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PCIMISIiED EVEY TUESDAY MORNING
JAMES W. M'CRORY,
(North West Corner of the Public Squerre,)
at the following rates, from which there will be no
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Within six months 1.76
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No paper will be discontinued unless at the option
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than six months.
DT IioRACE D. DURANT
At night, upon the lonely pier,
Beside the Idling river,
We parted last, my brother, dear—
Ahl shall it be forever?
Upon thy fast receding barque
I gazed all lonely hearted,
Until it vanished is the dark—
And thus we two parted!
Full oft we've seen the azure sky
Bedimmed with smoke of battle, .
Anil heard the screaming shell go by,
The deadly bullets rattle;
Full oft we've roamed the land and wave,
Through fair, through stormy weather;
Our hearts were patient, strong and brave,
As soldiers true, together.
Beneath the southern sun we've stood,
Upon the lonely picket;
By sedgy marsh, mild darkling wood,
In deep and tangled thicket;
Beside the camp fire's flick'ving glow
We've slept, of home scenes dreaming;
The earth our only couch below,
The stars above us gleaming.
Yet thou art gone; I am alone;
And here at evening &tuning,
I livten to the wintry mbatt, -
Anti wonder where thou'rt roaming;
I know, wherever thou may'st be,
That thou of me art thinking ;
And whether on the land or see,
Thonit do thy part unshrinking.
May God preserve thee, brother mine,
Through every dark-winged hour;
And guide each weary step of thine
In tender care and power;
For, oft before, I know His wing
Of mercy bath been o'er us ;
And we may trust Him still to bring
Us safe through toils before us.
Then fare thee well until we meet—
How blest that joyous meeting,
When holm again, our weary feet
Shall come to fondest greeting !
Then in the golden day of peace,
Unhroke by battle's thunder,
We'll calmly live till life shall cease,
And death alone shall sunder.
THE STREET WANDERER
THE BIRTH OF CRIME.
He was scarce poet hig childhood, and yet;
at a glance, I Perceived that he had commenc
ed life's warfare for himself, that necessity
had, with a stern, unbending brow, pointed out
to him the way he wag to take, and taught him
young as he was, that his fate must be to bat
tie for himself on the path of life. His very
bumble tattered dress, the sorrowful expression
which bad settled on his pallid yet interesting
features told their own story, and I involunta
illy sighed while observing him. " Want
alone," I mentally exclaimed, "has hitherto
been his companion; light hearts, gamboling
playmates of his own years, exuberance of the
young spirit, which gives buoyance to the foot,
throws sunshine on the heart, and 'heath whose
spell all things seem beautiful—he, poor boy !
has never known. Ile knows not of the green
fields and flowers, of murmuring brooks and
leafy trees, amidst whose branches sweet music
dwells; in some pent-up, crowded alley in his
home, and his young mind bath been awoke
in confines close, amidst scenes of toil and
The gentle and dejected expression of his
countenance first attracted my attention, and,
unobserved by him, I watched his movements
he slowly advanced down the crowded street
toward the spot where I stood. Occasionally
he paused, and after looking up and down the
busy thoroughfare, apparently awaiting or look
ing for some expected object to come in sight,
ho resumed his satAter, keeping close-to the
wall so as to avoid intercepting the way of the
numbers who were hurrying past him. The
more I saw of the boy, the more was my inter
est in him increased, and my desire to know
what object had brought him thither. So
young, could his design be criminal ? had he
been initiated into the craft of pocket•picking ?
did he thus linger amidst the bustle of the
crowded pathway to mark where he could suc
cessfully seize the spoil ? I looked at him
more earnestly as he approached me still nearer,
and I felt that in the bare suspicion I had done
While I was thus speCulatin,,c , on his charact
er, he paused within a few panes of me, and
gazed earnestly down the street, where some
appeared to,be exciting his atten t ion
Followjpg the direction of his-earnest look, I
perceived at a little distance a gentleman on
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horseback slowly advancing, while looking in
quiringly at the houses he was passing, as
though in search of one of them in particular.
He had arrived within a few yards of the place
where I stood, when he halted, and dismounted.
and in an instant the boy I have spoken of was
at his side, and touching the ragged apology fur
a Cap which he wore, evidently tendered his
services to hold the horse. The horseman cast
a hasty glance at the little fellow, and was ap
parently about to resign the reins into his hands
when the door of the house before which he
was standing opened, and a servant advaheed
to address him. I indistinctly caught the words
"from home" and "to-morrow," when the func
tionary retired to the house ; the horseman re
mounted, and cantered down the street, leaving
the. bay disappointedly and wistfully gazing
after him. , .
Yes, I . saw the gleam which had . irradiated
the little fellow's face vanish ; and fancied I
heard a sigh which his young breast heaved
forth as he turned , away dejectedly froin 'the
spot, Thus unsuccessful, I saw him nex t.,•from
some of the passers by ask charity, but so timid
ly, that I saw he feared the repulse of harsh
words, which, as I watched him, in some ,
stances tint his solicitations ; while others
passed him without the slightest notice. Ap
parently very tired, he now seated himself on'
a door step, still looking eagerly about him, a s
though anxious for another opportunity to pre
sent itself, when he. might with success offer
his services. While he,was thus employed, an
open carriage came rattling up the street, and,
pulling up, alady alighted at the house. imme
diately opposite to where the young street
wanderer sat. I watched the play of his, fea
tures' as his gaze rested upon two little fellows
of apparently his over: age who were in the
carriage, and who, in spite of an elderly-looking
nurse's efforts to restrain them were gamboling
with each other ,rather boisterously. In the
true spirit of boyish. glee and mischief, they
were endeavoring with. parasols to push off the
pat of the footman, who, seemingly as much•
amused as themselves. while standing ..by the
carriage awaiting the lady's return, was giving
them opportunities to accomplish their object.
Yes, right joyous were they ; and with their
costly dresses, rosy, cheeks, and bright eyes,
presented a striking contrast to the little fellow
who, in rags and wretchedness, from the door
step, was earnestly observing, them. I . would
have given much to have known his thoughts
in these moments;, to have read, like the pages.
of a book, the feelings of his heart, while
watching them in their , gambejs. There was
no envy in the expression of his countenance;
but, by the fixedness of gaze, .I. judged that
the sight of the carriage and .its young occu
pants at that . , juncture, had given birth to
train of thoughts and ideas as new as they were.
perhaps, sadding. Did he, think that fate had
dealt hardly with him Did he in his cogita
tions become bewildered in a labyrinth of
thought in endeavoring to account for the why
of their being's°. differently situated ? or did
fancy in his young brain raise some strange
speculation on the world and the disigns of
Him who made it?
After a short time bad elapsed, the door of
the house opened,and.the lady came forth, she
entered the carriage the footman mounted
behind, away they rattled down the street, and
were soon out of sight. I turned to look at
the boy ; he seemed to have fallen into a
reverie, sitting motionless, while his gaze rested
on the part of the n street where the- carriage
had disappeared. „,
When I again observed him, he' bad left his
seat, and was rapidly crossing the street; to
meet a female who, attired somewhat above-the
common garb, was advancing' on the . 4posite
side, and bearing in her arms a rather bulky
pardel, which she appeared inconveniently to
carry., As I had seen him salute the horse
man, the street-wanderer, in addressing her,
touched his `
cap and evidently tendered his
service to carry the parcel. The woman paused
a mosnent to look at the applicant, when, either
deeming him '4.00 diminutive for the burden,
or actuate by a spirit of economy, with some
brief but decisive remark, she turned from' him
and resumed" her walk. At the same moment.
a boor of a potter, rather than diverge from
his path, knoi.ked toughly against the boy, who
was standing on the pavement, and sent him
staggering against" the wall,'•coritinuing his
heavy tread onward, without as much as turn
ing his head to see whether or not the little
fellow had fallen. •
Thus twice had I seen the cup held to his
lips and dashed away; twice had I seen him
strong in hope, aua twice - in disappointment
deep.' - Wherenow, boy, is thy energy? where
they spirit, thy resolution? Methinks thou
GREENCASTLE, PA., TUESDAY, JUNE'I6, 1863.
needest them now. Alas! thou art but a child;
and at thy age the green fields, where the birds
are blithely singing, or the jocund playground
with your kindred spirits, where sport hath its
daring and its perseverance too, were more fit
ting places to bring forth such exalted qualities
than the crowded street—where want, per
haps, spurs thee to attempt; where fortune
frowns upon thee, and hope seems to whisper
only to 'deceive! courage thou , hast up ~more..
it has left thee, else wonldst thou not
so dejectedly bang thy head, and creep along
the street; as thifigh thou went upon forbidden
ground, or trespassing in sharing the ,light of
the fading day , aucl the breath of heaven with
those who are heedlessly hurrying past thee.
After his.,,last, unsuccessful . application, I.
next saw the; dispirited, little fellow ;turn down
a small, little-frequented street,.and with the
intention of meeting. end speaking to him .
made a short detour, soon gaining the opposite.
end of the street which I had seen him enter.
The buildings .consisted entirely, of, warehouses,
which were closed for the night;, and .knowing :
that he could scarcely have entered one of
them, I, was not a, little surprised, to find the
street apparently deserted. , Advancing a few
paces, however, the mystery was
Nestling in the corner of a warehouse doorway,
with his head, resting on his little hand, my
eyes felt upon the, wanderer I was,in search of,
Allsorbed in his, grief I approached him un
seen, unheard. Ah ! need I say that he .was
Reader, the boy had c a home; I saw it; a
cellar, whose bare, walls and ,hrielOm i covered
bespoke it the abode of,poverty and misery.—
He was, not an orphan . ; for on a heap of rags,
which served for, herhed, I saw an emaciated
figure which he called his. mother, a brother
and a sister, too,. were. there, youpger than, my
guide, and in, their tattered, dirty. , garments,
scarcely distinguishable from the .bed of rags
on which they were huddled beside the dying
woman. lle was.not an orphan; the .young
street wanderer had a father. Him, t00,,1 saw;
a rude, blear-eyed drunkard, whose countenance
it was fearful tb look upon ; for there might be
seen that the worst passions of
nature had with him obtained a perilops,aseend
ancy—a brute, whose intellect, perhaps . never
bright, had became more brutal under the in
fluence of the fire spirit, to which he bore con
spicuous marks of being a groveling soul-and
body slave. To me he appeared like the de
nial] Ruin midst the wreck around. On him,
now that the wife could work no more, were
they dependant. Need I say that there were
days when .they scarce tasted food, when the
young wanderer had been unsuccessful in the
streets? and when hungry , tired "and dejected
he gave current to his grief, as when I found
him in.the midst of his heartbreaking sorrow ; ?
Yet my first surmise was painfully correct.
He had, indeed, commenced life's warfare for
himself; younc , as he was it, was his fate to
batile his way on the path of life, and not a
soul to advise and guard him against the demon
Crime, whose favorite haunts are the footsteps
of the ignorant and needy.
Reader, how many of the victims of crime
who fill our prisons, were their histories known,
Would prove to, have communed . life like this
boy ! Not always, then, let us unpitying be
hold the criminal,, who, in his early manhood
. the prime of life,.is banished from his
country, , or suffers the .dread ,penalty of death,
without reflecting how much, those who brought
him into the world were eoncerned. : in so, mel
ancholy an issue—without reflecting that, : like
the little fellow of whom these, Tages tell, he
may have had a father little better .than .the
brute of the field, and in his childish years
have been turned out to get his bread—a
wanderer in the streets. •
STONING THE WRONG HOUSE.
In the good town of Raleigh, North Carolina,
was and still is an excellent inn; which in
court time was frequebted by judges, lawyers,
litigant and jurors.
Upon one occasion, Judge B--, as sound
a lawyer as he was an inveterate humorisi,*was
holding a court at Raleigh. Several very dif.
ficult cases were to be tried, one of which, hav
ing been submitted in the evening the jury
was escorted to a room in an adjoining building
connected with the inn, and familiarly known
to the habitues as "Collier." In the same build
ing were also lodged a number of young dis
ciples of Blackstone, who compensated them.
selves for their professional labors by a friendly
game of the classic amusement of "Poker."
Their creature comforts were' attended to by .a
one.feyed negfci *lib' rejoiced in Ihe'crianie of
Jake. ItSeeme thaCthis functionary had some
trouble with the jury which resulted in the in
troduction of his back to the cat. On the other
hand, Jake was a special favorite ,with the
young lawyers, who paid him liberally, and
for whom he entertained a corresponding re
gard. Under•. these circumstances it would
not be a matter of doubt, as to which party was
most. carefully; waited, on by the sable mereena
ry of ,gin and juleps. , •
Jacive .11—, in .t,h meantime, was-lodged
in the main building, of the hotel. With him:
also, Jake was a favorite ; and after be had cone
eluded the examination' ofssiue papers, b„,e
dressed the attendant, with inquiries as to .what
the „young gentlemen were doing.
"Nottin,. massa, nottin ! only a little game
of ,polcer, dat all" ; - ' ;
"Eh ! that's all ?"
salt ! dat all."
"The young scamps! they ought to be at
their-books !, a nice • way to procure their,cases
To-morrow some of them will be asking me to,
,trials, because .they , have not time to,
get ready !!.' grumbled the old Judge. "I say
Jake, can you get me a bile.of bricks r
"Sartin Judge—l'se git a pile of bricks--
oven break--gct bats."
"Very.well—go bring a pile into the yard.",
"Yes sar," said the obsequious darkey. and,
in a short time he returned with; the assurance ,
that the , bricks were ready.
The Judge accompanied him -to,the yard.
"Now Jake, tell ,we which room-these fol-
lows are in ?"
"Dat de room, massa!" but the cunning ne
gro, instead of indicating that occupied . by the
lawyers, pointed to one which the unoffend
ing jurors were in deliberation: , ,
"Ohl. ho ! now,. now, Jake, do as I do?" and
suiting the action, to the : Word ; his-honor com
menced pouring a- perfect ,stortu.of brickbats,
against the room of the..supposed.,delinquents.
Bang! bang they went,. Jake's missiles per
forming no secondary parkin the concert, until
the pile was exhausted, and , the startled, jury
men began to imagine .themselves assulted by
the whole town. Still they could not escape;
but buddleiltogether, bore the, assault.
In the mean time , the Jude; totally unooM
clots that he had' been stoning 'his own jury
men; was 'ohukling &veil-the dismay .he iniar
ined he had 'brought upon'the lawyers •—•
flay did not however, ad he expected; vacate ,
the premises, and he prepared•for d second bonv
In the mean time Jake,' eotivulsed' with
laugliter, had gone to the room of theliwyerd.
"Yah! yah ! yah!" screamed the negro, rol
ling in laughter, '•d'ye hear 'era ? Did yer
hear! de, brick's ? Wait's leetle Here more'
bime by," and proceeded as clearly' as his.
cachinuatory paroxysm would allow. him , to ex"-
plain the mistakei into which he had led his
He had scarcely Withdiiwn when judge B::
summoned him to collect anotheipile of lirieks,
which was forth coining, as readl3 , as the
first.- The same tornadir visited the estoiiisbed
jury, but' the same result followed, for The very ,
good reason that they could hot get out even*
if they:would. The Judge supposing them to
be :thegamesters, was proportionately irritated
that he '
could notibreak up their party.
"Bring, another pile . of bricks !" and nee
more these formidable projectiles were laid be;
"Now, Jake at.thelwindows."
Smash crash.! whii bane they went and'
every Thing else gave way, as brick after .bricks
penetrated the jury room. The fortress was
no longer tenablel—the laws of arms• justified
a capitulation. and a general flight took place.
Unfortunately the Judge in his zeal and
wrath, never thought of making his retreat;
and as the .jurors were separating, imagine
their horror 'at discovering that the learned
Judge himself was their assailant, and had
been 'besieging them during :the night after ,
this judicial extra fashion. Too late the
Judge found out his mistake ;• and petrified
with astonishment, he stood detected with his
hand raised- in the act of hurling a brick
through the windows of the jury room.
Great was the confusion ! That Judge B.—
should do such a thing! TWA ithigh ftinctiod
ary should so far cotupromit th;e: Senor= of
his character, the dignity' of his office !
could not have beep credited had it not been
seen—but unfortunately the, judg,e vas detect
ed in jingrante delicto.
The only way left was to makes full explanl
ation, and this the Judge did; Witii many
hearty - maledictions on Jake 4ie lawyere
munificently rewarded the negro, upon whOm
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the Judge could not very well take verogeance
without admiting his confederacy with him;
and the jurors were ever after careful of
drawing the WratWof that dusky dignitary.
The .Jif'dg:e 'acknciwledged he was beaten,
and interfered no more with his young lawyers,
at their games of "Poker."
'He dines sumptuously who dines out of
A dead hen is_ better than a live one; she
'will lay wherever ywuaut her. > ,•
Happy is, the. hearing man ; unhappy is the
Ladiei d lui've 'their full share of talk—and
Ne.areno tupre , born for ourselves than we
are born , byy. ourselves.
Children are the stroa,,,aest pillars of the
temple of wedded love.
Marrying a disagreeable woman for the sake
of her money is swallowing a silver-coated pill.
PeoPle have but poor reason to be proud of
their ancestral line if it was a hempen one.
The miser hides his' savings, but the early
schooling saves his hidings.
The spendthrift and the wiser despise each
other, but not a particle too much.
it'is 'said that,''with •a Yankee, every day is
a day . of "reekonirig."
Persqns dead to, sham9,uay not unfrequent
ly prove alive to the horsewhip_... ,
The'wind is feminine' for' it is fickle and
generally his a new shift 'every day.
The paths marked Out by the habiti of so
ciety are often, as: deNious , .as 'sheep-paths
through.,the woods.. ,
The only way to escape curtain lectures is
either to live single or sleep in a bed without
i•Yoiu. maybe sure that all will be pulled
doirn , without you, if.there is nothing firmly
set up within yon.'•
Often at fashionable balls we have seen a
good many goats, and a,pair of kids to every
It is difficult to lovethoSe whom we do not
esteem; and cpli '
te -as kifficult to love those we
esteem more thattourselves.
The globe nurses her .children by taking
them on her lap.
.Her surface life is a process
of lactatierithat' ley may e fed. and grow.
Too often, when people liave fancied that the
world was becoming Christian, Chrisitmnity was
in, fact. becoming worldly.
"Some men, measured alOne by their
would seem to be saints." But alas for the
other six days : olkihirtieeli
To be ,a philosopher , is ,to;: secure a retreat
from' the,morld, as it is man's, into the world;.
as it is God's
Why should not women be doctors ? < We
call Nature "she." and Nature is the greatest
doctor of them all
"I love. ou" are three words, wl.ich if tang
led as they frequently are in a knot, can never
be restored to their original position.
We may make angels of our own 'tender and
kind' and loving thoughts and feelings by let
ting them fIY to others.
We are told to prayin ecorner, but a good
many Christians, so called' are never cornered
in that way.
In the sinner's life, the roses perish, and the
thorns are left; in the gooltman s, the throns
die and the roses, live.
If a man uses a eorksciew too often at a sit
ting, his Movements are.likely to get as crooked
as the instrument
Hurricatkes, it issuppose'd, are caused by all
the. women in the porld talking at once. But
their intrgeueti r ey seems to militate against the
theory.,. - '
What a strange thing an old dead sin laid
away in a secret drawer of 'the' sotir:isl Must
it sometime or other be inoistened with' teini
until it comes to life again-:Las the dry aniWial
cule, grabi of dust, becomes alive
if wet with a drop'of water !