jaunt across a rolling, My-In Cleveland a boy of seventeen . and rain, and now and then was accepted as a suhstitue for a drafted' Northwest prarie ? So, despite the t cold ,„ man, and received-SW° bonus. Ile spent prodigious leap by Black Hawk, the money andthen obtained his discharge . a the ride was most exhilarating. It i on a writ of habeas corpus, on the ground was two miles to the bridge. On ar that he was under the age prescribed by 1 riving there, I found the freshet had law for nen/kits- ' swept it away. Just in sight, hw .. • . . ~ • • SAD SIGHTS An Alexandria correspondent of the Tribune says :—"I noticed during the busiest days of shipping off the wounded, any number of surgeons and doctors idle, promenading the streets, while some of the wounded actually died on the boats for the want of surgical assistance. To see them as they cried for the doc tor would melt a heart of stone.— One man had an awful cut in his head, caused by a fragment of shell. It looked like a (_avern. I could put in lbur fingers. As he moved his head the blood rolled over. and sometimes over flowed and streamed down his cheek. He thought I wiis the doctor when I came to take his name. 'He said. 'Will I live, doctor?' 'Certainly, my f'riond,' said I ; 'keep your head steady—don't move it so much.' Ile said. 'Aim I would like to live on aeceunt of my family..— .He bad a sweet. manly thee. I had seen many hundreds of wounded. but he was the worst that was able to move and talk.. From my heart and soul I pitied him and his 'fam ily,' and I let tall ray pencil and went for the doctor, who was, fortu nately, close by." A RIDE TO A WESTERN WEDDING. Among the checkered scenes of missionary life on the frontier, there are not many more pleasant than a genuine Western wedding. The heartiness; the bold dash, the gener ous hospitality of the thing, and of ten the novel phases of social life which it reveals, together. of coure, with the ice. which is rarely small in porportion to the ability of the par ties, make the event (pito welcome to the toiling preacher. One day, on answering a modest knock, there stood befOre our log house door a young man, barefooted. ecatless, with coarse, well patched pants and rimless straw bat, whose face, beaming with a bashful happi ness, would at once have suggested his errand, were it not for his garb. or. rather, want of garb. "Are you the minister?" ho asked. "Yes, - I replied. Then followed a pause. "Is there any thing," said I, break ing the silence, "that I can do for you ?" "Y -c-s. I came to see if you could come down to Alr. L.'s next Thurs day and marry a couple." "Where does Mr. L. live?" "Seven miles below here, on the other side of the river. They want you at 2 o'clyck, Thursday after- noon." "I will endeavor to bo there at that time," said I ; "but who are the parties ?" "Oh," he replied,with a look which was its own interpretor, "you will know when you get there l" After getting all the directions needful for finding the place, I was :Aunt closing the interview, but my caller lingered as if' he had more to say ; and atter evident embarrass ment. asked what I "had for marry ing folks ?" "1 generally leave that to tint. par ties," said I. Then ensued another pause, broken at length by say,ng, in. a depressed Tolle. "1 have no money now; perhaps you wouldn't come down and marry us, and wait for your pay ?" "That I will," I replied. "And, Providence permitting, you will see me at precisely the hour named." The cloud lifted from the sunburnt face, and, smilingly thanking me, he hurried away with a light step. Seven miles in prune land is a short distance; but not being in a mood to walk, I engaged a horse of a. , neighbor. Meanwhile, for the two intervening days, it rained, or rather poured incessantly, moderating to a gentle fall on Thursday. On calling for the horse, however, the owner was loath to let him go. "Elder," said he, (be was a Meth odist,) "are you used to managing horses ?" ever, in the margin of a fine grove, was a snug little cabin, and riding briskly there, the barking of dogs and my shouts brought the pro prietor to the door, a bevy of flaxen haired urchins at Ins heels, with eyes brimful of curiosity. "Is there any way to cross the riv er?" I asked. "Yes; on the bridge," he replied, curtly. "The bridge is gone I" "Well, then, there isn't any way" "But is there no place on the stream shoal enough to be forded ?" The settler scratched his head com ically, scanned me and my beast leisurely. and said: “Take the road to the left, and you will come to the old ford ; how it will be in this flood, can't say. You can try it, though, if you like; noth ing like trying, they say There was need of trying, I found, on reaching the spot. There rolled the river, deep and wide, with steep banks on either side. What was to be done? Go back and wait till the waters subsided ? This was not llToten . The genuine pioneer never thinks of giving up au enterprise.