Village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1863-1871, June 07, 1867, Image 1
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Ask . - 11 6.... < - - 4..c testimony from an e . - - A - r,-1.. ) . 1.c... ~a.:- . .. -.sett if twenty-five cents can not be bet . ;.. ~ __„,--...-r-,..-. : . -- ... - -.4. .-.% • e•f: - "- - W.l '..:N--..- -- -o.:*'..t . --.4. ter invested in something else. Put it back L. J. Perry, of t' ''/ . .N.:-7* - :, , , z!.'" - : f-.-%., 1 , , • ,",Tii,: , =(-? - Lind he will in your pocket; and give it to the little trip- ? i on , who Eer" 'mai nese into your pie who sells matches on the corner. Take cei i n th e ' ..., a you succeed in making a our word for it you will not be sorry! the P ,.alte impression? Wait madam-think twice before you de- c o Accordingly, Mrs. and Miss Parker were cide on that hundred dollar shawl! A bun- ' ...,.., ms'am-I attired in their best that afternoon, as the _d_red_dollafs_is_a_great-deal-,of-money; , r _„auy Dow,- arrt - tlre=bolls , •o - r -opened - and the two - gentlemen - came - in - dollar is a great deal, when people one" r _. 'tinging: I'll see that the work -Mr. Parker tall and thin with green epecta- sider the amount of good it will a" - cone after I return.' glen and a caiaverons countenance, and Mr. in careful hands. Your hasher . ' ~, Mrs. Putter's gray eyes sparkled baleful. Elliott a portly, brown faced man, with fiery is, uncertain; there is a finer ty, black eyes and a mobile mouth, but partially at hand. Who knows • atistane's fret rain ly. `Take off your things, Miss, and remain at concealed by heavy gray moustache. dollars may be to yo , - riothing to me tha dark day's pail. ..,.- or home. I've had quite enough of this run- 'Delighted to see you lam sure, Mr. El. Wait, husband i nir , tg to church i and this shall be the last of liott,' said Mrs. Parker, sweetly, while Miss w hy y onr w if,- t Angelina courtesied nearly to the floor.- cares and ' 'Pray take the easy chair!' mother ,Yes, yes, I-I dare say,' sputtered the we . East Indian, beginning a nervous' trot up and down the room; 'but I don't want to r down. Parker don't keep me in sus any longer.' . Mrs Parker looked at her hue prise. Mr. Parker was polio' And Mrs. Parker stalked out of the damp, tacks. mouldy kitchen, with the air of a tragedy 'My dear, here's a queen, while Minnie sat down among the things-very lade" pots and pans and cried_ bitterly. __During _making inquire _ all her trials and tribulations the sweet sun- only sister )- shine of the Sabbath day had cast its light sight of through all the dreary ensuing week-it bad him. been something to look forward to, to think P : of, to anticipate- Now its gentle influent.- was withdrawn roughly and abruptly. Minnie felt that she was indeed along —• .l - - - Minnie - was - austirrg - r the-parlo next morning, as Miss A" sauntered into the parlor • wrapper. . •Mamma,' she d eny parasol dot.- ' can't Minn; 'lt's y douY E - --------- Cheerily labor; n ti is in 'll k le sh •ar t he on, ittl as on h 4 el /l a it if, I lo' t el or he cr 'lu d :te I. y et :al I li - id rt I Ii I"OO3III I rMiCI.EILMA. SOONER O 1 LATER. ( Sool'erur later the storms shall beat Over m slumber, from head to feet Sooner or later the wind*. ehall rave rn the tong greee above my grace. I shall not heed them where I lie, —Nothing-thee sound shall signify, Nothing the headstone's fret or rain Nothing to me the dark day's pail. Sooner or later the sun shalt rhino With tender warmth on that mound of mine; Sooner or later, in summer au, Clover and violet blossom there, I shall not feel in that deep•laid rest, The sheeted light fall over my breast, Nor ever note in thPse hidden hours • •• The wind-blown breath of the tossing flowers. 'Sooner or later the bee shall come And fill the morn with his golden hum; Sooner or later on half paused wing The blue-bird's warble about me ring.— liirg and chirr up and whistle with glee, Nothing his music means to rne, . None of those beautiful things shall know How soundly their lover sleeps below. Sooner or later, far out in the night, he stars slial2 ovdr nie - wing - th - eirliig Sooner or later my darkling dews Catch the white spark in their silent one Never a ray shall part the gloom That wraps me round in the kindly tomb. Peace shall be perfect for lip and brow . Sooner or later,—Oh, why not now! WO - tic - White you crih— Time's flitting by; Gather, the moments, Quickly they fly, Workmen are few, Large is the harvest, There's plenty to do; The enemy soweth Tares in the field. Thistles and thorns Both the wilderness yield, Oast with a bzunteoue And plentiful hand, Seeds that shall cover --The length of the land. Work while you can, And work while you may; Soon the, night