•c , , 1 2it.: - Cti.... -(- 'etri3O - • tirl).iitititerit.. '' . •P,.ilititi...,e‘,..• .. . ... [u. A. nuEitLE:t, I.:l)l . cm'. AND PROPRIETOR VOL. VIII.--21 IN THE MATTER Of the intended application of GEO. SNY . DER for license to keep a tavern in the township of Mou»ijoy, :Mains county, • it being an old Stand. E, the undersigned citizens of the township of Mounijoy, Adams co. dobercby certify that we are personally and and well acquainted GEORGE SNYDER, the above named petitioner, that he is of good repute for honesty and temperance, and that he is well provided with house room and other conveniences for the lodging and aceomodation of citizens, strangers and ';Travellers; and we do further certify, that we know the house for which license is prayed, and from its situation and neigh borhood, believe it to besuitable for a ta vern, and that such inn or tavern is nec essary to accommodate the public and en tertain strangers and travellers. Robert 111Viinney, John Reck,. Peter Srendori; Jacob Baker, Henry Demkr, Isaac &remit', Jacob Baumgartner, John Horner, John Werley, Hugh G. Scott, Joseph Zuck, ll'illiam Walker, Lewis Norbeek, March 12.-3 t IN TIIi iIIVIIVEIR Of the intended application of JOHN D. BEcKER,for license to keep a tavern in Franklin township, Alms county, !, being an old stand. E, the subscribers of the township of Franklin, Adams county, do hereby certify, that we are personally and well acquainted with JOHN D. 13ECKE11, the above named petitioner, that he is and we know him to be of good repute for hones ty and temperance, and that lie is well pro vided with house-room and other conve niences for the lodging.and accommoda tion of citizens, strangers and travellers ; and we do further certify, that we know the house for which the liceige is prayed, and• from its situation and neighborhood, believeit to be suitable for a tavern, and that such Inn or Tavern is necessary to accommodate the public and entertain strangers and travellers. - Conrad frillier, Thigh D Heady, Israel Yount, D. Chamberlin, John Waller, • J)avitllll3.lurdie, Daniel Newman, Lct'i Pitzer, Samuel Lour, James I,l'.•Trilsozz, Ilcintzlenzan .March 12.-3 t IN TILE 111111"I'Elt Of the intended application of OLIVER P. - . NEvmt:vfor license' to keep a tavern in Mounijoy township, .4dams county, it being an old stand. E, the subscribers, citizens of the township of Mountjoy, do hereby certify, that we arc personally and well ac quainted with OLIVER P.NEWMAN the above named petioner, that he is, and we know him to be .of good repute for honesty and temperance, and that he is well provided with house-room and other conveniences, for the lodging and accommodation ofciii zeni,' strangers and travelers ; and we do further certify, that we know the house for which the license is prayed, and from its situation and neighborhood, believe it lo.be suitable for a tavern, and that such Inn or Tavern is necessary to accommo date the public and entertain strangers and travellers. Lewis Norbeek, Simon Reader. !Infirm Shed/,jr. Jonas Bowers, Ja71164 11. Collins, Jacob Il OU rbaCk, Bernhart Sheely, Henry Jacoby, Samuel Little, John Lorimer, March'l 2.-3 t TO BLACKSMITHS. THE subscribers have on hand a very large stock of ST 0 N.E COAL, which they will dispose of low by the sin gle bushel or otherwise, at their Coach making Establishment. BANNER & ZIEGLER. March 12.-3 m A TEACHER W ANTED. SEALED Proposals will be received until the 27th of March, by the Board of School Directors, for a teacher to take charge of one of the public 'schools of the Borough of Gettysburg to commence on ,the first' of April next. By order of the Board. 11. J. SCHREINER, .S'ec'u. March 1, 1817. Tax Collectors, lake Notice. ♦ LL Taxes on duplicates in the bands . of former Collectors up to the present year will be required to be paid at or be fore the approaching April Court. All Collectors who shall not then have settled their duplicates may expect to be proceed ed against according to. law. J. CUNNINGIIAAL •, JOSEPH FINK, Comm's = A. 11F.INTZELMAN, J..AtionINDAUGII, Clerk. March 12.—1 t Glirden Sdeds. - . fresh' su pi!ly . of gra-rate GARDEN /11 1 . SEEPS Just 'received . froio 4 the.Qualiers' Gardens, N'.*York,- and for bale; at the Drag Store of " S. 11, . BUEHLER. 'Oettysliorg; March '5, 1847. Flower Seeds. 