fs vtertzti
From tho Atlantic Monthly.
1 13.4RBARA
': l l:iplronk the meadows rich with corn,
C-blear In the cool September morn,
El
H
BEI
The cinstered spires of Frederick stand
Green-Walled by the bills of Maryland.
ItoiiinObout theft' orchards swoop,
Applo dud poach•tree fruited deep,
arta garden of the Lord
To tho oyes of the famished horde,
On that pleasantmorn of the early fall
When Leo marched aver the mountain-wall,—
Over the mountains winding down,
noise and foot Into Frederick town
•Forty dna with their sliver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped In the morning wind: the sun
or noon looked down, and PAW not ono.
rose old Barbara Frietchlo than,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten
Bravest of all In_Frederiek town,
- Bhe took up the flag the men hauled down;
r — Tiher attic window the stalT she set,
To shoW that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street come.the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
* Under his slouched bat left and right
Ho glanced ; the old flag met his of ,ht
Thin I"—the dust brown ranks stood fast,
"Fire!"--out blazed the rifle blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash,
It rent the banner with 1303 In and gash,
Quick, as It fell from the broken staff,
Demo Barbera snatched the silken scarf ;
Fite leaned far out oh the window-sill,
And shook It forth with a royal will.
•' Shoat, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your couu try's flag," oho said.
A shade of sadnosa, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within hlm stirred
To;l1fe nt that woman's deed and word
"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies liken dog) March on I" he said
All :lay long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet:
All day long that free : flag tossed
Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever Its torn folds rose and fall .
Of tho loyal winds that loved It well;
And through the hill gaps sunset light
Shone ovor It with a warm good-night.
Darbirs Frieteble's work is o'er
Aud the Rebel rides on his raids no more
Honor to her! and let n tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall'a bier
Over Barbara Frleteble's grave
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy oymbol of light , and law ;
And ever the stars above 19ok down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!
glil4Jcialitntplo.
(From tho New• York Ditmatvh.)
A CORPORAL'S ADVENTURE.
BY AUGUSTUS COMSTOCK
During the battle of Gaines' Mills, a
bullet passed through the wrist of Cor
poral G—, as he was in the act of ram
ruing a cartridge. His Captain told him
to go to the hospital, and G— left the
field with that intention. But lie was
unable to find the place and lost himself
in the woods.
Weary, faint, and almost parched with
thirst, the corporal staggered on, forcing
his way through tangled brushwood and
pestilent swamps in search of water to
cool his burning throat, and to allay the
excruciating pain of his wound.
While thus engaged he heard the pro
longed shriek of an approaching shell, and
the next moment the in'ssile exploded a
bove his head, one of the pieces striking
his left foot and crushing the toes. The
corporal leaned against a tree for support.
The pain of this last injury penetrated to
every nerve, and made him so faint that
he could scarcely stand. By a powerful
exertion of his will, however, the young
soldier recovered himself; and, as the
murmur of a stream now fell pleasantly
upon his ears, he mustered strength to
limp in the* direction of the sound.—
With much difficulty he succeeded in
reaching the coveted spot, when he found
himself upon a bank about five feet in
height, at the foot of which flowed the
bright, cool waters of the spring. But,
as he was dragging himself over the bank,
-his wounded foot caught in a twig, and
he.was precipitated down the declivity
with great force. The next moment he
bad lost all consciousness, his temple
having come into violent contact with a
stone on the other side of the stream.
He must have remained in this situa
tion a long time, for,-when he again
opened his eyes, they encountered the
moon and stars shining down upon him
through the branches of the trees. The
wind was sighing mournfully through the
tall pines, and the song of the whip-poor
will, together with the weird hooting of
owl, and .other strange birds of the night
saluted his ears. Many seconds elapsed
ere he was enable to collect his scattered
thoughts sUffmiently to realize his po
sition. ,The pain of his wounds then re
vived his memory.
Ile .was lying With his feet in the wa
ter, and his head near the stone against
which it had struck. His garments wore
wet with the heavy dew, ho felt chilled
god bummed. He raised himself to a
gild:l...posture—then bending down ap
plied lips to the stream and itnbided a
number' of
_refreshing draughts y after
which he commenced to bathe his wound
ed wrist in the cool and sparkling cur
rent.
These operations refreshed and. in
spired his heart with a feeling of cheer
fulness—but while he was thus employed
the sounds of approaching foootsteps and
voices foil suddenly upon his cars.
