G . - . - :.;,.' . ,1 i' ' 3 '- . " ..' -•- 1 • - 7.-- - 77- 7-7 - .---- aw......mft. .. . (, . j -- 1 ) i i,• , t ,• t . -- i 1 1 ; p - [ i 1 A . . t i. 1 , A \, .5t ' ' - I% • . • 1 . •-, 7 + „,....... 3 „,„ A 7--- ..,. • i i k .,, _ V + IF thig Aamti +i gi l'ournat- -Ptfroteb to I,o•ittlics, Agn + atiture, • lattrature t *align gontestu anb . Stural infra • , Vo ESTABLISHED IN 1813. Will " . PUBLISHED BY aa W. JONES AND MS. S. JENNINGS. -Waynenberg, Greene County, Pa. IrrOVEIVE NEARLY OPPOSITE TUE PUSLIC /144(1A1L1E...C11 Ul II IS Zi CI t finascatrrion.,-82.00 in advance ; $2.25 at the ex piration of slx months ; $2.50 after the expiratjou of the year. A avawrissormurs inserted at $1.25 per square for &PON insertions, and 25 cts. a square for each addition al insertion; (ten lines or less counted a square.) VA liberal deduction made to yearly advertisers. JON PRINTING, or all kinds, executed in the best sty and on reasonable terms, at the "Messenger" Jab &axe. i.i'd quesburg giusintss otarbs. ATTORNEYS AM. I. WYLY. J. A. J. BUCHANAN, D. B. P. BUSE WYLY, BUCHANAN & HUSS, Attorneys *. Counsellors at Limp WAYNSBURG, PA. 111 pinnies in the Courts of Greene and adjoining &unties. Collections and other legal business will re ar* pmt attention. Odice on the South side of Main street, in the Old Boot BeiMin . Jan. 68. 1862.-13, S. it.-piranAs PIIILDIAN do =TONLE. ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLO Pa RS AT LA W Waynesbur, . Air °mars—Main Street, One door east of the old. 13.1nk. Building. illErAll Jusiness in Greene, Washington, and Fay Oosages, entrusted to then, will receive promp Mention. N. S —Particular attention will be given to the col lie** of Pensions. Bounty Money. Back Pay, and other claims against the Government.. • I. UM I—l v. It. A. WCONNELL. 31000.1111111 MILL arroa.wErs AND COUJIMSLLORS AT LAW Waynesburg, Pa. trOlEce In the "Wright lit us," East Door. Ens ions, &c.. will receive prompt attention. arnerbarg. April 23, 1862-Iy. DAVID CRAWFORD, Attorney and Counsellor at Law. Office in the beam natio. Will attend promptly to aU Moaners • to his care. Waynestiury. Pa.. July 30, 1861.-Iy. IS 1. RW.CK BLACK k PHELAN, aTTORNEYS AMY COUNSELLORS AT 'LAW ae in the Court Home, Wayasfiburg. Sept 1961-Iv. WAR CLAIM I D• R. P. MISS, ATTOONICY AT Law, wantsescao, MINA:, AB Pawl . nicelved from the War Department at We/h -asp**m el D. 0., ollcial copies of the several passed by Congress, and all The necessary Forms and Instructions for the prosecution and collection of AtiNElO,lll75, BOUX7'r ~ BACK PAT, due dia. dimmed and disabled soldiers ' their widows, erphan ilk Mrs's, widowed. attithers. tattlers, Idstetut and broth era,-which business, (upon due nonce.] will be atusnd iiho promptly and acenrinelyif entrusted to his care. Mos In the old Bank Building.—April 8, 1863. U. W. U. WADDELL, GTORNEY At COUNSELLOR AT LAW, !VICE in the BEEISTEINS OFFICE, Court flow, Waynesburg, Pomo. Business of all hunts solicited. Has received Martial copies of all the laws mused by Congress, and other necessary instruc dons for the collection of PENSIONS, BOUNTIES, BACK PAY, Due discharged and disabled soldiets, widows, Orphan caildrea, Mc., which business if intrusted to his care will le promptly attended to. May 13, '63. PIiTaTOIALNB Dr. T. W. Ross, W r Ziariiiloistas dis allusipackia, Waynesburg Greene Co. Pa. (IFICE AND RRSIDENCE ON MAT H STREET, slot, hod Hearty opposite the Wright house. resbuA, Sept. 33, 1863. DR. A. G. CROSS WOULD very respectfully tender his services as a PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, to the people or witrousininr and vicinity. He hopes by a due appre *labor of human life lad health, and stnet attention to belbsoes, to merit a share of public patronage. Waynesburg, January 8, 1862. s ,}:T•):111).\ 4=l WM. A. PORTER, Wilo,esate and Retail Dealer la Foreign and Deem , (1,4 y Goods, Groceries, Notions, sc., Main Street. Sept. 11,1861-1 y. R. CLARK, Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware, Queen,- brain and notions, in the Hastiluin Hesse, opposite glle Gown Haute, again Moat. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy. MINOR & CO., "testers Is Foreign and Immeatie pry Geed", Cro• series, Qneeap►ate. Hardware and Nowa', opposite dye areas if MUM. W.W.11 street. Sept. 11, 1861—Iy. ' 31100 T AND NEON DRAMA= J. D. COSGRAY, and alio* maker. Main street, needy oppordre Ake "Farnisr 4 s and Drover's Dank." Every style of 111011rdled Dimas tsoestantly on band or wade to order. dept. 11, 1861-Iy. ,PIIO(RUkF, 1 1 1 4V FOSEPH RATER, thinikr hi taw ind realiktioserier. !Indoor, SishOlkes, polsidOes, LiVeffliegi WS" A.F.. aloe 0 , 1 all o.llll4lMpulaing and LoOlm Giaaa Nate*. graft pow tor ewe agog mow. - **Pt. lt teon-1 JOHN MUNNELL, %elk is Ilimoiriegrand tiss6otionaries,lB,6Oil , gasidia fleasimaly, WitpanNit Maw RuMdhg, liabir Guest. Sept. 11. 1861-Iy. WA T4 I9 II itaig egg AL.B4ALY mo Am" owl*. the Weight Home keeps always es !wad a isms Will itegant assosueent of graiskesk arlokapo c t. grittainag 0 Witches awl Jewelry wit Anew prompt 'attention. %bee. It. ISO— ly OrAt a meeting in the Paris Wes leyan chapel, the Yak. Charles Prest, late President. of the Wedleyan . Confer ence, gave a bit of history in regard to the first two Methodist preachers, who were sent by John Wesley to Ameri ca, (pity different from what was the eeMmonly received version. The com mon notion was that When Mr. We Al o - alLiStiall asked - in open conference "Who Will 114.14,Uf L WALLISTER, go to America," two men stood up act timoiAllWaimAnplinuilcillskur. og Beak hill-once and said, "Weyilll go." No such 'ltsiiiiritiltiLlV. . , • faidg.:' pima b minuire4ll.6, 4luimikati 1 :fair thl4 y ' Mr, ;Mik, , . Aot, a *lan - .40 1 0 1 '-` - fd 1. filifilatif• ~. ,- -; -r, Jibe 4114zidima Akio& t 41111111110 Wiftif, '"1111P114'`.011111161-. fiiiiiihaigo , 1 ~„,..f t 0 ., ~ s 1 alelio akin* aili talk • , • ~4101 4 000 4 11 Amid ai ls . AMINI-10.O* . 41 01 1 1 1 11111 I. ~: I BOCIEN. &a. LEWIS • DAY, awin g _ /4 4 -9. ti u ltri .k irf a gli n r" s " u apins: owt imrit . IT. 4.7%..«1 ) ',klt iorellantouo. Death on the Cars--Sad Incident of An incident is related to us having occured on one of the snow bound trains last week, which was probably as sad in all its aspects as any of the nu merous perils that occurred to railroad passengers on that memorable week. On the train that left Chicago, Thurs-, day night, New Year's eve, on the Galena Union Road, bound for Free port and Dubuque, was a young lady named Lucinda Kane, from Elmira, N. Y., on her way to Rockford, 111., to at tend the Seminary at that place. She was but seventeen years of age. The train had not proceeded a fburth of its course before it wrs overcome by the terrible storm, the wheels clogged with snow, and it was finally compelled to stop, completely blocked. Fortunately the passengers had, to a certain degree, prepared for a delay, and provided some eatables, which kept them from the pangs of hunger, and a good supply of wood protected them in part from the perils of the bitter cold. It was im possible, however, to ward off all dis comfort, not to say suffering. On New Year's the storm howled the whole day 4ong, the cold wind froze everything it touched, and piled the snow in drifts around the train. Early in the day this young lady, from the ef fects of the bitter weather, was taken uddenly and severely ill with the dip stheria in its worst form. She was wholly unattended and alone, with the exception of two or three casual acquain tances in young ladies on their way to the same school. The passengers, how ever, among whom was the usual pro portion of ladies, took hold and did for her everything in their power, and save the' exposed situation she had as much attention as she would have received at home. It so happened that there were three or four physicians on the train, but though they did everything in their power, yet from the want of proper remedial agents, or from intens ity of the disease, they were unable to afford her relief. It was but a short time before her jaws became so set that it was impossible to give her any medicines, and she lay during the whole day out ou the bleak prairie, helpless and unhelped, life fast ebbing away, and death drawing nearer and nearer. The following night she died, and her body was properly laid out, to wait their arrival at Rockford. Mean _while the train was ploughing along through the drifts as best it could, death riding with the benumbed passengers.— When it finally arrived at its destination, the body was left at the depot, and a belegram sent to her mother. So she passed away, under circumstances afflict ing in the extreme, brought in a few hours from the bloom of health suddenly to the gates of death. J. G. lllTClilli J. 5. HIIFFILk.N. JOHN PHALAN Several very valuable prizes have re cently been finally adjudicateli, and the money will be ready for distribution in the course of a week or ten days.