11):IS s L . E E-Y; S D celebrated k a t) . r i a a t r e g l e, v .F a r l r 4 et o y , , t i h t a - t !s th r e c r i e na i r s ke n d ot o a f a W udts it t : the ß ( A ll 'r ti l l i t E es i e t e la v it u ig i l i a l g s' e .A.A, quality. received and: for sale, by , . ;.word in it that expresses the true idea' of , S. il. BUEHLER,. },sin, and the only word which comes near , . .. (:etiysbu rg, Maridi 5, 1847. ',' . i.it, is one s ignifying 4,breay4 of pul4cticis. Joseph dlrnlz Jacob Bilker, John Tf'ilson, Joseph Sents. [From the Bosfon•Traveller. GIVIC DIE TIME E GRAINS OF CORN. DlO7 IiER 1 I=l The above words were the last request of an I rish lad to his mother, as he was dying of starva tion. She found three grains in the corner of his ragged jacket pocket, and gave them to hi m , It was all she had ; the whole family were perishing from famine. Give me three grains of corn, mother, Only three grains of corn It will keep the little life I have Till the coining of the morn. I am dying of hunger and cold; mother, Dying of hunger and cold ; And half the agony of such a death My lips have never told. It has gnawed like a wolf at my heart, mother, A wolf that is fierce for blood, All the liyelong day and the night beside, Gnawing for lack of food. I dreamed of bread in my sleep, And the sight was heaven to see: I woke with an eager, famishing lip, But you had no bread for MC. How could I look to you, mother, How could I look to you I For bread to give your starving boy, When you were starving too I . 1 For I rend the famine in-your cheek, And in your eye so wild, And I felt it in your bony hand, As you laid it on your child. 1. The Queen hriS lands and gold, mother, The Queen has lands and - gold, While you are forced to your empty breast A skeleton babe to hold ; A babe that is dying of want, mother, As I am dying now, With a ghastly look in his sunken eye, And famine upon his brow. What has poor Ireland done, mother, What has poor Ireland done, That the world looks on and sees us starve; Perishing one by one. 1)0 the men of England care not, mother, The great men and the high, For the stiflerini - soit4 of Erin's Isle, Whether they live or die ? There is many a brave heart here, mother, Dyirar of want and cold, While only across the channel, mother, Are many that roll in gold. There are rich and proud men there, mother, With wondrous wealth to:view, And the bread they fling to iheirdogs to-night Would give me life and you. . Come nearer to my side: mother, Come nearer to my side, And 101 l me fondly, as you held My father when he died. Quick;, for I cannot see you, mother, . My breath is almost gone; Mother ! Dear mother! ere I die, Give me three grains of corn ! WORDS TO THE THOUGHTPUI I Blessed is the pilgrim, who, in every place, and at all times of this his banish ! went in the body, calling upon the holy name of Jesus, calleth to mind his native, heavenly land, where his blessed master, the King of Saints and Angels, waited' to (receive him. [Tnomns A. KEMPIS. 1 If the chick of the tongue be not set by the dial of the heart, it will not go right. Holiness is the health of the spirit, and the true foundation of its permanent well being and happiness. The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without adver t sity. Old man are long shadows, and their evening sun lies cold upon the earth s but they all point towards the morning. Gall ileo, the most profound philosopher of his age, when interrogated by the Inqui sition as to Lis belief of a Supreme Being, replied, pointing to a straw on the floor of his dungeon, that from the structure of that alone, he would infer with certainty the existence of an intelligent Creator. Knowledge lies deep in a well, but there is a way to draw it up, and diligent schol ars find it out. God has made no one absolute. The rich depend on the poor, as well as the poor on the rich. The world is but a mere magnificent building ; all the stones are gradually cemented together. There is no one subsists by himself alone. FAITH-HOPE-CHARITY FAITH !-Wilt;l unaccounted comforts lie hidden in that one word ! A shield for the unprotected ; strength for the feeble ; and joy to the cart-worn and grief strick en. , .I:.et thy saving and cheering intlu enco descend upon every soul. Hors !—Thou who hast a home in ev ery bosom, a shrine in every heart ; what were the joys . of earth without thy cheer ing light? Beneath thy brilliant beams, bright as the rays of the morning stars, the frown flits away from before the despair ing brow. Who would dwell upon the arid wastes of life's desert did not thy torch gleams point the road . to future bliss?