'There's a spring_yight ahead here,"
one of the speakers. " Come on,
VPY.a.!' - • •
The' voice 'was load and rough, but the
thought he could reeognie it as
'that - o(it? tio4, , ean tOf has company. His
) 9' lo.liptiodcd,.with;
eihity of these whom 'fie.suppcised,.i Were
frielidsJ
Thi'PartidreW 'nearer" eierY,itioinenti
and'the woundedsadier by atrainiag his
Ayes, could now distinguish The outli_neS
.pc theirligUres, , A few more steps and
:uniforms became visible.' The corporal
4ifartjad.with sutpriae and disappointment,
: ita he, beheld tho:.gray jackets, gray pants
4fini- e naps of,rehel:doldiersl,:.;
VOL. 63.
A. K. RHEEM, Editor & Proprietor
" Helloa! exclaimed the formost of the
new comers. " What have we heals
One of them ar red—legs.
" He's wounded, I reckon," said an
other.
" Put your bay'net through him, Bill,"
said the third, addressing the first speak
er, "That 'ar's s'hortest way to deal with
them fellars."
" Where is 'o—Where's the Zouave !"
yelled one of the rebels who had evident
ly been lagging behind the rest but who
now rushed furiously forward with scorwl
ing brow and flaming eyes. " Where is
the fellah ! I'll make short work of him
It was one of them'ar boys that shot my
brother durin' the battle 1"
Perceiving the object of his wrath, who
was now attempting to rise to his feet, the
rebel ran toward him with the 'intention
of running the bayonet through his body.
But quick as thought the corporal with
his left hand, drew a pistol from his sash
and pointed it at the head of his foe, in
formed him very quietly that if he ad
vanced another step he would blow out
his brains.
" God !" exclaimed the one who had
been addressed as Bill. " I like the
Yank's spunk. Let him alone, Joe,' he
added, laying his hand upon the arm of
his enraged companion : ''it's co use
killin that 'ar zoo—zoo for nothin !"
" You just shut up, will you ?'' roared
Joe, shaking off the arm of the other.—
" I'll have revenge for my brother's
blood, or I'm no Texan !"
As he uttered these words, one of the
rebels had stolen behind the wounded
soldier, knocked his pistol from his grasp,
and picking up the weapon thrust it in
his belt.
" Unit 'ar's - a good pistol," sa id h e ,
"and I take -possession of it in the name
of the federacy."
" And that' ar's a good bay'net I" thun
dered Joe, as he made a furious lung at
the 7: ouave.
But ere it could reach its destination,
Bill struck down the piece with his own
musket, the consequence of which was
that the bayonet, instead of entering the
stomach of the corporal, passed through
the fleshy part of the thigh, causing him
to lose control of his leg. lie fell to the
earth and for a few minutes the sensa
tion of numbness which pervaded the
limb, rendered him powerless to move.
Joe was about to finish the work he
had commenced, but Bill interposed and
firmly objected to the proceedings, in
which he was joined by two more of the
party, so:: that the rebel was firmly com
pelled to forge his murderous design.
Having filled their canteens, the sol-
diers departed leaving the corporal to his
fate.
The feeling: of numbness whiA he had
first experienced in the wounded limb,
had been followed by a dull heavy pain,
and an in:.reased flow blood. A deadly
faintness pervaded his frame, dimming
his vision and confusing his brain, lle
drew from his pocket a piece of an old
turband, and en,eavored to tie it around
his leg in the vicinity of the wound.—
Could he have accomplished this, the
flow of the life-current would have been
stopped. But owing to the state of. his
wrist which only permitted the use of
one hand, he was unable to fa,yen the
bandage And now, completely over
powered by his exertions, he sank back
to the earth in a perfectly helpless condi
tion.
Steadily and rapidly the warm blood
continued to gush from his wound. It
formed in a large pool near the spot where
the leg rested, and ran past him in little
rivulets upon the ground. II is last dim
ming vision beheld the red currents glid
ing by—beheld his life passing away from
him, and in his heart he felt that he was
a doomed roan. The strength of an infant
was not left to his frame. 11 is heart beat
slowly and feebly—lie could move neith
er hand or foot. Ile could hear the mur•
mur of the stream within a few yards of
tle split where he lay, and the noise tan
talized him. Ilis parched lips moved
convulsively and a wistfully light flicker
ed on his half closed eyes. Oh, for one
draught of those cool, sparkling waters.
"Angels of heaven !" murmured his
spirit, "only one drop—one drop of wa
ter."