cometh, Soon passeth the day. ~, _ • - ~ MINNIE, THE ORPHAN It was a large, light room, with half a doz. maps banging around the walls, and a few iff backed chairs ranged in geometrical prc 3ion--a room with not one home association !goring in any of its four corners. You ight have told with on e glance at its tardy swept green carpet and coldly pol led, ourtainless windows, that it was the rlar of a public institution; and so indeed was. The brisk and spectacled little matron of orphan asylum sat leaning back in her ,fortable rocking chair, while four or five de girls, with closely cut hair and down- It eyes, stood in a row before her, their .g blue aprons and flaxen' light hair giving o m an odd resemblance to 'a row of blue lls in a flower garden; while Mrs. Philo irker, in her rustling robes, of golden green lk, and the cherry colored bonnet strings, ght have passed for a gaudy and full , wo specimen of the tribe peony. 'I think she'll answer my purpose very I,' said Mrs. Parker. 'What did you say • name was—Minnie?' Minnie Grove. Step forward, child,' said matron, nodding encouragingly at a slend little creature of about thirteen, whose le eyes were dilated, and her cheek blanch with a sort of • shy terror. And Minnie Jpped forward und( r the full fire of Mrs. arker's searching gray eyes. hope she hasn't any. relationd.' went on Its. Parker. 'I never want a girl with for uncles and aunts and cousins, running af r her the whole time!' 'You will have no trouble in that respect,' id the matron with a sigh, dont think ;mile has a soul belonging to her in the le world. Her mother died in great pov cy three years :mein New York, and Annie knows nothing whatever about her self, poor child.' 'That's just as it should be, 'said Mrs. • arker, with n self satisfied air. 'Poor peo ple have no business to have any relations. Well, I guess I'll take her.' You will be kind to the poor little orphan, ma'am,' said the matron, wistfully. 'Of course I shall,' said Mrs. Parker, toss ing the cherry Colead ribbons. 'She *ill have the best °f lames in my family.' 'I should like toTheveler go to church at least onceevery Sunday, and—= "To he; sure-4o be sure,' _said Mrs. Park er, rising, as if "she did net inire' te 'prolong the conversation. 'She shall have avery op portunity; I hope yon don't take me for a heathen. Is that child crying? I hope she isteL6no Of th.e ,whimperir kind! - The platrpn r q cheeklin c' shed , a little a whispered one or tWo cheering words .to Die. IVAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING, , JUNE 7, 1867. And so Minnie Groves little pucel was packed, and her pink colored sunbonnet tied on, and i she meekly followed MT& Parker out of the wide gateway that had f3Leltered her orphanage so long. 'Minnie?' 'What are you doing this morning? Why haven't you cracked the nuts, and polished the stove, and cleaned the ashes out of the parlor grate, when you know we're going to have company for dinner.' should be late at church, ma'am--I atm -e - rndylrEr - g - otready now,- aird - th - e=bells have stopped ringing: I'll see that the work is done after I return.' Mrs. Paaker's gray eyes sparkled baleful. ly. 'Take off your things, Miss, and remain at home. I've had quite enough of this run ning to ehureh i and this shall be the last of it' Minnie's cheek flushed and then grew pale. `But Mrs. Parker, you promised—' don't care what I promised., You are indentured to me until you are eighteen years old, and I intend you shall earn your own living. Not, another word, but obey me!' And Mrs. Parker stalked out of the damp, mouldy kitchen, with the air of a tragedy queen, while Minnie sat down among the pots and pans and cried bitterly. During all her trials and tribulations the sweet sun shine of the Sabbath day had cast its light through All the dreary ensuing week—it had been something to look forward to, to think of, to anticipate• Now its gentle influence was withdrawn roughly and abruptly, and Minnie felt that she was indeed alone. -- Mirrnie - wa a - dusting - th e - p or-etairti-tb-e -next morning, a s Miss Angeline Parker sauntered into the parlor in a tumbling silk wra roper. •Mamma,' she drawled. languidly, left my parasol down at Water's on Saturday.— can't Minnie go after it?' 'lt's raining,' said Mrs. Parker, looking doubtfully out of the window, 'but—s qt isn't rai nin-very-hard--andl-ma-iffaid it will be stolen' - 'Minnie,' said Mrs. Parker, ant - hora,tively, put on your hat and stall, and go to Water's lace store at once for Miss Angeline's—par-a sol.' Minnie glanced out at the driving torrent of rain with sinking heart. `lf I might wait until after the shower; ma'am,' she pleaded in a low voice. `Obey me this instant,' ejaculated Mrs. Parker, with an imperative stamp of her foot. ---- So minnie went. - said Angeline, a day or two af terward, didn't sleep two winks last night with Minnie's coughing. 