— Among them are the Memphis, the Britannia, and the Victory, The for mer was captured by the United States steamer Magnolia, and yielded the snug sum of $510,914,07, atter paying the expenses of adjudication. Acting Vol unteer Lieutenant William Budd is the happy man who take?as his share $BB,- 318,55, his vessel not beino. b attached to a squadron at the time of the capture, and his share being three twentieths of the half awarded to the captors. All the officers on this vessel belonged to the volunteer service, and their several shares amount to a handsome sum.— The small . sailors, too, come into a fortune, the seamen getting $l,- 736,86 to each ; torttnary seamen, $l, 350,88 ; and the landsmen, $1,157,91. The Britannia and Victory were cap tured by Commander It. 11. Wyman, of the Santiago de Cuba, the former yielding the sum of $169,695,72; and the latter $299.998,45, making $469,- 694,17, the captures being made within the spat' of a week. It will be noticed in this case that while the officers get liberal shares, the seamen each receive $897,67 ; ordinary seamen, $698,12; and landsmen, $598,40. Another steamer was captured about the same time, which has not yet been adjudicated makii g altogether very handsome sum, The Navy is in inumdiate want of sea med, and with such chances for fortune it is amazing that the want exists fen a single day.—.N. Y. ran& WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1864. the Late Storms Fat Prizes. the question was proposed by Mr. Wes ley again, and Boardman and Pilmoor offered to go. Tom Paine. We copy the following biographical sketch of the life and character of Torn Paine, a distingui.shed unbeliever, from the Enegeypedia of religious knowledge upon the authority of Allen, Erskine, and Ful ler :—Green River Baptist "Thomas Paine, a politica4 writer and deist, was born in Norfolk, England, in 1737 ; his father, a Quaker, was a stay maker. He followed the same bus iness ; and then became an exciseman in Sussex, but was disinissed for miscon duct. He came to Philadelphia in 1774, and in January; 1775, he was employed by Mr. Aitken to edit the Pennsylvania Magazine. .After the war commenced, he, at the suggestion of Dr. Rush, wrote his celebrated pamphlet of Com mon Sense, recommending indepen dence. For this tract the legislature of Pennsylvania voted him five hundred pounds. He was also elected by Con gress in April 1777, Clerk to the Com mittee on Foreign Affairs ; he chose to call himself "Secretary for Foreign af fairs." At this period he wrote the Crisis. 'For divulging some official secrets, he lost his office in January, 1779. In 1780, he was Clerk of the Af43embly of Pennsylvania; in 1785, Congress voted him three thousand dol lars, and the State of New York gave him five hundred acres of land, the con fiscated estate of Davol, a royalist, at New RoChelle. There was on it a stone house, one hundred and twenty, by twenty-eight feet. In 1787, he went to Paris and Lon don. In answer to Burke's reflections on the French Revolution, he wrote his Rights of Man. In September, 1792, he was a member from Calais of the National Convention of France, voting against the sentence on the king, offended the Jacobins, and in September 1793, was thrown into prison fer eleven months. His political wri tings have simplicity, force and pungen cy ; his theological, are shallow, slan derous, and obscene. He had written the first part of his Age of Reason against Christianity, and committed it to Joel Barlow ; the second part was published in 1795, af ter his release. At this period, ho was habitually drunk. He returned to America in 1802, bringing with him as a companion, the wife of Do Bonneville, a French Book seller, having separated from his second wife. He died at New York, June Bth, 1809, aged seventy two. This unhappy -believer died in con tempt and misery. His disgusting vices, his intemperance and profligacy, made him an out cast from all respecta ble society. He is represented as irri table, vain, cowardly, filthy, envious, mali.,,anaut, dishonest, and drunken. In the distress of his last sickness, he fre quently called out, " Lord Jeses help me." Dr. Manly asked him whether from his calling so often upon the