A small diamond-shaped head sudden
ly rose from a tuft of grass near the place
he occupied, and a pair of glittering eyes
gleamed before him like sparks of fire.—
These disappeared in a moment, and a sec
ond afterward he Telt a tight pressure a.
round his leg; in the vicinity of the wound.
The feeling was as though two or three
turns of a rope had encircled the limb and
were now being tightly twisted around it
At the same moment the corporal became
aware that the blood had almost ceased
to flow.
Believing that at last some friend had
come to his assistance, and had fastened
a bandage round his leg, the corporal, too
weak to raise his head, murmured faintly,
"For God's sake, bring inc a drop of
water.".
lint there came no response.
i , Why don't ypu speak ?" continued
the reouave.
Still there was no reply.
The cessation - of the - flow of *blood had
now enabled him to regain a little of his
lost strength. With much difficulity he
succeeded in raising himself upon his el
bow:' No person 'was to be seen, bat as
hitt eyey'Avatidered' to' hls'wounded leg he
VoliOd 0. sight that ticrilled him With, as,
tonishment, and shoWed him that thp's4-
-pbsed : band'age . --Was--nothing more-or- less
Alan . a serpent, which had tightly twisted
itself about dteliMb utiii was now , e6gaged
in .gorging itself with the, blood upon the
. Too weak tninaintai'n his position Ion•
ger, the young! soldier, sank bank upon
tIo oarth with 4 10,W 9 , 7 of horror, ex-
h' tilT4lx,
•IJii
peeting, every moiMent, to feel the fangs
de the reptile in his flesh. But, as hour
after hour passed away and the snake still
maintained its position without offering
him any harm, he grew reconciled to the
creature, which acting thus as a bandage,
kept the red current of life at bay.
The long night wore on, and the moon
was sinking in the west, when the corpo
ral heard steps approaching. Nearer and
nearer they came, every moment, and a
low cry of joy escaped his lips as a large
party of the blue uniformed men at last
presented themselves to his view. They
proved to be a detail from the —th Con
necticut Regiment.
"Good Go I" they exclaimed, as, upon
bending over the Zouave, they discovered
the serpent twisted about his leg, "what
is the meaning of this'?"
Alarmed at the noise the reptile now
disengaged iiself and glided away.
"That creature," faintly murmured the
corporal, "has saved ray life I" and he
proceeded to explain to the soldiers those
facts which have already been detailed.
The men listened with interest to the
recital, and then twisting a bandage of
cloth about the wounded limb, they lift
ed the Zuuave between them, and, having
refreshed him with water front the stream,
pursued their way.
"It is singular,' remarked one of the
number to a companion, "that the serpent
offered no injury to this_ man."
"sot at all,'' answered the other ; "for
that species of reptile is very harmless. I
awoke one morning in our:camp, on the
Chickahomi.iy, and found one of them coil
ed very peaceably upon my bosom.
Conversing thus the men at length
reached a road where they were fortunate
enough to find an ambalance. The %on -2
.ave was placed in the vehicle, which ar
rived in safety at Savage Station.
Here G--received good medical
treatment and gained strength. Ile was
subsequently conveyed to Ilarrison's Len
ding, arfd front thence transported to the
hospital at Washington, where he receiv
ed good treatment and filially, recovered
front his wounds.
HONESTY.—A Quaker, once passing
'trough a market, stopped at a stall and
inquired the price of citrons.
" I have nbue," said the honest fann
er, " that will suit you ; they are decayed,
and their flivor is gone."
" Thank thee, friend, I will go to the
next stand."
Hast thou good fruit, to-day ?" be
said to the dealer.
" Yes, sir; here are some of the finest
nut-inegs of my garden. They are small
but rich of their kind "
" Then canst thou recommend them ?"
"Certainly, sir."
" Very well, I will take two."
Ile carried them home, and they proved
not. only unsound, but miserably tasteless.
The next morning lie went again to the
same place. The man who sold him the
fruit the previous day asked him if he
would have sonic more
" Nay, friend, thou halt deceived me
once and now, although thou mayst speak
the truth, still I cannot trust thee ; but
thy neighbor chose to deal uprightly with
we, and I shall henceforth be his patron.
Thou woulds't do well to remember this,
and learn by experience
. that a lie is a
base thing in the beginning, and a very
uprufitable one in the end."