— When sorrow plows up the heart with deep forroWs, and the ties of life are sundered one by one, thy white-robed gentleness speaks to all within. Let thy beacon blaze of celestial glory shine on in its un clouded splendor, till every darkened path be lighted by its chering rays.: Cluttu •ry !—G reatest of all—the crown ed queen among the virtues, the brightest handmaid of religion and love. May thy steps never' wax feeble, or thy heart groiv eotd. Let us • mark the splendor of thy presence by every_ desolate hearth, and by, every. .mournercou* - : Teach us to throw thy mantle, of compassion over 'the ignorant, the erring, and the guilty. Let thy influence soften every obdurate heart and reclaim every vicious mind. GETTYSBURG, FA. FRIDAY EVENING, MARCH 26, 1847, THOUGHTS FROM JEAN PAUL CirmottEs.—The smallest are nearest Cod, as the smallest planets are, nearest the sun. Rejoice now in your play, blooming children ! When you again become chit dren through age, you will bend beneath infirmities and gray hairs : and in that melancholy play the days of infancy will be remembered. The Western sky may indeed shut down the Aurora, and the Eastern glow be reflected in the \Vest ; but the clouds become darker and no se ' cond - sun arises in life. Oh, rejoice, then, children in the rose color of the morning of life that gilds you like painted flowers fluttering to meet the sun. Were I only for a time almighty and I powerful, I would create a little world es- I pecially for myself, and suspend it under; the mildest sun. A world where I would have nothing but lovely little children, and these little things I would never suffer ; to grow up, but only to play eternally. If a seraph were weary "of Heaven, or his golden pinions drooped, I would send him to dwell for a while in. my happy infant world; and no angel, as long he saw- their innocence, could lose his own. After all, children are the truest Jacob's ladder to a mother's heart. PO VERTV.—W ho 28 poor, macs poor; the ruined ruins ; were it only that he has every day to invent a new lie, or to make another creditor. IlveocaisY.—None are more liberal in presents than those who hesitate not to defraud others. Nothing i.i more decep tive than a fair ti:oras, where, if any one ventures, one Sinks. Tyrants and senti mental robbers can sing and tfomplain like seraphims ; but if there is any thing hate ful upon earth, it is this union of stealing and giving, of plun - dering and presenting. DituAms.— , --Like flowers of heaven, dreams often pirSs throcigh die whole nights of men, leaving only a strange summer perfume, the traces of their vanishing. One enchanting dream after another folded its wings over me, and they soon be came flower-petals npon - wlkelt I ro61:-Cd in sleep. Seme dreams are bOrne to us by god angels, others by the spirit of evil. The last perplex and distress our sleep ; the first are as soft strains of music, that corn lint and soothe, until we are forgetful of waking misery. VinTA.:--The everlasting hills will crumble 'to dust, but the influence ofa good act will never die. • The earth will glow old and perish, but virtue in the heart will ever be green and flourish throughout e ternity. The moon and stars will,grow dim, and the sun roll from the heavens, but true religion and undefiled will grow bright er and brighter, and not cease to e:ds while God himself shall live. A DRUNKARD ON FIRE Dr. Lott, i►i his lectures, gives the fol lowing account of a young man, about '25 years of age : "Ile had been an habitual drinker for many years. 1 saw hint about 9 o'clock in the evening on which it happened ; he was then as usual, not drunk but full of lilaor ; about 11 o'clock the same e veiling I was called to see 111111. I found him lite rally roasted from the crown of his head to the soles of his- feet. Ile was found in a blacksmith's shop, just across from where he had been. The owner, all of a sudden, discovered an extensive light in his shop, as though the whole building was in one general flame. He ran with the greatest precipitancy, and on throwing open the door, discovered a man standing erect in the midst of a widely extended silver-colored dame. bearing as he describ ed it, exactly the appearance of the wick of a burningeandle in the midst of its own flame. He seized him (the drunkard) by the shoulder and jerked him to the door, upon which the dame was instantly ex tinguished. There