1 do wish you would put a stop to it.' ',Minnie! exclaimed Mrs. Parker, turning around to the pale young girl, who was pol ishinc, the windowl,:what do you mean by disturbing Miss Angeline? 'lndeed, ma'am, I could not help it, s falter, ed poor Minnie, but my cough was very bad indeed. got so drenched with the rain the other day that—' 'Poo—nonsense! its all affectation, every bit of it,' said Mrs. Parker, petulantly-- 'The idea of putting on airs, and pretending to he an invalid—but I'll not endure any such trumpery. Don't let us have occasion to complain again.' All that weary night Minnie tossed to and fro, trying to stifle her hectic oough in the scant pillow, lest Miss Angelle's 'pampered slumbers should be disturbed, and wonder ing if all the world was as joyless and dreary as the brief glimpse she had of it. 'When she rose in the morning, pale and unrested, with dark circles round her eyes, and a dizzyfeeling in her brain, the snow was piled high against the attic window panes, and the wind was shrieking in shrill gusts down the street. 'Minnie! Minnie!' echoed Mrs. Parker's sharp, discordant voice up the stairway, 'get your broom and the snow shovel and clear the snow of the sidewalk. Those loafing men charge a quarter for doeing it, and you may as well save the money for me. Come, make haste'? 'lt's my cold ma'am,' pleaded poor Mo nk., 'and my head aches terribly.' 'Stuff' , exclaimed Mrs. Parker. 'I won't have any fine lady airs, the fresh air is all you want. Be quick, now, and you'll finish before it's time to set breakfast table.' Half an hour _subsequently, Mrs. Parker was started by a brisk peal of her front door bell. 'Well vat's wanting now?' she demanded, putting her pink cap ribbons gingerly into the snow. 'Bids' Me, whats the rem ter?' A stalwart ,policemen stood there, his hat and shoulders thickley powdered with snow, and drooping a figure supported in his arms. 'IV atter? your girl's fainted away, or something. It is II shame to send - such a white faced thing out into a storm like this.' And Mrs. Parker took.poor Minnie in, se cretly gnashing her teeth at the idea of a bound girl having mortal frailty 'and weak ness. Truly, it was a groat presumption. 'What a pity that Minnie should take it into her ridiculous head to be sick at such a time as this,'-groaned Mrs. Parker as she took out her silver and cut glass for the dec oration of a gala dinnertable. 'And that rich East India client of your father's . com ing to, dinner, too.' 'lsn't Minnie any better to day?' asked Angeline yawning. 'N 0. 4 I„supposo not; any way she won't get up. -- 'Maw!' said Angeline, spitefully,- 'she's as well as I am, if she only chose to say so.' 'Your father was saying something about getting a doctor tf ehe didn't get better.' 'Fiddlestick!' said - Miss Angell. 'A -doe tor,-indeed! it's only that she likes lying in bed batter than- working. Alamma, what dress shall I wear? It's a"great dime that Minnie can't curl my hair forme' 'Put on your blue silk, Angelle, with tho white lace trimming; it is so becoming to your fair hair and delicate complexion.— Those old bachelors aye unaeconntable croa• tures, and there is no saying but that he will put the whole of his business into your father's hands if you succeed in making a favorable impression.' & Accordin g ly, Mrs. and Miss Parker were attired in their best that afternoon, as the o - -r's= Td 7 rod-the tr :1 far-opened-and-the two - gentlemen ame - in —Mr. Parker tall and thin with green specta cler and a cadaverous countenance, and Mr. Elliott a portly, brown faced man, with fiery black eyes and a mobile mouth, but partially concealed by heavy gray moustache. 'Delighted to see you I am sure, Mr. El. liott,' said Mrs. Parker, sweetly, while Miss Angeline. courtesied nearly to the floor.— 'Pray take the easy chair!' ,Yes, yes, I—l dare say,' sputtered the East Indian, beginning a nervous' trot up and down the room; 'but I don't want to sit down. Parker don't keep me in suspense any longer.' . Mrs Parker looked at her husband in sur prise. Mr. Parker was polishing his spec taeles. 'My dear, here's a very singular state of things—very indeed, Mr. Elliott has been making inquiries, sinee_his_return, -after an only sister he had somehow managed to loose sight of—married against his wishes, I be lieve—and he learns that she died in this city about five years ago, in very indigent circumstances—' 'How very sad!' sighed Mrs. Parker, 'a daughter who was sent, to the Medbrook 0 - r - p - b — aTC glum." — - Mrs. Parker opened her gray eyes extreme ly wide. 'And who was named Minnie—or Mary —Grove.' 