COURTINO4N CIIURCIL-A young g,en-
cum, happened to Nit at Church in a
pew adinining one in which sat a young
lady fur whom he conceived a sudden and
violent passion, was desirous of entering
into a courtship on the spot; but the
place not "suiting a formal declardtion, the
exigency of the case suggested the fol
lowing plan : lle politely !lauded his fair
Neighbor a Bible open, with a pin stuck
in the following text—Second Epistle of
John, verse filth - " Aud now 1 beseech
thee, lady. not as though I wrote a new
commandment unto thee, but that which
we; had from the beginning, that we 10, e
one another." She returned it, pointing
to the second chapter of Ruth, verse
tenth-- Then she fidl on her face, and
bowed herself to the ground, and said un
to hint. Why have I found grace in
thine eyes, that thdn shouldst take knowl
edge of tne, seeing that lam a stranger?'
Ile returned the book, pointing to the
thirteenth verse of the dhird Epistle of
John—'Having many things to write
unto you, I would not , write with paper
and ink, but 1 trust to come unto you,
and Speak face"to face, that our joy may
be full.' From the above interview a
marriage took place the ensuing week.
A REMARKABLE VETERAN.—The St.
Louis Republican, of the 29th ult. says :
" We saw yesterday a regular old vet
eran warrior and patriot. His -name is
John T. C. McCaffrey. He was raised
in Knoxville, Tennesse, is seventy-three
years old, and has had fifteen sons and
three daughters. Eleven sons were in
the Union army until the siege of Vicks
burg, where 'four of them were killed - 1 —
The old man- himself enlisted in the 10th
Illinois, Fayett vide, Ark., over a year ago,
and was lately discharged. Ile serve,d
eight months in the Florida war, tWelve
months under Gen. Jackson, thirty-two
months in the Mexican war, and twelve
months in the present war. He has
iree brothers and three stepsons now in
the Union army. We' 01 the tide' as he,
with every semblance of perfect, truth,
told it to us."
: " Tom, what iti the world Put niatri
riony into yonr head ?"
" Well, the fact is, Joe, I was getting
abort of shine: '
The fOoll is proyoketi by hi4oletif 8064-
es, but the wise roan litue,lwth .theitt to
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY; OCTOBER 23, 1863.
THE LAST GAME OP CARDS.
In the year eig h teen hundred
and—
never you mind what—the present writ
er was at college, and in his very first
term his moral nature received the fol
lowing shock :
The chum (let me call him Briston)
that I had made for myself, after the
manner of collegians—My own familiar
friend—l discovered to be. not only no
better than he should be, beta very great
deal worse. A comnion'•acquaintance.of
ours sickened, and grew dangerouSlp
Such things make an impression on youth,
4o whom the foothill of death is terrible,
even at another's doOr, rind I feared as
well as grieved. I went to see the sick
man, okourse; I even read aloud to him
sometlOs,, and spent by his bedside a
few houk that might have been more a
greeably passed 01J the thanks or bosom
of Isis, but I feel now that I had much
to reproach myself Oith in that matter al
though I flattered myself at the time that
I was doing my duty—and more. On a
certain Sunday, after ;1 long afternoon's
walk, I called on theinvalid, and upon
eniering his bedroom was beyond meas
ure astonished to find hint playing crib
bage with 13rision. The sick man laugh.
ed at my astonished looks, but Briston
went on playing, as though that occupa
tion required the whole of his attention.
I said nothing at the time, but 1 made a
mental res.:ludo!' so avoid the society of
my ill-chosen fliend for the future. I
was nut "straitlaced„" as it is called, but
a person that could play at cards on Sun
day with a dying man was -not, in my
judgment an eligible acquaintance. I
dropped Briston front that moment, nor
do I think 1 interchanged half a dozen
words with him for twenty years. We
met at tile funeral of the poor fellow in
question, and I am bound to say that
Briston seemed a good dealcut up, but
that was the last I saw of him—fur after-
wards, if we passed one another in the
street, we did not even bow—for half a
&time
A few years ago, however, a certain
well-kncwn religious society requested my
assistance in holding, a missionary meet
ing in my parish ; it was to be attended by
several clergyman who had distinguished
themselves in their profession, in very
trying circumstances ; who had gone
through many perils among the heathen,
and dared the pestilence and the sword
with little enough of worldly recompense.
A newly appointed colonial bishop, their
leader, was also to be pr_e4t, whom
most persons had heard something, but
nothin g to his prejudice, as I believe;
man both good and great, who, having
ad the choice of a pleasant life or a use
ful one, chose the latter—a saint of these
days, indeed. Wlien I remembered his
oils his hardships, his experiences by
and and sea, I welcomed him to my
t tie parsonage, and its easily earned coin
iris and appliances. I could not help
a humiliating comparison he•
riw n,
twecn the veteran (who was about my
own age, however) and a feather-bed
soldier like myself. Ilia filthiest diffi
dence overwhelmed me. Ile spoke not a
word of his own sufferings, but only of
the church's need. The clubs and spears,
and other tokens of savage life which the
society had caused to be sent down, with
a gentleman to explain their nature, rath
er shucked his sensitiveness ; he submit
ted to the exhibition without remon
strance, but evidently without approval.
I t was his characteristic to blame no man,
if possible, and certainly not one moved
by good intentions. Only once, when
something severe was said against cer
tain missionaries of another denomination,
whose field of action was also his own, the
bishop interrupted the speaker somewhat
authoritatively.
"There is no abuse of.‘, time," he said,
"so great as that passed in abusing other
people."
Lab that night the bishop and I were
sitting up together, talking over the
events of the day. "It is strange," said
I, "but I scent to recognize your voice
quite well, although not your features."
That is very likely," returned he,
smiling; "uiy skin has been a good deal
tanned since we were at college together."
" Briston !" cried 1, a sudden gleajn„of
etfiery striking across my mind, and
not without pain.
"The same," said he. "Had you then
so entirely forgotten me as not to know
too, even though you knew my name ?"
- "I had," returned I. "The fact is, I—
"You tried to forget me, eh ?" inter
rupted the bishop, stilling sadly. "Well,
perhap- I deserve it. When I,was young
I thought I would go on my own way, be
ing answerable to One only for my actions.
It is no wonder that I was mistaken even
by good men."
"Hut to play at cribbage with a dying
man!" urged 1, aghast with the very rem
iniscenee.
"Yes," observedbishop, reflective
ly, "I do not think.;l'f the circumatances
should recui,' I should do so now ; indeed.
have forgotten how to play at cribbage,
I always hated cards most unreasonably ;
and from that very circumstance I thought
it my duty to play at them now and then.
- Poor Thornton wasipaSsionntely fond of
than, and used to forget his pains when
engaged in any , game ; the doctor himself
said they were as an opiate for him.—
Now, on a' week day, the Roor fellow
could get doyens of man to play with him,
but on a Sunday there was nobody wicked
enough to do so except:ine. I had been
reading to him out of some devotional
wurk up to within' a feW minutes of your
coming in ; but upon
_his pains fyieurring,
he begged for 4,ganie at cribbage. I saw
0- more harm n .gratifyind hint. than
f' he had asked me to make a lan out of
he stupid pasteboard things to cool his
lead with. Perhaps I ehould haye ,ex-
TERMS :--$1,50 in Advance, or $2 within the year
plained matters to you at the time, but I
was headstrong. "If this man chooses
to put an evil construction on an innocent
action, what is that to mo ?' said I."
" I beg your pardon," cried I, "from
my inmost breast. You were exercising
Christianity, and I—well, I have thoUght
evil of you for two and-twenty years in
consequence."
' So would most people,"returned the
bishop, frankly. " I am not at all cer
tain that the Society would not withdraw
my colonial allowance if they knew of it
even now. They would be afraid of my
staking, it at cribbage with the abori
gines."
- The bishop and I parted with a most
cordial shake of the hand. I believe
him to be one of the very best men alive.
A Terrific Feat
On the road amongst the Himalaya
mountains I beheld a species of tight rope
performance which might bring the color
into M. Blondin's cheeks. The rope ex
tended from an eminence on the hill-side,
above the villiage , over a ravine and
down to a great knoll in the fields be
low, and was drawn as tight as several
hundred men with their united strength
could effect. They had just finished
stretching it when we arrived, and I
could s2arcely believe a man was actually
going to slide down it, the feat appeared
so utterly impracticable, with-any chance
of safety. -Imagine a rope extended from
the top of a rock at. least 500 feet high,
to a pule some 2,000 feet from its base,
and some idea may be formed of the un
dertaking. A great concourse of people
of both sexes were assembled, in all their
holiday garb, and the man who was to
slide was swinging round at the end of a
long plank fixed on an upright pole as a
pivot. Every few minutes he called
some persons amongst the crowd by name
and swinging round several times to the
individual's honor, received from him a
triffling gratuity. Ile no sooner noticed'
me-than 1 was included in this category,
and being told it wasJin no way a relig
ious ceremony, I gave him a rupee.—
IV lien this was over he was escorted to
the eminence above amidst the loud lam
entations of his fatuily and the discord
ant music of the village hand. With the
glass I saw him placed on a kind of
saddle on the rope, and two individuals
busied fastening something to his
which I saw afterwards were bags filled
with earth. The spectators, amongst
whom I stood, were assembled in groups
near the pole to which the leTer cud of
the rope was aitached, all infekly watch
ing for the decent. Presently lie was
let go, and came down several hun
dred yards with
_terrible velocity, a
stream of smoke following in his wake.
