133 r j3l.etir.
VOLUME XVIII
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ON GUARD.
It is the eventide of life:
Death's turbid waves before me roll;
And in this narrow pass of life
I stand to guard my deathless soul.
Through storm and calm, through dolt: and light,
Weary, but resoluta, It cling •
To my good sword, my breastplate bight,
The armor of my heavenly king.
On guard, on guard !• the trumpet voice
Ring in my ear with watchful eye
I gaze, and feel my heartnjoice:
My deadliest foes are dr.wing nigh.
Ye pass not Item, hate, enly, pride,
With all the embattled hosts of hell:
My Captain standetb at my side;
I fear you not; 1 know you well.
Fast conies the night; my Watch is done
This hour I've longed for many years•
1 shall r,ot see another sun;
Ended is sorrow, toil and tears.
Death's waves are fising; sweet release!
Nearer 1 vie4v the heavenly shore;
I lay my armor don n, and cease
To' be 'on gnarl" for evermore.
THE SLANDERER.
'•I hate the slanderer I
I hate him for his poisonous breath,
More deadly than the dews of deathi.
I hate him for his hooded lies,
His peace . -destroying calumnies;
llis words I bate —so arch, so sly,
tip void of generosity,
So deep, so empty, yet so full
Of what will social joy annul.:
His heart is gall, his tongue is fire,
his soul too base for manly ire,
His steel too keen for noble use,
His sword and buckler are abuse;
1 hate the sladtierer 1"
I'OI~g~C~'Y,Y_a~.IIT3~.
DAVID IVIATSON
BY JOHN-0. WHITTIER
Who of my young friends have read the
sorrowful story of "Enoch Areen," so sweet
ly told by the great English poet? It is the
story of a man who went to sea, leaving be
hind a sweet young wife and Hale daughter.
lie was cast away on a desert island, where
he remained several years, when he was dis
covered and taken oft' by a passing vessel.—
Corning back to his native town, he found
his wife mauled to an old playmate—a good
man rich and honored, with whom she was
living happily. The poor man, unwilling to
cause er pain ancrn: etc-1r
to make himself known to her, and lived and
died alone The poem has reminded me of
a very similar story of my own New England
neighborhood, which I have often heard, and
which I will try to tell, not in• pactiy, like
Alfred Tennyson's but in my own poor prose.
I can assure my readers that in its main par
ticulars it is a true tale.
One bright summer morning, more than
three-score years ago, David Matson, with
his young wife and his two healthy, hare- ,
footed boys stood on the bank of the river
near their dWelling. They .were awaiting
there for Pelatiah Curtis to come round the
Point with his whery, and take the husband
and lather to•the port, a few wiles below.—
The Lively Turtle was about to sail on a voy
age in Spain, and David-was to go iii her as
mate. They stood there in the lovely morn
ing sunshine, talking cheerfully; but, had
you been near enough you could have seen
tears in Anna Matson'S blue eyes, for she
loved her husband, and knew there Was al
ways danger on the sea. And David's bluff,
cheery voice trembled a little now and then,
fur the honest sailor loved his snug home on
the Merrimack, with the dear wife and her
pretty boys. But presently the wherry came
alongside, and David was just stopping into
it, when he turned back to kiss hia wife and
-children -- once more.
cIo with you, ruurt,'? saki P , ., , latish Curtis.
"There's no time for kissing, and such fool
eries when the tide serves.
And so they parted. Anna and the boys
went back to their home. and David to the
port, whence he sailed off in the.l.iively Tur
tle. And months passed, autumn followed
the summer, and winter the autumn, and
then s.rin7 came and anon it was summer
on the river -side, and ho did not wine back.
And another year passed, and then the old
and fish - amen shook their heads sol
emnly, and said the Lively Turtle was a lose
ship, and would never come back to port.
And Poor Anna had her bombazine gown
dyed black, and her straw bonnet- trimmed
iu morning ribbons, and thenceforth she was
known only as the,Widow.Matson.