'Minnie Grove!' ejaculated Mrs. Parker in a sort of scream. 'Our Minniel'. echoed Miss Angelic 'And now,' interrupted the choleric stran ge-rlbTnaging Eis — foot down emphatically; on the velvet tulips and lilies of the hearth rug, 'I. want my niece Minnie—Where Is eller Mrs. Parker stood rooted to the floor in iisemnfltureand-amazernent, while Angeline tank back on the sofa, not forgetting to be as picturesque as possible in the midst of her dismay and chagrin. 'I say where is she?' roared the- East In dian, want my neice,' • She—she isn't feeling very well to:day, faltered Mrs, Parker, 'and she is up in her own room. I advised her to rest awhile! 'Then take me to her.' • 'Yes—but I'm not exactly sure—that is, I think she ought to be kept perfectly: qui• et,' stammered M rs. Parker, thinking of poor Minnie's carpetless floor and rickety cot bed, with a thrill of apprehension. 'Perfectly fiddlestick! I tell you I will see my niece! Parker show me the way to her room, or find it myself.' Mrs. Parker looked apppcalingly to her husband, but that gentleman's sharp legal eye saw ne outlet of escape. - 'My dear, show Mr.:•Eiliott up,' he said meekly, and Mrs. Parker bad no choice but, to obey. It was a dismal little attic room, with a sloping roof and one• dormer window, half. hidden with high piled snow, And upon a narrow cot bed, entirely alone, lay the only relative that Walter Elliott, the wealthy East Indian, could claim in all the wide world. She did not - turn her head as they enter ed. Mrs. Parker approached the bedside with an insinuating voice. 'Minnie. dear—are you asleep?' Asleep—yes she was asleep, but it was that deep, dreamless sleep that knows no wa king to mortal trials and sorrows?' 'Good heavens!' shrieked Mrs. Parker, re coiling, 'she is dead?' 'Dead!' screamed Miss Angeline. 'Dead!' sternly repeated Walter Elliot, gowing very pale. 'Dead! and in this hole!' „It can't be possible!' exclaimed Mrs Parker. `lt must be a mistake!' But there was no possibility of mistaking the seal of the great Destroyer upon that white forehead, and .around the marble lips. Walter Elliott's wealth had come too lave. SolitarYand unfriended. Minnie Grove bad passed into the land 'where God's children shall never more say 'l'm alone' She was buried under the most - gorgeous mausoleum that gold could purchase, with a chisled marble ,iugel bending over her dust, as if it mattered how or where she was laid to rest. And Walter Elliott wont back to the tropics without placing his business in to Mr. Parker's hands. - 'You have murdered my niece!' he said sternly, en the various reports of Minnie's wretc cl life reached his ears—reports V.iat wou d not be suppressed in spite of Mrs. Parke Is endeavors to still the tongue Of pop ular g ssip, T s ended the brief f sad life of Minnie, le orphan.. Would to Heaven there were not too many such lives in our midstl During the summer -of 1864, while the hospitals in Richmond were crowded with wounded, the ladies of the city •visited them daily, carrying with thorn delicacies of every ' description, and vied with each other to com fort and cheer up the wounded. Qa one oc-i casino a bright eyed damsel, of about seven-` 1 teen summers was distributing flowers and , saying tender words of encouragement to those around her, when she observed a young officer who was suffering from his wounds es, claim, 'O, my Lord!' Approaching timidly, pin order to rebuke his profanity, she said, , 4 1 think_ I heard you call on the name of the ii--t-he 1 Lord, ..I am one of his daughters, I re I anytbintjeati ask him for you?'. Gland I hastily** her lovely face and perfect for ltfe repr - ,I.Yes i lb deas° ask him to make me his stota - - ler Jolinlii'ight is cr.ninin to America. Wait! Wait a moment, young man, before you throw that money down on the - bar and de mand a glass of brandy and water. Ask yourself if twenty-five cents can not be bet ter invested in something else. Put it back in your pocket; and give it to the little crip ple who sells matches on the corner. Take our word for it you will not be sorry! Wait madam—think twice before you de cide on that hundred dollar shawl! A hun _dred_dollafs_is_a_great—deal-,of—money;,,one dollar is a great deal, when people once con sider the amount of good it will accomplish, in careful hands. Your husband's business is uncertain; there is a financial _crisis__close at hand. Who knows what that hundred dollars may be to you yet? Wait, husband, before you wonder audibl3 why your wife don't get along with family cares and household responsibilities, '.as your mother did." §he is doing her best—and no woman can endure that bst to be slighted. Remember the nights she sat u with the little babe that died; remember ti e love an. care she bestowed on you when ye had th: long fit ofillness! Do you think she % of cast-iron? Wait—wait in silence and for bearance, and the light will come back to her eyes, the old light of the old days! Wait wife, before you speak reproachfully to your husband when he comes home late,_ and weary, andmotiFo ff ts . — He has wet.