. ...... . - J..M,MaaBMeneBn '
'eOMJMBI BEMOCBAT AND STAR OF THE NORTH.
, ' : ' , . "
r-
V ( ) L. XXX- OLD SEIES
DEMOCRAT AND STAR
KTBLIS riED EVER V WEDNESDAY,
IN BLOOMSB.URQ, PA BY .
-JACOBY Cc lKELER.
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C7" OKFICE -la Shire's Block. Corner of Main
xnd Irov Street,. . . . . " '
' Address; , JAConVtlKELER.
. eioomfburt. folomhii County. Pa.
THE REVEILLE.
x t iw. joam raecxa. .
The son. of Columbia are gatherinc aeain.
To fiht a true baule with might and witk mam.
Gainst Error, aud F1iiehod. and ail tbeit dark train
Nob Mountain.",, aliU stauds on bia fa.t anc bored
. base.
And watcbee intently each ehanee In the race.
And calls meaehToter to .urine to bis plae. .
They coma from the farm hito fnr up oi the bill.
Piam tho croek-side where rambles the old water-
"I". ' ' ' .
And the narsft gratings saw, for tka mooiant Kands
still.
BhWI wttera rbey atrrb in magnificent line.
'Mid lbs bib rllii' til's aid dark lorests of rwi.
1 he brave bnys of J ackso rmm duty ne'er erred.
And has sworn U. old Union mut atiH bsf rcsarr
ad. Tber yrtnanry. hardy of tiaada and nt wftta.
Old I?caklo rolls frm her ertjTeen MH.
Where GnczawdoDS their Shadows cast over the
plain.
Our boy are awake", andwill beat fbein aeain.
Where M adisos s spirit keep snod wntch aad ward.
The people bis Uaclriags aad doctrines regard. . .
Where Bihtow. seeore 'mid the bin .notches out,
TIm brave fellows Tally ith maay a abonl.
Old Fntaoc-aK calls for a place In the fray.
And Is good for Tito kundrmd hurra, boy a . barra I
And Oatwoc remember the meetinc of yne.
And will rftand by the Sgibongh the battle nay roar.
The boys front the Carres are matching all right.
And shoulder t. sba alder UiO coot.st iuril.
Old ftniaScKiss: wanders the willows amntie.
And heisona gather strength while inarching al ong
And Bsnwtct: fall faTl.intly romea to th flrbt.
For strung la her will, tb-agh t (rest is her might.
-Bcott. mindful how nearly the fm was o'areoina.
Js ap and alert at tbd aound of the i rurn.
And Bt-ooai claims to have, though in numbers to
amail.
The boys that will anawer at everT call.
Trim the Mils of Motnrr Plubast w a hear 'hurra.
Tb flag fl.iats a'oft, they are rict.ra t--Jay.
The hundred nf Hkmlacs: srn movfnc ss one.
And there will the cotitest be speedily won
And gallant 'Monroe, though br numbers are lew.
Js always prepared ber full duty to do.
JJeyW, wneee the bright ue,iehanna still cOna,
Krae'eldCArawtasat. mac-haiMg her tun,
A band o aawavtrtnrPewocrat raise
The flag W here lbs Loccsctu flawers display e.
Where Soakisocmss; tbuadVrs. the yeomen com.
forth.
Aad bow themsolvss iaiea of position and rn-orth.
In Fsahuim the boy. arc astir, and tbey say
For Ci we r of flert. tboy can carry tne day.
And tho letiwnaof rosT0H. bound to be free,
ilavasougbtlbe world ever for sweet liberty.
AndlittteCcsTKiui will ant be out-rlote.'
l will ! that this fill her drat battle is won.
They're coming frm KtAVtk. twohunrfrej or ifiore.
To help os tho Union we lave, to reston.
And Mirrui responds with a thnndsrinfhout,'
eitae'll give t the fooa peek Harick" rout.
And the ch-srig rolls on. till it echoes sttin.
On she hill sidee that bouna lbs fierce town. hip of
Mais.
COMMUfllCATIOKS.
Abolitionists and Abolitionism.
.... - NO 11.-
The Enemies of the Co.xstitctiox.Uxios
and Libeutt rs Council.
Mtssas, Edit ana ; It was a gloomy night;
a starless sky hung heavily over our nation,
lite a black marble dome over a tomb, and
nothing interrupted the sileneo i'night but a
a very strange sound.liLe the fl tppingof great
wing3, which. from time to time was heard
over the cities and fields. Then thi dark
ness thickened, and every patriot felt his soul
shrink into itself, and a shudder run through
all his veinsw '
In a hail hung with black,and lighted by the
dull, red glimmer of a single lamp, seven ab
olitionists, crowned and robed in purple, were
ecttiag upon seven seats of iron. In the cen
tre of the hall was raided a throne composed
of the bones of dead Democrats, and at the
foot of the throne, in place of a footstool.
there was a l;berty-po cut 10 pieces , ana
before the throne a table of ebony, on which
were a vessel filled with blood, retiand foam
ing, and a human skull: "And the seven
crowned Abolitionists seemed thoughtful and
guilty, and from' the depths of their hollow
fVnm time to time darted
fr.ri nrV . nf livid fire. Ana one or
these Abolitionists rose and with tottering
step approached the . throne and trod under
foot the liberty-pole. At this moment hi
limbs trembled, and . he appeared ready to
faint The others gazed at hiin motionless ;
but an indiscribable expression passed over
their features, and an unearthly smile con
tracted their lips. Then he who had seemed
ready to faint put forth his hand, seized the
Tessel, poured the blood out into theEkull
and greedily drank, and the draught appear
ed to strengthen him. Raining his head,
this cry came from his breast like the hollow
death rattle : -
"Cursed be Andrew Johnson who is trying
to restore the lawful rights and liberty to the
South, and union and peace to the whole
country." ; - - . -
And the other six crowned Abontioniste
ose with one accord, and together they ut
tered the same cry : . .. . -"Cursed
be Andrew Johnson whose policy
to restore constitutional liberty to all the
people of this Republic" ' : '
Then resuming their iron seats, the first
"Said : " My brethren, we are Abolitionists,
what shall we do to stiSe libertyj for our
rttra is over if hers begins. We have a
'common cause ; let each now propose that
which eacci3 to him best for us. Listen to
&7 counsel. Before Jolms6n carau into pow
who could stand before us ; .we controlled
Ii'nccla aad he controlled the oEcers, and
they cctlrolled the sc.'uief3 and in this way
Vs t racdulently carried the elections for three
Wf j'r.r ycar'and l.al eTCrythin our own
w-jv. d 'tn Booth, for he or tee Leva, icaae
t, ior ue ur tiic ajuiu. u.auc
in f-!vin '-Lftne't Old Abe
a great misiae
.n-'r'fm-i a ;" therefore let ti3 char.se and
f ' - a ' . .
And they all said, It is good counsel.
Let us aboliih the Constitution and Unioa
of the Fathers."
Then the second advanced to the throne,
took the skull which lie filled with blood,
drank and addressed them -a follows : " It
is not only, the Constitution aiad the Uion
that must "be abolished ut scieBoe and
thought -also ; for science teaches men to
know tkat which is not for our god, and
thought is always ready to contend against
force."
And all answered, "let us abolish science
and thauehL"
The third after imitating the example of
th first two liyinnking blood, thus spoke :
" When we have plunged white men back to
the lovel and brutishness of the negro by
taking from them their legal rights, science
and thought, we shall have accomplished
much ; but there will still remain something
else for us to do. The brute ha? instinct and
dangerous sympathies; therefore our subjects
should not hear the voice of any other peo
ple nor read any but abolition papers, for
fear if one should murmur and become rest
less, another might be tempted to do the
same. Then do not let Democratic papers
be circulated among our serfr."
And they all answered, 44 It is good coun
sel. Let no report come from without into
our abolition uistricts. Proscribe the free
dom of speech and of the press."
And the fourth also drauk of thercd foam
ing blood and said : 4 We have our interests
and the people have theirs, which are di
rectly opposed to .ours. If they write to de
fend those interests against us how shall we
over-power them ? Let us make division by
unjust legislation on the tariff and bonds not
taxed, that we may reign securely. Let as
create in every State, city and hamletan in
terest opposed to the interest of every other
State, &c In this way all will be divided,
hate each other and not write agaiust us."
. And all replied, " It is good counsel Let
us divide the people and the union that we
may always rule. Unity among the States
and the people will ruin us."
And the fifth having twice filled the hu
man skull with blood and emptied it, ?aid:
44 1 approve the measures ; they are good
abolition regulations, but insufficient. For
our parposes it is well to mate mes. lretcs
Dy destroying tne distinctions uoa nas. maue
between the races, and to frighten these
brutes, and strike tenor into them bj; inex
orable laws, and cruel punishments if you
would not sooner or later be displaced by
them. The Reconstruction, or Destruction
Committee, or "Central Directory" is the
thing for us. They speak and it is done, they
command and the nigger stands fat.
All answered, 44 It is good counsel. The
"obstruction committee ' is the prime lead
er for us."
The sixth drank blood, and said : "I ac
knowledge the advantages to be gained by
our party from prompt, terrible and inevita
ble punishment. But there are heroic and
courageous souls who brave-punishments.
Would you govern men easily,-nervate them
by voluptuousness. Virtue is of no use to
ns -t it encourages re-i stance ; let us control
the greater part of our dupes by robbing the
Treasury and raising corruption funds by
Black-mailing."
All answered, 41 It is good counsel. Let
us exhaust the strength and energy and cour
age and patriotism of the people by corrupt
ing them with Green-backs." .
Then the seventh crowued Abolitionists
having drank blood from the skull like the
others; said, with his feet on the prostrate liberty-polo
and the Constitution j "Down with
President Johnson I There is war to the
death, eternal war between him and us ! But
how shall we alienate the people from him ?
It is a vain effort for ua alone. What shall
we do then ? Listen to me. We must by
bribery, with riches and honor and power,
gain over the professed priests of Christ
And they will command the people in the
name of God to submit to U3 in everything
we may do and order, and the people will
believe them and obey for conscience sake ;
and hence through these bought hypocrites
we can keep up perpetual strife, contention
and ill-will and our abolition party power shall
be more stable than ever before.'
And all answered, "That is our true poli
cy. Let U3 gain over the Priests by corrup
tion, for they can mostly be gained in this
way." Then suddenly the lamp which light
ed the hall was extinguished and the seven
crowned abolitionists vanished in the dark
ness (May God grant that this may soon
be the late cf their whole party, for they all
love darkness rather than light, because their
deeds are evil. ) Then a voice was heard say
ing (to a good man, who, at that moment
watched for the L nion and rights of the
States, and prayed for the peace of the peo
ple,) "The day of deliverance approaches,
preserve the right, adore and fear not"
Jetfeksdn'.
Died of Grief.
A touching incident is related by the Mil
waukee Wiseo?isin, as having occurred in
that city lately. About two years ago Mr.
Strausburg purchased for his child, six years
old, named Willie, a voting Newfoundland
dog, which was also called Willie. The two
became very much attached. About two
months ago the dog was run over by the team
of Mr. S., his leg broken, and he injured so
seriously that it was found necessary to kill
him. The grief of the little fellow was inex
pressible. ' He cried incessantly, and called
continually for his companion. The father,
to quiet his grief, had the dog's hide stuffed,
but it satisfied the child only for a day.
Another dog, similar in appearance, was
purchased for the boy, but he would ray no
attention to it, calling constantly for Willie.
Every effort was made to distract the little
one's attention from -the object upon which
it was fixed, but without success. For a
week he lay in his little bed, hugging the
stuffed dog-skin close to him, moaning fre
quently, just above a whisper, and sometimes
breaking out into paroxysms of grief, and
calling loudly for Willie.- He would eat yery
little, and every . day when food was given
him, he would offer it first to the object be
side him, and upon no attention being paid
to his desire, would throw it aside.
One day the child's grief had settled into
that quiet, half slumbering state that so
plainly speaks an approaching dLssolution.
rfe asked his mother, as he had done many
times before,, if Willie.had gone to Ileaven,
Mamma, I love you and I love papa, but I
want to go and see Willie. Good by, mam
ma, I am goinfr to see Willie now. ' ' Before
the mother could reach the child's side, he
was dead had died without a strugglel and
without a gasp that could be heard quietly,
calmly,' his little heart wore itself away from
the effect3 of excessive grief.
anawnen Deingansweredalhrmatively, asked,
"Shall I see him there, mamma?" , "Yes.
Willie, if you are good and try to eet welL
a.
BLOOMS BURG. COLUMBIA. CO., PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 18.1866.
Mr. Thompson's Umbrella.
"Augusta, I wish vou would practice Cho
pin's march. Mr. Thompson likes music"
Ohl how sick I was hearing abeut Mr.
Thompson I My per aant, she meant it
Very kindly, of coai-so, but she little knew
how she made nre hate those single gentle
men whom she so wished me to please. I
was an orphan, and had forty pounds a year,
and Hiy aunt's-annuity died with her ; so I
suppose her anxiety to see me married was
both commendable and natural, but to me it
was dreadful. Moreover, perhaps, because
I was a proud girl, and perhaps, too, because
I was. a foolish one, the mere fact of a man,
young, or middle-asod for only the old and
wedded were excluded-coming to the house
on my account, inado him detestable in my
eyes. I should not wonder if that was the
reason why I pleased none. I was said to be
1retty I may say that now, alas ! it is so
ong ago but plainer girls, with no greater
advantages than I had, went off at a premium
in the marriage murket, and I remained
Augusta Raymond, uncared and unsought
for. I did not care, not I. I only lamented
that aunf would worry both these unfortu
nate gentlemen and me, with vain efforts to
make them admire me, and make me like
them. She was my best friend, however,
and I loved her dear;y. So I now sat down
to the piano and played Chopin's march, and
racticed for the benefit of the devoted Mr.
'hompson, who was to come this evening,
and who little knew, poor fellow, ho had
been invited to spend a week with us for the
express purpose of falling in love with his
second cousin's, niece. I had ot seen him
since I was a child. He wa.s a yotmg man
then, tall, dark and grave, and already on
the reaJ to prosperity, lie was a rich man
now at least, rich for such a poor girl as I
was, but he was Mr. Thompson, aad 1 hated
him; he must be old, quite old.
I thought ef all these things whilst I was
playing, and then foTgotthem,for the divine
music bore me away, and misic was a pas
sion to rae then,
"My dear! Mr. Thompson T' fhii mv
aunt's voice, as I cloned the instrument I
turned round and saw him ; tall, dark, grave
verv little altered, and not at all old. We
had expected, him for dinner, and he had
come to luncheon ; I forget how the mistake
arose. Ashe opened the garden gate he
met my aunt They heard me playing, md
stood by one of the windows to listen. When
I ceased, they entered the room, and it was
then that, as I said, I saw him.
I did not know it rt the time; hut I knew
it later ; I Irked him fro? that very moment
lam not snre that every girl would have
liked Mr. Thompson. He was decidedly good
looking, and he was both shrewd aud pleas
ant ; but he had a quaint aud abrupt manner
which was apt to startle strangers. I liked
it well, however. I liked that eccentricity
which never took him too far, and that slight
want of polish which cave great flavor to
everything he said or did. I liked all, ex
cepting hfs umbrella. That I detested. It
was large, soiled, massive and dreadfully ob
trusive. He had it in his hand -on that
bright warm day, and long as our aoquanit
ance lasted I never saw Mr. Thompson with
out it Later, when our intimacy had pro
gressed, I taxed him with this. 4ies," he
said good humoredly. "I confess it is my
hobby. My earliest ambition as a boy was to
possess an umbrella, and my greatest happi
ness as a man is to go about with one.''
Of course'we did not speak about his um
brella on this the first- morning we spent to
gether. Mr. Thompson praised my music,
and, looking me full in the fiicc, told me I
Elayed divinely. He sai'i it without pream
le, and I saw he meant it My aunt was
delighted and I felt pleased ; but somehow
or other, I also felt that Mr. Thompson
treated me like a littli girl; and so he. did
not merely then, hut ever afterward.
Tiresome man! 1 hid thought him old be
fore I saw him. I could not make him
think me old now that he saw me.
Mr. Thompson did not stay a week with
us, but a month. Oh ! that happy month,
with long golden dayg and delicious evenings
and music and yweet converse ! Shall I ever
forget it? If the awakening was bitter, let
me remember the dream was very sweet.
Mr. Thompson was to leave us next morn
ing, and we were in the garden together. I
knew by this time how I felt toward him.
and, kind though he was, I doubted if he
cared much for me. And when he said,
"Augusta, I have something to say to you,'
my heart began to befit He used to call me
Augusta now and then, having known me as
a child, but never had he said it so kindly as
this evening.
Ah, well ! I suppos-s many women have to
go throuch the bitterness which came to me
then. Mr. Thompson had met nfy Cousin
Jessie at Mrs. Gray's, proposed to her, and
been accepted. From the moment he men
tioned Jessie's name, I knew my fate. With
out seeing it, I suppose, she had ever stood
between me and every good. She had taken
the friendship of my best friend, the liking
of my nearest relativij I was not really my
aunt's niece, only her late husband's and
now she had forestalled me in the love of the
only man I ever cared for. Surely she was
not to blame for that, but, oh! how hard,
how very hard, it seemed to me ! The night
ingale sang in the trees above us, pure bril
liant stars turned in the sky, the garden was
full of fragrance, and Mr. Thompson went
on pouring Jessie's praises in my ear. She
was so handsome, so bright, so genial, and
so delightfully innocent. And what do you
suppose he told me all this for ? Why, be
cause he wanted me to co and live with
them. 'My aunt's heath had been failing of
late, and he was aware that 1 knew the worst
might soon come, so he wauted mc to be sure
of a home. I burst into tears.
'My dear, good child," he cried warmly,
4 'if I were not going away, I would not have
grieved you so. ou have, I know, a true
woman's heart., Your dear aunt may live
for many years, only if she does not, Jessie
and I "
4 'Pray, don't !" I interrupted. I could not
bear it The more he praised me the kinder
he was, the more I wept and felt miserable.
At length, at my requt st, he left me. I grpw
calmer after awbile? and went in.
"Do playChonin s march for us, my dear,"
said my aunt Poor dear aunt ! she wanted
me to fascinate him to the last She little
knew that Jessie, whom she disliked so, had
been before-hand with me there. -
I played it "again. J t was the knell of all
my hopes. A gray twilight filled the room
and they could not see the tears which flowed
down mv cheeks. I played well, they said,
and I believe I did Something from myself
was m tne music inn evfinine, ana mat
something was yery soiTOwful. Mr. Thomp
son eame and eat by rae when I had done.
The servant brought iii the lights and a letter
for my aunt While ehe was reading it, he
said softly :
"Will you think over it?"
TRUTH AND RIGHT GOD AND OUR
vou," he insisted, "and then you will do my
little heedless Jessie grood the poor childish
darling. Besides, I have set my heart on
something."'
This crowned all. I guessed his meaning ;
he had a younger brother for whom he meant
me. He had all but said so this evening in
the garden. "It would do John, who was
rather light, all the good in the world." I
could not bear it 1 rose and went up to
aunt.
"What news, aunty?" I asked.
"News, indeed!" she replied, amazed.
"There's Jessie going to marry my cousin,
Mr. Norris, old enough to le her father. I
wonder what he wilf do with the little flirt"
There was a pause.
Mr. Thompson came forward. I did not
dare to look at him.
"What Jessie is that ?f he asked. "Sure
ly not Mr. Raymond's cousin?"
Yes ; the same. Do you know her?"
"I have seen her at Mrs. Gray's."
He spoke very calmly. I suppose he did
not believe it I pitied him ; from my heart
I pitied him.
"Perhaps it is not true, aunt," I said.
"Not true ! why she writes it to me her
self there's her letter."
I looked at him now. lie was as pale as
death, but very firm. Neither troubled look
nor quivering Up gave token of the cruel
storm within. Something now called my
aunt oat of the room.
"Augusta, may I look at it?" he asked,
glancing toward the letter which my aunt
had handed to me,
I could not refuse him. I gave Jum the
letter. He read it through with the same
composure, then looking for his umbrella,
which he would always Tceep in a corner of
the siting-room, he said very calmly :
"I think I shall go and take a walk."
And he went out, and we saw him no
more till the next morning, when he left us.
My aunt was disappointed to find that Mr.
Thompson had not proposed to me after all,
and I was hurt to the heart's core by the
coldness of his adieu. My value has gone
down with my cousin's faithlessness ; mine
had been at best but a reflected liffht I was
liked because Jessie was loved.
She became Mrs. Norris soon after this.
She was married from my aunt's house, out
of regard to Mr. Norris, who was related to
her, and who disliked Mrs. Gray. 4 'That
busy-body," she called hci and I am afraid
she was a busy-body. She teased me un
mercifully about Mr. Thompson. She was
sure, she said, he had made love to me; and
she looked at me with cruel significance as
she spoke. But I betrayed neither his se
cret nor mine ; and though she vexed mc
when ehe quizzed him to Mr. Norris, es
pecially about his umbrella, I did keep si
lent. "I am sure he will be married with his
umbrella under his arm," she said the even
ing before her own wedding. "Don't you
think so?" I did not answer her. I went
out into the parden and wondered how she
had charmed' him. Alas! 1' might have
wondered how, without seeing it, he had
charmed me.
Jessie's ruarriace was a blow to my aunt.
She had always though? thai I shotild go off
first. She was also cruelly disappointed by
Mr. Thompson's indifference, and perhaps
she guessed the meaning of my altered looks.
I believe I got pale and thin ust then. And
I was always playing Chopin s march.
".My dear, said my aunt to me one evei
ing, 4 "is not that very mournful ?"
"Hike it, aunt," I replied; but I resolved
to play it no more.
"Mr. Thompson liked it," she said with a
sigh. 4 'I wonder he did not propose to you,"
she said abruptly. ,
I was silent. m
"I wish I had never asked him here,"
she resumed; "I can't help thinking "
"Don't pray don't!" I interrupted.
She did not insist but he made me go and
sit by her. She caressed me, she coaxed
me, and little by little she drew my secret
from me. . '
"My poor darling," she said, when I had
confessed all, "he may value you jet"
"No, aunt, he never will. But pray do
not trouble about me. I mean to get over
it, and I will," .
I spoke resolutely, and my aunt praised
me.
44 You have always been the best of girls,
she said, tenderly, "and I am glad you have
had confidence iu me. 1 did not mean to
leave home this year; but now I will take
you to the sen. side. You must have a change
my poor darling."
-She kissed me. and I remember how calm
and happy I felt in that gray room, sitting
bv my dear aunt's side, and looking at the
starry sky." The nightingale was singing
again as on that sad evening when I had felt
so broken-hearted ; tears rose to my eyes
when I remembered it, and his last kind
ness, and my foolish, withered hopes ; but
the bitterness was gone from my sorrow.
"You must have a change," said my aunt
again. .
Alas ! the change came in the morning.
My aunt was late for breakfast I went up
to'her room and found her calmly sleeping.
But, oh ! too calm, to deep were those slum
bers. The kind eyes which were rested on
me in love, were closed, the voice which had
ever spoken in praise and endearment was
silenced for ever and evef
I suppose it was not Jessie's fault that her
husband was my aunt's heir-at-law ; but I
found it very hard. Poor, dear aunt, she
always did mean to make a will in my favor,
and she never did. Mr. Norris behaved very
handsomely I was told. He gave me the
piano, which had been bought for me, and a
few other articles of no great value, and all
my aunt's wardrol. He kept her jewels,
which were very fine, and the furniture, for
which, as he said truly enough, I had no
use. Moreover, he allowed me to remain in
the cottage till Lady day ; though, perhaps,
as he could not five in two houses at a time
and must pay the rent whether I staid there
or not, this was no such great favor after all.
God forgive me, I fear I was very sinful
during the dark days that followed. I had
some friends who did, or rather said their
test; but there wes one who never came
near me, who gave me no token of his exis
tence, who had no kind word for mc, who
let me struggle through my hard trial, and
who never offered a helping hand. He might
at least have written, have condoled with me
in my sorrow but he did not. And yet, he
was in the neighborhood. He was often at
Mrs Norris' house. Jessie herself told me
so. True he had business to transact with
her husband ; but still, how could he do it?
He did it, and he did more. Mr. Norris
was thrown off his horse one morning, and
brought home dead. Jessie became a wid
ow, and a poor one,, said the world. Mr.
Norris was not a rich man, after all, and
left many debt. I only went to see her
once. I found her cold, callous, and defiant
under affliction: yet I would have gone
country.
with the widow, and I could only inter
fere ; besides I could not bear to see
them together. It was very wrong and
very useless, but it was so. Mrs. "Gray often
came to see me. I can net say she comfort
ed me much. She gave fnc a word of wea
risome advice, and told we much that I
would rather not have heard, yhat was it
to me now, that accounts kept Kim so often
and so late with Jessie? They were both
free, and. if he chose to forgive her and
laarry her, and if she chose to marry once
more for money I say it again and what
was it to me? m
And yet I suppose it was something after
all ; for when Mrs. Gray left mo one after
noon in February, I felt the loneliest being
on this wide earth. She had harped again
upon that hateful Btring that Mr. Thomp
son seemed quite smitten with Mrs. Norris.
"And what do you think, my dear," she
added, "he thought you were gone. He
seemed quite surprised when I said I had
seen you on Sunday. -"What, is she not
gone," he asked, 4 'gone to London?" 4 'No,
indeed. What should she go to London for?' '
He did not answer that, but from something
said, I saw he thought you were engaged to
be married. 4 'I wish she were, poor dear! "
I replied : "it is a hard case to be so young
and so loely,"
I do not know how long Mrs. Gray had
been gone, when Carlo gave a short bark ;
the gate bell rang ; I saw a tall dark form
pass across the window, and my little maid
opened the door saying
"Mr. Thompson, ma'am."
I rose. He came in, with his umbrella as
usual, and Carlo went up to him and wagged
a friendly welcome. I could not say one
word. I was dreadfully agitated. I felt
quite sure he had come to tell me that he
meant to marry Jessie, and to ask me to go
and stay with them, or something of that
kind. Nothingel.se could have broughthim.
Or, perhaps, as Jessie had, no doubt, told
him that I was gone, he had, on learning the
truth, felt ashamed of his coldness, and had
come to make some sort of an excuse. He
had none ; but he asked how I was, took a
chair,' looked rather hard at me, and with
out waiting for an answer, I feared he was
not very wciL
"Oh! I am not ill, you know," I replied,
a little carefully. "1 trust you arc well, Mr.
Thompson."
He said he was very well, and looked at
the fire. For awhile we were both silent I
spoke first My remark wa? scarcely a gra
cious one.
"I heard you were so much encaged that
I scarcely expected to see you," I said.
I was vexed with myself as soon as I had
said it. He might think I was annoyed at
his long absence, and, surely, I was not. But
he took my implied reproach very well. He
answered that he had indeed, been much en
gaged, but that everything was over now.
Mrs. Norris, he added, hadlcll this morning.
"She left in no very contented mood, I
believe," he resumed. 4 'The balance in her
f ivor was low lower than I had expected.
Mrs. Norris has something like a hundred a
year. This and a few jewels constitute the
net profit she derives from her marriage.
Unluckily, these speculations can not be re
peated often you see. The capital of youth
and beauty has but a time a brief one ; it is
apt to wear out, and the first venture ought
to be the best. Mrs. Norris not having
found it so, is disappointed. I suppose it is
natural, but you know I can not pity her
very much.
1 supposed not, but all that cold hard talk
pained mc.
"I have a fancy," he resumed, l'that this
kind lady expected some other ending to our
accounts. This is not very flattering to my
vanity, unless, indeed, as showing my mar
ketible value ; is it now I
- 1 would not answer that oucstion : nis
tone, bis answer, vexed me. fcuddenly he
raised his eves to mine.
"Did such a rumor reach you ?" he a-ked
I dould not deny it My face was in a
flame. I believe I stammered something,
but I do not know what.
"Even you have heard it," he said, looking
secretly pleased ; "the world is very kind.
And you believed it, too ! 1 had hoped you
knew me better."
He seemed onite hurt ; but I offered no
justification. 1 hen ho rather formally asked
to be allowed to mention the business that
brought hitm So it was business! I scorned
myself far my folly which, was not dead yet,
and I bade him speak.
Was 1 asleep or dreaming? 3Ir. Thomp
son spoke of my aunt, her love for me, my
forlorn position, and expressed tho strongest
wish to take care of me.
"Bt he added with some hesitation, "I
can do so but in one fashion as your hus
band. "Will you overlook all these pecular
ities in my temper, which used to annoy j-ou
I fear, and take what there is of true arid
good in me? Can jou, will you do this?"
He looked at me in doubt Ah ! this was
one of my bitterest moments. He cared so
little for me, that he had never seen, never
suspected how much I loved him. And he
expected me to take him so. I clasped my
hands and twisted them nervously; I could
not speak at once.
"And you, Mr. Thompson, I said at last
"And vou "
"Well, what about me? Do you mean can
I too do this?" . t
"Yes; can you do it? ' :
"Why, surely else I had never proposed
it alL"
He had half smiled at the doubt my ques
tion implied, and he looked at me as he
smiled. Both look and smile exasperated
me.
"Mr. Thompson," I
said excitedly, "I
have not deserved this.
n t- t '
Vyariu. cuiuc ucrt;.
My poorj shapsy Carlo came forward, wag
ging ulS tail, iie laia nis iieau uii my a.nc-e
and looked up wistfully and fondly as only
dogs can look when they vainly seek to read
the meaning of a human face.
"lie was an outcast," I said, looking at
Mr. Thompson ; "he was starving ; he came
to this door ; I fed him, and he would not
leave it I took pity on him I gave him a
mat to lie on and a crust to eat He loves
me for it; but, Mr. Thompson, I am not
quite so low as to be brought to this poor
brute's level I can take care of myself. '
Mr. Thompson threw himself back in his
chair and uttered a dismayed whistle as I
made this free commentary upon his pro
posal. "Well, well," he said, recovering slowly,
4 'I can understand that you should not care
for me, but I did not expect that you would
takeitsfk" ,.
"And how could I take it," I cned: You
give me pity ah, I scorn pity Mr. Thomp
son ; if I were not the poor, forlorn gall am,
would you feel or speak so? Do you think I
do not know how nch girls are wooed and
wnn? If vou eared an atom for me, would
you dare to come to me with such language?'
"What language?" . - -
tio
REIT SLR
What. T mud. Yes. Auirusta, I wish to
take care of you true, fondt loving care;
nothing shall make me unsay it
He snoke warmly and a mapiy giow,
.to his face; but I would not give ns, and l
said angrily, that 1 did not want to oe iaKc
care of. . i . i.
"Do let us drop these unlucky worus, ne
entreated; "and do tell me whether you win
marrv me, yes or no. Let it be, if you like,
that I want you to take care of ine.( I am
much older than you are, you know.
I don t know what possessed me. x said
"no." Oh, how I would have liked to re-!
call the word, but it was spoken, and he rose
with a clouded and disappointed lace, lie
lingered a little, asked to know why it was
no instead of j-cs? I said we could not be
happy together. He bowed gravely and left
C 1 A A? 1 J ! .4 fcA
me, 1 suppose he was nun, ior ue uiu uvi
add a word. No assurance of friendship, of
rmnrl will, no hone that I would relent or
change my mind, passed his lips. The door
closed upon him. 1 heard tne garuen gaie
fall to, and I fell into a sort ot stupor. It
wa3 over. What "madness had made roe
banish him? Every step took him away
further from me never never again shouM
we meet Perhaps he would not have left
me then, if I could have spoken the truth.
Ah, if I could have said to him, "I cannot
be happy with you, because I love and you
do not ; because my love and prid would
suffer all day long if I were your wife ; be
cause it is easier to do without vou than to
have you on these terms." If 1 could have
said all this, would our meeting have ended
thus? It was too late to think of that now,
but it was not too late to suffe, I buried
my face in the pillow of the couth on which
I was sitting, and cried and sobbed as if my
heart would break.
Poor Carlo's cold nose, -thrust in the hand
that hung down" by my side in the folds of
my dress, roused me. I looked up aud saw
Mr. Thompson. He was very red and looked
flurried.
"I have forgotten my umbrella," he said,
a little nervously.
Yes, there it was in the corner, thathorrid
umbrella of his I But instead of going to
look for it, he suddenly came and sat down
on the couch bv mc I do not know" how I
looked, but I felt ready to die with ihame.
He took my hand and kissed It.
"My dear Miss Raymond," he said per
suasively, "I can not bearto give you up, in
deed I can not."
I looked at him in doubt.
"Then do vou really like me?" I asked.
4 'Do I really like you? Why what else
have I been saying all along?" t)
44 You said you wanted to take care of me.
"Oh, if we are to po back to that " he
began, resipnedly. But we did not go back
in that. : went back to nothins. for a misera
ble girl suddenly became the happiest of
women. Still I was not satisfied.
44 You would not have come back, if it had
not been for that horrible umbrella," I said
with a little Jealousy.
"Very true," he "replied, with hN peculiar
smile ; but i did come hack, and I glanced
in through the window first and saw you
hiding vour face on that cushion, and Carlo
lookine" at vou as if he thoueht itrange you
should 'he so forlorn, and so I came in for
my umbrella ; and, to tell you the truth, I
hnd furrrotten it on nurnose."
Perhaps h only said it to please me, but
as
I ooked in his tace 1 did not tnink so
. " . . a w a - l
then ; and though years have passed over us
both, I do not think so now.
Soliloquy of a Poor Farmer.
"Bntutifuir
"Whoa!"
"IiCt us stop here and rest under the shade
nf this tree for the old horse is tired. Isn't
this a. beautiful house iust in the edce of
thf fitr. The around are clean, and the
grass is kept cropt like the face of a new sha
ved man. And look you, Maggy, how thrifty
the trees are. And how many flowers there
are all about the yard. Let us stand up in
the wagon the horse won't start for he is
too poor and tired to run. Look at the roses,
and the verbenas, and the evergreens, and
the dahlias, and the fruit trees, and the stat
uary, and the nicely graveled walks, and the
broad steps, and the double blinds, and the
matting before the door, and the fancy stain
ed glass by the side, and the silver bell pull,
and the rosewood door. And, oh, look what
a bright, pretty carriage. Aud how sleek
the horses look. And how gay the driver is.
with his uniform on. I tell you, Maggy, that
man is rich.
Ah, here he comes, stand up on the seat
of the wagon, Ma.argy. It's an old seat
covered with an old blanket but it will hold
you. I can sea down here. He comes out
of the house. Here conies his wife. Ain' t
they dressed nice ? And here conies their
son and daughter on horseback. They are
going out for a morning ride. Ah ! They
have started. See how the horses dance
down the drive to the road and see how
quick that little boys ruus to oneu the gate.
"What are tee traiti! for
Plasc sir, we were looking, and didn't
know but you would like to buy some butter,
eggs, vegetables, chickens, berries, flowers or
something of that sort
"Mire on?'
All right. Sit down Maggy. We will go
on to market We can't sell anything ex
cept at market, for we have no license, and
it would take all we have to buy a license.
We could get more for each load of our pro
duce to peddle it out, but it's against the
law, so we'll sell for what folks will give us
who have license to sell.
44 157y u this ?"
Ah Maggy, I don't know. I wish I did.
Phew ! how the dust flies in my eyes as Mr.
Bond, for that is his name, dashes by with
his happy family. I siose its cause we're
poor. You know, Maggy, I went to war five
years ago. Then I owned fifty acres of land
on the crcek,and there wasn't a dollar to pay
on it I went to save the Union. Mr. Bond
paid me two hundred dollars to take his
place, and go to war. I went , ,
You know, Ma eg-, how you Oned when 1
went but like a brave woman that you are,
you dried your tears, filled my pockets with
pins, needles and thread-my eyes with tears
my mouth with kisses, so I could not
speak, and told me to go and to earn the
two hundred dollarjf.and to keepont of temp
tation, and to come back. And then, .Mag
pv, you ran into our little bed-room where
Johnny and little Maggy were born, and hid
yourself, and cried, so I could not see you
when we all went marching by.
"Don't taVc so T'
But. Maggy, I was thinking. And you
know I had two good arms. And I used to
hold you in them, Maggy to hold you to
my honest heart, and say Got ble! you,dar
ling ! And you used to sleep in them, hap
py and contented.
I went to war. I was in a battle. It was
a terrible fight. My general blundered as
nsnaL How anv of us came Out alive none
Dollar pet Aenan IA A4f a&ce
HVOL. 1. NOv 2l
And what did I find? Little Johnny wab.
dead. Little Maggy was dead. . My poor
brother, whose leg was shot off while under
orders confiscating cotton for Ins general
was home sick, helpless, tnd you were sup
porting him because he was my brother.
it was a sad day, .Maggy, wnen a came
home. I came back poor. , 1 lound Mr.
Bond had grown nch. lie had contracts.
His brother was in Congress. His uncle was
friend of Lincoln s. lie male war speeches
-filled quotas, pave bounties, and with Ids
stay-at'home neignDors voted Dig Dounties
and escaped all the calls and draft?. They
pave town bonds. These bonds ran me in
debt, for they were mortgages on our little
farm. ,, They amounted to five hundred dol
lars. Three hundred more than I had boun
ty. I couldii t help it, forwmle 1 was in tha
army it was easy for those who did ngt go tdr
mortgage my iarm in mat way. . . . ,
1 lost an arm'. 1 earned less man i wouia
at home. I returned I am now working,
Maggy, to pay myself for going to war, tor
losing rriy arm, to keep Mr. Bond at hom
so that he could play with his wite and Dames,
speculate and get a political influence while
I was fiphting not to restore the Union, but
to enrich him.
Its pretty hard, Maggy, I don t caro so .
much for me, for I'm growing eld, and its
little account a poor man is, dead or alive.
But you, Maggy you are as dear to me as
Mrs. Bond is to him". Your lips are as sweet
to mc, your boscm teas sacred, your eyes are
as deep, your voice is as good to me, your
touch, is as tlirilling as it rests on my tired
houy, your kiss is as welcome to me as Mrs.
Bond's kiss is to him. I know we can' t wear
broadcloth norsilks nor have a clean pair .
of undarned stockings every day nor. clean
white underclothes every day. INor can we
have such soft carpets nor such costly dish-
es nor such nne norses nor sucn a nno
house as Mr. Bond has. We listen to th
robin to the canary bird. They ride out
with their children We walk out to.th "
pr?.ve whefe.Ours sleep. TV e rlrtnk water
they drink wine.
And, Maggy, your hands are hard with
toil, but your heart is wanner, and dearer
and truer than I think Mrs. Bond's heart L,
for you never flirt your skirts in the faces of
those who are still poorer than are we, and
stick up your ncsc in disdain of poverty, as
Mrs. Bond does.
I didn't enlist to get in an office when the
war was over. 'Twould have done me no
good if I had, for of course when I went
away, I lost the run of public affairs, and was
not fit when I cameback-and I had no mon
ey to win my election if I had been fit And
so I must work. You and I must work.
We must sell bur early garden produce bur
fresh butter ej-ly thickens fresh ggs
&c, &., for these taxes must be paid. Tne
tax gatherer does not stop at Mr. Bond's.
1 le owns nothing but United -States Bonds.
They are green bills with red figures on them
like the green fields with the blood I lost
from my arm spattered and spilled thereon.
lie has a hundred thousand dollars worth of
these bond's. He bought them with the men- '
ey he made out of the war. And there aro
no taxes to be paid on them. You and I,
Maggy, with our little earnings and raisings
with our old horse and wagon by work
ing early and late by selling the pest and
using the poorest, pay all the taxes. We
pay the interest on tne town bonds and wd
must pay the principal when the time comes.
We must build the roads.
"We must build the bridges.
"We must erect school-houses:
"We must pay the town officers. , -
Mr. Bond, the Bond Holder, pays noth
ing. The government protects.him but it
can't protect the poor, One-armed farmer whb
fought to save the Union.
It can't protect the poor men of the land,
as it did in Democratic days.
The Bond Holder takes hb ease. He pays
no taxes, for Congress savs he need not bO
he goes to the bank and swaps off his cou .
pons for greenbacks, and the government
pays the bark back lor what it paid but, and
pays it for the trouble. It's better to be a
dog than a poor man that is a poor white
man. The pobr black folks are fed, and it Li
you and I, Maggy, who feed them not the
Bond Holder. As if the poor white men of
America were not of more consequence than
the niggers who were freed that the white
men might be slaves. How I wish the good
old Democratic times would corfe again,
when the rich Bond Holder would not be
fastened upon poor people for support So
much for Republican blessings to the pee-
Ple ! . . .. ...
There is cne man one editor in the coun
try who thinks as you and I do, Maggy. I
wish every editor in the country thought so.
I wish fill the papers of the country would
say with you dnd I; Maggy, that it is wrong
to favor the rich and oppress the poor. There
is one man in the country who dares talk
boldly, as he dot's, when he says that it is
cowardly, "wicked, unjust and damnable to
build up a Bondocracy at the exin-ie of la
bor. It is cowardly to send to hire to
drive to entice poor men to war to buy,
barter and traffic on their poverty and their
wants to send them to the harvest of death,
and while they are gone steal froni theni
what they had to bring them back slaves,
lund in debt Call you this equality ? Is
this the realization of the promise of Liberty
pave ? Ls this what we gain by forsaking
Democracy and building up an accursed Re
publicanism which grinds the life out of pbor
men ! Oh, it is a shame a di-grace an in
sult to white men a dishonor to the soldiers
of the Union e burning bitter wrongtothe
poor white women of America, that the only
true patriots should be, by a Republican Con
gress, made the toiling slaves of a cowardly
Bond-holding aristocracy who dance, and
ride, and sing, and dress in fashion on .the
blood and sweat of toiling millions. Oh,
would that some man would dare lead the
way to a remedy for this damnable disease,
for the hardy sons of toil will not Icng be
slaves God never pve to a white coward
the right to grow rich from and be supported
by the earnings of those whose only crime is
poverty. Give us equal taxation or repudi
ation !
A STRONG, hearty, lary fellow, who pre
ferred begging for a precarious subsistence,
to working for a stire one, called at thehouse
of a blunt Massachusetts farmer, and in the
usual language of his race, asked for 'cold,
victuals and old clothes.' .
4You appear to be a stout, hearty-looking
man,' said the farmer, 4 what do you do for &
living?
'Y hy; rot much,' replied the fellow, 'ex
cept traveling about from brie place to an
other.' " .
'Traveling about, eh ?'"rejoinedthe farmer,
'can you travel well?' .
40h, yes,' returned the sturdy beggar, 'I
am pretty good at that
'Well, then,' said the fanner cooly
open
ing the door, let tee you travel.
Tttb best oil for railway purposes train
..... .