And how .was it. all this time with David
'himself?
Now you must know that the Mohamme
dan people of Algiers and Tripoli ) and Ma
.gudore and Sallee on the Barbary coast, had
for a long time been in the habit of fitting .
out galleys and armed boats to seize upon
merchant vessels of Christian nations, and
snake slaves of their crews and, passengers, rii.
just as . men calling themselves Christians in
America were sending vessels to Africa to;
,c etch-black-slaves-for-the i r-plantatious7-t
Liiely Turtle fell into the hands of ono •of
these roving sea-robbers, and the crew were
taken to Algiers, and sold in the market place
s, Poor David Matson among the
rest. . •
Wheti a boy he had learned the trade of
ship carTonter with his father on the Mer
rimack, and now he. was set to woik in the
dock-yards. His master who was natural
ly a kind man, did not overwork hiw. He
had daily his three loaves of bread, and whin
his clothing was worn out its place was sup
plied by the coarse cloth of wool and cam
el's hair woven by the Berber women.—.
Three hours before sunset he was released
from work, and Friday, which was the Mo
hammadan Sabbath, was a day of entire rest.
Once a year, at the season called Ramadan,
be was left at leisure for a whole Week.. So
time went on—days, weeks, months and
years. 'His dark hair became gray. He
still dreamed of his old home on the Merri
mack, and of his good Anna and the boys.
He Wondered - if they yet lived, what they
thought of him, and what they were doing.
The hope of ever seeing . them again gr ew
fainter and fainter, and at last nearly died
out; and he resigned himself to' his fate 'as I
a slave for life.
But one day a handsome,• raiddie , aged
gentleman in the dress of one of his own
countrymen, attended by a great officer of
th - e — Dey - entered - the- shipyard,- and called
up before him are Ainerican captives. The
stranger was none other than Joel , Barlow,
Commissioner. of the Edited States to pro
cure
the liberation of slaves belonging to
that Government. He took the men by the
hand as they came up, and told them they
were free. , As . you might expect, the poor
fellows .were very grateful ; some laughed,
some wept for joy, some shouted and sung,
ad threw up their caps, while others with
David Matson among them, knelt down on
the chips, and thanked God for the great de
liverance.
- _
"This is a very affecting scene," said the
Commissioner, wiping his eyes. "I must
keep the impression of it for my 'Columbi
an ;' " and, drawing out his tablet, be firc(: -
ceeded to write'on the spot an apostrophe to
Freedom, which.afterwards found a place in
his ()Teat epic.
David Matson had thecla little money dam-
- ringhis captivity, by odd jobs and work on
holidays. Ire got a passage to Malaga, where
be bought a nice shawl for• his wife and a
watch for each of his boys. . He then went
to the quay, where an American ship wits
lying just ready to sail for Boston.
Almost the, first man be saw on board was
Pelatiah Curtis, who had rowed him dowa to
the port seven years before. He found that
his old neighbor (lid not know him, so chang-.
ed was he with his long beard and Moorish
dress, whereupon without telling his name,
he began to put questions about his old home,
and finally asked him if lie knew a Mrs. Mat
son,
"I rather think I do," said Pelatiah;"
"she's my wife."
"Your• wife !" cried the other. "She is
mine before God and Man. I am. David Mat=
son, and she is the mother of my children."
"And mine, too 1" said Pelatiah. "I left
her with a baby in her arms. If you are Da
vid Matson, your right to her is outlawed ;
at any rate she is mine, and lam not the
. "God is great !" said poor David Matson
unconsciously repeating -the familiar words
of Moslem' submission. "Ilis will be done,
I loved her, but I shall never see her again.
Give these, with my blessings, to the good
woman and the boys," and he handed over,
with a,sigh, the little bundle containing the
gifts for his wife and children.
Re shook hands with his rival. "Pelati
all,' he said, back as he left the ship s
be kind to Anntiand my boys."