As he approached us, the incline being
gradually diminiscd, his career was less
rapid, and became slower and slower tow
ards the end, where the rope being suffi
ciently near the ground, he was taken
down amidst the shouts and congratula
tions of the viLagers. —Ramble in the
Ilimalayas.
How to Deal with Bloodhounds.
A black man tells how to deal with,
bloodhounds. He had been chafed him
self:
" He told us when the dogs followed
us in the canebrake, in order to prevent
them from keeping the trail, we should
travel as much as possible in the water ,
but it' we should be closely pursued, to
leave the canebrake- and take to the tie
mulgee river He assured us that the
dogs were fearful of the alligators with
which the river abounded and that the
slaves were taught that the alligators
would destroy only negroes and dogs.—
He didn't believe it himself, although his
master thought. he did. Ile added :
" If dem boons get close on to you, why
you jist git a long pole and hop about
twenty feet if you kin. You do dis four
or five times, and whenever,you light, why
jist put some pepper in the holes what
your heels make, and when the houns
come dey lose de scent, and den dey goes
a snuffin and a snuffin around, and byein
by snuffles up dat dar pepper into dar
nostrils, and den dull go chee ! chee ! and
dat'll be de last dem dugs can do dat day
" This piece of information, and the
manner in which it was conveyed, accom
panied at it was by violent gyrations of
the body, and an exaot imitation of a dog
sneezing, was very amusing."
" ONLY ONE."—One hour lost in the
morning by laying in bed, will put back
and may frustrate, all the business of the
day.
One bole in the fence will cost ten
times as much as will fix it at once.
One unruly animal will Leach all others
in its company bad tricks.
(ince bad habit indulged or submitted
to,' will sink your power of self goi-ern
ment as quickly as one leak will sink a
ship
One drink will keep a family poor and
in trouble.
No ACCOUNT.-" Who is - lie ?" said a
passer-by
.to a policeman, who was endpav
tiring to rise an intoxicated individual.
who had fallen into the gutter.
" Can't say," replied the policeman;
"ho can't give an account .of himself."
"Of course not," said the other, with
an
,expression of much surprise, "how can
you expeet an account:from a wan who
has lost his balance ?" --
. .
A phyileianexaminieg_his_studentas
to his progress, - ! asked him, !‘ Should a
man fall' into a well forty feet deep, and
strike his head againit ono of the tools
with, which he had, been digging, whet
would be your_courso if ealle'd in as a
surgeon The - student replied, ":.I
silould advise them to lot - tho••man
and All up the . •
.
ja,.1,1t
People find it easy to excuse themselves
from church-going on stormy Sundays,
but they are generally the chief sufferers
for their effeminacy. The hours hang
heavy--spirits aro depressed, and. the
temper is often uncommonly peevish,
from a secret feeling of shame and nag,-
lect of duty. The Portland Transcript
has some pertinent reflections on this sub
ject :
"A rainy Sunday is the worldling's
hciliday. When he is awakened in the
morning by the drops pattering upon the
roof or window-pane, he nestles more
comfortably in his bed, and congratulates
himself because he may take another nap.
lie rises at a late hour and comes down
with a headache which, somehow, a: strong
cup of coffee doesn't dispel. Then he
casts about for employment, for, of course,
he is not going to church in the rain !
lie might muddy his boots, or spoil .his
beaver—silk hat, we mean I Perhaps he
takes up the last novel ; but, if he is a
business man, it is more probable that he
will look over some old accounts, even
going to the store—in spite of the rain !
—to do so.
" For our part we like a stormy Sun
day for church going better than a fair
one. We always liked to go to school on
rainy days, because then there were few
er soh. - Lars, and we got more o f the mas
ter's attention. Then, too, he became fa
miliar, put by .his. stern _demeanor, and
drawing the thithful few around him, told
us tales, or explained the difficult lessons.
There was a cosiness about the school
room on such days that we liked, .
" on rainy Sundays we, oto church,
because then we can get a large part of
the sermon. When the house i 9 full,
and the butterflies of fashion are flutt-...r
-in!, in the pews, and rank is there with
haughty head, somehow we never get any
good from the preacher. We feel over
looked in the bustling crowd, and arc dis
turbed by the wandering glances and
loud whispering of over dressed girls and
rustling matrons. There is always a lit
tle buy to kick Lis heels against the pew,
and Move restlessly about from seat to
scat; there is always an old gentleman
t, nod his head at us, with close shut .
eyes, as if answprinp_: our internal ques
tioning. There is a cold air of the world,
of formal ceremony and hcartle-s parade
about the church that chills the religious
element in our being
" But on rainy Sundays, when the but
terflies remain at home For fear of soiling
their wings, and the little boy plays horse
at honie in the garret, and the old gen
tleman takes his nap upon his own bed,
we get a share of the sermon, and seldom
go to sleep. Then the few present are
dressed in subdued colors, are quiet and
attentive, and a sort of grateful gloom
comes in at the hazy windows, and wraps
all in partial obscurity Then the preach
er puts aside the airs of oratory. Then
the spirit of true religion scents to rest
upon the worshippers, and the world is
shut out. Then, indeed, it is good for
us to be there.
" Reader, if you Nv:.uld enjoy a rainy
Sunday, go to church."
AN ECCENTRIC PitystetAN.—A friend
relates for the Aurieu/turist, the follow
ing anecdote of a skillful physician, Dr.
, who is still practicing in Rhode
Island. Ile had a way of doing things
all his own, and no one could tell he
tbrehand "where he would come out."—
Ou one occasion he was called to perform
a very important surgical operation on a
young man living in the country. Ar
riving there, he found collected a large
number of neighboring farmers and oth
ers, who had come from curiosity to wit
ness the operation. Ile observed that
the house was scantily furuhdied, and
other evidences of the poverty of the
family were apparent, nod he inquired
whether the mother, a widow, was ready
to pay the fifty dollars which ha should
charge. She replied that the could not,
at present, but would do so as soon as
possible. The doctor immediately in
formed the bystanders, that, he would do
nothing until the money was paid, and
asked them if they could not make up
the amount. This was soon done, but
riot without many condemnations of the
heard-hearted debtor, who, however, paid
no attention to the remarks, but imme
diately went on with his work, which he
performed - successfully. As soon as it
was over he stepped up to the mother,
and r.marking "the boy will need some
things before he gets well," slipped the
fifty dollars into hor hand, and was off
before he could hear her thanks, or the
loud . praises of those who had just been
denouncing him as a grasping miser.
qs.,Mrs. Fitzdragon had been waiting
to visit Ilighgate Cemetry, and the other
day she said to her husband, " You have
never taken nie to the cemetery."—'' No,
dear," said he, " that is a.pleasure 1 have
yet had only in anticipation."
in_An old Isalt, when asked how lie
felt during a recent severe gale which lie
enc - Ountmel at sea, and during which the
ship was in greet peril, replied, in all sin
corky and simplicity, " %V h*' I dm - tight,
Ivbat will the poor fellows-on. shore. do
now V'
Ilvish I had your bead," said'a
lady one -day to a gentleman who had
solved for her a' knotty -poinV. " And I
wish-I
-had your heart," was his reply.--
" Woll;!!..said she i ,u•sinui your head and .
my heart , can agree - , I , don't sae why they
should not go into partnership." •;
••:" A Danish writer speaks of a but so
miserable that-it didn't know- which Way
to fall, and so ;kept -Standing.
the tam) ; that had, subh . ,.a. doruplica:
tipn of , 4ispases, , that ;ho;. did
'what to die rofi'and So,/ived„on,.. : • -
NO.
A RAINY SUNDAY
A Model Setitivei
Aitraneedote •is related of one of the
Citizen. soldiers in
_the expedition of the
Macpherson Blues 'againstothe insurgents
in 1794 which is - worthy ef being record
ed. The person refereed to Was a ,Ger
man by birth, of the name of Koch, and
was well known, 16 bis day, lI ' S ktarge out
door underwriter.'; He died some twenty
years since in . Varie, whither lie. hatrgenet
for the benefit of"tire climate, leaiing to
large fortune estimated at $1;200,000.
Mr. Koch, likelyonngAhaw, was'a private
in the Macpherson - Tt ten to Ma
lot one night to be stationed sentinel over
a baggage waggon. The Weather was cold;
raw, stormy and wet. This set the• senti
nel musing. After remaining on his post
half an hour, ho was beard calling lustily,
" Corporal
,of the quartz 1 Corporal of
the quartz I" The corporal came and in
quired what was wanting. Koch wished
to be relieved a few minute; having some
thing to say to Macpherson. He was grat
ified, and in a few minutes stood in the
presence of the general.
" Well, Mr. Koch, what is your pleas
ure ?" asked Macpherson.