was no fire in the shop, neither was there a possibility of any` lire having been communicated to him from any external source. It was purely a case of spontaneous ignition. A general slough ing soon came on, and his flesh was con sumed or removed in the dressing, leaving the bones and a few of the larger blood: vessels ; the blood, nevertheless, rallied round the heart, and maintained the vital spark until the thirteenth day, when he died, not only the most loathsome, ill-fea tured, and dreadful picture that was ever presented to human view, but his shrieks, his groans, and his lamentations also, were enough to 'rend a heart of adamant. He m coplained of no pain of ody; his flesh p was gone. He said he was suffering the torments of hell; that lie was just upon the threshold, and should soon enter its dismal caverns ; and in this l frame of Mind he gave tip the ghost. , 0, the death of a drunkard ! Well may it be said to beggar all description ! I have seen other drunkards die, but never in a manner so awful and affecting: CORE FOR COUGH ' iv llonsEs.—Half pound of nitre, quarter pound of black re gulus of antimony, two ounces of antinw ny ; mix well in a mortar and make it up into doses of one ounce each. Give the horse one dose in a cold mash mixed eve ry night in mild: weather, foi three nights, then' omit it, for a week: If lie does not get better of his . cotigh, repeat it: Care is nqceSsary that the 'animal should not be exposed W , hile, warm, to stand in a cold : wind; otherwise exercise him geittly, and hca't hint as usual. "FEARLESS AND FREE." "Truth is strange--stranger than lietion."--Brito?i The time of Year was,w-imfr in its most .11, sullen. mood ; a thic L fog, pregnant with a stifling smoke, hung o er the face of this modern Babylon, mak'ng the few 'Alps that were to he seen at the time we write burn with a ghastly flickering flame ; and, as if to make outward things wear a more miserable aspect than the fog imparted, a drizzling rain came slowly down, drench in.* those who had the misfortune to be out of doors to the skin—when the door of a miserable tenement, in a narrow, squalid court, which ran between two rows of poor and ruinous' houses on the banks of the river, tur ned . on its hinges, and a man, poorly - clad, and wan in aspect, made his way, with a rapid pace, towards •some light indistinctly seen through the fog. In a few minutes he had crossed Old London Bridge, and stood before a comfor tablellooking mansion, in a. street imme diately ai jacent to the Temple, from the lower rooms of which bright lights shone, and, now .and then, “by fits," loud peals of laughter were borne on the wind. The man passed up and down the street some few times, and then knocked timidly at the door, which was opened by a red-faced, buxom female, who had thrown a capa cious shawl over her head and shoulders, to avoid the incleniency of the weather, and to her pert summons, what he wanted at that late hour—it was nigh twelve o'clock —he said he wished to speak to Mr. Jef feries upon important business, which would admit of no dclay. - She bade him wipe his feet as the streets were dirty, and step into the passage, while she went to in form her master that a fierce looking man wished to say a word to him. She shortly returned, saving that Mr. Jefferies was then too much occupied to attend to any visitor at that late hour "Tell him," said the man, in an earnest but feeble voice, "that one allied to him by every tie that should bind one man to a nother, must speak to him." Ile ‘rai shown into an office, and told to wait until the master of the house could find it convenient to speak to him. In a minutess4he door was opened, antla respectably attired elderly-, man stood be fore him. • _ _ . "You have come, sir,le said, in a cool, even tone, without recognizing his visitor, "at a most unseasonable hour. In what way du yon wish me to serve you ? You must be as my time Is In such great de wand that 1 cannot waist it upon trifles, far lets On you, whom I hate I . :1r more than the vilest wretch that crawls these London trccts." "Edward, said the other, in a : hollow, unearthly tone, "we should not meet like this, when so inany long and tedious years have passed a way since last we met—but let that pass. My wife and child are, at the present moment, perishing of want, in an obscure garret oil the other side of the Thames, and. 1 have come -to .supplicate from you a small sum of money, to