"Ay, ay, sir :" responded the sailor, in a
careless tone. lle watched the poor man
passing slowly up the narrow street until out
of sight. "It's a hard case for old Dav?d,"
he said, helping himself to a fresh end of
tobacco; "but Prn glad I've seen the last of
him."
When Pelatiall Curtis reached home, he
told Anna the story of her husband, and
laid his gifts in her lap. She did not shriek
nor faint, for she was it healthy woman, with
strong nerves ; but she stole away and wept
'bitterly, She lived many years after, but
could never be persuaded to wear the pret
ty shawl which the husband ofitei . '
had, sent as his farewell gilt. There is, how
ever, a tradition, that in accordance with her
dying wish it was wrapped about her in , the
coffin acrd buried with her.
The little old bull's eye watch, which is
still in the possession of one of her grand
children•, is now all thTit remains to - tell — of
David Matson—the lost man.— Our Young
Folks.
TUE HEROIC SWITOSI TENDER.-.—The fol
lowing incident is related in a European pa
per as having lately occurred in Prussia. A
switch tender had just taken his place to
change the track, in order to turn a train
:7 so as to irevent a collis-
ion with another train from an opposite di
rection. At this critical moment, on turn
ing his head, he discovered his little boy
paying on the track of the advancing en
gine. He might spring to his rescue and re
move him safely, but then ho would have no
dine -to turn- the switch, and hundreds of
lives might be lost by his neglect. In an in
stant his resolution was taken. "Lie down!"
he shouted to his boy, and the child happily,
acustomed to obedience, promptly threw him
' self on the ground, and the whole train
thundered over him, the •pasbengers little
dreaming how mucp there s afety had cost
;- that father. The trembling man rushed
ward., fearinglo fin& only a mangled corpse,
but no words can express his joy at seeing
1 1 his Child alive and Unharmed, Tho next ,
il, day, the king having Beard of the eircutu
stance, bent for the ma and presented him
' t o els of Honor forltis heroism..
A thoughtless word way excite a world of
thought,
AL Fia,mll.3r IVemcres3Peiraetb a Wavttral:ll3. 3F , o 9q.itlA;:r9ai 1 Wte1i.42.621.
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH - 31, 1865.
SPICY INTERVIEW
QEN. SHERMAN AND' THE BRITISH CIONERH. AT BArANNA /I
A correspondent of the New York Herald
says:
The extraordinary success with which Geri
Sherman has onnducted his campaign during
the last nine 'months has secured for him the
affections of the American people beyond
that of any otller military officer. He has
become as popular as a military officer as
Vice Admiral Farragut has as a naval com
mander. Anything relating to him is there
fore interesting. It is through an officer in
his command, recently arrivedj have ob
tained the circumstances of an amusing scene
said to have taken place betwee,n- Gen, Sher
man and the British Consul at Savannah,
which to say the least, is characteriitie of
that officer, as well as the elf-sufficient style
of her Majesty's officials in the South. •
On the arrival of General Sherman at Sa
vannah lie saw a large number of British
flags displayed from buildings, and had a cu
riosity to know bow many British Consuls
were there. He sou ascertained that these
fag were on buildings where cotton was sto
red away, and at once ordered it to be seiz
ed. Soon after that, while the General was
busily engaged aThis headquarters, a pom
pous gentlenian walked in, apparently in
great haste; and inquired if he was General
Sherman. Having received an affirmative
reply, the pompous gentleman remarked,
"that when he left his residence States
troops were engaged in removing, his cotton
from it; when it was protected by the Brit
ish flag."
"Stop,. sir," said General Sherman, "pot
your cotton, sir, but my cotton;. any cotton
in the name of the United States Govern
ment, sir. I have noticed," continued the
General; "a great many British , flags here,
all protecting cotton; I have seized it all in
the name of my , Government."
"But sit," said the Consul, indignantly,
"there is scarcely any cotton in Savannah
that does not belong to me."
"There is not a pound of cotton here, sir,
that does not belong to me, for the United
States, responded Sherman.
"Well, sir," said the Consul, swelling him
self up with the. dignity of his office, and
reddening iu his face, "my Government shall
hear of this. I shall report your,conduct to
my Government, sir."
"Ah.! pray, who are you,. sir?" said the
general.
"Consul to her British Majesty; sir."
"Oh, indeed!" responded the General, "I
hope you will report rue to your Government.
You will please say to your Government, for
me, that I have been fighting the English
Government all the way from the Ohio river
to Vicksburg, and thence to this peint At
every step I have encountered British arms,,
British munitions of war, and British goods
of every description at every step, sir. 1
have met them, sir, in all shapes). and now,
sir, I find you claiming all the cotton, sir.—
I intend to call upon my Government to or
der mo to Nassau at once."
'.llThat do you propose to do there ?" ask
ed the Consul,. somewhat taken aback."
"I would," replied the General, "take with
me a Juan ty o an 'row
that cursed sand bill into the sea, sir. You
may tell your Government that, sir. I would
shovel it into the sea, sir; and then I would
pay for it, sir, if necessary. , Good day, sir,"
It is needless to add that Gen. Sherman
was not again troubled with the ofraciouS rep.
reseutative of her Majesty's Government.
"Little Darn Brook."
A clergyman, Fee ng a little boy playing
in a small stream by the roadside, inquired
for his father.
"Ile's over to the little dam'brook," ex
claimed the lad.
"What I" said the reverend gentleman;
shocked at the boy's ,profanity. "Can't you
speak without swearing ?"
"Well, he 2.4 over to the little dam brook,
anyhow," persisted the boy, as he went spat
tering through the water and mud after a
butterfly. "Ile's been over to the little dam
brook all.day, and it you don't believe it,
you pan go up to that house and
. ask moth
er."-
. The dlergytnan sought an interview with
the mother immediately, apd complained of
the profanity of her child. After telling her,
however, what the lad had said, she laugh
inzly informed him the "little dani brook,"
was 'a title by which the strewn was called to
distinguish it from a "big dam brook," sit
uated a few miles further to. the eastward.
lle now felt that be had wronged the boy,
and therefore owed him an apology. Hur
rying back to the spot, be esclahned:
"Boy, I wronged you in aocusitr , you of
swearing; but you should have told that
"little (Im-brook" was only the name of a
stream, and 'I then would not have scolded
you."
Veil, 'ta-itilt--no-matter r --.. It 1111'
youngster, as he held aloft a struggling frog
that he had speared with his mother's clothes
stick. "There's a big dam one big dam brook,
and a little dam on little dant brook, and we
would have had a little dam en this brook,
only I'spcet it's too small; it ain't ?cora a
dam."
TIIE MAUCU Or EVENTS.—Time is pretty
certain to bring its compensations at last.—
A gentleman recently from the valley of the
Mississippi, says.that at St..Lou,is, in
formerly occupied as a slave pen. ]b saw
large numbers of rebel prisoners over whom.
colored soldiers were standingpard. They
went to war to rivet eloSer the chains of the
mans to-day the black man is.naaster of
the position. Says a eorrespondent:—.7l,'Llanip
bell's slave pen,is now a rebel prison. "Get
in Qui . yerse , stu. aco OTC woman, 1)8 al e
saw the rebel, pxisoners filling, into the old
pen. Use to put us dar. 130, d:ir yerself
now. lie Lord's cumin sure, ,
SMITH CAROiIII.
Behold her now, with restless flashing eyes,
Crouching, a thing forlorn, beside the way !
Behold her ruined alters heaped today
With ashes of her costly sacrifice !
How changed the once proud State That lod the
'strife,
And flung the war-cry first throughout the land !
See helpless now the garicidal hand
Which aimed the first blow at tilenliTon's life !
The grass is growing in the city's street,
Where stand the shattered spires. the broken
walls;
And through the solemn noonday silence falls
The sentry's footstep as he treads his beat.
Behold once more the old flag proudly. wavo
Above the ruined fortress by the sea!
No longer shall that glorious banner be
The ensign of a land *here doiells the slave.
Hark ! on the air what l stvelling anthems iise--
A ransomed people, by the sword, set free,
Ate chanting now a song of liberty;
Hear how their voices echo to the skies !
0 righte - o - torretribution, great and just !
Behold the palm-tree fallen to the eirth,
"Where Freedom,.rising from a second birth,
No more shall trail her garments in the duet!
Steve Conant's Courtship.
I once called on my friend Steve Conant
and while there the conversation turned on
courtship and at my request the old gentle
man told me an incident in Ms own hive of 2
fairs whiCh I give in his own words: "
"Wall, seeing it's you, I don't mind tell
ing about a scrape that happened to me when
I was courting Nancy here. That is some•
thing I never tell any body. But you shall
hear it.
'°No, don't Steve," broke in the old wo
man, ".1 should think you would - be lishamed
of yourself, telling love scrapes to everybo
dy.'
,•
"If you can't bear to hear it' you• may go
out doors—BO here goes.
"When 1 was nigh about twenty-one I
came here all alone and built me a cabin. I
hadn't neber nearer than five miles so ye see
I didn't quarrel much but as it grew to be
winter 1 got kinder lonesome and began to•
think that I ought to have a woman to keep
me company, so one morning 1 started down
to Leeway to take a look at the girls to see
if 1 could find one to suit we. When I got
down the settlement I asked a young • chap
if he knew of a girl that wanted to get mar
ried and he told me he guessed that Nancy
Knox did, and if I wanted a wife I had bet
ter try and hitch 8n with her and he said if
it was agreeable he would go to Deacon
Knox's and make me acquainted with Nan
cy, and he was good as his word and twasn't
an hour before Nancy and I was on the best
of tenni. Mere night • l hired out with the
Deacon for ten dollors a months half of the
pay to be taken in produce and the rest in
clear cash and I was to work all winter.
"Wall for about two months I felt as'a mouse
I Nancy every-Sun
day night and I was determined before an
other week to pop the question and I hadn't
a bit of doubt but what Nancy would be o
verjoyed at becoming my bosom companion.
Wall about this time there come a fellow
from one of the lower towns to keep school
and he hadn't, been there more than a week
afore I found he had a natural hankering af
ter Nancy; and worst of all the old Deacon
who seemed pleased at the thoughts of me
courting his gal begun to kinder cool off as
if he would like the schoolmaster better for
a son a son-in-law, and it made me feel kin
der doWn in tip, I can tell you.
"Wall on one Sundady night Bill Smith
for that was the pesky critter's name came
in just at dusk rind when the clock struck
nine he didn't seem to go. Old Mrs Knox
end the young uns all went to bed and there
were none left but the old Deacon, Bill Nan
cy and I. and I kept specting evry minute
that he would show Bill to. bed, but ho did
no such a thing, but just as the clock struck
ten he ris up and says he:
"Steve, let's go to bed for we must be up
bright and airly to have them are logs to the
river."
"Wasn't that a hint 'eh, I looked at Nan
cy but she turned away her head and at this
I up the ladder to bad. •
I was boiling over mad with all creation—
Bill Nancy and the old .Deacon in particular.
rotinto bed and kivered myself up but I
felt so and I couldn't go to sleep. Like as
not the sehoohnaster was hugging and kiss
ing Nancy down in the kitchen, and I
couldn't shut my eyes for the life of me.—
Wall-, all at once it oceured to me that there
wore some big cracks in the' floor over the
kitchen and I could watch and sea all that
was going on below so out of bed I got and
crawled along on'all fours and finding a big
crac oo -e own . roag r. .1 triA - ) an
ey were sitting about two feet apart, though
every now and then Bill would hitch his
chair little nearer to hor. How I could have
choked that Nan, I watched them for a
bout a quarter of an hour and by that time
I was near about froze as it was an awful
cold night and I hadn't a rag on except my
two shirts: By and by Bill hitched his chair
a little closer and L could see that he had
made up his mind and was just going to kiss
her. .
How it tiled I But I. was bound-to see it
through sd•l moved a little nearer to:l'ga - a
better view and at, that moment the plank
tipped 'up, und-down I went kerehunk ,and
land inkbotween Bill and Nancy. Bill thei4l)&
for once that old Nick had / co:no arid.st*ak-'
ed it out of doors; and as for Nancy she gave,
ine:look-end-thea covered-up-her lhce -with
her apron. • ' .
siartetl.our of • - flio 'kitchen as quick as
you c ?..3 . A:kw( awl as I was going- up
the ladder I heard old Mrs. Knox hollow:
"Nancy scoot the eat down or she'll break
every dish on tho• dresser.
i The next morning, when she went out to
I milk I, popped the question to Nancy and
she said she would.. have me.for she diJn't
care a cent for Bill Smith and we have• been
married forty years cub next June."
._.~,~--
•Idle ,Treasue:
Au old. nobleman who lived alone in his
lordly residence, with but . few domestics to
wait upon. him, died at last, and the house
passed into• other hands. When its contents
were examined, drawers and presses full of
linen were found, all mouldering to:dust;. hun
dreds of valuable garment§ felled the Ward
robes, all alike mouldering and moth-eaten.
Hero and there, in the dusky recesses, little
bags of silver and gold were found, evident
ly hidden there, and _then forgotten. The
hoard of coin was also discovered where it
had long lain untouched, doing good to no
person in the World.,
How much good these idle garments might
have done among the poor and suffering!—
How much better they should wear out in
clothing the needy, than moulder out in use
lessness. So, too, of the idle treasure which
might have brought in large revenus of spir
itual good, if only judiciously expended.—
Of such possession it might well be written,
"Your silver and your goldorre cankerect, and
the rust thereof shall be a swift witness a
gainst you." No one has a moral right to
thus suffer any of God's gifts to be wasted
Fri idleness. God will bring all such stew
ards intojudgement in that day when. he
shall say, "Thou shall be no , longer my stew
nrd," "Do all the good you can, with all
the means you have," is tire only limit of. our
obligation. A little experimenting will show
us how much we can do,. and we shall doubt
less be surprised to find how much it exceeds
what you had supposed. No one has a right
to lay aside garments to be moth-eaten, when
so many suffering ones are around us every
day, whom we could relieve. "It is not what
we get, but what we give that makes us rich."
You would think a man much richer who
had his money in a safe and richly paying in
vestment, than he who had it buried s the
earth. So he that invests his money in the
Bank-uf Heaven will have a good possession
to enter into when he is called away from
this earth, from which le cannJt take the
smallest portion. o!if we would be rich
indeed, let ns lay up for ourselves treasures
in heaven, by good works and alms-deeds,
which neither moth nor rust cab destroy.
Presb y t ericzn.
Living in Hearts
It is better to live in hearts than houses.
A change of circumstances, or a disobliging
landlord, may turn one out of a house to
Which he has formed many attachments.--L
Removing from place to place is with many
au unavoidable incident of life. But one
eannot be expelled from a true and loving
heart, save by his own fault, nor yet always
by that, for affections clings tenaciously to
its object in spite of ill-desert; but go where
he will his home remains in hearts which
have learned to love him; the roots of affec
ion_are_uot_torn_out_and_destroyed—b_.
removals, but they remain fixed
. deep :in
the heart, clinging still to the image, the
object which they are more eager again to
clasp. When one revisits the home of his
childhood, or.the place of his happy abode,
in his life's spring -time, pleasast as it is to
sttrycy each familiar spot, the house, the gar
den, the trees planted by himself, or by kind
red now sleeping in the dust, there is in the
warm grasp of the hand, in the melting of
the eye, in the kind salutation, in the tender
solicitude for the comfort and pleagure of his
visit, a delight that no mere local object
nature or art, no beautiful cottage, or shady
rill, or quiet grove can bestow. To be re
membered, to be loved, to live in hearts, that
is one's solace amid earthly changes—this
is a joy above all the pleasures of scene and
plebe. We love this apirithal home feeling,
the union of hearts which death cannot de
stroy; for it augers, if there be heart purity
as. well as heart affection, an unchanging and
imperishable abode in hearts now dear.
MAKING Flirt or His NosE.—Col. Crock
ett, late- Copperhead 'candidate for Congress
in the First (California) District, has an im
mense nasal appendage, and the Mariposa
Gazette thus makes fun of it:
"We are told that at the District Court at
Snelling this week, a lawyer from Ba 6 Fran
else.° was present, whose nasal ormu_is_ the
most prominent of his features. r lt is huge
and 'terrible to behold.' Matt,Strong, who
has a keen eye to fun, was seen following the
lawyer around, keeping constantly near him:
On being asked his object, Ile said, pointing
to the lawyer's nose. I just want to sea
him blow that thing onee—and I'll be satis
fied !
KISSING EXTRAOILDINARIe.—A bounty oral McClellan. Getting on in his eloquence,
• • • putty Pfwaped from Gollop's Is- he s 'road himself, and said: "1 would that
land, Boston harbor, after having, unaecoun- on the St ay o uex ovem a a ht—
.
tably unfastened his irons It was subse- haVe the wings of a bird, and I would fly to
quakily discovered that a lady who had been every city and every village, to every town
permitted to come and see him,- had a key in and every hamlet, to every mansion and oc
her mouth fitting the lock of his fetters.— cry hut, and proclaim to every man, woman,
Ou parting she kissed him, and during the and child George B. M'Clellan is Ppsident
Operation transferred the key to his mouth, of, these United States!" At this point ti
thus laciliating his escape. The girl and the youngster in the crowd sang out:.. "Dry'up,
man who made the iey were arrested. you tool! You'd be shot for & goose • before.
you flew a mile I"
FIRST OIL DIS6OVIRY,—.It is related or
Jonah when he took up his qua#ters in tho
whate's belly, he wrote to his fiaser to conic,
down immediately, as he had 411tbovered.
splendid opening for the old gentleman as,
follows: •
"Father, 4on't come. I'm badly, sucked.
in. Maury of oil, , ,but no marker!'
.. This is the first of Ash al amount: tluit.pro
' &Is..histOrians give us of the oil-business.,
• Al .man's money seldoin. grows
half as fast as his love for it.
, ,
92.00 ileri'M'esix•
A Clever . Cam; of Out Out.
• It is many years since I fell in hive with
J.Mut Jerusha klkeggs, the handsomest coun
try girl by far that over went on legs. By
meadow, creek, and wood, and-dell, so often
•we did walk,. and the moonlight smiled on
her welting lips, and. the night winds learned
our talk. Jane Jerusha was
,all to me,, for
my. heart was- young and true, and I loved
with a double and twisted loVe i and a love
thitt was honest, too I roamed all over the
neighbor's farms, and I robbed the wildwood
bOW43lll,•and tore my trousers and scratched
my hands, in search of choieeat flowers,. In .
my joyous love I brought all these to my
Jerasha Jane ; but I wouldn't be so foolish ,
now, if'l were• a boy again. A city chap
then came along, alb dressed up in store
clothes, with a spiny, hat and shiny vest, and,
a moustache under his nose, lie talked to
her of singing schools (for her father owned
a farm)—and she' left me, the country love,
and took the new chap's arm. And all that
night I never slept, nor could I eat next day,
for I loved that girl with a fervent love that
naught could drive away. Istrove, to win
her back to me, but it was all in vain; the
city chap with the hairy lip, married Jeru
sha Jane. And my poor heart was sick and
- sore until the th - ought — struek - me; that-just—
as good fish remained as ever was caught in
the sea. So I went to the Methodist Church
one 'night, and saw a dark brown curl peep
ing from ander a gypsy hat, and I married
that very girl. • And many years have passed
and gone, and I thisk_my_loss tny_gain; and__
I often bless that ,hairy chap that stole Jo.
rustle Jane.
A Dream of Oil
The history of the location of the famous
Comatte Oil Well is a bit of romance, and
borders closely on the marvelous. The pros.
eat energetic manager of the well Mr. Geo.
M.. Kepler, prior to his visit to the oil terri
tory, had a remarkable dream, which I will'
relate here ion rts , l had it from his own lips.
Ile thought he was prospecting for oil, when,
at the close of a weary day's walking over
the hills which bound the valley of Oil
Greek, he espied, at a short distance before
him a stalwart Indian seated on the ground
with his back against a rock, pumping vig
orously at a rude pump, from. which Mr.
Kepler beheld a steady.stream of oil pouring.
Almost at the same instant the red man per
ceived Kepler, glancing over his, shoulder,
and through a crevice in the•rock. Drawing_
an arrow from his quiver, he was preparing
to draw his bow upon the intruder, wheri the
latter was relieved from his dilemma in a
manner as unbolted for as it was novel. A
fair damsel, an esteemed acquaintance of
. the
dreamer, who had earned. the reputation of a
coquette, approached hi,m, suddenly an d
stealthily, with a warning gesture, bearing
in her hands the dreamer's highly prized ri
fle. In a moment the gun was leveled and
discharged at the Indian. With the dis
charge the dreamerpeered over the rock and
beheld, as he expresses, "nothing but oil—
oil !" Upon his arrival at the 'farm subse
quently ho jestingly related his dream to his
cousin, Mr. A. C. Kepler, who in. the same
sportive mood requested him to mark the
. Fire-d-rill-wth;-started r atittat_theudepthl
of five hundred and nineteen feet, struck the
largest well now flawing on Oil Crock. Not
withstanding the difficulty of obtaining tanks
to reeeiVe the vast amount of oil which has
flowed from this wonder among large wells;
not a single barrel of the oil has been lost.
A Solemn Scene
One day last week, says the Eastern State
(Mass.) Journal, the School Street Church
was the scene of a sad funeral, that .of Jos.
S. Defrees and wife of Ballardsville. who
were found dead in their bed, in chat town,
two or three mornings since, in each other's
arms. They had been suffocated by coal gas,
having had a coal fire in the stove the pre
vious evening, and the damper being discov
ered shut squarely off after the room door
was forced. They were married seemly a
year since. The deceased lay in the posi-.
Lion in which they were . found, .nearly on
their backs, his arm extending under her
neck, and his hand under her shoulder, their•
faces slightly inclining 'towards each other..
Her cheeks wore a slight tinge, almost like
life, for she was naturally of good color, and
their.dark hair seemed to rest but in sleep
on the silken pillow. It was a picture of
conjugal affection, saddeaed by the presence
of death. The lady was clad in green silk,
and her husband in a dark dress suit. The
silver plate bore an inscription . showing Wel
Mr. Defrees was aged 27 years and 3 months,
and his wife, Mrs. Augusta Defrees, 2U years
and 3 months.
Over in Jersey, during the last Presiden,.
tial canvass, a young lawyer, noted for the
length of his neck, his tongue and his bill
was on the stump blowing his horn tor Gen-
' A. man' of the- world. may have enough of
the world-to• sink him ; bat he eau never
have .enough to satisfy hint.
Sunset clouds are the visible tong of
tliti day that is dead
Trio railing of a cross woman, like the'rail
log of a garden. ; kocps people at
,a dist4thee.
' Moore "shpuld. am], loye our goolmiith
r Earth., for she kindly hides their tbeirevil iwoi L
NUMBER 42 d