" Why,' General, I wish to know what
may be der value of dat wagon over which
I am shentinel ?"
" How should I know Koch ?"
" Well, something approximativo—not
to be particular."
" A thousand dollars; perhaps."
" Very well, Gen: Macpherson, I write
a cheek for der money, and don I will go
to bets,"
Leather Bonnets
A Philadelphia paper says :—We have
been shoWn ladies bonnets Made of leath
er. What is more they are very pretty.
In a week or so they will be in the mar
ket. We also examined very pretty
artificial flowers, the foliage of which
was the same material. Tho colors are
almost the natural . hue of the material—
russet—bit different shades. The price
is about the same as for flowers with Coll
age of muslin or velvet."
IT IS REMARKABLE, in matipinstan
c_es, how soon the line of descent of men
of great genius has been cut off. We
have no nude descendant of William
Shakspeare, Milton, Sir Walter Scott or
Lord Byron. Sir Isaac Newton left no
heir. The male branch of t.-ir Christo
pher Wren's flunily is extinct, and the
female line nearly so. The races of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Oliv0„:
Goldsmith, Telford and ]lrindley, have
ceased to exist ; and a hundred other fa
mous names bight be mentioned, toshow
to what a great extent this may be con
sidered as a natural law. We had re
cently another illustration of -this when
the grave closed upon the- only con Geo.
Stephenson without leaving any direct
successor.
THE STulay or 'Mu BULLETs.-411e ,
Vicksburg correspondent of the Mis
sours RTiddierin, narrates the following
singular incident : " At the headquraters
of Cul. Slake's brigade I lately saw two
inie bullets, one:of which a rebel:l4lkt
of English manufacture, smuggled over
by our dear breathren in Britain to shoot
their dear brethren in Aingrica. The
other was a national ball, of the Spring
field rifle type The former was fired
from a rifle-pit at Jackson, at our skirmish
ers. The lattLr was fired from our line
of skirmisheis at the rifle-pit. They met
midway in the air, were welded by the
co:i pact, and fell harmless to the ground.
They are now firm 'friends, sticking each
to the - other, closer than a brother or a
lover."
They are getting very particular down
in Gloucester,. Maas., having voted to ex
clude all theatricd shows and exhibitions
for the current year. The latest public
intelligente said to be from that quarter
i., that a hot pie, which . had been set out
by an old lady upon a window sill to cool
was arrested by a policeman for "smoking
in the street!"
A countryman walking along New
York, found his progress stopped by a
barricade of lumber.
" What is that fur ?" said he to a per
son in the street.
" 0, that 'S to stop the yellow fever."
"Aye, 1 have often heard of the board
of health, but I never saw one before."
"Mr. Timothy," said a learned lady,
who had been showing off at the expense
of a dangler, " you remind me of a bar
ometer that is filled with nothing in the
upper story.",
" Divine Almira," meekly replied her
adorer, " in thanking you for that com
pliment, let me remind you that you oc
cupy the upper story entirely."
A few mornings since we were rela
ting to our family the fact of a friend
having found upon his doorstep a fine lit
tle male infant, whom lie had adopted,
when one of the olive branches remarked :
" Pa, dear, it'll be his step son, won't
it ?" We thought it would, decidedly.
A solicitor whg was remakable for the
length and sharpness of his nose once
told a lady that if she did not immediate
ly settle a matte• in dispute he would filo
a bill against her. " Indeed, sir," said
the lady, there is no necessity for you
to file your bill for it is sharp enough al
ready."
Tie_ A. short time since as a well-known
master in a grammer-school was consur. ,
ing a pupil fur the dullness of his comprd
hension, and consenting to instruct
. him
in a sum in practice, he said, ' Is not the
- price of a penny bun always a penny ?'
when the boy innocently replied, ' No,
sir, they sell them two for three halfpence
when•they aro stale.'
" Say, John, where did you get - that
loafer's hat ? " Please yor honor," said
John; " it's an old one of yours that
misses_ gave tile yesterday,. when you were
to town."
A quiet sort of an individual lately be.
ing asked what be would drink, .replied
" A Vicksburg, puneb
.witb,a little Mend
in Of course, the roggest wag. grant.;
•
ed.
Vile Richmond Examin r , says Whim
been ,expected that Sumter would fall for
a .week. back. Not more for,u wcalc bud.
than a broken /row, w faudy.
.The .Christian bath, such . a harvest of
gloryand happiness - coming, and - will nev
er be fully got in. It will alwuye be reap=
ing time, in .Enven. ' •