3KXGXilL.EXT.,Proprietor.] * f• j *1 f • > H - 1 NEW SERIES, gflctjj prm o era h A weekly Democratic paper, devoted to Pol '/ tic?, News, the Arts fS | and Sciences Ac. Tub- • fished every Wcdnes- I[■}' day, at Tunkhannock, Wyoming County, Pa. / I ' v W— *' BY HARVEY SiCKLER. Tcrms—l copy 1 venr, (in advance) 81.50. If not pain within six months, 82.00 will be charged A-IDVEIITISIINr'a. 10 tine* or . 1 ; less, make three four tiro [three si.r \ one one square weeks weeks-,mo'th, mu'lh mo'tir i/ear 1 Square 1,00 1,251 2.25 ■ 2,8? 3.00, 5.00 2 do. 2.00; 2.5 U. 3.25 350 4,50! 0,00 3 do. 3,00 3.75 1.75 5.50 7.00 9.00 | Column. 4.00 4,50; 6.50 8.00 10.00; 15.00 do. 6,005 7,00 lu oo 12.00 1 7 ,00 23,00 do. s.oo 9,50? 14.00 18,00 !5,0( 35,00 1 do. 10,00. 12.0U 17,00 ; 22,00, 23,00 40,00 Business Cards of one square, with paper, -S's. JOB WOIIII of all kinds neatly executed, and at prices to suit the times. pusiiuss potirrs. BACON STAN !>.—N icholson, Fa. —C. L JACKSON, Proprietor. |vln4LUf] TUTTON, ATTOIINEY AT LAW. J Tunkhannock, Pa. Office in Stark's Brick Block, Tioga street. WM. M. PI \TT, ATTORNEY AT T.AW, Of. fice in Stark's Brick Block, Tioga St., Tunk hannock, Pa. f) It.ekS, \Y, LITTLE ATTORNEY'S AT, k LAW, Office on Tioga street, Tunkhannock Pa. JV. SSIIfII, .51. D, PIIY.sTCrAX & SCRGEOy, • Office on Bridge Street, next door to the Demo crat Office, Tunkhannock, Pa. COOPER, PHYSICIAN k SI'KOEON • Newton Centre, Luzerne County Pa. L>K. 4. K BKCKKH .V- r<., PHYSICIANS & SI'RGEOVS, Would respectfully r.nnmm-e to ;!, , : ;11z ■; -of Wy ming that they have located at Tunkhanno k who hey will promytly attend to all , -ills in the line of neir profession. Alay be found at his Drug Staro when not professionally absent. T >l. CAREY, 51. D, — (Graduate of the -.j tl • M. Institute. Cincinnati) would res-o -ttullv announce to the citizens of Wyoming "an 1 Luzerre Counties, that he continues hi? regular practice in the various departments of his profession. May iv- foun i at his office or residence, when not professionally ab cnt Particular attention given t > the treatment Chronic Discas. entrer.iorelanil, Wyoming Co. Pa.—\'2ri? WALL'S HOTEL, LATE AMERICAN HOUSE. TUN KHAN NOCK, WYOMING CO., I'A THIS establishment has recently been refute! am! furnishe lin the latest style Every attention will he given to th° comfort and convenience of those who pntronizc- the House. T. 15. WALL, fiivneranl Proprietor. Tunkhannoek, September 11, IStil. MAYWAnD'S HOTEL, T I'NKI lAWOCK. WYO MIX G COLX Ii , PEN X" A. JOHN MAYNARD, Proprietor. HAVING taken the Hotel, in the Borouc'n <>' Tunkhannoek, recently occupied by ltiley Warner, the proprietor respectfully solicits a share ul public patronage. The House has been thoroughly repaired, and the comforts and accomodation- ft' a first class Hotel, will be found by all who may favor t with their custom. September 11, 1961. NORTH BRANSH HOTEL, MESIIOPPEN, WYOMING COUNTY. I'A Wm. H. CORTRIGHT, J'rop'r f T AVI ho resumed the proprietorship of flic above 11 Hotel, the undersigned will spare no effort to render the house an agreeable place ot sojourn for •Hi who may favor it with their ,-imt. ui. Wm. II •CCRTRIHIIT. June, 3rd, 1363 |JJfaiis Ilaifl, towaktda, rA D- B. B ART LET. [Late of the BBRAINAP.d HOUSE, ELMIRI N Yl PROPRIETOR. The MEANK HOTEL, Lone of the LARGEST SfittL AP f t I' V,;E,) '■" in the country ~lt is fitted up tn the most modern and improved style and no pains arc spared to make it a pleasant and' agreeable stopping-place for all v 3, n2l, ly mmtuaiax, " JIENYIST. '[£&&,. ... M OILMAN, has permanently located in Tnnk • hannock Borough, and respectfully tenders his professional services to the citizens of this place and urrounding country. ALL WORK WARRANTED. TO GIVE SATIS FACTION. _ over Tutton's Law Office, near the Pos Office. bee. 11, 1861. TO NERVOUS SUFFERERS OF BOTH SEXES. r e stcm,fl E K ßE wu T) r,KXTT 'EMAN HAVING BEEN the tminl rr nil 1 ' ' n . a . fow days, after undergoing all ,'S,?r d ,rreSulur "pen-'ive modes of iT co^ f 'crs it his sacred du- SJI222P™ n ll ®*"UeHw ,-rortmree the njeans of eure. Hence, on the recetrrf. of nr ad dressed envelope, he will send G-eeo . nt #v. feerlrtta. 1. Direct a jfT M, m •M Klloo Street, Erookljn. Xco York. v2n'Jllj 1 .Sclett TimsiltlfE Oil. OR, THE Eastward ami the Westward Home. BY MARY EYI.E DALLAS. The eastward and the westward homes, so they called them at those two houses, stand ing wilii n a stone's throw of each other.— Twin houses jast alike, with even the same syringa and lilac bushes in the garden, and the same number of inches of green grass plot exactly in the midst thereof— prim but comfortable houses, perfection ill the eyes of their Quake: builder, who planned them for two sons who never lived to marry and occupy them. So it chanced that they were let to strangers—though the little concocting gate between the gardens still remained as it would had brothers opened and passed through it every day, anil somehow suggest h1 intimacy and neighborly calls—and the two grape vines which festooned the porches and stretched long arms from their respective trelli-es and mingled into one great arbor of dusky green and purple bloom. It was just after the last grape had been [ lucked, and the brown branches had begun to show through the fast falling-leaves—a bright Thanksgiving eve bathed in all the royal splendor of an Indian Summer—that a young lady, richly dressed ia silk, with a scarlet scatf about her shoulders, paced up and down the btoad porch of the western hoti-e, watching the sunset. She was Very oung and Very lovely, with a kind of orien. tal beauty which was well set olf by the bright hues and glistening fabric which site wore—an oriental looking creature ail togeth er. like, the wife of some Caliph or Sultan in the Arabian Nights, with languishing black eyes and a form of undulating grace—an idle, dainty from whose hands no one coul 1 have expected any housewifely duty, one who w uid have been perfection in a Turkish ha lem could she have been transplanted there As she paced slowly, softly, hooded in her scarlet scarf, a brisk little body, blue-eyed and fair haired, with a ch'ld bv the ha.id ami a basket < n her arm, entered the eastward house and nodded at her. )) hat are you going to do Thanksgiving Day : ' she called a-ro-s to the gir.l ; and the Liticr blushed sudden v a vivid crimson " j mounting to IK-r lui'cht ad, a strange sortol cry escaped her also, smothered before it reached the speaker'- ear. But in a moment 'it l - agitation trie put dnw n with a string hand and the answer was sent buck acroc-s the paling fence, " What am I going t' do ? Dear knows 1 never do much of anything, yon know. " 1 shall be busy enough," said the little woman. " Such a dinner as I have to cook, and uch a tea to get afterwards, i'apa and Mama Marie will spend Thanksgiving Dav with us, and Mr Marie has sent home such quantities of tilings. ] V e been baking all day. Ilappv you ! you know nothing of all ties. Come and take tea, will ym, and play for us to-morr \v evening ? Mama adores music. 1 here, that s the stage, and there is Mr. Mark-." A handsome man of forty, straight as an arrow and with a glorious beard like black floss silk, gray eyes under Ll.-ick lashes, and such a smile, revealing teeth like pearls, as it flashed upon one. Little Mrs. Marie was only i pretty vankee housewife. Her spouse was a sulraii to match that black eyed sultana on the porch. He kissed his wife and bowed across the gale. " I have been making Ida promise to spend tomorrow evening with us," said Mrs. Marie " I want mama to hear that new song. I'm airaid she is too idle to leave her fireside for such a slight temptation as tea with us ; add your pef-uaslons—though they'll not have as much weight as though you were a widow er." And laughing, Mrs. Matlc went into the hou=e followed by the trotting child. Mr. Marie advanced to the gate, and stood there waiting for the sultana. She did not move. He opened it passed in. and stood beside hc-r. "My persuasions have some weight with you, have they not ?" he said. And there was meaning in his voice and in his eye. the girl's bosom heaved. " You have not repented ?" And slie answered : " Oh, my God ! I would T had strength to repent, but have not." lou never shall,"' he said,'• never while I 1 ve. Oh my darling, how beautiful you are !" Hush !" she whispered* "Hush ! some one will hear you—go, go." 1 o-nmrrow I shall not fear listeners." he said ; "you remember the hour ?" " Could I forget it ?" " And the place ?" This time she made no answer; hut with a stealthy motion of her fingers, indicated the approach of some one from the house, just in time to send Mr. Marie back a step or two as a good looking young farmer came out upon the porch smoking his clear. "^feasant evening, Mr. Marie." L ovel>. The brightest of the Indian sum mer." " Aye, it will be over soon. But I like "TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FREEMAN'S RIGHT. "-Thomas Jefferson. . TUNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEB. 10, 1864. winter, after all." "Do you ?" said Mr. Marie ; " for my part I like nothing cold." And the sultana's face flushed again, as though there were a double meaning to his words. " Will you come in and take a cup of tea with us ?" ' Thank you, no. Mrs. Marie expects me, Mr. Malcomb." He bowed, and left the garden by the little gate and the young man put his arm about the waist of the young girl and drew her into the house. " I'm as hungry as a hunter," ho said.— " You shant put tea off any longer, Sis Old Dinah is in a terrible state r.f mind about it already." Sis shrugeed her shoulders, but she went in, and presided at her brother's table, eating nothing but a few spoonsful of quivering jelly herself-—a fact which her brother commented on as he regaled hitrself on the more sub stantial viands. " Never marry a farmer, sis ; you'd fright en him to death. A crown prince would suit you best, if they would but export one to yankee land in search of a wife. My bet ter haif shall relish pork and beans, sis," " Shall she it was said with a sort of sneer habitual to the beauty, hut the next moment the mood changed, and for the first lime in all her life Ida Malcomb flung her arms about her brother's neck. " Promise me that you will marry John,' she said. " I should like to think that you had soine ofte to love, some one to be what 1 have never been in this house and never shall be. Marry some good girl John, and be happy." " Why, what is the matter, Ida ?" cried jm aghast. ' Yuu are not ill, are vou ?" "HI? oh, no!" " Are you eoiiig to be married ? What has happene ' ? 1 declare I'm frightend." Ida laughed at that, and left his clasping arm and sitting down at the piano played a furious galopade, which occupied her eves and fingers to the exclusion of everything eise ; and John lighting another cigar, sal near her, wondering at this new phase of his handsome sister's character. In the westward house, meanwhile, Mr. and M's. Marie sat as an affectionate couple should, surrounded by their children. And at eight the little ones said their prayers and were sent i . bed, and at ten Mrs. Marie ri ad a chapter from the Bible, and left her spouse, who had buMiiess letters towii'e, alone in the smail sitting-room. Tlien. with her innocent girl's face bent upon her hands, Mrs. Marie knelt beside her tied an i prayed l>r her children, fir her pa rents, for herself, but must of all for her be loved husband, and then weary with 'her household toil, laid down to slumber. Isut Mr. Marie had no thoughts -of sleep, neither had Ida Malcomb. In her chamber i he sultana was wide awake, and wrapped in hood and furs, pacing the floor with her watch upon the palm of one small hand, waiting im.il its hands should point to mid night. Then, when the two cobweb hands lay up on each other, pointing upward, she fastened it. in her beli, and opened the door. All was (lark upon the stairs and in passages. John Malcomb's room sent not a ray of light through the old glass fan at its door top. lie slept, and the sister paused and pressed her lips upon the panels, and then weut on down the stairs and out in the moonlight She did not go by the front door, but through a little portal at tlie back of the house into a paved yard where the watch dog lay. He knew her and did not bark, and in a moment she was through the tuft of bushes and out in tne road, past a clump of trc#s, down into a little hollow, across it to the edge of a small wood, and there stood handsome Mr. Marie, in a traveling cloak who clasped her to his heart with passionate words and still more passionate glances. And then releasing her, he said: "We will find a coach at C . They might trace us had it come nearer; can yon walk so far ?" And she who in her blind in fatuation would have gone with him to the world's end, only answered by giving him hit little hand' trembling and burning as with fever. They are gone. Their forms faded into instinct blots upon the lacdscape. They left behind them the woodland, the valley, the clump of autumn bushes and twin houses, which rose white and ghastly in the moonlit distance behind them forever. There was no going back for them, now that there hands had rested on the plow share. Thanksgiving morning dawned, and in the westward house Mrs. Marie arose like a bright child from her 6weet sleep; and in the eastward house John Malcomb came down rosy from his bath of ice-cold water' and whistling merrily. But in a little while a frantic woman clutched a blotted letter in her band, and tore her hair in such despairing grief as insulted love drives into a woman's soul, and a strong man, bowel with woe, stood before her,crying—-" Where's he taken my sister i Teil rue that I may kill him." I#i tmrnm i The tempest paused at last, and their sorrow was quiet for a while. It was such a blow to both—such a sudden thing. The wife had a jealons thought—the brother never dreamed of harm. Incoherent gasps and cries, questions which neither Waited fu ller expected answer changed for more quiet interchange of words, and Mrs. Marie held a letter toward John Malcomb. lie took it and read it. It was hastily written, blotted and scrawled, and these were the words it contained, "You will think me a wretch, Martha.— So I am, perhaps, Ido not blame you. In all things you have done your duty but passionate love was not youts to give. T crave it. and it is offered to me. You will not suffer; and to women of yonr nature children are sufficient. Adieu." " When f have loved him so dearly !" sob bed the little woman—"so very dearly ! She could never love him so—never—nev er!" And, for the only time in all his life, John Malcomb uttered an oath as he ground the miserable letter beneath his heel. It fright ened the poor woman. She shrank and paled, hut forgave the brother, in pity for his shame and woe. Then, as her eye fell on some housewifely preperation for the morn ing made the night before she burst into tears. "We of us keep Thanksgiv . giving again," she said: and John Malcomb answered: ! " iljere can never be Thanksgiving for me again on earth." Those were weary months which followed, while the injured knowing that the eastward house was empty, felt that John Malcomb wandered over the earth searching for that sinful pair, and, though to forgive such a wrung was beyond a w< man's power, she prayed that be who had abandoned her might never meet that stern avenger of his sister-'* sullied boner. Perhapa her prayers were answered. In ! a year J >hn Malcomb came back to the east j ward house, having found 110 trace o? those |he searched for. He came back on Thanks giving eve, but m neither house was tnat festival kept save by tears and sighs, and the children at Martha Made a knee wondered why she was ao sad that day, and why no turkey roasted before the fire and no golden pies were drawn from the long oven. By and by the lonely old man in the east ward house found comfort in seeking the presence of the lonely woman in the west ward house. And she welcomed hpn, for getting that he waa his sisters brother in her Christian tneaknesss. John Malcomb grew at lat to be the best-beloved playmate of children, lie teaching the boys to swim and the girls to ride, and doing many a noble act for their fair mother—digging the garden [danting the corn and vegetables, plucking the fruit, rescuing the brindle cow from the pound, and bringing her books and papers from the city. For he went thither often always with one purpose at his heart, and by neither of them was i iianksgivmg Day ever kept- And as five years glided by, and there wore no tidings of whose act had for htdden thanksgiving to two human hearts.— 1 ive years ! On the sixth, three nights be fore the anniversary came around again, John Malcomb awoke from a strange dream, which seemed, as he recalled it, like a vision. His sister, her fair face and ebony hair dabbled with bio. J, hap stood at his bedside and call ee to him for aid, and he had arisen and 1 l lowed her. She moved before him, and the . ficent -' changed to to the busy streets of New oik, and he was conscious that no ej'es saw the shadowy form save his own. When before the gray walls of Trinity Chnrch, she pointed toward it, and at the lifting of her finger John Malcomb's eye peered through the church, and saw behind it a den of filth and wietchedness, a crazy dwelling, seeming ly to weak to sustain the load of human misery which dwelt within its walls. He had never seen the place before with his ; waking eyes, but he marked it welt in tiis ! sleep, and said, in answer to a movement of the spirit's arm, "I will come." lie awoke uttering these words, to find the gray dawn streaming into his room. i hat morning John Malcomb came to New York. He told no one of his vision, not even Martha Marie, hut went with a belief in it which puzzled him. "I'm growing childish, that I put faith in signs and omens," he said. Yet, nevertheless, he went_ay, not to New V>rk only, hut to old Trinity, and be- j hind it* There rose a row.'of wretched buildings and j one of them John Malcomb recognized. It; was the house ho had dreamed of the night . before. There was a ragamuffin crowd at the j door, staring at somo thing within. John \ Malcomb closer. ''What has happened ?" ho asked. "Only a murder!" said ono of the assem- blage. "A murder ? "Yes. A man murdered his woman bore last night." * John Malcomb staggered as though a blow bad been struck him. "Ilis wife?" he asked. "Well," said a rough-faced fellow, "I dun no as she was exactly his wife, I take it twas bis fancy gab" * was his nam*?" * * "I dunno. They've got him safo locked up. anyhow, and she's up stairs a waiting for the inquest." "Let me pass," said John Malcomb. "Yes, let the gent pass—he's a newspaper reporter," said an officious individual close at hand. And John Malcomb entered the pas sage and mounted the stairs. The policeman stood guard over the body but John Malcomb whispered something in his ear which made him admit him readtly, and standing on the threshold, gazeing into the room with terrified eyes, John Malcomd saw woman's form lying face upwards in a pool of blood—a woman with coal black hair and oriental features, the wreck of the sul tana who paced the porch of the eastward house on Thanksgiving eve six years before. John Malcomb knew his sister's face, and fell tainting on the floor. "Sick at the sight of blood ! Some folks are. ' said the policeman, as John opened his eyes. "Queer case, this. The gal must have teen a pretty one once. And he looked like a gentleman; but this is what they've come to," and he pointed to the crazy room hat was his name?" said John faintlv. "The murderer? Oh. Marie, or something of the sort. That is, it teas. He is dead too. They'd agreed on dying, him and the gal, and he shot her : so he said, any way." % "Then they are both dead." ''As door nails," said the official. Then— under the prevolent impress that John was a reporter, he added : "Now, that'll make an interestin' bit for the paper, won't it ? d like to go at it myself if I was a writer— which I ain't." That Thanksgiving Day the door of Mar tha Marie's dwelling opened slowly arter dusk, and, haggard and pale, John Malcomb entered, and sat down by the fire. For a while he sat in silence, but at last he arose, j aud bending over the pale woman, laid bis I hand upon her arm. "Marthr Marie," he said, l, it is all over. They art both deau i Don i ask me how. I know it. I have stood beside my sister's grave. God pardon them! Their sin was very terrible." And she, woman-like, thinking of small thiugs even in the midst of grief, sobbed— "Ah, I spoke truth, did I not, John Malcomb. when I said we two should neve keep Thanksgiving Day again." Never? Aye, so she thought. But time rolled on, and still the eastern and western houses were inhabited as of yore, and the gate was never fastened, and through it John Malcomb tuok his way, gladder to cotne, and tnore welcome when he came to Martha's fireside every day' until at last, in the fiusb of golden Indian summer, he bent over Mar tha Marie, one day, and said : "We have been uiiserableodong enough \ouand I. Let us keep thanksgiving, ~ this year, and together.' And she did not say no. And so, though neighbors talked and won dered, and wouldn't have thought it, the ten ant of the eastward house went through the little gate one day a bride, and. crossing the threshold of the westward house, made the life of its master from thas hour one long thanksgiving. Miscellaneous Z'ISR A story lias been going the rounds recently, to the effect that George D Ficn tice had become a common drunkard, bad no connection with the Louisville Journal and that his friends had puchased him a country home, placing the title in his wife's hands. In a letter to the Detroit Tribune, in which the canard originated, Prentice says : " Your correspondent says that tny friends have purchased a place for me in the country, I have never owned a place that I did not buy and pay for. lie says that I have trans, ferted my interest in the Louisville Journal to another. I have never made a transfer of it in ;ny life. lie says that the Journal has passed from my control editorially and finan cially I am chief proprietor and senior editor of the Journal, and I exercise whatever control I choose in both capacities.,, — celebrated Dean Swift,in preach ing an assize sermon, was severe upon law yers for pleading against the conscience After dinner, a young lawyer said some se vere tilings against the clergy, and added that he did not doubt, were the devil to die, a parson might be found to preach a funeral sermon. "Yes," said Swift, "I would, and give the devil his due, as I did his children this morning. PRESENTATIONS are getting common. The captain of a canal boat out West has just been presented with service—of five years in the Penitentiary' in consideration of the distinguished ability with which he plunder ed a passenger, and then kicked him over board. A sporting piper says the authoriti a Washington think Gen. McClellan's report is rather to long fcr publication. The Bost ton Post says it will prove most too loud a report should it bo touched off. Or COURSE.— The Republicans who have ong claimed all the decency, all the respect ability, and all the intelligence, have added another claim—the claim to do all tho steal- j mg. - ------r VOL: 3, NO. 26 1 The Tax on Paper. , The resolution recently offered in tb House ef Representatives by Hon. Wm. H. Miller, proposing a removal of the tax oa printing prper, is eminently worthy of the favor of Congress and the people. The pres ent price of paper in this country at this tftse is really and grievously oppressive, upon pub lishers especially. The newspaper press— which the public depend on fo r current in formation, is feeling the advance in the coat of paper very painfully. Some jouniala have actually gone out of existence under it, and many more have been compelled to raise the price per copy to the readers. Thus the present tax on foreign paper tends to keep up% and continually advance the cost to consu mers of American paper. If the duty were abolished, foreign paper would come in, and could be sold here at tcuch less rates than are now charged for the domestic article, and, of course, the latter would necessarily be re duced in price. The tax is not needed as a pro ection to our paper manafuctnre, nor is it | of much importance as a source of national revenue. Let it be, therefore, repealed. It is doing no appreciable good, hut a great daal of positive harm. It is a tax, indeed, on in telligence, and such imposts should never be favored by Government which is professedly based on popular enlightenment Sunday Mercury. —*•"— ■■ The Cost. John Brough, Governor elect of Ohio, in his speech at Lancaster before the election, as reported in the Cincinnatti Commercial, said : "Slavery must be put down, rooted out if every wife has to be made a widow, and every child to be made fatherless." Every wife'' here means the wife of every poor man. not John Brought wife, nor Hor ace Greely's wife, nor Henry Ward Beecher's wife, nor Owen Lovejoy's wife, nor the wife of any shoddy patriot, but the wife of every man who cannot raise three hundred dollars or who has not money enough to buy a sub stitute. THE DIFFERENCE.— One of our exchan ges gives an incident showing the difference between white men and niggers, in Abolition estimation : At a recent meeting in the Meth odist church a collection was taken up for the runaway negroes by an agent of the '•frecdnien's Society, amounting to twenty one dollars and a half. A few eTenings after, a collection for the benefit of soldiers' families and destitute white people, Was ta ken up in the same church, and we are fold the magnificent sum of six dollars was rais ed.Thus it goes—twenty odd dollars for .the negroes and the enormous sum of six dollars for the white man ! When Gen. Morgan was on his recent vis it to Richmond, he went into the " Libby," and there he met Gen. Neal Dow. Being introduced to the Yankee, thelrebel General said, smilingly, General Dow, I am very hap py to saeyou here : or, rather, I should say, Mnce you are here, I am happy to see you looking so well. Dow's natural astuteness and lankee ingenuity came to his aid, and he quickly replied, without apparent embar rassment.General Morgan, I congratulate you on your escape ; I cannot say that I am glad you did escape,but since you did, lam pleas ed to see you here. (Pretty good this' on both sides!) A Wesern "local" gives this cheap receipt for getting UD a sleigh ride on short notice: 'Sit in the hall in your night clothes, with both doors open so that you can get a good draft your feet in a pail of ice water-drop the front door key down your back—hold au icicle in one hand and ring the tea bell with the other." He says "you cant tell the differ ence with your eyes shut, and it is a great deal cheaper." £3TThe wife of one of the city fathers of New Bedford recently presented her husband with three children at a birth. The delighted father took his little daughter, four years of age, to see her new relations. She looked at the diminutive little beings a few moments, when turning to father, she inquired, "Pa,' which one are yon going to keep ?" Of all the agonies in life, that which for a time annihilate reason, and leaves our whole organization one lacerated; mangled heart— s the conviction that we have been decided where we placed all our trust of love. Old Line Whigs who find the leaders of their party destroying their country for the nigger, might retlect with profit upon the above. GREENBACKS are printed at the rate of five millions a day, with the signatures and num bers all engraved, so that no signing nor numbering is required by anybody. They are simply packed up in bupdles, as tbey fall from the printing press, as so many shingles would be bound and aent oflf to mar ket. BCLLY FOR HIM !—General Grant is report ed to havo said ; "I aspire only to one po litical office. When this war is over, I menu to run for Mayor of Galena, (bis plsoe of residence,) and, if elected, I intend to hive the sidewalk fixed between my bouse sod. the depot."