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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,
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~ Jon PRINTING. of all kinds, executed in the best
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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.
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