Savior, it was to be inferred that he be lieved Gospel. He replied at last, " I have no wish to believe on that sub ject." Feminine Adviser. It is a wonderful advantage to a man, in every pursuit or acocation, to secure and adviser in a sensible woman. In Woman there is at once a sudden deli- cart of'tact, and a plain soundness of judgment which aer rarely combined to an equal degree in man. A woman if she be really your friendf will have a sensitive regard for her character, honor and repute. She will seldom council you to do a shabby thing, for a women friend always desires to be proud of you At the same time her constitutionol tim idity makes her more timid than her male friend. She, therefore, counsels you to do an inprudent thing. By fe male friendship, I mean pure friendship —that in which there is no admixture of the passions .of love, except in the married state. A man's best Mend is a wife of good sense and a good heart, wnom he loves and who loves him. If he have that he I need not seek elsewhere. But suppos ing the man to be without such a help meet, female friendships he must have, or his intellect will be without a garden, and there will be many an unheeded gap even in its strongest fence. Better and safer, of course, are such friendships, where disparities of years and circum stances put the idea of love out of the question. Middle life has surely this advantige youth and old age have.— We may have female friendships with those much ylder and those much younger than ourselves. Moliere's old housekeeper was a great help to his genius, Moutaigue's philoso phy takes both a gentler and loftier char eau of wisdom from the date in which he finds, in Maria de Elournay, an adopted daughter, "certainly beloved by 'me,' 'says the Horace of essayists, "with more than pornat love, and involved in my solicitude and my retirement as one of the hest prt of my Liffeng. Fe mare friendship, indeed, is to', pee awn et duke decus,bulWark tad sweet denOner4 (Os eifiltedee.' ' To his men nute.it is ttlAtitatke i ‘ Without it, ',i t t i p; *HE ! ever serfassoimis call MOWN 41111011 user adt The Reputation of Woman. We have probably, all of us met with instances, in which a word heedlessly spoken against the reputation of a female has been magnified by malicious minds until the cloud has become dark enough to overshadow her whole existence. To those that are accustomed—not necessa rily from bad motives, but from thought lessness—to speak lightly of females, we recommend the following "hints" as worthy of consideration. "Never use a lady's name in an improp er place, at an improper time, or in mixed company. Never make assertions about her that you think are untrue, or allusions that you feel she herself would blush to hear. When you meet with men who do not scruple to make use of a woman's name in a reckless and unprincipled man ner, shun them, for they are the very worst members of society, lost to every sentiment of honor—every feeling . of hu manity. Many a good and worthy wo man's character has been forever ruined and. her heart broken by a 11% manufac tured by some villain and repeated where it should not have been, and in the pres ence of those whose little judgment could. not deter them from circulating the foul and bragging report. The slander is soon propagated and the an allest thing derogatory to a woman's character will fly on the wind, and mag nify as it circulates until its monstrous weight crushes the poor unconscious victim. Respect the name of woman, for your mothers and sisters are women; and as you would have . their fair name untarnished, and their lives unembit tered by the slanderer's biting tongue, heed the ill that your own words may bring upon the mother, the sister, er the wife, of some fellow-creature. Decease of a Millionaire., The Newark Advertiser prints the fol lowing from a New York correspondent: Eccentric men generally cluster in this city. They are more concealed from observation than in the country. In Great Jones street, corner of Lafayette place, stands a lofty, massive, square brick house—Roosevelt has been the name on the door-plate for many years. It always had a deserted look, and the only occupant, except servants, seen to come forth from its recesses, was a crip pled man, and one or two attendents.— Suddenly men were seen .issuing from the doom, exclaiming their master was dead. The neighbors went in, and found only the inamimate remains of one who had devoted his life to the accumu lation of wealth, and yet at his death none were present except hirelings to do him reverence. It seems he was early engaged to be married. He was an edu cated man, and also "born with a silver spoon in his mouth." But disease par alyzed him, and he lived and died worth over a million of dollars, bat even his wealth not gaining for him outward sympathy or affection. It is stated he had paced his room so long with a.cane that the floor had bean worn through and through more than once. In these lonely in-door walks, he had traversed an extent nearly equal to pacing the cir cuit of the globe, and then, with his ac cumulated treasure about him, he passed away unhonored and nearly unknown.— Curious fact, that his relatives are opu lent, and he has given a million to found a hospital. The old legacy of value is to her whom he would have married. but who still re nains venerable and un wedded. Mark Marks Goes to Church. Mark Marks says he went to Church yesterday, for the first time in many Sabbaths. After the service was out s stood upon the porch as the crowd pass ed out, to see the styles, as he declares that's what half the people leave their houses on Sunday for. Aud while ho stood there, he tells us, the conversation of those passing hlm was exceedingly interesting, when put together as he heard it. One person would pass him conversing, and he would hear a por tion of what was said, and another would come along conversing about something else, a part of which caught his ear, and so on. And this, said Marks, is the way it strnng out : 'Very good sermon, Mrs. -."Some sort of red. stuff, trimmed with narrow blue braid.' 'No, I didn't like it one bit ; 'twas cut too full around the shoulders.' 'Didn't you see him, he sat is Mrs. -'s pew." Pshaw. Mrs. D had one of them last fall: it's old style ' 'What a horrid nose he's got; I thought Fanny said he was good looking "Xou don't say so. Have you got an imita tion t"Yes, he is a very logical preacher,' Did you notice that flashy plume she had on. "No place for a young child, any way., got it at Tal cott & Post's.' 'Got any tobacco, Jim?' 'Pooh ! I wouldn't speak to lips, any way. should think Mary would be ashamed, to wear suck an oat. landish .' 'They say that dis- patch about Sumter is all bosh.? 'Not half so pretty as Mrs. —'s, though it don't look so bad, after al' 'lt must have oost as much as two dollars a yard.' 'I don't see him once in a coon'sar.'— 'Yes. I'll be there at saven , :preemely.' 'I can't tell, but Sant knows siiiehant it.' etc. And Mark says he wait item deeply !convinoed.' h atrAt Leioestm, Veroxamt„, ,ca the lath ttit,, the trife.ef Jake ,QO4 ______ died, ea theilBth fieregleaLikemosei, mien the a the heehmed, ehil Mali& Ahem , te pita; vow vialimirof .tri...)5EA, Footsteps of the Death-Angel. BY B. 11. G. (PUBLIBUBD BY BEQUEST. The world was young. Few were the winged days that yet had flown. The sun light streaming from its fount on high, shed a golden glory on the cloud-piled hills that walled the paradise! temple. Lofty oaks columned the green and winding aisles ; star-reaching peaks propped up the azure roof, and as slowly sank the sun to his couch of fire, bright, dewy flowers, spring ing from the tread of angel feet, breathed forth their incense on the languid air.— 'Twas even's calm, holy hour—the hour of beauty and of prayer; and the vesper breeze whispered low to the boughs that waved in wreaths around the towering columns. Two lonely worshippers were there. The listen ing air drank in their voices of devotion, and from the temple's vaulted sky-roof echoed their songs of praise faintly, and more faint ; ly, until in music-whispers they died away. There was innocency then, and purity, and love. Visibly his angels came, ministers as now, for the guilt-storm had not yet broken upon human hearts, flooding them with woe. Earth rolled her growing annals on. Her summers tinged with golden grain her sunny hills, and the autumn winds rustled through boughs bending with their blushing fruitage. The high altar rose rod with the blood of sac rifice. A living flame spread through the yielding air and sought the chosen pile.— Then springing forth from mortal breast, Envy first lighted the torch. Then the Death-Angel first unfurled her dark banner. Greedily the thirsty earth drank the crimson life of the second-born of man, as it gushed from fountains opened by fratricidal hands. Time sped. The world's locks began to grow hoary. An all-cankering ruin festered at her vitals. Every pulse of her great heart, with its giant granite arteries and fire blood, was a sin-throb. As the leaves of the forest were the children of men; as the leaves of the forest the hot breath of the Death-Angel withered them. The rushing waters surging from their cave-lairs dosed about them—higher!—higher!—higher!—the air trembling with the shrieks of agony, the angry, cloud veiled heavens echoing the gasped prayer, until the mad waves stifled the drowning world's bubbling and death cries. The foaming billows swept on over their mighty desolation. Earth, so late thrilling with glad lite, was a wreck—a vast tomb—a wide, wide waste of whirling waters; and naught but the hoarse winds' and the moaning deep howled the requiem of the unburied dead. Again the silent years fell upon the world like snow-flakes upon the ocean. Again from its broad plains and ,ofty hills sprang the tender herbage, the blush ing flowers, and the storm-defying forests; and from the calm heaven descended the .sweet dew and the genial rain., Egyptian might enslaved a chosen race ; Egyptian fetters gnawed their weary flesh—clanked on their very souls. But there was brought a deliverer, ilose avenging hand smote all Egypt with a death-stroke, and whelmed in vast watery burial the oppressing host. The crystal walls of the shell-paved seaway crushed in upon them. Together sank horse and rider ; and a wail that pierced the heav ens went up as the dark waters dosed forever over the doomed army. The purple banner of Thebes here mould ered. Her rock-hewn caverns resound not with the din of busy life, for their tenants sleep an eternal sleep. Assyria's crown has fallen from her nerveless hand. Her Nine- ! veh, the God-warned, has sunk to her dreamless slumber. The jackal's cry and the night-bird's shriek echo where perished her late king, fire-enthroned and fire-girdled his soul ascending . with the fierce flame- bursts that tore its earthly bonds asunder. ; The hosts of Senneeheril.) lie chili in the dust; "Uosmote by the sword, They melted liVe snow in the glance of the Lord," The walls of Babylon are a name---a shadow. As spoke the prophet of God, her broad walls are utterly broken, her high gates are burned with fire, she is become a desolation, an atonishment, a hissing and a curse. The destroyer is destroyed ; she who brake the walls and the temple of the holy city, herself lies the lowest of the low. And she, the oft-stricken nurse of the incarnate God—she, the triple-billed city of the tem ple—she, too, is a desolation. tier holy walks, that saw the meek Jesus wandering homeless from door to door ; that saw him • pour the blood-sweat in Gethsemane ; that saw the temple-vail rent, and felt earth shudder ; that veiled nature's strong agony when the flesh-embodied Deity yielded to the night of death—they are but a memory. Gaunt famine stalked through her doomed palaces. gungry, shrunken eyes and shriv eled limbo strove for a cremb of life, and the white parched lips of the : matber feu* bread in the flesh other *lingchild. The glory of Solomon bus departed. ku 4 414 misery and foul corruption now brood over .luiessealused Indwautridiadi *Aim (haw "Mis tiredrii 4Nposiliso 401 aribbsu.*- Blossew.ouso akiik ,climentsiimer4iiiddiedeivii." 44 aifti o s r wevaiditiip'—u aiinvilealh ace. s , spie. Mir bkidaikaLlsomemik Irbaiisimptikkit Y it , - „20 or, their ceaseless vigils by the grave of her greatness. Her Cesare, whose virtues and whose crimes wore at once a delight and exe cration; her Cicero, whose burning fervor euchanxed and appalled; her Virgil, whose harp trembled eloquently with the poet's sweetest numbers ; her Cincinnatus, her Camillus, her Brutus, all lie silent in the City of the Dead, shadowed by the mists of departed years. Heaven hath its enactments, and death his ministers. Tamerlane exulted in his pyramid of seventy thousand human skulls ; Napoleon deluged the sunny land in blood, and his hundred battlefields glisten with the bleached bones of the slain ; yet it is not enough Famine like a plague spot comes upon the old world! Cities are desolated• The pallid, sunken cheek, the hollow eye, the fleshless, withered frame, tell of the fearful agony. With feeble breath men