save them from the grave—every moment is of cons-equenee to them and me. Even now I feel the thorny pains of hunger gnawing at my heart.: but that is naught compared to the sull'ering of those who are dearer tO me than my life. "Know this, then," said the other, in the same unruffled tone, "that were you and yours on the brink of the grave, as I had hoped you were - ere this, I would not give one farthing of my hard-earned gains to save you all from perdition. You come here no more ; your way lies there—mine here ; good night l" -and the speaker cool ly left the room. l'he brother, who had drunk to the dregs of the cup of adversity, said no more, but with clenched hands and distorted feateres, rushed from the house; while his kind re lation returned to an adjoining chamber, there to drown care in the Lcthean nectar. * • In a garret, devoid of every essential to the enjoyment of life, kpale-faced woman and her child were sleeping on a miserable pallet stretched on the floor. By their side sat a man who was the very personation of death itself—a lone, friendless being; one with whom the world had long been on unfriendly terms. The dense fog which had enveloped the metropolis two nights ago, had given place to a bright sky and moon, which threw a pallid lustre on the walls of the dismantled chamber. 'The man was gazing with a distracted air upon the sleepers, and, anon, passing his hand across the woman's face, to assure himself that death had not yet set his grasp upon the lovely, care-worn being, who was all his world—the subject of his thoughts 'by day and dreams by night. Sharp misery had worn the young mother to the bone; a hectic flush, the undeniable precursor of the body's exhaustion and premature de cay, covered her face ;' the grave and she were surely soon to be boon companions. The broken. man = for such he was— hadlong been on ill terms with, the world, buffeted to and fro by adverse winds on the great ocean of life,.for many, many . years, and at last dashed upon a-desolate rook, from which . there appeared to tie no re treat. He had beeniunfortutiate in trade ; hurled, in one little day, from a respecta ble tradesman to a friendless outcast of so ciety-4 'Wandering - Vagabond. lie. had, by,every means in his . power, supported hiniself iind"family;until sickness and want laid their heaVy hands tipon him, and pre vented him from holding a menialooffice which he had .obtahienthratightheinstru A LEAF FROM LIFE mentality of the man from whom he rent ed his miserable apartment. He had been forced, much against his will, (but stern ne cessity overleaps apparently unsurmount able difficulties), to beg from a rich broth er who had pursued him through life with a fiendish hatred, a trifle wherewith to support life. The rest is in the posses sion of the reader. The night was bitter cold—a keen and nipping air was blowing from the North, and the large flakes of snow began to fall, when the man of whom we have spoken at sonic length stooped over the bed in which his wife and child were sleeping, and muttering something like an oath, rose up and hurried into the street. * The time was three in the morning, and the well-told jest and sprightly laugh were heard at the rich brother's table. Present ly the guests, one by one, began to depart, and soon Edward Jai:ries sat alone - in his splendid drawing-room. He was alone, both in mind and • body—a conscience stricken man. A letter, edged with black, lay open before him, which told of a man having destroyed his wife and child while aeleep, and afterwards leaping from Black friar's Bridge into the Thames. TOUCHING STORY The flillowing beautiful and touching story .was related by Dr. Schnebly, of Maryland, at a meeting held in New York, to hear the experience of twen ty reformed drunkards : I A drunkard who had ran through his property, returned one night to his unfur nished home. lle entered its empty hall —anguish was gnawing at his heartstrings, and language is inadequate to express his agony as he entered his wife's apartment and there beheld the victims of his appe= tite—his lovely wife and darling, child.