ggy" " ' ' "J-ll, . nil, ..... yi iirt i , .. u.. . .. ,m "ill ii" " ". i ' . .... I., i. .... ,,nil fjff ffSfL I (5fV fTf! iff IJTijVKiSCfi5 '. "TOnLDRAT Sptn ; - i "" ' "" ' . ' " ' 1 " . .. . .. ,, , , El 111 C e ER. 300 1 01 IS U Ctf oo' leti of . ! J v he cast r t. 5 t- re.". Ion nil1-' fro s att in. t 'Cc rA lizc rre, iUD: Ft. UTS 2111- r's, c cct OLUME 7. i m JiKKCi'onv. 1 EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 2, 1866 NUMBER 41. Oficcs. Itown, V. Spnngf, ; TinJhT. or I'OST OFFICES. Post Master. Districts . Steven L. Evans, Carroll. M. l. Watrner. Chest. A. G. Crooka, Taylor. It. II. Brown, Wnshint'n. John Thompson, Ebenshurg. C. Jeffries, White. -- Ti ri O n 3 .ulils, rcirr jtrrnaii, f"."! unit. J. M. Christy, (Jallitzin. Win Tiley, Jr., Washt'n. F.. Roberts, Johnst'wn. M. Adlesberger, Loretto. A. Durbin, MunPter. M. J. Piatt, Susq'han. Ftnn. Wharton, Clenrf.ld. George Berkey, Richland. A. Shoemaker, Washt'n. B. F. Slick, Croyle. Wm. M'Oonnell, Wnsht'n. J. K. Shryock, S'merhill. ck, -.own, J, er, viJle, iftistine, Level, iin, nerhill, it, ore, 1 L m -m m m v v t w f rwi wm o i',rrcri'rn Rkv. T. M. Bilbos, Pastor. inir every Sabbatb morninp; at 10 und in the evening at 7 o'clock. Sab- f'chool at 9 o'clock, A. 31. rrnyer meet- ery Thursday evening at 6 o clock. irhurch Rev. A. Baker. er in charge. Rev. J. Pershisq, As- Preaching every alternate babbatn i.at 10 J o'clock. Sabbath School at 9 A. M. Trayt-P meeting every Wednes- oning. at 7 o clock. h Independent Tizr Ll. R. Powell, - . - . , . ft L .ll. T . A Preaching everv rmonaiu morning m . . . " o ..i i- ,.l- onr in tne evening m u u viutiv. b School fat 1 o'clock, P. M. Prayer t on the f.rst Monday evening of each k un'l on every Tuesday, Thursday and i: evening, excepting the first week in :ontb. infrtic Methodist Rev. Morgan Ell!9, Trenching every Sabbath evening at 3 o'clock. Sabbath School at V o'clock, Piaver meeting every Friday evening, lock. Society every Tuesday evening :!ock. ;,,.,TlEr. W. Llotd, Pa?tor. Prcacb rv Sabbath morning at 10 o'clock. leuJ.tr r.avtisl2V.Y. . David Evass, l'reaching every Sabbath evening at ;. Sabbath School at at 1 b clock, 1. M.. ,V Rev. R. C. ChuirtY, Pastor. Yf c?very Sabbath morning at 10$ o'clock lfVrs at 4 o'clock in the evening. i:iii:sri'rg 31 AILS. MAILS ARRIVE. ii, through, daily, a. , wny, " at through, " at way, " at MAILS CLOSE daily, Rt 9.35 P. M. 9 35 P. M. 9.25 A. M. D.25 A. M. 8.00 P. M. at 8.00 P. M The mails from Grnnt, Carrolltown, t.rnre on .Monday. eunesuav ana of each week, at 3 o'clock, P. M. e F-bensburg on Tuesdays, Thursdays .urJnys, at & o'clock, A. M. 4ILROAII SC'IIKni't.K. CRESSON STATION'. Iar.1 -3.ilt. F.rnress leaves at rbila. Einres3 " New Voik Exp. Fnst Line I'ay Express Aitoor.a Accom. Piiila. Express FutA Line ly P.xpress Linc.nnati Lx. Altoona Acrcm. 8.25 A. M. 9.23 A. M. 9.52 A. M. 9.54 P. M. i.36 P M. 4.15 P. M. P. 40 P. M. 2.30 A. M. 7.1 G A. M. 1.53 P. M 1.21 P. M. i' or a" tv ornrens. ; of the Cciirls President lion. Geo. Huntingdon; Associates, George W. Henry C. Dcvine. ""'t.- Geo. C. K. Zahm. t and Recorder Jaraes Oriffin. James Myer3. 1 Attorney. John F. Barnes. C invuxsioners John Campbell, Ed- :ss, E. R, Dunhegah. vr Barnabas M'Permit. T'Ufe Directors George M'Cullough. rvla, Joseph Dai'.ey. J-.me Treasurer George C. K. Zahn: " Fran. P. Tierney, Jno. A: Keh- i'nul Brail if r. iSurrryor. Henry Scanlan. . -William Flattery. ifi'e Appraiser John Cox. of Common Schools J. F. ConJou. OfFltCRS. 610 fSDl-RC KOU AT UBGB. ''-James A. Moore. ' of the react Harrison Kinkead, :J. Waters. Directors D. W. Evans, J. A. Moore, i Davis, David J. Jones, Tilliam M. Jftwes, jr. '? Treasurer Geo. W. Oatman. 'o Counril Saml. Singleton. f Commissioner David Davis. EAST WARD. Council A. Y. Jones, John O. Evans, Davis. Charles Owen3, Rk Jonen, jr. Thomas Todd, o Election Wm. D. Dnvis. for David E. Evans, Daul. J. Davis. ' Thomas J. Davis. WEST WARD. Council John Lloyd, Samuel Stiles, a Kinkead, John E. Scanlan, George iLJe Barnabas M'Dermit. f " Election. John D. Thomas. fw.William I!. Sechler, George W. tr Joshua D. Parrish. SOCIETIES, &C. 11. Summit Lodge No. 312 A. Y. M. Masonic Hall, Ebensburg, on the uesday of each month, at 7 J o'clock, - F.Hipbiand Lodge No. 428 I. O. s in Odd Fellows' Hall, Ebensburg, fdnesday evening. r Highland Division No. 84 Son of mte meets in Temperance Hall. Eb- F tvery Saturday evening. 15 OF SUBSCRIPTION TO "THE ALLEGIIANIAN :" $2.00 IN ADVANCE, if .vox pajd ; ADYNCr:. Gone to Sea. She sat in the kitchen alone, Fast twirling the thread and the reel, And 6he Bang in a faint, low tone Her song by the old linen wheel. The sun 6lanted through on her hair, Where time had drifted the enow O'er the wrinkles ploughed up by his shear, And her tone was tender and low "done to sea gone to sea!" Whirr, whirr, whirr, went the wheel. "He'll never come back to me!" Whirr, whirr, whirr, went the wheel. She sat by the half open door, As the sailors hallooed On the street A3 they came from the ship, on shore, Alei t for remembered feet, Till her eyes grew tired and red And the days were long, were long, And the year3 went dragging away As she crooned her snatches of song "Gone to sea gone to sea 1" Whirr, whirr, whirr, went the wheel. 'He'll never come back to me !" Whirr whirr, whirr, went the wheel. Th sea ran wild in the night, The winds shook the crazy pane, As she flared her flickf ring light Far out in the driving rain ; And the wind in the chimney rung, And the good ship came not back, And the night wore on as she sung While tho treadle kept time with its clack "Gone to sea gone to seal" Whiir. whirr, whirr, went the wheel. "n'll never come back to me I" Whirr, whirr, whirr, went the wheel. The cottage grew mossy and old, The shingles were rotting away, The door-stones were yellow with mould, Thefences half down with decay; And her go-n was threadbare and thin She waited so long, so long, And her mind Vas cra?ed with the uin Of the treadle, the wheel, and song. "Gone to sea gone to fea !" Whirr, whirr, whirr, went the wheel. "He'il never come tia'cL to mc !" Whirr, whirr, wnirr, went the wheel. Tlio Tox-xx "11 It was in the spring of 18G4 that the incidents which-I am ab.ut to relate occurred. I was at that time postmaster in the town of I . An unusually warm spell of weather had carried away much of the snow, left the roads very muddy, and rendered the traveling very bad. I thought it this as I cJosed the shutters about 0 o'clock in the evening, and also remembered that, as it was Wednesday, the fagc from C was due. at 8, p. m , hut owing to the bud going it was not yvt in. I therefore de termined that I would, as I had often done before, lock the front door and the uoor between the inner and outer rooms, and, leaving a light burning, go to sleep, trusting to the driver to wake me by rat tlinj; tho door. It seemed but a few niorneijts, so sound ly had I slept, ere I was awakened by a pounding on the door. Glancing at the clock, which stood opposite, I discovered, however, that It was one o'clock in the morning, and that I had boon asleep near ly four hours. As T hurried toward the door, I put my hand into my pocket for the key an-d found it was empty. The two door keys and both the keys of my fafe, all of which I had when I went to sleep, were gone Stepping to the rear door, in the lock of which I always kept the'key, I also fouud that locked and the key gone. This so surprised mc that for a few seconds I remained on the spot, nt terly unable to solve the mystery. From this state I was aroused by renewed pounding on the door. There was but one available mode of exit from my pris on, and that was through a side window. Throwiug up the sash, I sprang out and hurried round to where I expected to find tho driver. Mysteries seemed to have no end, for instead of meeting the driver, I came, upon an excited crowd of about twenty. My appearance wa the signal fdr all to commence telling me the cause of their excitsment. Silence was, how ever, nt last obtained, and then the sheriff told me iu as? few words as possible the state of affairs. It seems that oce of the physicians of the town, Dr. Smith, was returning from a prolonged visit to a patient, and when about a mile from the town, heard in tho road ahead of him', a pistol shot. Hurry ing on, he found about half a mile further on, the stage, for which 1 was waiting, drawn up by the side of the road, and in the middle of the road the body of a man. Bringing his lantern near the face, he iound that it was the driver, acd that he was dead, having been shot through the head. He found the robes, &c, scattered around on the ground, as was also the mail bag, but the latter hai been unlock ed, not cut open, and the contents were gone. He lifted the body up and placed it in the stage, and was just starting on for assistance, when he saw a revolver lying near by, which, from thd fact that one barrel had been discharged, he de cided was the weapon with which the deed had been committed. Arrived in town, he aroused the Sheriff and a few neigh bors ; and while some were dispatched with the Doctor after the body, the Sher iff and others had gone to my house after me. Finding I was not there, they came to the office, and just as I joined them the body arrived. This was the substance of the facta re lated to me. It seemed strange thac the Sherifi should have gone to my house in stead of after the body, and I was about to express myself, when he stepped for ward, and, laying his hand upon my shoulder, said : "I arrest you, John Blanchard, for the ruurdef of Charles Smith etage driver." If he should have struck me, I should net have been more surprised. I tried to reason with him, but although very civil, he was equally firm, aud the result was I spent the remainder of the uight in the county jail, which building was situated iu L , that being the shire town. The examination the next morning elicited the following curious facts: When the sheriff searched my person, he was surprised to find no keys, and in deed'Yio wallet or memorandum book. Sending to my assistant, he obtained the door keys, but the safe keys could not be found, and my clerk declared that I al ways carried them with me. Upon en tering, they found that the letters were all gone, the money drawer emptyj and a few stamps, which the clerk informed them we always left out of the safe at night, mis sing. And no trace could be found of the safe keyB. Supposing that I had dis posed of them in order that the traces of my guilt, which it whs taken for granted 1 had concealed in the safe, could not be discoered, they brought a locksmith, and after much labor forced the lock. This labor served only to show them that the sate had been completely rifled, and the sum of three thousand dollars, which had been iu it the night before, was gone. I found that the causes which led to suspicions being fastened upon me were the thiee following : First, the revolver with which the deed was committed had upon the butt a silver plate, on which was engraved my came. The clerk took oath that the weapon wa mine, and tint I always kept it in the olficj. When they produced it, I co.nld not doubt for a moment that it did belong to me. Second, that the bag was unlock ed and not cut open, showing that it must have been dune by torae unc having in his possesion a bnitcd States mail key'. Third, that 1 had not been at home dur ing the evening, and that when summon ed at the post ofSce, I delayed so long in making my appearance. To combat these facts, I argued that the state of the office proved conclusively that it had been, robbed; and without doubt the keys and revolver had been taken at that lime. Also, that no trace of any of the stolen articles was found about me, my liou-e, or my office; and that further, if I had desired tr rob the mail I might have waited until it hud arrived at the office, and thus saved myself the cri.ne of mur der. Against the third statement, I told the reason of my remaining in the office so late, and brought forward witnesses to prove that I often did so on Weduesdjy evenings, in order that the mail might be delayed as iittle ai possible. Further, that the reason of my remaining so long in the office was that I could uotopen the door, and brought forward the faet that the keys were missing, to sustain my dec laratioo. Although these arguments were by no means fully, satisfactory to those who took the ground that I was guilty, still they were so far believed in that I was released on bail of five thousand dollars, which I readily obtained. By consent of the Post office Department, I turned the af fairs of the office over to my assistant. I was thus left tree to pursue every means to prove my innocence, which I felt could only be doue by discovering the guilty party. I accordingly placed the best detectives at work, with orders to communicate to me the first suspicion that they enter tained, for I found that it was anything btit comfortable to be looked upon as a murderer, although I knew that I was in nocent. Thus three weeks passed without any thing of intercut occilrring, and at the end of that time I could endure the suspense bo longer. Therefore I wrote to an old friend of mine, who was then on the de tective force of P , at and together we set about the search. A week passed without bringing more to light, and causing us to despond, for we feared the ruuiderer had so covered his track it would be impossible to discov er him. "We had becu at work two days in the city of G , aud being about to leave, I eutcred the hotel office to settle. Having no small bill, there was consider able change handed back, and among it a ten dollar bill, which had been torn in two. As I turned it carelessly over, I found that the parts had been fastened together with the margin of a couple of postage stamps, which had printed upon it 'No. 15 Plate," but the "No." and "Plate" had been crossed out, and substituted in their place was "Mar." and "1364," mak ing it read "Mar. 15 1864," which was the day before the robbery atd murder. This may seem all common enough, but to tne it was a ray of light and hope ; for tho change was in my own hand writing. I aho remembered perfectly well making the change; also, that I' had placed my initials on the underside, and that the crill must have been in the safe at the time of Jthe robbery. Calling my friend, we went into a side room, and there care fully removed the paper. On the other side we discovered, as I had expected, the letters "J. B." much blurred from wet ting, but still legible. My friend agreed with me that it was a very important dis covery, and in order to press it forward, we called in the landlord and questioned him. He remembered having received the bill that morning, and had rather ques tioned taking it on account of the fare. On being asked to describe the man, he said : "As near as I recollect, he was about five feet teu inches in height, and quite stout in proportion. He was dressed entirely in black. The only peculiar mark that I noticed was a deep scar run ning across his face, and his left eye was gone the place being supplied by a piece of black silk, which he showed very plain ly when he winked." I think I must have started very per ceptibly when I heard this description, for I reeognized the man immediately as a runner for the firm of Bagley & Xason, of Boston, who had been in our town for about a week previous to the murder, and had l?ft the same morning. His own name was James Burr.ham. As we could learn nothing more from the landlord, save that he ordered the hackman to drive to the Boston depot, we dismissed him and held a consultation. We both agreed that it was best to go immediately to Boston, see Bagley & Nason, and, if possible, learn of Burn ham's whereabouts. Carrying out this plan, we learned from the firm the follow ing facts : .lames Burnbam was a good, reliable business man. He had been in their employment for about fifteen years, and they were willing to tru.st him with any amount of their funds. He was now in Vermont, where he had bjen since leav ing L , and had not, tc their certain knowledge, been at G . This rather perplexed us, but at st we determined that he must have de ceived. his employers; and although wc did not think that we had sufficient cause to arrest him, still we determined tj track hitu For this purpose, we went t) Ver mont, and fell in with him at Montpelier. For a week we observed his every motion, but at the end of that time had discovered uothing, save that he would stay iu the town aboiit one week longer. Feeling that my friend was fully capable of watch ing him alone, I had determined to go to Boston to sec if I could learn anything new; and accordingly on the morning of the 21st of April, left, having first arranged a system of cypher, by which we could communicate with each other if occasion required. Early on the morning of the 22J, I was standing on the steps of the Hotel, when a paper dropped at my feet, appa rently from one of the upper windows. Stooping down I picked it up, but discov ered that it was but an empty envelope, and wa3 about to drop it again, when the name upon it caught my eye. It was that of a leading merchant of h . Looking up at the window, I sw to my surprise the face of James Burnham, and that he turned deadly pale when he saw m.e. Fvelinir certain now that ho knew my errand, I saw that it wou!d be safe to let him escape no longer. I immediately determined -on having him arrested at all hazards. Hurriedly writing a dispatch, which to the operator would read, "Join me in Portland to-morrow. Immediately upon the receipt of this you may close the bargain which I spoke to you about yes terday ;" but to my friend, "James Burn ham is in Boston. Why are you not? I have a clue. Shall arrest him immedi ate'y" I sent it to the telegraph office, and then hurried to the police station. Here I told my story in as few words as possible, and in fifteen minutes more was at the door of the room from which the envelope had come. A noise as of some one moving rapidly about told U3 that the occupant was still there. The door of the room was not fastened, but as the officers approached, Burnham sprang forward to lock it ; but they were too qvick for him, and had entered before he could gtt it done. As we came in he stepped back, and in no gentle tones demanded the cause of the intrusion. In answer to him, one of the officers said : "I arrest you, James Burnham, for the murder of Charles Smith and the robbery of the post office at L , on the night of the ICth cf March last' The effect was instantaneous. He turned deadly pale, and sank into a chair, near by, but after a. moment roused him self and said : "You have mistaken your man. My name is not James Burnham, but William Chase." We considered this, however, aa but an attempt to bully us, and he was accord ingly led away. The search which fol lowed brought to light considerable money in bills, and a number of checks, many of them payable to certain merchants io L , and some of them from citizens of L , payable to persona living id Boston. I immediately telegrapbed the particu lars of the arrest to my frieud. and he I joined me the next morning ; but stran- Kest of all, James Burubam came with him, ad I then saw that it was a mistaken identity. Bt it was not to be wondered at, for I think I never saw two men that looked more alike. We also telegraphed to the landlord at G , and learned a thin we had neglected before, namely, that the man who had passed the torn bill went by the name ot William Chase. Little more remains to be told. The man, findiug that there was no hope for him, made confession soon after his arrest. From this it appeared that he was a noto rious criminal, who, after some bold deed, had been lying for a time in the country, and that while there, accidentally hearing that valuable mail matter would arrive in the mail from C , had determined on a Iittlo professional busines, and had accor dingly come to L . There he saw me receive a large payment of money on the 14th ot March, and had that evening, after I shut up, entered the office, and removing the keys from my pocket, and getting possession of the revolver, robbed me as described, and made off with the booty, still retaining the keys, which we found in his possession. From the office he had gone up the road, met the stage, and found that he could not accomplish his purpose without committing murder, and theu opening the bag, had just time to secrete himself wheu the doctor came along. By a wide circuit ho came back to Boston, and arrived there by another train on the same evening that I did. When I picked up the envelope, he rec oguized me, and made up his mind that he had better leave) and was preparing to when arrested. A few more days saw me back to L , my innocence fully established, but I could not be prevailed upon to again auaie the duties of postmaster, and my former assistant was appointed. As for William Chase, he was executed the fol lowing July. ' Gen. Slierzuan Takes (lie Stand and Testifies as to His Early Career. At the commencement of Dartmouth College, on the 19th ultimo, Major-General Sherman was present by special in vitation, and delivered a speech to the graduating class. In this speech, the General indulged io a retrospective view of his earlier career, which cannot but prove intensely interesting to those famil iar with his services in the late war. He said: Ladies and Gentlemen : It is beyond my power or the power of uny living crea ture to fill one-half the picture your worthy President has jusj painted. I am afraid you are doing what was done in the early part of the war, elevating men far above their ability and letting them down pretty hard. Nevertheless, as in former parts of my life, I will try and discharge the duty assigned ro me humbly and to the best of my ability, and turn with pleasure to the men to whom wo have been listening with so much delight. The array of ladies and gentleman before us, of .mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, attests the interest that is felt in you and the hopes entertained of you. now that you are about leaving your teachers, who have been fitted by former experiences, by the study o'i bjoks, and by association with cither men, to impart knowledge to you that will fit you for the life before you. Unfortunately for me, I was not so favor ed as you have been, and I regret it uow and shall regret it to the end of time. I was compelled to pick up what little kuowledge I possess by grasping it. as it were, through brambles, and I sometimes had my hand pretty sharply pricked, too. You have had those around vou who have gladly told you everything you desired to know, whose minds were well stored with the richest learnin g of the past. And now,' young men, you must look out for your selves. Your ship is about to sail on an unknown sea. You have your charts and compass; see that you steer your course property, that you watch your comp-iss, and do not allow your minds to be turned aside Dy the scudding of the sea or the winds across your sails, but foliOw your compass, and you wiil just as ourely arrive at your destination as honesty will pro duce a good man. My young friends, I remember that twenty-six years ago I stood as you now stand, about to go forth to do whatever might fall to my share, aud I now find myself here in the presence of men who were graduates of this College before I was born. It appears to me al most like sacrilege for me to stand up in their presence and attempt to give advice or instruction, and I would not presume to say one word had not your honored President asked nie to do it ; probably fur some reason unknown to mc. When I graduated, I was told, in plain Knglish not in Latin that I had finished, and was qualified iu natural philosophy, chemistry, mathematics, and so forth. :To prove that I was so qualified, I was sent down to Florida to catch Indian. I did not see the logic of it then, nor do I now ; but I had to go. I went from place to place in that country, aud, finally, I brought up in Charleston ; and whether I had a tore sight of what was coming, if that could be, or whether it was by the directing hand of Providence, who rules all things, I a sectional war. of in Charleston joked over it at certainly was a wanderer in those days, and hunted through the marshes of tho Santee, the Edisto and the Savannah Ilivers, obtaining knowledge which has since been of value to the nation. Again, by what seemed a Provideutial accident, I was sent to take testimony about some lost saddles and bridles value, nothing; but nevertheless those lo"t saddles and bridles took me into a region of country, the knowledge of which afterward proved to be of the greatest iuiportauce to the people of New Hampshire and the whole civilized world. I went to Marietta and Chattanooga and stayed six weeks, and in that short time gained knowledge which has since, I think, repaid the mile age paid me oi ton cents per mile. ' Shortly afterward, just about 20 yeari ago, I remember sitting with many" young officers Braxton Bragg was one at tho dining table of the Hon. James Pettigrew I believe the best Uuion man present will no doubt the loyalty of Mr. Pettigrew, for he was loyal in 1831. He was the only loyal. intelligent man in Charleston during the rebellion, and he is ioyal now, Mr. Pettigrew listened to our complaints that our future looked poor, and that the only promise held out to us was a brevet major commission and command of some Iittlo past on the New England coast. He told us, "Gentlemen, do not be alarm ed; there is a Providence guides this world, and you young men will yet have to await an opportunity to put your talents to use." Ilis language gave us encour agement. The Mexican war-soon broke out, and I was sent to California, where in my wanderings I saw" the fir.-t pieces of gold discovered, and watched its mag ical effect upon the whole world. The discovery of that gold gave miilions to America, and I doubt much whether, if that gold had not been discovered, the nation would have managed to work out the problem of finance which the war of Rebellion had raised, and preserved its present gbriou position. That gold gave us wealth and credit abroad, and a strength and durability which survived the war. After some years I again went South, and all at once I paused to see and feel in tho very air that we were upon the verge of I had heard it rpoken We had laughed and the mess table. I had heard it discussed by politicians ; I had heard Gen. Scott say we were upoa the eve of war; but my mind never realized it until the Spring or Summer of 1860, when I was in New Orleans and Baton llouge. Then, for the first time, I saw that it was not all talk. That cry of wolf, wolf, .meant something, and that civil war was upon us sure enough; and what has been the issuo ? You all know it has been a short war to the world at large, but long enough to us during those dark days which formed the early part of' it. I will net review it. Let history take charge of it. All I will say is that in that war arose men, one by one, equal to the emergency, until the war closed and the nation was saved. And now, 3'oung gentlemen, I ask you to look at these men and your future. They are like yourselves. Look at Gen. Grant, a mod est, plain, bold, brave, unchanging gen tleman, with the simple idea to do what is right, and nothing will turn him aside from that. A more modest man than George Thomas exists not on earth. If ho were preseut, you could not begin to get him to stand up here; Phil. Sheri dan Would infinitely rather, with saber in hand, ride down the rebel lines than enter this room and stand in my place. Gen. Meade is an accomplished gentleman and scholar, and would fill this place far better than I. Thus you see that during the war men have ri-.en to the higho-t posi tions, and stand there now, not one of whom pretends to be above you; ai'd this teaches the simple lesson that with hon esty of purpose you cn master every problem if you go at if with a good pur pose and a determination to do so. There is no doubt of that, iu my judgment. It requires, of course, a great intellect to become a renowned judge or lawyer or man of science, but for a man of business for the thousand and one employments that give tone aL-d temper to the country, -any young man, with a good, earnest heart, cau ma-ter them. For the art of war, in which renown seems thrust upon us, all that is required is nerve, honor, ' courage and faith in the flag that wius and wins always. I will not occupy mora of your time, for I have seen 'adics aud gentlemen standing here far five long hours, patiently, and you must be tired. I know yoii will say amen to the words I ' have f-poken to these young men and give them a parting and cheerful word as they leave your little village of Hanover and start out into that world which is not so dark and full of bad people as h been represented. Thero are a great many good people in the world. You will find them whereveT you go, for they are all pretty much as God Almighty designed them. Therefore, young gentlemen, wish ing you a happy passage through the sea of lite, I bid you farewell. rSf- If we would have the kindness of others, we must endure their follies. He who canuot persuade himseif to with draw from society must bo content to pay a tribute of hU time to bia multitude ui tyr&QU.