— A short experience in the vicissitudes of frontier life wakes up a self-reli ance and love of adventure, which make danger and difficulty to be courted rather than shunned; in deed, t hey are everyday occurrences, adding piquancy to privation and hardship. And, as I looked down into the water of the river, there rose to view the image of the ragged, bare foot, coLtless, moneyless bridegroom: and memory recalled certain facts which I had learned about his bor rowing articles of apparel for him self and bride, and materials for a wedding-supper. Now, to disappoint persons in their condition was hard ly to be thought of. So, chirrupping to my good steed, we made the plunge—and a deep plunge it was for the animal above, as well as the animal beneath, for the former went nearly to his neck.— However, the horse soon rose to the surface, permitting his rider, by a happy exercise of unwonted agility, to strike the saddle a la Turk, which position I prudently kept till the op posite shore was gained. Clamber ing up the step hank, my borrowed nag, went at a breakneck pace the re maining five miles to our destina tion. It was a small, framed house, perched on a swell of land in the midst of a wide prairie, dotted with an occasional cabin. The dwelling was covered only with rough boardsc between which the ever-restless winds came and went at will. Alighting et the gate, a gray-haired man, the bride's father, who was cut ting wood in the little front yard, laid down his as and came forward to take my horse. He had,. as I af terwards learned, served in the Mi chigan war, and had still a soldierly bearing. Taking the bridle, he said: "You are the minister, I suppose? We had given you up, thinking you would not conic in such a storm as this. But how did you cross the river ? We heard the bridge was Mail ==EN "Well," said the old soldier, his eye kindling, "a minister Ma! can do that can preach, I know."' I had fulfilled my engagement partly from sympathy and the pleasure of conquering obstacles; there was, beside, a sort of presentiment that urged me on ; nor did I in the end regret that I yielded to it. The interior of the humble dwell ing, and its occupants, I shall not soon forget. What taste and neat ness under the most discouraging circumstances ! What method and fertility of arrangements where all was plain, and rough, and scant I It is on the frontier, where the appli ances of elegant housewifery are impossible, that woman's fertile re sources of tact and skill most strik ingly appear—often making the rude log-house and simple home-made fur niture wear an aspect of comfort and taste not 'infrequently wanting in homes of luxury. The household consisted of the father--already introduced—mother, three daughters, and the young man who had called for my services. "Mother is not well, and would like to see you a moment," remarked one of the young ladies, showing me into an adjoining room, where lov ing hands had spared no pains to for tify its pining inmate against expo sure, and sooln the anguish of suffer- LEI A bed, with its snowy counterpane and tasteful curtains, stood in a cor ner of the apartment. On it reclined the dying mother, the emaciated flame and hectic cheek marking her a victim of consumption. -1 um so glad to see you," said she, extending her hand. "It is a a long while since a minister of the Gospel bus entered our door ; and yet 1 regret you have been put to so much trouble and exposure in com ing. God will reward you! But I wished to speak to you about this marriage." From her remarks I learned that the family were from New England. Her husband, on his return from the war, removed them to the West, making owe or two temporary looa- NEW SERIES.