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■TT A.RVEY SICKLEH, Proprietor.]
loillt Branrli democrat.
A weekly Democratic ~_
paper, devoted to I'ul- ! V 7*
fies, News, the Arts „ ■ f'gT '
and. Sciences Ac. Pub- B A xyA :
lislied every Wednes-
r->y, at Tonkhannock, \ t )
Wyoming County, Pa. /V * \| j3Zj
BY HARVEY SICKLER.
Terms —1 copy 1 year, (in advance) 51.50. If
not pain within six months, $2.00 will be charged.
10 lines or i |
less, make three four ' tiro jfhrcc ]• six one
one square weeks weeks mo'th ino th mo th year
l~Square~ TwTm.lJv 2,87j m\ 5,00
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Business Cards of one square, with paper, S3.
of all kinds neatly executed, and at prices to su t
BACON STAND.—Nicholson, Pa. C. L
JACKSON, Proprietor. fvln49tf]
HS. COOPER, PHYSICIAN A SURGEON
• Newton Centre. Luzerne County Pa.
GEO. S. TUTTON, attorney AT LAW,
Tunkbannock, l'a. Office m Stark's Blick
Block, Tioga street.
YT7M. N.PIATT, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Of-
W five in Stark's Brick Block, Tioga St., Tunk
I' ITTI.E & HEWITT, ATTORN EY'S AT
J LAW, Office on Tioga street, Tunkhaunock,
1L R. I.ITTLB. .T.W.WITT.
J~ V SMITH, M. D, PHYSICIAN A SI'UdEON,
. Office on Bridge Street, next door to the Demo
crat Office, Tnnkhnnnock, l'a.
ARVEY SIC UI.ER, ATTORNEY AT LAW
and GENERAL INSURANCE AGENT Of
fice, Bridge street, opposite Wall's lintel, Tunkhan
JT. W. RHOABS, M. ID.,
(Graduate of the University of Perm'a.)
Respectfully offers his professional services to the
sitizens of Tunkh innock and vicinity. lie can be
found, when not professionally engaged, either at his
Drug Store, or at his resideu -e on I'utnaui Street.
DR.J.V.COR6ELIUS, HAVING LOCAT
ED AT THE I-ALLS. WILL promptly attend
all calls in the line of his profession—ma v be found
at Bcemer's Hotel, when not professionally absent.
Fall*, Oct. 10, 1961.
J>l<.l. <)T HKC KEn ,Y Co., -
PHYSICIANS cS; ItOf'ONS,
Would respectfully ai nounee to the < itizensof Wy
oming that they have located at .Mi hi < piny, where
they will promptly attend to .a!! calls in the line of
their profession. May he found .It his Drug Storo
when not professionally absent.
N. CAREY, M. I>.— (Grin Imire of thCj
• M. Institute, Cincinnati) would resficctfuliy
announce to the citizens of Wyoming on 1 Luzerne
Counties, that he c uitinues his regular pro -lice in the
various departments of his profession. May tic toun i
at his office or residence, when not professionally nb
Particular attention given to the treatment
entremorcland, Wyoming Co. Pa.—v2n2
LATE AMERICAN HOUSE/
TUNkIIYNNOCK, WYOMING CO , PA.
Till? establishment h is recently been refitteil and
furnished in the latest style Every attention
will be given to the comfort and convcn'ence of those
woo patronize the House.
T. B WALL, Owner and Proprietor.
Tunkhannoek, Septemher 11, 1861.
WORTH BRANCH HOTEL,
MESIIOPPEN, WYOMIXH COUNTY, PA
RILEF WARNER, Prop'r.
HAVTXG resumed the proprietorship of the above
Hotel, the undersigned will spare no effort to
render the house an agreeable place ol sojourn for
all who may favor it with their custom.
September 11. 1961.
WYO MIX G COUNT Y, PEXXA.
JOHN .>1 A Y N ARI) , Proprietor.
HA\ IXC. taken t >.e Hotel, in the Borough of
Tunkhanttrck, recently occupied by Riley
Warner, the proprietor respectfully solicits a share of
public patronage. The House has been thoroughly
repaired, an l the comforts and accomodations of a
first class Hotel, will be found by all who may favor
it with their custom. September 11. 1961.
MGILMAX, has permanently located in Tnnk
• bannock Borough, and respectfully tenders his
professional services to the citizens of this place and
ALL WORK WARRANTED, TO GIVE coATIS
Office over Tutlon's Law Office, near the Po
_Dec. 11, 1861.
Justice's, Constable's, and legal Blanks of all
kinds. Neatly and Correctly printed on i'oqd Paper
and for sale at the Office of the " North Branch
IIAIE AND BRICK, CHEAPER THAN AT
J where else in the coun v, for sale at
... p YERNOY'S
flcshoppcn, Sept lb. 1661.
|) oct's Corner.
[From the Democratic Leader]
THE PAUPER'S GRAVE.
BY JAMES I. FALBY, JR.
No marble shelters the lowly mouud.
From the heat of moontide's ray;
No willows bend their graeefnl heads
Above his lifeless clay.
No evergreens grow near the spot,
No flowers their pertume shed,
But weeds in wild luxuriance trail
O'er his gloomy, narrow bed.
No gentle hand a wreath e'er weaves,. m
To place upon his tomb
No roses o'er him cast their leaves,
No blossoms for him bloom.
Unconscious and calm he sleeps within
Ilis poor neglected grave;
His griefs and cares he buried deep
'Neath oblivion's silent wave.
Stately columns mark each place where rests
The rich and honored dead,
Inscribed with virtues which around
Their names a halo sited.
But the pauper lies unknown, unloved,
While e'er him the weeds grow wild,
Yet—Gob forgets not the resting place
Of poverty's huntble child.
November 20, 1662.
SJThe above was written by a lad fourteen years of
age. He has, however, •' seen life," for he has been,
we understan 1, in the army, and noticed the distinc
tions made by the world. —En; LEADER.]
The Crimson Tree.
I passed th'ough the woods one autumn day
And watched the flashing glory
Of oak ami walunt and maple and fir,
And heeded their saddening story.
The sermon tbey preached was searching and deep,
But the beauty of their strain,
The glittering hues on the mountain steep,
llushcd the troubled thoughts again."
Picture worthy of Artist divine,
Where splendor heaped on splendor,
Where lightness with dark, where sombre with gay
Where rocks an 1 leafage tender,
Where blue and green and golden and brown,
Melt into an artist's dreain.
Anl this pictured temple, myriad hued,
Heard on the faded sod,
Made nie inwardly murmur, in accents subdued,
" It's Builder an i Maker is Goi>."
As I looked, I saw the color of blood,
One tree with crimson dye
Reached upward above the colored flood,
And touched the gentle sky.
let 'twas a hue troui (lon's own hand,
His touch had set it there,
Who eoul 1 never impose on himself command,
To mar a dream so fair.
Ami so wh n I lo )k on another scone,
'the blessings of Home and Rami,
The flashing, golden, myriad tints,
The s) lenders on every hand,
And see the sclemr. crimson of blood,
It blends with the flashing glory,
And Goo's own pencil throws a flood
Of light on the saddening story.
And though we sometimes sit and weep
At the crimsoned waters flowing,
And the crimsoned leaves on the mountain side,
At (he crimsoned sod slow growing,
Yet thiv blending of tints, this sombre with gay,
Reveals ttie hand of the Lord,
And we gladly and yet*all solemnly say,
" It's Maker and Builder is Gon."
Ilnying Winter Tilings.
" The poor ye have always with you."
" Would you like to go shopping this
It was Miss Chaloner who asked the ques
tion—" Gertrude the magnificent," as her
worshippers called her, with more truth in
their epithets than there usually is in the
compliments paid to handsome women
Gertrude Chaloner was self-poised to a re
markable degree. No world's judgment, no
human opinion, had power to lay out a foot
path for her iuiperious feet. What she had
a will to she (ltd, and of small import was
any other mortal's nilly. So far, this cir
cumstauc(£ bad not hurt her popularity, for
she had only willed to be the most accom
plished, the most, intellectual, and the best
dressed woman of her set. So, never think
ing of fashion, per se, she became a leader of
it. A few knew, however, that it wanted
only the true electric spark to quicken that
grand nature into something nobler than any
of her past dreams. Meantime her powers,
unconsciously to herself, waited, as the offer
ngs usyd to wait upon the altar for the spark
of celestial fire which was to make of them
sweet incense for heaven.
Of course not every one knew this. Most
people supposed that she was in her proper
sphere now, and would never have thought
of associating lier with self-denial or self-eac
She sat—this clear, bright autumn morn
ing—in her own room, which wat shared,
just then, with a guest who came the daybe
foic—her cousin Nan from Philidelpia. The
pair were a complete contrast, and therefore
polarized admirably. Miss Chaloner was
tall and stately, with dark hair and gray
eves, out of which the waiting soul looked
honest, earnest and trustful. Her lips, ex
cept when she smiled, were thought too thin ;
••TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FRfefeMAW'B RlGHT.**—Thomas Jefferson.
T.UNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, DEC. 10, 1862.
her brow, now that the hair was rolled back,
a thought 100 high. Nan Darrow's brow
was low ; her eyes laughed even when her
full soft lips did not, and her soul was all
heart—a creature pretty and most winsome,
but one whose good deeds would be offshoots
of impulse, not principle ; none the less grace
ful for that, however. She reverenced her
cousin Gertrude as a superior being ; and,
after her own gay fashion, loved her dearly.
She sprang up and clapped her hands as Mi6s
" Going to get winter things 7 Oh, that
is charming ! I always love to see you shop
—you go at it royally. No shilling counters
for you ! It is well that your purse, is as
long as your taste is lofty."
Miss Chaloner smiled.
I fear you'll be disappointed, Nan. I am
going to buy practical, useful things this
" As if I did not know that your most use
ful gown was a Frenc.i cashemere, and your
most serviceable stockings were finespun of
the silk-worm's cast off winding sheet."
" Well, lam not going to buy cashemere
robes this morning, but I shall get a good
many winter things nevertheless."
Nan put on her dainty velvet cloak and
tied her French hat round a face bright
with the careless, thoughtfulness joy of youth.
MiSs Chaloner made a graver toilet, and
soon they were on Washington street.—
Their first stopping-place was at a grocer's.
Flour, and sugar, and butter were purchased
in liberal quantities, and sent to different ad
dresses. which Miss Chaloner read from a
card which she held in her hand.
Nan began to wonder, but she maintained
a discreet silence. She walked on beside her
cousin with her tripping footsteps till they
turned into Summer street, the more congen
ial regions of dry goods shops. A half sup
pressed exclamation of delight escaped her
as she saw tho tempting array of silks in a
window on the north side; and when Miss
Chafoner entered the door she began to think
the true business of the day was cotumenc
ing. But they did not go up to the silk
counter, or turn aside for the soft faces float
ing out mistily. Half way up the storo,
where ihe shelves were piled with substan
tial cottons and warm blankets, Gertrude
Chaloner stopped, and Nan made a halt-un
willing pause at her side. The purchase was
extensive—several pieces of cotton, half a
dozon pairs of soft, warm blankets, in these
days when cotton and blankets are at a pre
mium. Nan's wonder increased. But the
articles were to be sent home this time, and
she began to think her cousin was secretly
contemplating ..matrimony and houso-kecp-
"We will cross the street now," Miss
Chaloner said, as they went out, " I saw
over there some nice, serviceable winter dress
" When, in the name of wonder, did you
begin to care for cheapness ?" muttered Nan,
as the little door boy let them in.
The dresses were purchased—a few rem
nants for children, some dark calicoes, and
strong woolen goods in larger patterns ; and
a dozen or two of coarse, warm stockings'
and the list was complete.
" Now, to pay you for being good, you
shall look at pictures a little," Miss Chalo
ner said, as she led the way towards Ever
They looked over some choice engravings
for half an hour, and finally Miss Chaloner
purchased one—small, but a gem of the most
exquisite art—a Madonne with the Iloly-
Child smiling in her arms, and the attend
ant angels looking out from the clouds around
with the brightness of another world upon
their brows. She gave direction for it to be
framed simply, and said that she would call
for it on the morrow."
With usual reticence Nan refrained from
any questions until they had reached home
and sat down in her cousin's pleasant room
to rest awhile. Then, when the bundles be
gan to come in, she asked :
" Are these blankets and cotton for your
self, cousin Gertrude ?"
" And of course the calicoes, and stockings,
and remnants are not. W ho, in the name of
common sense are they for? and how much
rnon;y do you think you have spent this
morning on this rubbish ?"
"As to whom they arc for, you shall see
that to-morrow ; and as to the money I have
spent, it is less than half my usual winter al
" And you expect to dress on the other
half?"caried Nan, with wide open wondering
" No, the other half goes for coal and
" And you are to dress on—what 7"
" What I have. Except boots and gloves,
Ido not mean to have a single new article
'•'Except, of course, y.iur bonnet; one
could hardly imagine Miss Chalonea
in a last year's chapeau."
" Not even excepting ray bonnet—
My last winter's one was a black velvet, It
will alter over. irreproachably. I do not
mean that the world shall know these things,
Nan. lam not going to turn hermit, or even
to give up the society in which I have been
accustomed to move. I had more new finer
ies last winter than half uiy friends had a
sight of. I shall not be conspicuously shabby
if I wear them again. I only let you into
my secrets because you are my little cousin,
who loves me, aud I think my example may
have some weight with you. You fe rich
enough to do a great deal of good in the same
way. It is going to be a terrible wintef.
Taxes are such as our country tteVef knew
before, and goods are selling at prices we
should have thought fabulous a year ago.
With nty wardrobe full of last year's hadsomc
dresses, I could not think it right to buy new
ones, when the cry of the poor and the wail
of the destitute are piercing air on every
"But there have been poor people always,
Gertie, and you have never felt this before."
"No. I have not realized the fact of suffer
ing as I realize it now. It is the hour of
darkness all over the land. The resurrection
morning will come by-and-by, but now the
night is murk, and the stars are dim. I have
given more to my country than gold could
buy. One I loved, and who loved me, went,
in August, with the three-years' men. He
came to me with the light of eager courage
and self-devotion in the eyes, and asked me to
bid him God-speed and send him on his mis
"And you did it 7"
"Yes I did it. It was a hard struggle,
but what was I that I should stay at home
and keep my own, and let other women's
lovers aud husbands march, and bleed, and
die, that I and mine might shelter ourselves
in a smiling home and look out through plate
glass, from between soft draperies at the
winter 7 Yes, I gave him up. He is gone. He
will coine again, perhaps ; but I can never
forget that other perhaps—that the mouth
which kissed mine at parting may never kiss
again, and the eyes at whose courage I lit the
fire of my own resolve may look their last on
the smoky sky of some Southern batttle
" When I had given him up I longed to do
something myself. Beside the one great sac
rifice all lesser ones seemed easy, and almost
his last works had marked out my path
'How shall I bear ft? I faltered, clinging to
him with a woman's weakness. 'By being
always busy, Gertrude,' and I remember the
pity in his eyes as he 6aid it. 'There are so
many suffering ones to support—so many
wounds to heal.'
Since he went away I have been living
a new life. I have been among a class of peo
ple I have never understood before—the good
and honest poor. I have seen there sights to
make a woman's heart ache, and so far as I
could, have carried cousolation with me. It
is a small sacrifice, Nan, to go without a new
cloak or wear a last year's dress for the sake
of giving a shelter to the shelterless."
" But I never thought you were benevolent,
Gertrude, and you always seemed to me very
fond of dress, in a dignified, high and mighty
(ashion of your own."
So I was, and so I suppose I am still ; but
that was not all of me, Nan, I needed rousing,
and I can not understand the soul which
these days of dread and danger, these times
of parting and praying, would not quicken to
a new life.
Nan Parrow looked at her cousin.—Miss
Chal oner's face shone as if she were inspired.
Into her grey eyes a flood of light had broken
—her pale face was flushed, her head was
erect, her chest heaved Even Nan's uupene
trating gaze could not fail to sec that for that
soul its hour had come.
They did not talk much more. Nan,s na
ture was impulsive demonstrative, outspoken,
but she dared not express to Gertrude the
admiration that she felt as profound as any
sentiinent of hers could be. "Go thou and
do likewise," was the only tribute Miss Chal
oner would have welcomed,
The next morning they took the carriage,
packed with the purchases of the day before,
and started to convey them to their destina
tions. On the way they stopped at Everett's
and took in the Madonna.
" Surely this is not for one of your pen
sioners ? Nan asked. " I think one would
hardly feed the hungry with pictures."
" There is more than one kind of hunger,
child Na.n You shall see whether my gift
will be appreciated.
They had stopped at* three houses, leaving
a pair of blankets here, a dress there, and at
another a piece of cotton, as need was. At
the next pause Miss Chaloner took tbc pic
ture in her hand, and turned with a smiling
face for Nan to follow her.
They went up two flight of stairs, and
then a faint sweet voice answered " come in"
to Chaloner's tap on the door—They entered
a large and not uncomfortable room. Every
thing was scrupulously neat. In one of the
windows stood a tea rose, a geranium and
heliotrope. Nan knew they were her cousin's
favorite flowers, and guessed how they came
there. In the bed bolstered up by pillows
and knitting busily, was a young girl. She
was not beautiful, and yet Nan thought she
had never seeu a face so sweet. It was a deli
cate thin face ; so pale that the tracery of the
blue veins shone through. The eyes were
dark and full of a mournful tendernesss. The
hair was cut short, like a child's, and lay
about the brow in sunßy rings. How the pale
visage brightened into smiles as she saw who
was her visitor! Miss Chaloner tock a
chair near the bed and gave one to Nan, as if
she wete at ho&ife. Theft she asked,
" How do you do to-day, Martha 7—Did
you have a bad night 7 I have brought my
cousin Miss Darrow, to see you."
" Thank youi lam pretty well; no more
pftih thati Usual. I slept several hours last
night, and it did me good.—Mother has gone
out to take home some work, and I was quite
cheerful sitting here alone."
" You always are. It reproaches me some*
times to think of it." Miss Chaloner said
kindly. " How long is it since you have
been able to stand on your feet 7"
" Five years this month, ma'am."
" Five years of lying here in this one place
and looking at the blank wall and suffering I''
Miss Chaloner'B eyes grew misty, but she
went on in a tone, of encouragement.
" I have brought something to hang in front
of you, on the wall, Martha and perhaps it
will comfort you sometimes when you are
She unfolded the wrappings from the pic
tare and held it before the sick girl,—Martha
did not speak. Iler ecstacy was worldless'
but it shone in her eyes and transfigured her
face as 6he looked. By aud by her tears began
f o fall.
"0 i Miss Chaloner." she said, at length
'' do you mean that that is my own 7 I shall
never be lonely again."
" Do you think my pictuje was a good in
vestment?" Gertrude asked, smilingly, as
they went down stairs.
" The best of all !" Nan cried with eager
tones. " Oh, Gertrude isn't she lovelj ? So
refined so gentle—"
"And so patient," Gertrude added—"What
she suffers no one dreams—nights and days
of racking agon}" —and yet busy every mo
ment when the sharp torture leaves her a res
pite. If I had made ten times more sacrifices
for the sake of doing good, to have known
that girl and learned the lesson of unfaltering
trust, of patient submission site has taught
me, would have been worth it all."
Nan staid in Bu6ton three weeks longer
She went with Miss Chaloner to buy the rest
of her winter things ; and when she left at
last, it was with a new purpose in her eager
impulsive, but kindly heart. Last week she
wrote to Gertrude Chaloner:
1, too, have been shopping since I saw you.
Hitherto I had shopped only for one. Now I
am shopping for many, and the reward is
proportionally larger. I do all I can—yes,
Gertrude, I do believe I am doing all I can
for those whose sufferings you taugnt me to
discover.—Sometime perhaps, I shall be good
enough to be called j'our friend. I, too have
sent one away to fight for me whom hitherto
my selfish love held back. My offering, like
yours is on the altar. Come to me and teach
me how to wail."
How long will these Women, and many
more besides them, have in which to learn
that long, slow lesson ? With what grand re
sult, to them, to all, will the waiting be
crowned at leng'h? God knows.
The Tennessee Elections
Among the more flagrant assumptions of
power by Lincoln, is that of ordering elections
to be held in portions of the State of Tennes
see, under the direction of naval and military
officers. By what pretense this order is is
sued, no man can divine, save the necessity
of getting voters in Congress to meet and
over-come the votes of delegates from the
loyal States. We have learned, by man}-a
painful lesson, that the doctrine of necessity
is applied without limit as to object or man
It is a fundamental principle of the party
in power, representing indeed but one-third
of the voters at the Presidential Election, bu,
still in the place of power, to follow out the
doctrine of expediency—the higher law—and
what so forcible a plea as necessity ? The ob
ject supreme—the means of attaining it secon
dary, and never important enough to be re
garded as an obstacle.
Members of Congress are necessary, in or
der to the support of the Abolition party, and
where are they to be got ? The British Con
stitution provides for that necessity, in the
power of the monarch to create Peers mem
bers of the House of Lords.
The Constitution of the United States does
not. Still necessity calls, and the expedient
is found ; a mandate is issued to the Military
and Naval officers ( the civil power is a mere
shame,) to order elections in the portions of
Tennessee where they held possession, and to
see that none are elected but, Ist, gontleman.
2nd,who will swear to support the Constitution
sof old, not our prese nt arbitarv Govern
ment, that is an after matter j and, 3d, who
will not be suspected of duplicity, in failing
to do that which they are employed to do.
Surely, Lincoln docs not want anybody in
Congress who will support'the Constitution,
as of old ; there will be too many of that kind
there already. Why go to tho conquered
districts of Tennessee for more of them?
This is indeed one of tho fearful conse
quences of having political power in the hands
of men who hold that they have a "higher
law," a rule of conscience, above the law of
GOD or man. As well might Lincoln order
elections under the millitary and naval offi
cer, with the host of Provost Marshals in
Pennsylvania, whose duty it should be to
have elected gentlemen who will swear to
any thing and do as they are hid. There is
not a shadow, or even a pretence, of Consti
tutional power for such an act.
At Roman Emperor constituted his horse
Consul, with Senatorial rank. It was absurd
but it was honest.
ITSZtIVfS: Si.Sd iPETI ANXUM
EXECUTIVE fcIiEMEStY—THE MIX
The people of Minnesota /ftWiresf great dis
pleasure because of the President's revoking
the sentence of death against the three hun
dred savages, a portion of those who recently
committed the murderous atrocities against
the white men, women and children of that
State, and their complaints are not wtthout
good foundation. While the President can
issue a proclamation setting free four millions
of slaves, in which he declares that nothing
shall be done to prevent " any efforts" they
may make to secure their freedom—thus itf
viting them to butcher the whites, if necessa
ry, to obtain their liberty, he is too tender
hearted to allow sentence of death to be ex
ecuted against blood-thirsty savages who
have committed, against the defenseless and
unoffending white people in their neighbor
hood such atrocities at, make one shudder to
think of. Ihese red fiends, incensed at the
failure of Mr. Lincoln to pay them their annu
ities when due, murdered, it is said, a thous
and innocent men, women and children ;
committed outrages upon womerf, whose
lives they choose to spare, wcrse than death
itself, destroyed property to the amount of
millions, and desolated a large region of coun
try ; yet Mr. Lincoln, while ho contemplates
with evident pleasure the fratricidal and
fi uitless slaughter now going on between the
white people of the North and South, and
while he can cooly authorize the negro slaves
of the Southern States to cut the throats of
the white women and children of those States,
cannot find it in his philanthropise soul to
have the red devils of Minnesota executed
If they had killed half as many negroes as
they have white people, we doubt whether
Mr. Lincoln would have revoked their sen
Not lung since Col. (or Gen.) McNepl, o f
Missouri, shct ten citizens of that State, be
cause a single man, residing in their neigh
borhood was missing and they would not, or
could nut, give information where he was
These ten men were non-combatants—ihey
had never taken up arms against the govern
ment—nothing whatever had been proven
against them, in any formal or lawful manner
They were arrested while in pursuit of their
ordinaay occupations, and told by this Mc-
Nii l that, if the missing man were not found
within a certain time, they, should be shot
Ihe man was not found and they were shot.
A description of the manner in which they
met their fate appeared in this and other pa
pers, a short time since, and our readers
doubtless remember with what courage and
heroism they suffered this military murder
Abraham Lincoln, as Commander-in-Chief of
the Army, has never even reprimanded Mc-
Niel, who still disgraces the American name
by holding undisturbed command of a por
of the Union army. Yet Mr. Lincoln's heart,
which revolts not at this cowardly murder of
white men, is to tender to allow the Indian
savages of Minnesota to be executed fur the
damnable crimes and atrocities which they
Not long ago, Col. Turchln, in Gen. Mttch
el s command, gave his men four hours of
freedom in Athens, Alabama, to do as they
pleased. They repaired to a youg ladies'
seminary and committed outrages which can
not be named in a public journal. Turchin
was afterwards promoted by the Presideut to
a Brigadier Gsneralship, and Mitchel was
canonized. But, .Mr. Lincoln's Christian
heart cannot bear to think of the execution of
the Minnesota savages.
Wo do not wonder that the white people
of Minnesota feel outraged and disgusted by
Mr. Lincoln,B revocation of the death sen
tence against the savages. The while people
of the State have suffered indescribably front'
the outrages of these red fiends ; and their
future safety require that a terrible example
should te made of those brutes in human
form. But Mr. Lincoln has decided that the
lives and property of the whites are of secon
dary importance in comparison with the lives
of the mnrderers and ravagers of their wives'
and daughters Kr.
THE CELESTIAL, STATE.
Old Rickets was a man of labor, and had*
little or no time to devote to speculations of
the future. lie was, withal, very uncouth in'
the use of language.
One day, while engaged in stopping hog-'
holes about his place, he was approached by
a colporteur and presented with a tract.
•' \\ hat is all this about ?" demanded Rick
" That, sir, is a book describing the celes-"
tial state," was the reply.
" Celestial State 1" said Rickets. " Whcro
the deuce is that ?"
'•My worthy friend, I fear that you have'
" Well, never mind," interrupted Rickets,
" I don't want to hear about any better State
than old Pennsylvania. I intend to live ami
die right here, if I can only keep them d -d
£3sr Poverty is often despair. A gOoJ
fellow went to hang himself, but, finding a
pot of gold, went nierily home. he who
had hidden the pot. went and hung himself
V r OL. 2, NO. 18.