— Morose and. sullen lie seated himself with out a word--he could not speak, he could not look upon them. The mother said to the little angel by her Side, "Come, my child, it is time to go to bed," and the lit ' tie- babe, as was her wont, knelt by her mother's lap, and gazing wistfully into the. face of her suffering parent, like a piece of chissled Statuary, slowly repeated her nightly orison ; and when she had finish- ed, the child (but four years of age) said' to. rfor mother, "Dear ma, may I not offer' up-one more prayer?" "Yes, yes, my sweet pet, pray; and she lifted up her ti ny hands, closed her eyes and prayed no e l I apart., oh, apace my dear pap . a The prayer was wafted with electric ra pidity to the throne of God. It was on high-'twas heard on earth. The re sponsive "Amen" burst from the father'S lips, and his heart of stone became a heart of flesh. Wife and child were both clasp ed to his bosom, and in penitence, he said, "My child, you have saved your father from the grave of a drunkard. I'll sign the pledge." FRANKLIN-THE HOME OF HIS BOY HOOD. The racy description which follows of the house 1 which was the home of BENJAMIN FRANKUN ' S ; boyhood, will bb read with universal interest, not only in this country, but throuihout the civilized ' world. It is copied from the Boston correspon -1 dente of the National Anti-Slavery Standard : Th s e'rware i few places yet left in Boston of universal interest. I passed one of the clilefest yesterday, in Hanover street, which ' I suppose suggested the train of thought (if such discursive ramblings deserve the name) in this letter. . Do you see that ' house at the corner of Hanover and Union streets, with a gilt ball protruding from its corner, diagonally into the street? It 'has no arc hitectural pretensions to arrest a passer-by. It is a plain brick house, I pf three stories, with small windows, close to gether, and exceeding small panes of glass in them, the walls iof a dingy yellow:— Yet it is a . house swarming with associa tions interesting to well-nurtured minds throughout the civilized world. Read the name upon the ball and you will get nn inkling of my meaning-46.10ms .FRANK LIN, 1698." Yes, that is the o y . :Fiy roof tinder which Benjamin Franklin grew up. He was not born there, but his father mov ed thither when he was but six months old, so that all his recollections of home must be connected with those walls.. The side of the house on Union street remains as it was in the days of Franklin's boyhood; but that on Hanover street has been shame fully treated. Nearly the whole front has been cut out to make room for two monstrously disproportioned show-win dows. And this house, so full, as 1 have just said, of associations, is fuller yet of bonnets! Yes, by the head of the Pro phet, of boyinels: It is a Bonnet Ware house, and from the inordinate .windows, aforesaid, bonnets of all hues and shapes ogle you with side-long glances, or else stare you openly out of countenance, while mountain piles of band-boxes tower to the-ceiling of the upper story, eloquent like- Faith, of things unseen. Heaven forbid that should say any ping in 'dero gation of bonnets, an,y more than of the fair heatli - thit wear them, bitt I Would that they had another Repository. It • was my good fortune - to have gane over the house before it had . undergone this metamorphoSis. . It was occupied; in part at least,"some.eight . ypars . .figo, . by I a colore&Man, of -the name . of Stewart„o dealer in old elothen, Who - thoit i glik of buy ing the, premises, - and wanted myiidVice a bout it.. -. 1 gladly , ayAled selfof.the op- pOrtunity to view them.` The 'wive of I TERMS-TWO DOLLARS PER ANfiiripl IWIIOLE N 0.886. the house was then. I should judge, in the same condition that it was when the worthy old soap boiler and that sturdy rebel; youth :is in age) his world-famous son, liv ed there. Thee were the very rooms in which the child-Franklin played, the very stairs, up and down which he romped, the very window-scats on which he stood to look into the street. The shop on the street, was unquestionably the place where he Used to cut wicks for the candleS, and till the moulds, and wait upon the custom ers. I pleased myself with imagining which room it was in which his father sat, patriarch-like, at his table, surrounded by his thirteen children, all of whom "grew up to years of maturity and were married."