--VOL 4, NO. 22. tions, then selling out aind going still further into the unsettled woods. It was while on their way ont.that the young man, to whom.their daughter was now engaged, made their ac quaintance, and joined his fortune with theirs. It was under circum stances of great trial to them, and his presence and aid were peculiar acceptable, indeed indipensable With untiring zeal he devoted himself to their comfort, and wheth er on the long journey in the_ emi grant wagon, or in the toils incident to making a new home„he, was like a son and brother. "We came here," said the mother, "because of my health, that the cli mate might do forme what medicine couki not. I now see it was too late. But for my husband and George's sake, who have sacrificed so much on my account, I hope this last set tlement may prove productive some day. They have secured_ a good tract of land, that must be valuable by-and. by ; but we arc 'land poor' now ; all our money is gone. Anoth er season, however, we hope- our crops will bring us something more than the necessaries of life. George is like a child to me,—and what ,is more, he is a Christian. Annie and he are tenderly •attached, and des pite our present poverty, I shall re joice in knowing that they are united before I am called Lway." But the few friends that bad been invited had come in; the simple words that make two inseparably one were uttered ; and then as the table was being laid, bride and bridegroom poured forth their joy in Christian song. Strangely touch ing was it, here, on the lone prairie, to listen to wedded love, thus ex pressed. Very happy were they, and comely, too, in the freshness and vig or of their youth. And as we gath ered around the well-spread board, the sick mother taking once more her place at the head of the table, Tier face beaming.the peace she felt, there was a glow of happiness in my heart, such as . 1 never experienced before as guest at a marriage feast. "Well, Elder," said my Methodist friend, as I alighted at his door an my return, "not a limb broken, eh ? But you had to swim the river !- -Guess you didn't get much of a fee though, did you ?" "4 ever better paid - in iris tifb-- what's my bill for Black Hawk ?" "Well, seeing you feel so rich,l think I sha'n't charge you anythiniA• this time. All is, I'm glad you of back safe and sound. c atatt and Refieetor. The Battle of Shiloh—An Incident with Gen. Hindman, The following:remarkable incidedt is described :--Just before the re treat, occurred one of the most re markable incidents of the battle; few more wonderful are on record.— Gen. Hindman, than whom no more fearless, dashing, or brave man is found in the rebel army, was leading his men in a fearful struggle for the possession of a favorable position, when a shell from the Federal batte ries, striking his horse in the breast and passing into his body, exploded. The horse was blows into fragments . , and the rider with his saddle, lifted some ten feet in the air. His staff (lid not doubt that their general was killed, and some one cried out, " General Hindman is blown to pieces." Scarcely was the ery_ ut tered, when Hindman sprang to his feet and shouted, "Shut up there, I am worth two dead mon -yet. Give me another horse." To the amass ment of every one he was but little bruised. His heavy and strong cav alry saddle, and probably the burst ing of the shell downward, saved him. Ina minute he was on a new horse and rallying his men for an other dash. A man of less flexible and steel-like frame would probably be so jarred and stiffened by the shock as to be unable to rise; he, though covered with blood and dust, kept his saddleduring the remainder of the day, and performed prodigies of valor. But no heroism of officers or men could avail to stay the ad vance of the Federal troops. Anecdote of a French Marshal. Some time ago, while at a review, a murderous shot was fired at the late Mar shal Castellene, from a regiment of Vol, tigeurs. He heard the whistling of the ball near his head, and on taking off his cap found that it lodged in it. Withont saying a word to his staff be galloped up to the front of the regiment from which the shot proceeded, and cried out that if he knew the unlucky dog who was such a bad shot he would certainly give him a week in the guard house. Then turning to his staff Le said, "What do you think of this ? a fellow in a crack corps who misses his man at thirty yards; certainly he ought to be broke." The Marshall would never allow any inquiry to be made into this attempt upon his life; but he re. seated it against the whole corps of Volti geurs by never allowing any one of them to mount guard at his quarters. trerrNo man will excel in his pro fession if he thinks himself boy it; and commerce will Tiot : ,la in any country whers cpreT*4l l not respected. 0 CIE
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