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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..-