Carlisle herald. (Carlisle, Pa.) 1845-1881, April 17, 1863, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

Lettere testamentary On the estate of Benjamin
Shue, deed., late of South Middleton township, having
boon issued by the Registbr of Cumberland county, to
the subscriber, residing in the same township, notice is
hereby given. to all persons indebted to said estate to
make payment, and those haring claims to present
thorn duly authenticated for settlement to
April 10, 1863-6t*
all the ,NEW Styles, For Ladies
misses k Childrone Wear. French k American
Bonnet Ribbons, and a crer4ral assortment of
at the lowest Cash prices—Wholesale & 'Retail
1111LLINERS Will Consult their interest by examining
my stock before making their purchases.
No 218 Arch Street, Philadelphia,
March 20,1863.
1863. SPRING, 1863.
French Flowers, Ribbons Ac.,
In which they respectfully invite the attention of
Merchant & Milliner.
CASH BUYERS will find special advantage In ox.
:training this stock before purchasing.
March 20, 1863-3 m.
of •..-
_........ Watches, Jewelry,
•,c‘4 ., . .e ' . , '' . - 'HENRY HARPER,
No. 620 ARCH Street. PHILAD'A 4
N. B. All kinds of Silverware mace in the Factory,
bark of the Store.
March 20,1862-3 in.
-DR. JOHNSTON has discovered the
most,ertain, speedy and only effectual remedy in
the world for al, private diseases, weakness of the bark
or limbs. strictures. affections of the hide., s and blad
der, involuntary discharges, impotency, general debili
ty, nervousness, dyspepsy, languor, low spirits, confu
sion of ideas, palpitation of the heart, timidity. troll
bling,s, dimness of sight or fritlitillets. disease 0! - the
head, throat, nose or skin. affectiops of the liver. lungs,
stomach or bowels—those terrible disorders a risi t g ti Gut
fho solitary habits of youth—these secret :Ind solitary
practices 11101 i, fatal to their VI tiros than the song of
igyrens to the Marindia of Ulysses. blighting their most
brilliant hopes or anticipations, rendering marriage,
&c., impossible.
Mr 0171\T G - MEN
Especially, who have become the victims of solitary
vice, that droadful and destructive habit hich annu
ally sweeps to an untimely Bravo thousands of Young
Men of the most exalted talents and brilliant intellect,
who might otherwise have en t stowed listening Senates
with the thunders of el..quence or walicd to ecstasy the
living lyre, may call with full confidence.
Married persons, or young meta contemplating mar
riage, being aware of physical weal< !less, organic
defornailies,.&e., speedily cured.
Ile who places himself under the rare of Pr. J. may
religiously ennlide In his honor as a gmatleman, and
confidently rely upon his skill lIS a physician.
Immediately eared, and full rigor restored. This dis
tressing affection—which renders life miserable and
anafritaKe impossible—is the penalty paid by the; 'ethics
of Improper indulgences. Young persons are too apt to
. l commit excesses frow not being aware of the dreadful
coosequgnee, that inay,.ensue, , Now, who that under
stand, the subject will prett-nd to deny that the power
of procreation is lost sooner by those 'falling into In,-
proper habits than by the prudent ? Fleshier, being de
prived the pleaures of healthy offspring, the most
serious dild destructive, symptoms to both body and
mind arise. The system becomes deranged, the physi
cal and mental functions NV eakentw, loss of prrs.reative
power. nervous irritability, dyspepsia, palpitation 01
the heart, indigestion, constitutional debility. a wast
ing of the frame, cough, consumptionolecay and death
Left hand aide going from Baltimore street, a few doors
from the corner. Fall - not to observe name and number
Letters must he paid and contain a stamp. The Doc
tor's Diplomas hang in his office.
No-Mercury or Nauseous Dr114.14,.-4,r.Johnstonemem
ber. of the Royal College ot :surgeons. London. Oraduate
front one of the most eminent Coil, ges in the United
States, and the greater part of as hose life has been spent
in the hospitals of London, Paris, Philadelphia and
elsewhere, has effected some of the most astonishing
cures that were ever known: many troubled with chip
log In the head and eats when asleep, great nervous
ness, being alarmed at sudden sounds, bashfulness,
with frequent blushing. attended sometimes with de
rangement of mind, were cured immediately.
Dr. J. addresses all those who haveinj used themselves
by improper indulgence and solitary bald's, which ruin
both body and mind. unfitting them for either bus ness,
study, society or marriage.
These are some of the sad and melancholy effects
produced by early habits of youth, viz: Weakness of
the back and limbs, pains in the head, dimness of sight,
loss of muscular power, palpitation of the heart. dyspep
s.y, nervous irritability, derangeu;eut of the digestive
functions, general debility. symptiims of ^onsumpt lon.