-:- And you may be sure I did not fail to take, a peep into the cellar, where Poor Richard, in his infantile economy of time,lroposed,: to his father that he should say grace over the whole barrel of beef they were potting down, in the lump, instead of over each. piece in detail, as it came to the table ! A„ proposition which inclined the good broth; er of the Old South Church to fear that his youngest hope was given over to a repro bate mind, and was but little better than one of the wicked. And I would have given a trifle to know. which of the chambers it was that was ' Franklin's own, where he educated him self, as it were, by stealth. Where he sed to read "Bunyan's Works, in separate. little volumes," and ." Barton's Historical ; Collections—"small,chapman's books, and, cheap; forty volumes in all"and Plu tarch's Lives, not to mention, "a book of De Foe's, called ./!n Essay on Projec t s," and "Dr. Mather's,ealled 3nEssay to do Goinl,9-"Nrid where, "too, his lamp (or more probably his candle's end) was ."oft seen ; at . midnight h our'," 'as" he 'sat iip"the' kiatj est part of the night ilevotiring the booltar which his friend, the. bookseller's appren-' lice, used to lend 'him over night; out-of the shop, to be returned the next morning. , How the rogue must have enjoyed them!. Seldom have literary pleasures been relish ed with such a gustas by that hungry boy. When I say "rogue," I use the term metaphysically not literally. I mean "no scandal about Queen Elizabeth," nor do . I allude to any of the gossip +of - sixty years since. But I shall never forget the • shock given to my early prejudices,: and the , bouleversement of all my preconceiied i deas at hearing, when I was a boy, 'a very celebrated gentleman, distinguished in, 'the field and in the cabinet, whose public life, was mostly of the last century; say 3 careless manner, as if it were the, tritest truism in the world he was uttering,‘!Why," madam, you know Franklin`wan an old rascal!" He added some specifications, which I do not now remember, but the mount was that he had feathered his' neat well at the public expense. Franklin was no saint in his private life, and he never pretended to be one ; but I believe it is now pretty well understood that lie was , indif: ferent honest,' as Hamlet says, in his pilling life, and that Prince Posterity has sed the charges preferred by some of his contemporaries against his political hones., ty. • - It will not be many ,years - before this monument of the most celebrated man that Boston, not to say America, ever produ? cod, will be demolished, and the place that knows it 'will know it no more, unleSS something be done to save it. It will be a burning shame and a lasting disgrace to Boston, with all its wealth and its' preteii sions to liberality, and its affectation' of reverence for its great men, to suffer the most historical of its houses to be deetroy ed, When the rise of real estate in thitt neighborhood shall seal its doom. It is a shame that it. has been left so long to take the chances of business. It should 'We been bought years ago, and placed in the hands of the Historical Society, or some other permanent body, in trust, to be pre served forever in its original condition. :It is not too late, to restore it to something like its first estate, and to save it from utter . destruction. If it be not done, it will bea source of shame and sorrow when it is too late. The house in which Franklin was born has been destroyed within this century— to the infinite discredit of the rich men of the "Literary Emporium of .the New World"—as the great Kean christened' it, when it was in the height of its delirium in.the "Kean Fever." That house stood in Milk street, a little below the Old South .Church, on the other side of the way, and the spot is marked by a "Furniture. Ware house," live 'stories high, which - febri l e a fitting pendant to the Bonnet Warehouse in-Hanover street. The priitting office of James Franklin,, where Benjamin 'served his apprenticeship, where heneed.'itt put his anonymous . : communications Wider dr door, Oherele used to study While the rest were gone to dinner, and ,where• he'r,lieed sometimes to get a flogging'from er—("perhape I was too saucy'andprove king," as he candidly, and with great pi* bability, says-of hitnself,),James':olt4- ing office was in Queen,'now Court nearly' opposite' the Court=house, oil the corner Franklin avenue,' which, if lam . not Mistaken, deri ves` its Immo tronilms curious circumstance. ' VALENTINEs."—'IIe Home Journa44 fishes tw p or three columns of:Valentina. There is epigranta:ie point in the folloiriat • • TO MISS Ah,trajt:rinio (nit, coquet no mote : dur beaux hive (mated" their bade J isies DUI you laul (tortoni Mar Atitip .. , An4. ll ', 3 w4W r F - 410,..;1] •
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers