•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] •