- -
MENTALLY.—The fearilll effects on the mine are much
to be dreaded—loss of memory, confusion of ideas, de
pression of spirits, evil forebodings, aversion to society,
self distrust', love of solitude, timidity , &c., are some of
the evils produced.
Thousands of persons•of all ages can now judge what
is the cause of their declining health, losing their vig
or, becoming weak, pale, nervous and emaciated, having
a singular appearance about the eyes, cough and symp.,
toms of consumptim&
Who have injured themselves by a certain practice
Indulged in when alone, a habit frequently learned from
evil companions, or at school, the effects of which are
nightly felt, even when asleep, and if not cured renders
marriage impossible, and destroys both mind and body,
.should apply immediately,
What a pity that a young man, the hope of his coun
try, the darling of his parents, should be snatched from
all prospects and enjoymentse life. by the consequence
of deviatinz from the path or nature and indulging lii
a certain secret habit. Such persons must before con•
.templating '
-reflect that a sound mind and body aro the most ne
cessary requisites to promote connubial happiness
Indeed, without these, the journey through life becomes
.a weary pilgrimage; the prospect hourly darkens to the
view; the mind becomes shadowed with despair and
filled with the melancholy reflection that the happiness
-of another becomes blighled with our own.
When the misguided and imprudent votary of plea
sure finds that he hos imbibed the seeds of this painful
disease, it too often happens that an ill timed Besse of
shacoi;or dread of discovery, deters him from applying
to those who, from education and respectability, can
aloes beftiond him, delaying till the constitutional
symptoms of this horrid disease make their appearance]
such as ulcerated sore throat, diseased nose, nocturne,
pains in the head mad limbs, dhuness of sight, deafness,
nodes on the -hin bones and arms, blotches on the
head, face and extremities, progressing with frightful
rapidity, till at last the palate of the mouth or the
bones of the nose fall in, and the victim of this a vrful
disease becomes a horrid object of commiseration, till
death puts a period to his dreadful suffering., by send
ing him to "that Undiscovered Country from whence
no traveller returns."
It is a melancholy fact that thousands fall victim to
this terrible disease, owing to the unskillfulness of ig
norant protondors, who, by the use of that deadly poi
son, Mercury, ruin the constitution and make tho re
sidue of life miserable.
Trust not your Eves, or health, to the care of the
many unlearned and worthless pretenders, destitute of
knowledge, name or character, who copy Dr. Johnbton's
a ivertisements, or style themselves. in thenewspcpers,
regularly educated physicians, incap.iblu of curing, they
keep you trilling month after month taking their filthy
and poisonous compounds, or as long as the smallestfee
can boobtnined, and in despair, leave you with ruined
health to sigh over-your gailing-disappointment:. _
Dr. Johnston is the ouly,Physician advertising.
II IS Sredantialsaardiplomas alarayithang_in_hianifiec
ills remedies or treatment are unknown to all others,
prepared from a life spent in tinigreat hospitals of Eu
rope, the fi rst in the country and a more extensive
private practice than any other physician In the world.
The many thousands cured at this institution year
Atte' year, and the numerous important Surgical Ope
rations performed by Dr. Johnston, witnessed by the
reporters of the "Sun,' "Clipper:. and many other
papors, notices of which have appeared again and again
before the public, besides Ills standing as it gentleman
of character and respoitsibility, La sk sufficient guarantee
to the afflicted.
Persons writing ' should be particular in directing
their letters to this Institution, in the following men
per; , JOIIN M. JOUNBTON, M, D.,
Of the Baltimore Lock U.:spited, Baltimore, lid;
ilsy l 2, 1862-3 y ,
11,1 N otradsilr
VOL. 63.
A. K. RHEEM, Editor & Propr
Arlertca Nettalt.
From the Atlantic Monthly for March
We aro two travelers, Roger and I.
Roger's my dog.—Come hero you scamp
Jump for the gentleman—mind your oyol
Over the table—look out for the lampl
The rogue is growing a little old ;
Five years we've trammai through wind and
And slept out-doors when nights wore cold,
And ate and drank—and starved—together.
We've learned what comfortis, I tell you I
A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,
A fire to thaw our thumbs, (poor fellow!
Ths paw he holds up there's been frozen,)
Plenty of catgut for my fiddle,
(This out door business is bad for strings,)
Then a few nice buckwhents hot from the griddle,
And Roger and 1 set up for kings.
No, thank yo, Sir,—l never drink;
Roger and I are exceedingly moral—
Aren't we, Roger 7—See hint wink!
Well, something hot, then,—we won't quarrel.
Ile's thirsty, too,—see hint nod his head ?
What a pity, Sir, that dogs can't talk 1
lie understands eve .y word that's said—
And he knows good milk from waterand chalk
The truth is, Sir, now I reflect,
I've been on Rattly given to grog,
I wonder I've not lost thA respect
(Here's to you, Sir!) even of my dog.
But be sticks by, through thick and thin:
And this old coat, with its empty pockets,
And rags that smell of tobacco and gin
Hell follow v.hile he has eyes in his scckets
There isn't another creature li,i log
Would do It, and prove, through every disaster,
So fond, so faithful, and sO forgiving,
To such u miserable thauiaeS3 mastm !
No, Sir!—nee him wag his tall and grin I
By George! it makes my old eyes water;
That is, there's something in this gin
That chokes a follow. But no mutter I
We'll have some music, if you're willing,
And Roger (hem! what a plague a cough la, Sir!)
Shall march a littie.—Start, you villain !
Stantfstraight ! 'Eout face! Salute your officer!
Put up that paw: Dress! Take your rifle!
(Seine digs have !mug, you see!) Now hold your
Cap while the gentleman gives a trifle,
- To aid a poor old patriot soldier!
.ffiarrh Halt' Now show how the rebel shakes,
Wheu he stands up to hoar his sentence.
Now tell us how many drams it takes
To honor a jolly new aequalntanre. •
Five yelps.—l list's five; he's mighty knowing!
The night's before us, till the glasses!
Quick. Sir! I'm brain is going—
Some brandy,—thank you,—there?—it passes!
Why not reform l That's easily said:
But I've gone through such wretched treatment,
Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,
And scarce remembering what meat weeny'
That my peer stomach's past reform ;
And there are times, n hen, mad with thinking,
I'd sell out heaven for something warm
To prop a herribleinwarrlslnking: _
Is there a way to forget to think?
At your age, Sir, home, fortune, friends,
A dear girl's love,—but I took to drink :
The same old story! you know how It ends.
If you could hare seen-these cla3sic features, I
You need'nt laugh, Sir they were not then
Such a burning libel on God's creatures;
I was one of your handsome men!
Tryon had seen iltilt, so fair and young,
Whose head 'was happy on this breast!
If you could have heard the songs that I sung
When the wine went round, you wouldn't have
That ever I, Sir, should be straying
From door to door, with fiddle and dog,
Ragged and penniless, and playing
To night for a glass of grog!
She's married Since,—a parson's wife;
'Twas better for her that wo should part—
Better the soberest, prosiest life
Than a blasted home and a broken heart.
I have seen her? Once; I was weak and spent
On the dusty road: a carriage stopped:
But little did she dream, aeon she went,
Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped!
You've set me talking, Sir: I'm sorry;
It makes me wild to think of the change!
What do you care for a beggar's story
Is It amusing t You find it strange?
I had a mother so proud of me I
'Twas well she:died before—Do you know
If the happy spirits In heaven can see
The ruin and wretchedness hero below
Another glass, and strong, to deaden
This pain ; then Roger and I will start.
I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden,
Aching thing, in place of a heart
lle is sad sometimes, and would weep, if ho could,
No doubt, remembering things that were,—
A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food,
And himself a sober, respectable cur.
I'm better now ; that glass was warming,—
You rascal I limber your lazy feet I
We must be fiddling and peforming
For supper and bod, or starve in the street.—
Not a very,gay life to lead, yin' think I
But sood we shall go where lodgings are free,
And the sleepers nood neither victuals or drink:—
The sooner the better for Rogeri and me!
Ting-a-ling-lingling I—went the little bell
on the teacher's desk of a village-school one
morning, when the studies of the earlier
part of the day were about half completed.
It was well, understood that this was a corn
mand_lor silence and P'' qion; and when
these had, been obtai• le master spoke.
11 - e - wwa - 1 - 6W -7 1 1 1i - CY- 7 y and his name
was Lugare.
"Boys," said he, "I have had a complaint
entered, that last night some of you were
stealing fruit from Mr. Nichols's garden. I
rather think I know the thief. Tim Barker,
step up here, sir." • •
The one to whom he spake came forward.,
Be was a slight, fair-looking boy of about
fourteen i•and his face had a laughing, good
humored expression, which oven the charge
now preferred against him, and the stern , -
tone and threatening look of the teacher had
not entirely dissipated. . The countenance of
the boy, however, was too unearthly fair for..
health ; it had, notwithstanding its fleshy,
cheerful look, a singular cast as if some in
ward disease, and that a fearful one, were
seated within. As the stripling stood before
that place of judgment, that place; so often
made the scene of heartless and coarse bru
tality, of timid innocence confused, helpless
childhood outraged,and gentle feelings crush
ed—Lugare looked on him with a frown
which plainly told that he felt in no very
pleasant mood. Happily a worthier and
more philosophical system is proving to men
that schools can be better governed, than by
lashes and tears and sighs. We are waxing
toward that consummation when one of the
old-fashioned schoolmasters, with his cowhide,
his heavy birch rod, and his many ingenious
methods of child-torture, Will be gazed upon
as a scorned memento of an ignorant, cruel,
and exploded doctrine. May propitious
gales sp,ed that day !