cry for bread, and sink ere bread can come. Like rain drops on a river, they fall lute their nar row homes. The silent cottage, its decaying roof, its crumbling walls, its half-shut tot- • tering door and its by-paths; leserted and grass-grown, whisper the sad story of Ire laud's sufferings. Even yet a never-ending', surge of want and woe rolls across the broad Atlantic and dashes against our shores. A few short months ago the electric nerves of our own happy land thrilled with an awful message. A scourge had fallen on the city of the South, and she sat with the dust on her pale brow. The whole continent was shadowed by the dark wings of the Death- • Angel. The tombless dead reeking in de cay, and the blazing corpse-piled pyramids marked the desolator's ruin. Fond hearts throbbed painfully with woe, and the ready hand of sympathy was outstretched with re lief. Even yet, though in our breasts we have buried our:griefs, like the long .s.unset shadows, they lie lengthening evermore. I had a sister. She was all gentleness, and sweet and quiet joy; and with her half shirt, starry eyes and shadowy hair, and. mute, appealing gaze, she seemed as dream ing life away. But the eonquerer came, and set his seal upon her. Brighter and brighter grew the hectic upon her cheek, and paler, yet paler her brow. Days passed, and weeks. They called me to her bedside. It was a lovely eve; a May sunset • cast its ex piring beams upon her pillow ; the joyous birds were hymning their evening melodies; the whispering - zephyrs playing among the vine-leaves that reached in through the open window, came perfume-laden from the blushing flower-beds ; and the snow piled cloud-crag gleamed on the azure sky like the. bright shadowing of an angel's wing. She spoke not; one long, earnest, thrilling pres sure of the hand war all, and with thataanset her sweet life went out. The last, Howe* ray had just faded from the hills as her Gled took her, and her bright soul regained its star-home. The village churchyard was a beautiful spot : upon a little knoll, skirted with quiet groves; a gentle- stream murmur ing at its foot, and here and there a tall elm or ash with wide-spreading boughs, said hoary withage. It was dotted all over with little green hillocks, and the gray, crumbling tablet, pointing the weary soul .away from earth to the boundless home of the ialitite, dipped o'er the sunken grave. Oft had we wandered here together, and plucked the fragrant blossoms that sprang from the dust ' of the lovely and the good, or looked thro' the opening bowers up into the deep, eternal blue of heaven until we almost fancied we heard the sweet songs of the seraphim, and felt the sweep of viewless wings. Now all unheeded are its beauties. How harshly grated the cords as the coffin was lowered ! how heavily it jarred as it touched the bot tom ! and, oh ! as the cold clay rattled upon the coffin-lid, how it seemed as if every clod were falling on my heart ! Years have fled, but tender memories of the loved and lost, yet come thronging up, and the soul loves to linger amid the treasured scenes of ite only days, even though the sad cypress shadea them. "Leaves have their time to fall, Aud flowers to wither at the uorth wind's breath ; But all, thou haat all seasons for thine own, 0 eeath!" Ti.ne ever waves his own grief-wand over us, as the ocean of dead years bears us on. Every pulse of time is the knell of a human. victim. Graves yawn by the hogie-has and in the highway—where Hope, stealing forth on glad wings, paints bright heart-eic tures for this weary one, and where affection twines her sunny garlands.. The broad earth stands thick with tombs—it Mighty st pulchre; and ocean—dread, mysterious ocean:—a cemetry without a monument—forever sounds within her crystal caves the requiem of her dead. Every fireside hath its oven vacant chair • every heart bath owed its grief-drops,_ ;tad every spirit bath an angel watcher. Torn from the loved of earth, keeping their holy vigils in the starry cham bers 4 4.40.44. PC 44# 1 U they PAO and guide the•fainthig soul. an with it on ward onward, tette eternal heaven-home, where disease, deciay sad partings Dover come, and where the song of triumph echoes overawe. firtrerod was a wonderful goer for a while, until.Jahn told him of his inpest..pu minister is amighty plod luau with , his peoPle,- until he lays the Wt Otitis rafrdsticy to their faVorlte-sins w*l4irross.--4Wer. Pool? Fer.r.aw.....--„Tise Am}, 4 . $12.401,A9 which Rev. H. W. Heather's salary was rats id, iisoMprosibe AO *WOO, APiwillol bletamek4lifted .441.1.11114 1140 0 .11110.014 - gliiiiktreass goo enalerieot for hie year* iiteraseetliadketly,. NEW SERIES.---VOL. 5, -• . , Remedy fir • * - The New York Tn a:. . have just receive a ref** a , the lore of diptheria, from, alit ; , *ho says that of 1,900 cases in„,whicb it ! a ~ been used not a single patieni •. a.• I tog. The treatment consists in -m atihiiii 3 thoo hly swabbing the ha& ofeg es d throat with a wah4lFr e salt, 2 drachms ; black pepper, : 4den seal, nitrate of potash, Ed! ', ,a . m each. Mix and pulverize,a '.- ..7 . ! ' tea cup half full of boiling watea+lll and then fill up with goAd ,v ar.— Use every half hour, one , , sco tour hours," -as recover? pa tient may swallow a. little saukSiabe.4.- nt Apply one ounce each of spirits t 'n ame, sweet oil and aqas every hour to the whole st theattat, and to the breast bone every fittti.llo4, keeping flannel to the part. , ~,:i... Pretty Pioture--Ain't it, Neighbor..? .47 - 7 • 2 When this cruel war is over, And our friends - crippled are, All the nags will be in claret • While white trash aua work andiatesr Blacks at ease—whftes at laber. Pretty picture, glint it,' aelehtfor When this cruel war is over,, - Many, very many years freen-tterr i , And we the taxes:thee are paying, Abe will,catch It scene, Are tgnr: Blacks at eilse-z-whites,at labor, Pretty *tut . % 811% 1 1 it, netghteir? When this cruel warts over,. And mairtirkgs'intaidiilbeid*liiieso The politicians will, bn- remembered Who used our blood to grind Wis: sow Blacks at ease—niatanst. ininSto Figure diffsrent—canyon; ntgegtsac? 741"-` Old Abe, tis said ha§ "Chu4o 44 Wise, ' Of war's Impending strugg---- In fact so oft its been the . dee, It seems more like iiinggle. 'Twas first to save the Union, It is now to free thS nigger, The next will be, communion r,,With the Mick man's 'comely ilifut.S. Buck nigger chief's and toot-lkscit Are Stanton's Ingtett its stuff; While white Oonscritit* see; Marthedthrougtrthe 'Arltta; &W A. La wwitook "cold I Gold.!" CW..l •WO Bright sad yellow,, ki5r4.64141.,"0 Itoiten, graven, hammeeditild sell*" Bat now in AbiAtires gnaw 41*.lutir. Blood ! Blood! -Blood I.llillatilad :- Bright and red to, dampen the spe, And inilea•of graves for the doitilsOr god "Two car load*oftwntn bering about 150,-oso half of them men, arrived-liere to-day frtow7l3id to which city they werosaakkaw P** George's county, ma r yi lu d.7 not being fit for wit aty' aelarlOo k elP be employed at the GieiWoro *very camps, and the- woanea and eMbiteu domiciled at li'reedmaa'a Vitt)**owl in this vicinity."— ashinytpa Cin,rtiatad enee. What a comfortable thOnght it must be to the loyal - workingtnah, as h 4 &Uinta his. pay na SMurdsty night,.. , iky think that it is_ diminished shoat tpitikr.pir cent. to feed and clothe ail orit i cAlwils, who before he heeame so plislatOrppie were clothed and fed at seinehAi alai expense. lle will say to his *To_ e :--;- " You cannot have the stoat wairti4lreis. ' I promised you Om .this wintor,..assd mind you, no meat except twice. a. swak. I cannot afford it. I haVe got tcr - ed -and clothe the (soloral - pecpl6."q , : i tle will say to his child, 4nerridafsitt.. lon in the ears to-day,. my (ehilli±-tkat tiNe cents. has .gone to sqlne little wooilly head." W hat a glow ot universal love will thrill his breast When fie- Wes . Ills *vs suffer in (Aar 010 the'palehhiSlL way be made happy. Ufa iviiitAp . 4o himself: "how lovely is .(91 , 04 0 41. 1 :-7' Three short, years . ago tlK.se... souls were in bondage. They were no care to me, I i never tloki ihnin, ridod not eaprivolin . fof a sisaglethisiplar r e ,tlteir benefit. ow, tban1i . j.: 4 4444314.W are free, and are the - 0 :lueOta 9fApiy dearest solicitude . ; and I hiiie - the pl ell ure of supporting - tirem.• 'AritiV ail" own children suffer filE St—but {lt a great privilege and - I ouglitluT)e7very thankful" .The only interruptiOn tonight Attret.' " to this selfemeierying tr&h V - tiredlght might be the maggtottiost-4 ikon ono, yemosnou;,l..DetnOwtt, Aoki. MON say to him : '" art Fo4.togt aise . him and nolx* außpcos. 7••#. Vast belt. to work r.. No'aka. What W& For, The-EMFMmr. EMI Who Popo. . $4. -.46Zi..-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers