G
,•"-- '•,......,./ --"•....._ -
. .
~, , • • . ~,.,
s_,_•
....., .s,
r ,•.
~,,,,,,, 1 •. /...• • Is
• '\ ~, ....,
I I :
,
. I d r . ' . I \ l 1 . ill •, . . -•.. .- •
. . . .
. „, • .. . ,
c :r, ( ...:i p :
, ....
.....
.; 7.... ..
. .\ ~ .
41
22.(,:r : i 1 .1 L
. „Al it :
. t ...,A ~,,
, : ,,,.. i ,.. 11r
, , i.
0.• )‘
' - L ii ' . 4 4
, •• ,
'
iii..:l r
A 104 paptr---prnotett to Nitta, Agriculture, fittraturt, srinuet, Art, foram', Pooh( dub Otani jutelligtact o kr,
ESTABLISHED IN 1813.
THE WAYNESBURG MESSENGER,
PUBLISHED BY
&• W. JONES & JAMES S. JENNINGS,
WAYNESBURG, GREENE CO., PA
arOPPICE NEARLY OPPOSITE THE
PUBLIC SQUARE. -al
IP LIM Sit el Et
IllvseoairrioN.—sl. 50 in advance; $1 75 at the ex
piration of six months; $2 00 within the year; $2 50
after the expiration of the year.
itaveartssmsers inserted at $1 00 per square for
area insertions, and 25 cents asquare for each addition
al insertion; (tmi lines or less counted a square.)
Darr 41 liberal deduction made to yearly advertisers.
gor Jos Palermo, of all kinds, executed in the best
merle, and on reasonable terms, at the "Messenger" Job
office.
ff; alutsllng . gusintss (nubs.
ATTORNEYS
J O. RITCHIE
P iTiMA N & RITCHIE,
TTORNEYS*ED COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Ivan Pa.
Ex All Wein in Greene, Washington, and Fay-
Arne Counties, entrusted to.hem, will receive prompt
attention. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
J. L.. 1. BuCHI.2I An. Wei. C. Lot °SIM
BIIONALNAN & LINDSEY,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
W avow eburig, Pa.
°Mee on the South side of Main street, in the Old
Bank Building. Jan. I, 1882.
wi, vv . . ....)cs - vcrwmir,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
litrOttlce in I edwith's Building, opposite the Court
Blouse, Waynesburg, Pa.
a. A. M'CONNELL. 1. J. HUFFMAN.
JOIL'OONNETA.I6 ELUTSMEAI6I,
4117TORN6Y8 AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW
Waynesburg , Ya.
DjOffice In the "Wright Ili ,se." East Door.
(.4 Dertions, gm, will receive prompt attention.
Waynesburg, April 23, 1862-Iy.
DAVID CRAWFORD,
Auoraey and Counsellor at Law. Office in Sayers'
Scalding, adjoining the Post Otffice.
Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
it A L . SLACK. JOHN PHELAN.
BLACK & PHELAN,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AY LAW
Office in the Court House, Way netburg.
Sept. U, 11361-Iy.
PHYSICIANS
EL M. BLACHLE Y
__ A __ M. D.
riairtszowir d0 1N1711.0130N,
om•o—maehiers Building, Main St.,
RESPECTTULLY announces to the citizens of
Waynesburg and vicinity that he has returned from
tpe Hospital Corps of the Army and resumed the prac
tice of medicine at this place.
Waynesburg, June 11, 1369.-b
DR. D. NV. BRADEN',
Physician and Burgeon. Mee in the Old Bank
Building. Main street. Sept 11. IBM—Iv.
DR. A. G. CROSS
WOULD very respectfully tender his services as a
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, to the people of
Waynesburg and vicinity. He hopes by a due appre
dation of human life and health, and strict attention to
business, to merit a share of public patronage.
Waynesburg. January 8, 1862.
DR. A.. J. EGGY
11 1 .
HBPBCTFULLY offers his services to the citizens
of Waynesburg and vicinity, as a Physician and
urgeon. Office opposite the Republican alike. He
bapss by a des appreciation of the laws of human life
apd health, so native medication, and strict attention
to business, to merit a liberal share of public patronage.
A . 'l9, 1862.
DRUGS
M. A. HARVEY,
Druggist and Apothecary, and dealer in Paints and
Oils, the most celebratse. Patent Medicines, and Pure
Liquors for medicinal purposes.
slept. 11,
MERCHANTS.
WM. A. PORTER,
holessir and Retail Dente, in Foreign and Domes
tie Dry Goods, Groceries, Notions, Mein street.
dept. 11. 1861-Iy.
R. CLARK,
Dealer in Dry Geode, Groceries, Hardware, Queens
ware and notions, in the Hamilton House, opposite
the Court House. Hair. street. Dept. 11, 1861-Iy.
MINOR & Co.,
Dealer, in Foreign and Domestic Dry . Goods, Gro
eerier, Qneeneware, Hardware and Notions, opposite
the Green House. Main street.
Sept. It, 18111-Iy,
OLOTIIING.
N. CLARK,
Dealer in Men's and Boyy■' Clothing. Cloths, elliti
merge, Satinets, Hats and Cape, &a., Main stri.et, op
palate tie Court House. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
BOOT AWD SIEOE DEALERS.
J. D. COSGRAY,
EnM and Ohne maker, Main street, nearly apposite
the "Farmer's and Drovees Bank." Every style of
Omni and Shoes constantly on hand or made to order.
Wept 11, 1561-Iy.
N. IL MCCLELLAN
Root and Shoe maker,Blachley'• Corner, Main arms.
}Soots and Shoes of every varies) , always on hand or
made to order on short notices
Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
? T~Z•~ F tit= f ~'~l4 it ~r~tt=f
JOSEPH YATER,
°eider in swedes and Onnfeationaries. Notions,
Medicines, Perfumeries, Liverpnol Ware, ke., Glass of
lir, and Gilt Wlntilding and Looking Glass Plates.
adi paid for good eating App!es.
JOHN MUNNELL,
rent. r in Groceries and Confectionaries, and Variety
r,oids Generally. Wilson's New Building, Main street.
it N r It. 1861-Iy.
' BOOZI. &c.
LEWIS DAY,
Dealer is Melon! and Miaalleaseea Monks, station
ary, het. Magazines and Papers. One door awn not
Perter's Stan, Main Street. Sept. 11, 1861 ly.
SAXIDIMIS AND muuntas
SAMUEL M'ALLISTER,
tast
am are otip. fitness lo and Trunk Maker. bid Bank'
11, 13aereet.
1-1.•
TOBAMMIMITIL
HOOP b.:R & HAGER,
Malin ' factureis alkd itlielesale and retail &Mersin
Tabus*, Iliff i tem emi
amt.
caw. Pim.
Whowes
•
Sept. 11.
§flut Vottrg,
ROLL-GALL.
"Corporal Green'." the Orderly cried ;
"Here !" was the answer loud and clear,
From the lips of a soldier who stood
ECM
And " here!" was the word the next re-
plied
"Cyruts Drew'."—then a silence fell—
This time no answer followed the call ;
Only his rear-man had seen him fall,
Killed or wounded he could not tell.
There they stood in the falling light,
These men of battle, with grave, dark
looks,
As plain to be read as open books,
While slowly gathered the shade of night
The fern on the hill-sides were splashed
with blood,
And down in the corn, where the pop-
pies grew,
Were redder stains than the poppies
knew ;
And crimson-dyed was the river's flood
For the foe had crossed from the other
side,
Tbat day, in the face of a murderous
fire
That swept them down in its terrible
ME
And their life-blood went to color the tide
"Herbert Cline!"—at the call there came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line,
Bearing between them this Herbert
Cline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his
name.
"Ezra Kerr I"—and a voice answered
"Here l"
"Hiram Kerr !" but no man replied :
They were brothers, these two ; the ead
wind sighed,
And a shudder crept through the cornfield
near
"Ephraim Deane!"—then a soldier spoke:
"Deane carried our regiment's colors,"
he said,
"When our ensign was shot : I left him
dead,
Just after the enemy wavered and broke.
"Close by the roadside his body nee ;
I paused a moment and gave him to
drink;
lie murmured his mother's name, I
think ;
And death came with it, and closed his
eves."
'Tomas a victory—yes ; hut. it cost us dear;
For that company's roll, when called at
night,
Of a hundred men who went into the
fight,
Numbered but twenty that answered
" Here ."'
PRACTICAL HINT TO PARENTS.
We commend the practical wisdom of
the parent mentioned in the following in
cident to the consideration of parents gen
erally. We have known scholars ruined
who might have been saved and prepared
for a useful and honorable career ley some
such discipline as this—extreme as it
seems to be. The great point is to train
children into an ability to act, and also to
give them habits of self-reliance :
A young man whose father was in easy
circumstances was desirous of learning the
printing business. His father consent
ed, on condition that the son should board
at home, and pay weekly for his board
out of the avails of his special perquisite s
during his apprenticeship. The young
man thought this rather hard, but when
he was of age and master of his trade his
father said, 'here, my son, is the money
paid to me for boarding during your ap
prenticeship. I never intended to keep it.
but have retained it for your use, and
with it 1 give you as much more as will
enable you to commence your business."
The wisdom of the old man was now ap.
parent to the son, for while his fellows
had contracted bad habits in the expend
iture of similar perquisites, and were now
penniless and in vice, he was enabled to
commence businese respectably ; and he
now stands at the head of publishers in
this country, while most of his former
companions are poor, vicious and degra
ded.
A Better Man than His Father.
"Ah, Jemmy, Jemmy," said kind
hearted Dr. Ponsonby, Bishop of Derry,
to a drunken blacksmith, "I am very sor
ry to see you begin your evil courses again;
and, Jemmy, I am anxious to know what
you intend to do with that fin, lad, your
son ?" "Intend, sir," said Jemmy, "to
do for him what you cannot do for your
son." "Eh!• eh ! how's that?"—how's
that?" To which Jemmy, with a burst
of genuine feeling, said : "I intend to
make him a better man than his father !"
Dania Lass.—Many men . have relieved
themselves of dyspepsia by not drinking
anything, not even water during their
meals. No animal except man, ever drinks
in connection with his food. Man ought
pot to. Try this,
displptics, and you will
not wash down mechanically that which
ought to be masticated and en-salivated
before it is swallowed.
WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1862.
);istttlantou,s.
WOUNDED.
" Six hundred and forty-three
wounded !" .
"If that were all'." My wife
spoke in a sad voice. "If that were
all:"
"The return is given as complete,"
1 said, referring again to the news
paper which I held in my hand
"One hundred and forty-one killed,
and six hundred and forty-three
wounded."
"A fearful list, but it is not all,"
my wife answered. " Her tones were
even sadder than at first. "A great
many more were wounded—a great
many more."
"But this is an official return, sign
ed by the commanding general."
"And so far, doubtless, correct.--
But from every battle-field go swift
winged messengers that kill and
wound at a thousand miles instead
of a thousand paces; bullets
to mortal eyes that pierce loving
hearts. Of the dead and wounded
from these we have no report.—
They are casualties not spoken of by
our commanding generals.
I had not thought of this ; or at
least, not with any realizing sense of
what it involved. My wife resumed :
"Let us take the matter home.—
We have a son in the army. The
ball that strikes him strikes us. If
in da t e list of killed and wounded we
had found his name, would there
have been no bayonet point or shat
tering bullet in our flesh ? I shiver
at the thought. Ah, these invisible
messengers of pain and death wound
often deeper than iron and lead."
As she thus spoke my eyes wore
resting on the official list, and saw
the name of a friend. An ejacula
tion of surprise dropped from my lips.
"What!" My startled wife grew
slightly pale.
"Harley is wounded !"
"0 dear !" The palor increased,
and she laid her hand over her heart
—a sign that she felt pain there.—
"Badly?" She tried to steady her
voice.
"A ball through his chest. Not
set down as dangerous, however."
"Poor Anna: What sad tidings
for her!" My wife arose. "I must
go to her immediately." .
Do so," I answered.
Soon afterward we went out to
gether; I to my office, and she to
visit the wife of our wounded friend.
It is strange how little those who
are not brought into the actual pres
ence of death and disaster on the
battle-field realize their appalling na
ture. We read of the killed and
wounded, and sum up the figures as
coldly, almost, as it the statistics
were simply commercial. We talk
of our losses as indifferently as if
men were crates and bales. Ido not
excuse myself. Sometimes I feel as
though all sensibility, all sympathy
for human suffering, had died out of
my heart. It is, perhaps, as well.—
If we perceived to the full extent
the terrible reality of things, we
would l e in a half-paralyzed:state, in
stead of continuing our useful em
ployments by which the common
good is served. We cannot help the
suffering nor heal . the wounded by
our mental pain. But let us see to
it that through lack of pain we fail
not in ministration to the extent of
our ability.
When I met my wife at dinner
time her face was paler than when I
parted with her in the morning. I
saw that she had been suffering,
while I, intent for hours upon my
work, had half-forgotten my wound
ed friends—Harley and his wife :
one pierced by a visible, and the oth
er by an invisible bullet.
"I)id you see Anna ?" I asked.
"Yes."
"How is she ?"
"Calm, but hurt very deeply. She
only had the news this morning."
"Is she going to him ?"
There has not been time to decide
what is best. Her husband's brother
m here and will get as much informa
tion by telegral•h to-day, as it is pos
sible to receive. To-night or to-mor
row he will leave for the battle
field. Anna may go with him."
"She appeared to be hurt deeply,
you say ?"
"Yes,' replied my wife; "and was
in most intense pain. Every line in
her face exhibited suffering. One
hand was pressed all the while tight
ly over her heart."
"What did she say ?"
"Not much. She seemed looking
into the distance and trying to make
out things seen but imperfectly. If
he were to die I think it would kill
her."
"Two deaths by the same bullet," I
said, my thought recurring to our
morning conversation.
In the evening I called with my
wife to see Mrs. Harley. A despatch
had been received stating that her
husband's wound, though severe, was
not considered dangerous. The ball
had been extracted and he was re
ported to be doing welt. She was
going to leave in the night train
with her brother-in-law, and would
be with her husband in the quickest
time it was possible to make. How
a few hours of suffering had changed
her ! The wound was deep and very
painful.
It was nearly two months before
Harley was sufficiently recovered to
be removed from the hospital. His
• wife had been permitted to see him
every day, and to remain in attend
, ance on him for a greater part of the
time.
"Did you know that Mr. Harley
and leis wife were at home ?" said I,
coming in one day.
"No. When did they arrive?" was
' the answer and inquiry.
"This morning. I heard it from
Harley's brother."
"How are they ?" asked my wife.
"He looks as well as ever, I am
told, though still suffering from his
wound; but she is miserable. Mr.
Harley says."
A shadow fell over my wife's face,
and she sighed heavily. "I was
' afraid of that," she said. "I knew
she was hurt badly. Flesh wounds
close readily, but spirit wounds are
' difficult to heal. These invisible
bullets are almost sure to reach some
vital part."
I met Mr Harley not long after
ward in company with his wife.—
His eyes were bright, his lips firm,
his cheeks flushed with health. You
saw scarcely a sign of what he had
endured. He talked in a brave, sol
dierly manner, and was anxious for
the time to come when the surgeon
would pronounce him in a condition
to join his regiment. His wound,
when referred to, evidently gave him
more pleasure than pain. It was a
mark of distinction—a sign that he
had offered even life for his country.
How different with Mrs. Harley !
It touched you to look into her
dreamy, absent eyes, on her patient
' and exhausted countenance.
"She has worn herself out in
nursing me," said her husband, in
answer to a remark on her appear
ance. He looked at her tenderly,
and with just a shade of anxiety in
his face. Was the truth not plain
to him ? Did he not know that she
bad been wounded also ? That two
balls left the • rifle when he was
struck, one of them reaching to his
distant home?
"In three weeks I hope to be in
the field again, and face to face with
the enemy." He spoke with the
ar
dor of a strong desire, his eyes
bright, and his faco in a glow—
wounding, and the pain of wounding
all forgotten. But another's eyes
. became dim as his brightened—anoth
ei's cheeks paled as his grew warm.
I saw the tears shining as Mrs.liarley
answered, in an unsteady voice,
" I am neither brave enough, nor
strong enough for a soldier's wife."
She had meant to say more, as
was plain from her manner, but could
' not trust herself.
"Oh, yes, you are; brave enough
and strong enough," replied Mr. Har
ley with animation. "Not every one
' could have moved so calmly amidst
the dreadful scenes of a camp hos
pital after a battle. I watched you
often and felt proud of you."
"If she bad not been wounded also
—" my wife began ; but Mr. Harley
interrupted her with the ejaculation.
"Wounded'." in a tone of surprise.
"Yes, wounded," resumed my wife;
"and, as now appears, nearer the seat
of vitality than you were. Did you
not know this before, Mr. Harley ?"
My friend was perplexed for a lit
tle while. He could not get down at
once to my wife's meaning.
"When you were struck she was
struck also. "
"0 yes !" Light broke in upon Mr.
Harley. He turned quickly toward
his wife, and saw in her face what
bad been unseen before, the wasting
and exhaustion that come only from
deep-seated pain. He had thought
the paleness of her countenance, the
weakness that made her stop slow
and cautious, only the result of over
taxed muscles and nerves. But ho
knew better now.
"I didn't think of that," he said
with visible anxiety, as he gazed in
to his wife's countenance. • "Our
wounds, so ghastly to the eyes, oft
en get no deeper than the flesh and
bone. The pain is short, and nature
comes quickly to the work of cure
with all her healing energies. We
suffer for a while, and then it is over.
We are strong and ready for the con
flict again."
"But," said my wife, "into the
homes that stand far away from bat
tle fields come swift-winged messen
gers that wound and kill as surely
as iron hail. They strike mothers,
wives, sisters—some with death
wounds, all with the anguish of vital
pain. Alas for these-wounded ! The
healing, if it follows, is never, as the
surgeons say, by fire: intention, but
always slow, and often through ab
scess and ulceration. The large
number never entirely recover.—
They may linger for years, but do
not lose the marks of suffering."
A long silence followed. There
were others present who, like Mr.
Harley, had never thought of this.—
I noticed that for the hour we re
mained together he was tender to
ward his wife, and more than once
I saw him looking at her, while she
was not observing him, with a
troubled countenance. I did not
again speak of the early period at
which he expected to join his regi
ment.
On the day following another long
list of killed and wounded was given
to the public. As I read over the
names and counted the numbers, my
thoughts came back from bloody
field and suffering hospital. "These
are not all," I said. "Alas ! not all.
The ball struck twice, thrice; some
times oftener. There is pain, there
is anguish, there is wounding even
unto death, in many, many homes
within a thousand miles of that gory
place. Some are alone and neglect
ed—dying on their battle-field with
none to put even a cup of water to
their lips—some are with loving
friends, who yet fail to stanch the
flow of blood, or bandage the shatter
ed limb—some cover their wounds,
hiding them from all eyes, and bear
the pain in chosen solitude. The
sum of all this agony, who shall give
it ?"
Our wounded ! If you would find
them all you must look beyond the
hospitals. They are not every one
be arded and in male attire. There
sat beside you, in the car, just now,
a woman. You scarcely noticed her.
She left at the corner below. There
was not much life in her face ; her
steps, as they rested on the pave
ment, were slow. She has been
wounded, and is dying. Did you no
tice Mrs. D--in church last Sunday?
"Yes; and now I remember that she
was pale an had an altered look "
One of our wounded ! Do you see a
face at the window ? "In the mar
ble front house." Yes. "It is sad
enough, what in looking eyes !"
Wounded ! Ali, sir, they are every
where about us. Already from over
a hundred battle-fields and skirmish
ing grounds have been such missives
as pain and death. They have pen
etrated unguarded homes in every
city, town and neighborhood of our
once happy and peaceful country,
wounding the beloved ones left there
in hoped for security. For sua
there is balm only in Gilead—God is
their physician.
BLIND TOM
In the November number of the
Atlantic Monthly is an article on
"Blind Tom," the natural pianist,
which states some singular facts :
This blind negro boy is the slave
of a Georgia planter, who bought him
with his mother, the cub of a baby
being thrown into the bargain, not
as a chattel of any supposed value,
but because the good-hearted buyer
hated to sepemte the mother and
child. The boy was not only blind,
but of the lowest negro type, thick
lipped, monkey-headed, and every
way a singularly repulsive little be
ing. But the planter bought him,
and the boy ate his master's "hog and
hominy," led a wholly animal exist
ence, grew fat, but did nothing, and
was considered to be worth nothing,
till he became six or seven years old.
One night the family was a ,vakened
by the sound of music, and listening
they found it came from their own
drawing-room. It was blind Tom,
who had climbed upon the piano
stool, and was fingering the keys of
the instrument, playing with a mar
vellous accuracy the tunes he bad
heard the young ladies of tLe family
perform. He was almost mad with
delight, and when he had finished a
tune would clap his hands and kick
his heels and laugh his hoarse laugh
in a kind of savage ecstasy. Tom be
come forthwith a wonder, and was
exhibited to the neighbors- He be
gan to live in his music. To deprive
him of it was like refusing him food.
He played everthing. Hearing eN'en
the most difficult music but once he
could promptly reproduce it with
hardly a hesitating note. Yet he
could no more road the musical no
tation than letters. His master saw
a fortune in this ugly specimen of
man property, and exhibited him in
all the Southern cities, large audi
ences gathering to listen to his won
denful playing. Ho was not brought
North, for fear in our free latitudes,
his owner's property in him might
not be respected. He was tested
with the most complicate music, but
never conque"ed. He had only once
to bear the composition to repeat it,
in most cases with more vigor and
expression than it bad been render
ed to him. No matter how long, how
difficult, or how new the piece, Toni
mastered it immediately.
But the strangest exhibition of the
musical ipspiration of this coarse, ill
made, half-idiotic boy, was in his im
provisations. Though the music ho
dictated was in no way remarkable,
only pleasant little waltzes, marches,
and polkas, he would improvise the
wildest, the" saddest, the most wail
ing strains of a marvellous beauty, as
if, as the sketch of him says, there
were enchained within the beastly
form a spirit of heavenly mold, which
struggled for its freedom, and wailed
its abiding-place.
How shall we explain this won
drous jewel in the head of the toad ?
Does it not suggest the thought that
maybe within all idiotic men, confin
ed, bound down, incapable even of
finding such a medium of expression
as the Daemon in this poor negro boy
has found in music, there is an intel
ligent, feeling, suffering soul whom
God thus imprisons to release to the
light of another life ? Blind Tom
must awaken in all thoughtful minds
new ideas as to the spiritual consti-
tution of man, and perhaps, studying
the strange phenomena presented in
him, we may obtain some gleam of
light to throw upon the vexed ques
tion of the relation to each other of
soul, mind, physical organization—
heart, head, and body.
A CHANGE OF HABITS IN OLD AGE.
A man may change his mode of
life as long as he is on the youthful
side of middle life , the meridian line
once passed, all such radical change
is attended with the peril of death.
Have you never noticed in the bury
ing-grounds, or in the necrological
columns of newspapers, how often
husband follows wife or wife husband,
with brief intervals of time between
their departure, when they dav•
long lived together ? The age-worn
constitution is unable to react against
the bereavement, and to adapt itself
to the circumstances in which it is
placed. The usual form in which
death in invades the body of these
aged persons demonstrates Luis truth;
for they die either of apoplexy or of
paralysis of the brain. The mind,
shrinking instinctively from death,
exerts all its powers of recovery to
rally after the blow is received; the
exertion is too much for it, 'tis shat
tered by the very attempt. I here
used to be an old diplomatist here,
Count de Lowenhelm, from Sweden,
who represented the court of Stock
holm near the Turneries for fifty
years. He was a well preserved old
man, an habitual frequenter of the
Grand Opera and French Comedy,
going constantly into society, and
never absent from a single court ball.
The Crimean war gave unusual im
portance to the diplomatic relation
of the two courts, and it became
necessary to appoint a more active
man to Swedish Legation here.—
The old minister seemed to grow
older every hour after the newspa
per recorded the appointment of his
successor. He roamed about the
lobbies of the Grand Opera and the
French Comedy like a person lost in
the woods. He went to Stockholm,
and fell dead of apoplexy a few days
after his arrival. His letters of re
call were his death-warrant. Have
you never heard the vulgar remark
that the builder of a house dies al
most as soon as the house is comple
ted ? The observation has some
foundation in truth, but the cause of
the effect is not "luck ;" it is very
inability of the aged mind to react
against old habits lost. Men rarely
build houses until they have amassed
something like independence of fort
une ; in other words, they are gener
ally in the afternoon of life, and they
build the house for a harbor from
the cares of business, where they
may twirl their thumbs and "enjoy
life" by oppressing themselves with
idleness. As long as the house is
building all goes well ; they don't
miss the absent shop or counting
Loom. There is the brick-layer to
be scolded and the carpenter to be
overlooked, and discussions to be
held with the architect, and money
to he paid out ; in fine, there is some
thing to think about., something to
worry over, something to fret about;
it is the old round of life in miniature
if you will, but still it is the old round
which has been paced for forty
years. But when the house is com
plete, when the last coat of paint is
dried, and the last chip has been re
moved, and the bit of mortar taken
away, when the owner has nothing
to do but to enjoy his own house and
his affluent fortune, then comes—the
vacuum—nothing to do. Tho . old
man finds years have not changed
his mind us much as they have
changed his body, and the toy tires
the old man even sooner than it tired
the child. There is no correct rela
tion between building a house and
death, but there is a close connec
tion between age and change of life.
UNCLE SAM LOOKING AFTER HIS
OLD CLOTHES.
Uncle Sam, having recently dis
covered that immense quantities of
military stores, including blankets,
shoes, clothing, arms, equipments,
etc., has been stolen from the vari
ous departments, and sold or trans
ferred to individuals, the Secretary
of War has directed the Adjutant
General to issue a general order, re
quiring all post commanders to seize
such goods, wherever found, and ar
rest those having them in possession,
unless they can satisfy the officer
that they came by the goods honest
ly. All Provost Marshals appointed
by the _Department will assist in re
covering to the United States this de
scription of public property. Com
manding officers of comranies are
reminded that it is not only their
duty to cause soldiers who are guilty
of violating the law tbrbiddiug the
sale, destruction or negligent loss of
clothing, arms and publio property,
to be charged on the Muster Rolls,
with all the articles improperly lost or
disposed of, but also to enforce such
other punishment as the nature of
the offense may demand.
Under this order, Capt. Wright,
Provost Marshal at this place, will
overhaul all persons wearing United
States clothing, and will divest the
same unless satisfactorily accounted ,
for. Look out, ye military preten
ders and humbugs !—Pitts. ann.
NEW SERIES.--VOL. 4, NO. 29.
A MELANCHOLY END.
Some seven years ago, says the
Washington Chronicle, a lovely girl,
16 years of age, resided in an ad
joining State, an ornament to the
circle in which she moved,and the fond
idol of aged and doting paronts. In
an evil hour the seducer came, and
changed the scene to bitterness and
despair. The confiding victim left
her home and accompanied the vil
lian to this city, where she has gen
erally borne his name. A little
time, the profession of love, and de
votion he so freely lavished, grew
less frequent and ardent, until he
abandoned her altogether. Previous
to this the victim of this villain's
lust was domiciled in a house of low
repute on Tenth street, between C
and .1), where she resided for some
time. Utter destitution and remorse
of mind preyed upon her delicate
organization until she sought oblivion
in that enemy which "steals away
the brains" and sink ouch souls to
irretrievable degradation. While
standing near a window on the third
story of the house to which we have
referred, in a state of intoxication,
she lost her balance and was precip
itated to the pavement below.—
From that time forth she never
spoke,
and death shortly after re
lieved her sufferings. We do Rot
envy the guilty cause of this girl's
untimely death.
A Rose of Old Sutoner
An army correspondent writes;—
'Gen. Sumner, on last Friday, de
spatched twenty-five dragoons on a
foraging expedition. They had not
proceeded far beyond our lines, till a
guerrilla band of rebels captured wa
gons and teamsters. As soon as word
came to headquarters of the division,
Gen. Sumner ordered ten wagons to
be filled with armed soldiers, and to
proceed to the same place where the
rebels had carried off their booty, and
to lie concealed in the bottom of their
wagons. The ruse was successful.—
The guerrillas, some forty in number,
came upon the party, dismounted,
and proceeded to capture, as they
supposed, a fresh supply of horses
and wagons, when our soldiers, con
cealed as in the Trojan horse, came
out and captured every rebel and his
horse, and soon returned. to camp
with the enemy and every prisoner,
horse and wagon, which bad a tow
hours before been taken from us.—
The incident created quite an amusing
sensation.
IThe Cologne Gazette has this
pr ragraph :—"An interesting trial is
pending before our tribunals. The
validity of a marriage contract in
1848 between Coutt S and the
daughter of a non-commissioned offi
cer of the guard who hid been em
ployed in the corps de ballet of the op
era, was disputed on the ground of
irregularity of rank. The Superior
tribunal of Berlin decided the mar
riage valid, acting on a reseript of
1746, by which non-commissioned of
ficers and their children are assimi
lated to the upper bourgeois class.—
But this judgment has been cancel
led, and the case sent back to be
tried again. The Defendant, the son
of the Countess S---, pleads that
his mother was a very skillful dancer;
that she danced solos; that conse
quently she was an artist and be
longed to the upper bourgeois class.
Thus it is spoil the question whether
this lady danced more or less cloy
er'y that the validity of the marriage
depends. The law upon marriage
presented so many times, suppresaed
this absurd distinctions of ranks;
con , tquently the Chambers of Peers
has always refused to vote it."
De" At an inquest in London, on
the body of a child who died from in
sufficient food, it was elieted from
the testamony of the mother that
she (the mother) had to support her
self and five children by making flan
nel shirts for three pence a-piece, she
finding needles and thread. The uni
ted labor of the whole family working
the entire ny and the greater part
of the night enabled them t make
three shirts.
The Greonsburgh Republican says:
—We have learned that this disease
has prevailed to a considerable ex
tent in the vicinity of New Derry this
season ) .drid that a large loss has re,
linked therefrom. Mrs. Toner, we
understand, has lost her entire stock
and others have lost a number. W
have also heard of its ravages in Oh
er localities.
'kV - Faith and love aro like a pair
of compasses; faith, like one point,
fastens upon Christ at the centre ;
and love, like the other, goes the
round in all the works of holiness
and righteousness.—Beadle.
siirlt is not enough fo feel that
out of Christ we have notbitig---we
must feel that in Christ we have all
things.
liar Life without love is worse
than death—a world without &SUR
Hog Cholera.