• "Were you by Mr. Nichols's garden fence
last night?" said Lugare.
" Yes, sir," answered the boy : "I was."
"Well, sir, I'm glad to find you so ready
with your confession. And so you thought
you could do a little robbing, and enjoy your
self in a manner you ought to be ashamed
to own, without being punished, did you ?"
"I have not been robbing," replied the
boy quickly. His face was suffused, whether
with resentment or fright, it was difricult to
tell. " And I didn't do anything, last night,
that I'm ashamed to own."
"No impudence!" exclaimed the teacher,
passionately, as he grasped a lo,g and heavy
rattan : "give me none of yoursharpspeeches,
or I'll thrash you till you beg like a dog."
"The youngsters face paled a little ; his
lip quivered, but lie did not speak.
" And pray, sir,' continued Lugare, as the
outward signs of wrath disappeared from his
features; "what were you about. the garden
for? Perhaps you only received the plun
der, and had an accomplice to do the more part of the job ?"
"I went that way because it is on my road
home. I was there again afterward to meet
an acquaintance; and—and—but I did not
go into the garden, nor take anything, away
from it. I would not steal,—hardly to save
myself from starving."
" You had better have stuck to that last
evening. You were seen, Tim Barker, to
come from under ;dr. Nichol's garden-feng:e,
a little after nine o'clock, with a bag full of
sninelpng.‘or : otner, over your shoulders.—
The Wag' had every appearance of iNwing
filled with fruit, and this morning the melon
beds are found to have beer. completely
cleared. Now, sir, what was there in the
bag ?"
Like fire itself glowed the faae'of the de
tected lad. Be spoke not a word. All the
school had their eyes directed at him. The
perspiration ran down his white forehead
like rain-drops.
" Speak, sir I" exclaimed Lugare, with a
a loud strike of his ratan on the desk.
The boy looked as though he would faint.
But the unmerciful teacher, confident of
having- brought to light a--criminal; and ex ,
ulting in the idea of the severe chastisement
he should now be justified in inflicting, kept
working himself up to a still greater and
greater degree of passion. In the mean
time, the child seemed hardly to know what
to do with himself. His tongue cleaved to
the ropf of his mouth. Either lie, was very
much frightened, or he was actually unwell.
" Speak, I say l" again thundered Lugare;
and his hand, grasping his ratan, towered
above his head in a very signiffcant manlier.
" I hardly can, sir," said the poor fellow
faintly. His voice was husky and thick.—
" I will tell you some—some other time.—
Please to let me go to my seat—l ain't
" Oh yes, that's very likely ;" and Mr. Lu
gore bulged out his nose and cheeks with
contempt. "Do you think to make me be
lieve your lies ? I've found you out, sir,
plainly enough ; and I am satisfied that you
are as precious a little villain as there is in
the State. But I will postpone settling .with
you for an hour yet. I shall then call you
up again ; and it you don't tell the whole
truth then, I will give you Efotnetliing that:ll
make you remember Mr. Nichol's melons
fur many a month to come :—go to your
Glad enough of the ungracious permis
sion, and answer lug not a sound, the child
crept tremblingly to his bench. He felt
very strangely, dizzily—more as if he was
in a dream than in teal life ; and laying his
arms on his desk, bowed down his face be
tween them. The pupils turned to their ac
customed studies, fool during the reign of
Legere in the village school, they had been
so used to scenes of violence and severe
chastisement, that such things made but
little interruption in the tenor of their way.
Now, while the intervening hour is passing,
we will clear up the mystery of the bag, and
of young Barker being under the garden
fence on the preceding night. The boy's
mother was a widow, and they both had to
live in the narrowest limits. His father had
died when he was six years old, and little
Tim was left a sickly, emaciated infant
whom no one expected_ to live many months.
To the surprise of all, however, the poor
little child kept alive, and seemed to recover
his health, us lie certainly did his size and
good looks. This was owing to the kind
offices of an eminent physician who had a
country-seat in the neighbirhood, and who
had been interested in the widoW's
family. Tim, the physician said, might
possibly outgrow his disease ; but everything
was uncertain. It was a mysterious, and
baffling malady ; and it would not be wonder
ful if he should in some'ntotnent of apparent
health be suddenly taken away. The poor
widow--was-at first in a continual-state-of-Mir
easiness ; but several_years bad now Passed,
and none of the impending evils had fallen
upon the boy's head. His mother seemed to
feel confident that he would live, and be a
help and 'an honor to her old age ; and /The
two struggled on. together', mutually happy
in each other, and eudpring much of pov
erty and discomfort without repining, each
for the other's sake.
. 1 Tim's pleasant disposition had made him
many friends in the village, and among the
rest a young-farmer named Jones, who with
his elder brother, workeda largo farm in the
neighborhood on shares. Jones very Ire
quently,maile Tim a present of a bag of po
ta_toes or corn, or some garden vegetables,
which he took from his own stock ; but as
his partner was a parsimonious, high-temper
ed man, and had often said that Tim was an
idle fellow, and ought not to be helped be
cause he did not work, Jones generally made
his ffifts in such a manner that no one knew
anything about them, except himself and the
grateful objects of his kindness. It might
be, too, that the widow was loth to have it
understood by the neighbors that she receiv
ed food from any One ; for there is often an
excusable pride in people of her condition
which makes them shrink from being con
sidered as objects of' charity' as they would
from the severest pains. On the night in
question, Tim had been told that Jones would
send them a bag _of potatoes, and the place
at which they were to be waiting for him was
fixed at Mr. Nichols's garden-fence. It was
this bag that Tim had been seen staggering
under, and which caused the unlucky boy to
be accused and convicted by his teacher as a
thief. That teacher was one little fitted for
his important and responsible office. Hasty
to decide, and inflexibly severe, he was the
terror of the little world he ruled so despoti 7
cally. Punishment he seemed to delight in.-
Knowing little of those sweet fountains which
in children's breasts ever open quickly at the
call of gentleness and kind words, he was
tuered by all for his sternness, and loved by
none. I would that he were an isolated
instance in his profession.
The hour of grace had drawn to its close,
and Ike time approached at which it was
usual for Lugar° to give his school a joyfully
received dismission. Now and then one of
the scholars would direct a furtive glance at
Tim, sometimes in pity, sometimes iu indif
ferenee tie inquiry. They knew that be Would
have no mercy shown him, and though most
of them loved him, whipping was too com
mon there to exact much sympathy. Every
inquiring glance, however remained unsatis
fied, fur at the end of the hour, Tim remained
with his face completely hidden, and his head
bowed in his arms, precisely as he had leaned
himself when lie first. wont to his seat• Lu-
pre looked at the boy occasionally with a
scowl which seined to bode vengeance for hie
sullenness. At length the last class had been
heard, and the last lesson recited, and Lu
gare seated hiinsea behind his desk on the
platform, with his longest and stoutest rattan
Now, Barker," he said. " we'll settle that
little business of yours. Just step up here."
Tim did not wove. The school-room was
as still Ist the grave. Not a- sound was to
be heard; except occasionally a long-drawn
" Mind me, sir. or it will bo the worse for
you. Step up hero, and take off your jacket! '
The boy did not stir any more than if he
had been made of wood. Lugare shook with
passion. Ile sat still a minute, as if consid.
ering the best way to wreak this vengeance.—
That.minute; passed in death like silence, was
a fearful one to some of the children, for their
faces .whitened with fright. It seemed, as it
.lowly dropped away, like the minute which
prececdes the climax of an exquisitely-per
formed tragedy, when some mighty master of
the' histrionic af is 'treading "t lie "stage, - and
you and the multitude around you are wait
ing, with stretched nerves and suspended
breath, in expectation of the terrible mites •
trop he.
Tim is asleep, sir," at length said one of
he boys who sat near him.
Legere, at this intelligence, allowed his
features to relax from their expressions of
savage anger into a smile, but that smile
looked more malignant, if possible, than his
former scowls. It might be that he felt
amused at the horror depicted on the faces
of those about him ; or it, might be that he
was glowing in pleasure on the way in which
he intended to wake the poor little slumberer.
" Asleep! are you, my young gentleman !"
let us see if we eap't find something to tick
le your eyes open. .There's nothing like
making the best of a bad ease, boys. Tim,
herb, is determined not to be worried in his
wind about a little flogging, for the thought
of it can't even keep the little scoundrel awake."
Lugare smiled again as he made the last ob
servation. Ho grasped his ratan firmly, and
descended from his seat. With light and
stealthy steps-her crossed the room, and stood
by the unlucky sleeper. The boy was still
us unconscious of his impending punishment
as ever. Ho might be dreaming some golden
dream of youth and pleasure; perhaps he was
far away in the world of fancy, seeing scenes
and feeling delights, which cold reality never
can bestow. Lugare lifted his rattan high
over his head, and with the true and expert
aim which he had acquired by long practice,
brought it down on Tim's back with a force
and whacking sound which seemed sufficient to
awake a freezing man in his last lethargy.—
Quick and - fast, blow followed, blow. With
out waiting to see the effect of the first cut,
the brutal wretch plied his instrument of tor
ture first on ono side of the boy's back, and
then on the other, and only stopped at the
end of two or three minutes from very weari
ness. But still Tim showed no signs of mo
tion ; and as Lugare, provoked at his torpidi
ty, jerked away one of the child's arms, on
which he had been leaning over on the desk,
his bead dropped on tho board with a dull
Bound, and his face lay turned up Mid ex•
posed to view. When Lugare saw it, he stood
like one transfixed by a basilisk. Hie coun
tenance turned to a leaden whiteness; the
rattan dropped from his grasp ; and his eyes,
stretched wide open, glared as at some mon
strous spectacle of horror and death. The
sweat started in groat globules seemingly
front every pore in his face; his skinny lips
contracted, and showed his teeth ; and when
he at length stretched forth his arm, and with
the end of one of his fingers touched the
child's cheek, each limb quivered like the
tongue of a snake ; and his strength seemed
as though it would momentarily fail him.—
The boy was' dead. He had probably been
so for some.time, for his oyes wore turned up,
and his botty_was_quite cold. The With) w_ was_
now childless too. Death was in the school- .
- rotnrri ant7l.--I,:vga're-had-bilan-flagging-x-rouraz
ing appearing on a letter from a soldier ad
dressed to a young lady ;
Soldier's letter, and na'ry red;
Hard tack in plane of broad ;
Postmaster, shove this through,
I'vo na'ry, a stamp, but 7 months duo.
Miss Stalls E. Bradley,
Man-chased-her, N. -H.
Care of Mr. Thomas Kelly 129 east 11th
street• Now York .4.therica for Pat or Michael
Kelly or any of their• sisters these aro John
Kellys children from-Knock.
TERMS:--$1,50 in Advance, or $2 within the year.
" Remain firm, and do not depress us and
discourage us with your fears, but cheer us
with your hopes " Thus writes an officer of
the United States army. It is bard, when
our noble eons are in the field, defending us,
our homes and interests, from those who
would make us their slaves, to dishearten them
by expressions of fear, or to echo the propho
cies of Ole subjects of " Doubting Castle."
"Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul ? and
why art thou disquieted within me ?" Very
few of those who are "cast down" can toll why
they are disquieted. Independent of the hope
every man should have in him who always
proposes what will ultimately benefit the race,
we have every reason to cheer our noble and
self sacrifioing arms , . We never had more or
bettor men in the field, never had so many
guns mounted and afloat, never had so many
or such powerful ships, never so much real
power in hand as at this moment, and, per
contra, the rebels were never so distressed
and never near a complete collapse as now.
They brag in print aul cry aloud and spare
not in public speeches, while the secret dis
patches to their foreign friends speak of mis•
ery and suffering, which cannot long escape
death pangs.
We are in plenty—they are in extreme want;
and while they are desperate, we need only to
be true and in earnest to conquer.
Croakers tell us that our .Government is
bankrupt—facts tell us that the income tax
and duties on imports wilLyield us $150,000,
000 per annum ; that the circulating medium
of the country, without detriment to its inter
est, will give the Government a credit of $300,-
000,000, and that the people will take at or
near par several hundred millions of interest
Croaker's tell us that our Government is im
becile. Facts tell us it is strong, and on the
whole equal to the unprecedented and MOll.
strous load suddenly laid upon it ; that it has
selected generals and officers from every party
and sect, endeavoring to get the right men in
the right place.
Croakers tell us the army is incongruous ;
facts speak of unity and daring—of heroic
deeds, that will live while the memory of
croakers will not.
It is true we have arch foes—traitors in front
and• croakers in rear ; and of the two the form •
or are more to be admired. ()f the latter
there are a great variety. There are hard
shelled croakers and soft shelled croakers
fhe former do nothing but pay what the law
compels ; the latter growl, skulk, arid pay no•
thing. Then .there are the "Outs," who have
been so long accustomed to eat from their
master's trio that they, less intelligent than
the ox, think it their own, and having prac
ticed at the game, cry "Plunder !" So cries
the incendiary after he has fired a dwelling.
"Stop thief !" is the covert cry of the real
Then there are some of the contractors, who
have aided, with their shoddy, bad shoes and
bad supplies, to lessen the efficiency and in
crease the sufferings of the honest soldier.—
They cry. It looks dark!" -The Quarter
masters don't pay !",,,,when to pay such would
rob the people and reward heartless ec,xtrips.
Then there are the Pilates, who sit on set
tees in 'Change hours asitudges, "wash their
hands before the multitude, saying, We are
innocent ;" and while their country is being
falsely accused and its life threatened, they
wish the army would march on IVashington,
demand their pay, return home, and let Jeff.
Davis St . Co. enter the Capital.
Lastly. The fainthearted. They should
be pitied, not blamed, if they aro women ; but
if mon, they are beneath pity.
Who that has a heart will not stand up for
his country and defend its flag ? "My coun
try, my whole country I " is the cry of every
true man. Mistakes, blunders and reverses
will Dome ; rogues will plunder ; true rebels
will fight ; hypocrites will skulk ; but real men
will come and defend their country in spite of
all things, and, like the burgomaster of Old
Leyden, say, '•Yotr may kill and devour this
body, but my country I wilt never surrender I"
We have wealth, men' guns, courage, right,
upon our side, and we only want earnest pur
pose to end this war. To briar , °
out all our
strength—and especially that of earnestness
—we may have forced upon us the misery of
burned cities and defeated armies; but come
what may, conquer we can, we must, and—
Dee volente—we will !
Courage boys of the army ! You shall bo
cheered, fed, clothed and supported ; and,
should your ranks be thinned and our country
call, she shall not ask, ," Where aro the fa
thers ?"
I DIDN'T THINK I—Why then, did you, stu
pid, pour the comphene into ho lamp when
the wick was burning? Why did you give
the child a fork to play with, when you knew
that there is a positive incompatibility be
tween eyes and forks? In the name of the
mildest common sense, why did you go into
the kitchen with a silk dress on to teach the
cook how to stuff a turkey with oysters ?
Think ; what's that beautiful headpiecd for? Is
it a dummy, on which to lavish,hair oil, chalk,
rouge, and India ink? Is the mouth au or•
ifice for dentists to examine and perhaps de
lude from its propriety ? Are the eyes more
ornaments in mockery of intelligence, and
the ears mere outriggers from which cheap
jewelry may dangle.? Are the brains within
the skull such mere filling as you wear in your'
dross? Think, oh I Why u horse on the dark
est night instinctively stops at the edge of the
precipice. A hen will not go into the water.
Is there no poetry save that which Mother
Goose has given us ? fithall we have nothing
but the'everlsting excuse of " I didn't think?"
Do you put on olothes from the mere habit of
the thing, or from an inherent feeling of mod •
esty ? How is it that you read or write, or
communicate with friends ! Why not bray%
as does the long eared animal, instead of using
i7ords to express the emotions' of pleasure or
or pain ? If you have not been in the habit.
of thinking, begin at once. It is easily ac
quired withoutit"master. — Heels are riot—es
sential for its oultiv_atlna: Natiire_ has furr
nished immense examples from •the mere ob
servation of which ono may fall inlolhe habit
,of thinking, and that very deeply. Lose no
time in dullness. Take 'a practical exampri,
for instance. Attempt to put year finger on
a fly, and account for the flight before you
approach within ten times its length. If that
is too deep for the mental powers, - attempt' to
drink a cup of cscalding hot tea, and say why
it, burns.. Let us have no more of "I didn't
think V' It is paltry, very paltry— not?
Conness, the new senator .frtiiii - California, is
said to be in favor of freeing the eaves of
the rebels, and if need be of arming thern.•
Decline of the "Peace" Move ment.
The failure of the peace conference mote-
meat iti the Illinois and lientucky Legiela.
tureS was occasioned na - doubt in part by the
contempt with which the Secession leaders re
ceive the Overtures , of their old friends and
allies. The St. Louis Democrat states the
ease upon this point very well, atifallows:--.
" The fact is that the Northern sympathi•
zers with treason have begun to find that ay,
" Peace, peace !" as much as they may, there
is no peace. The consequence is that many
of them, like John Van Duren, will cease the
cry and take up the tune that the war must
go on. Nearly all of them have once already
sung hosannas to the war,,, and the change
from the advocacy of peace to war will be no
more difficult than was the one from war to
The loyal border ' State men who have bad
to bear the brunt of the war, were actuated,
as it appeared, by no such mild notions of the
rights and dignity of the government as are
hold by those who claim to be their especial
friends. For instance the Louisville Journal/
of the 17th says:—
" The adoption of the policy of Mr. Val
landigham at the outset of the struggle would
have been fatal to our national honor; a con
fession that the theory of our government had
been a lamentable failure, and a 9, admission
that-A be people were unable or unfit to gov
ern themselves under republican institutions.
How much more degrading and subversive of
the great principles which underlie our Con
stitution would a craven peace be now when
we have so lavishly expended blood and
treasure to maintain the integrity of the
Union atid'ttiallovi'to the world that our pop
ular institution are self-sustaining, and that
the great problem of our government has not.
reduced its demonstration to an absurdity."
Even the St. Louis Republican, a journal
whose sympathies have sometimes been re
garded with no little doubt, takes ground
which would not have been countenanced
all by the " new Hartford Convention." That
paper says in its issue of the 16th :
" The Democratic and conservative party
of the North must not place itself in a pok
tion. to be reckoned in any sense the champion
or apologist of Disunion, for, if it should do
so, it is plain that peace will be only the
further removed by the encouragement the
South will have to hold out for its original
demand, viz : the unconditional acknowledg
ment on our part of a divided nation.
" However the case may have once stood,
or may hereafter stand, it quite apparent that
of Union—the whole Union, the great Repub
lic of our fathers—and opposition to the
further prosecution of the war, are now in
compatible in the loyal' States, viewing the
present uncompromising and insolent.attitude
of the leaders of the rebellion. When the is..
sue is so unmistakably made up, and no dis
position is shown to receive any peaceable
overtures whatever, we see no recourse but
to fight."
The same paper also flatly contradicts the
assertions made by. Mr. D. A. Mahony, the
lowa editor now in New York, as to the prev
alence of " peace" sentiments in the North
west, and after denying that the radical poli
cy has made the rebels any more hostile to
the Union than they were before, comes to
the following wise conclusion:—
NO. 15.
"It is no argument against
. the war that
some persons support it because they believe
it will result in the abolition of slavery.—
Whatever side issues there may be in the
minds of different persons, the contest is still
one for Union, and pro eminently so. We
can only have Union now by vigorously prose
cuting the war ; for to cease hosiilities in the
face of the uncompromising demands of the
rebels is simply to consent to the disintegra
tion-of the.eountry.".. _
The reaction from the army was also very
effective in demonstrating to the ultra oppo
sition that they were going too far. Thus
the Chicago Evening Journal of the 17th ex
plains the reason of the failure of the " paci
fication" resolution in the Illinois legislature
as follows:
There is a set of resolutions in print, en
dorsed by several thousand Illinois soldiers
now in Mississippi, and a virtuous principle
of loyalty and patriotism still extant in the
West, which not only offset the Legislative
" pacification" resolutions, but actually pre
vented the final action of the Senate to give
thorn force. In short, the Senate did not•dare
to vote upon them."
In confirmation of this the Evening Journal
prints a part of a private letter from the army
at Corinth, from which we take the following
" The troops from other States take almost
as much interest in this affair as do those
from Illinois, though they have taken no part
in the proceedings. They say, significantly,
Why don't you march right to your Capitol
and hang every traitor?' Our troops reply,
Wait,,obey the laws, but prosecute the war
until we arrive at an honorable peace. Those
traitors at Springfield cannot, dare not, pull
down our State Constitution. Wait until they
have had time to realize the utter disgrace
which they will bring upon themselves. They
dare not commit the treason.' "
How a politician got a Wife and
Saved $95,000.
The New York correspondent of the Boston
Journal tolls the following story : Quite a
sharp buiiness transaction in a marital way
has been done here,, if report is true, by one
of our successful and most unscrupulous
politicians. Having some money he wanted
a wife from a strata in society a little above
what he was accustomed to move in, so he
sought the hand of one of the fair damsels
of Gotham. As his political prospects were
quite high, he was referred to "Pa." The
old man, with mercantile frankness, laid his
child at the disposal of the seeker, on condi
tion that he would give his daughter $lOO,.
000, secured on real estate. The man in
want of a wife was both able and willing to
do so. The matter was thus settled, and the
wedding preparations went onward. An el
egant house in an aristocratic locality, was
taken, and the good bargain of the fair one
was the theme of general comment.
As the hour drew near when the happy
pair were to bo made one, the father hinted
,that the little mercantile transaction prelim
inary to the , marriage should be atfewied
"Oh, yes—oh, certainly—certainly ;"tho bland
politician said. But it was not till the afier
norm ontidal - day alit - the papers in due
form_were laid_before the gratif i ed papa.--So
the wedding ran along, an account of which
gratified Now Ybrk, and produced a sensa
tion that lasted two days. . Upon subsequent
examination it was found that on thesame
day,-bearing even date with the marriage
settlement, a mortgage on' that seam proper
ty, duly recorded before the. delivery- of the
Said $lOO,OOO to the . bride, was made, con
v'eving the said property to a near and sharp
relative for $95,000, leaving the girl with
,$,5000. , •
An °tame bas been received in New York,
from the Tycoon of Japan, ,for the construct-
Lion of ikree large steamships for the jape.