• ked for you all day long; he has wrestled, hand to hand, with Care, and Selfishness, and Greed, and all the'demons that follow in the train of money making. Let home be another atiaoephere entirely, let him feel that there is one place in the world where he _can_fi n d-peace,an-d-quie t-a nd—perfeet — level - Wait, bright young girls, before you arch your pretty eyebrows, and whisper 'old maid' as the quiet figure steals by, with silver in its hair and crow's feet round the eyes., It is hard enough to lose fife's gladness, elas tioity—h is hard enough to see youth drift ing away without adding to the bitter cup one drop, of scorn! You who do not know what _sh sales-en dure d r you-nover-e an—k novr—utrtil - - experience teaches you, so wait; before you sneer_at the aldilaid. Wait, sir, before you add a billiard room to your house, and buy the fast horse that Black and White and all the rest of 'the fel lows' covet. Wait, and think whether your outstanding bills are all paid and your liabil ities fully met, and all the chances and cham: ges of life duly provided for. Wait, and ask yourself how you would like ten years• from now, to see your fair wife struggling with poverty,your children shabby and want strick en, and yourself a miserable hanger on round corner groceries and one horse gambling sa loons. You think that is impossible; do you remember what Hazie said to the seer of old: 'ls thy servant a dog that ho should do this thing?' Wait, merchant, before you tell the . pale faced boy from the country 'that you can do nothing for him.' You can do something for him; you can give him a word of encourage— ment, a word of advice. There was a time once, when you were young, arid poor, and friendless! Have you forgotten it already? Wait, blue eyed lassie, wait awhile before you say 'yes to the dashing poling fellow who says he can't live wi;hout you. Wait un til you have ascertained 'for sure and for certain' as the children say, that the cigar, and the wine bottle, and the card table are not to be your rivals in his breast, a. little de lay won't hurt him, whatever he may say —just see if it will! And wait my friend in the brown mous tache; don't commit yourself to Laura Ma tilda, until you ate you arc sure that she will be kind to your old mother, and gentle with your little sisters, and a true, loving wifa to you instead Of a mere puppet who lives on the breath of fashion and excitement and re cords the-sunny side of Broadway as second only to Elysium! As a general thing, peo ple are in a great hurry in this world; we say, wait, wand—Phrenological Journal. DEATII SENTPNCE IN ENGLAND.—The progress from barbarism to civilization does not show itself in British jurisprudence Tbe sentence pronounced on Burke and Do ran, the condcraned Fenians, thus_report•- ed:------- • 'The Chief Justice, addressing the prison ers, said: Thomas F. Burke and Patrick Do ran, aftet' a protracted and careful investiga tion into your respective cases by a jury whose patience was unwearied, you have been found guilty, and you are now called on to receive the last sentence of th-c law for the highest crime known to the law, that of high treason against the queen. Nothing, indeed remaias for me but to perform the sad and painful duty imposed upon me by law, and that duty is to pronounce the sentence which cannot change or alter. (His lordship here put on the black cap.) That sentence is that you and each of you shall be taken from the place where you now stand to the place from whence you came, and that on Wednesday, the 29th day of this month of May, you be drawn on a hurdle from that place to the place of execution, and that there you and .-each of you shall be hanged by the neck until yen are dead, and that afterwards the head of each of you shall be severed - tim the bo dy, and the body of each of you divided into four quarters, shall be disposed of as her ma jesty and her Executive shall think fit, and may the Lord God Almighty have mercy on your souls. (His lordship here appeared deeply affected, and many persona it. the court shed tears.') 'The sound of your hammer,' says Frank lin, 'at Dye in the morning, or at nine at at night, heard by a creditor, makes bim easy six'months longer - , but if be sees you at a billiard table, or bears your voice at a tavern, when you:should be at work, he *ends fur bia money the next day. The coast of' Russian America to us e tak a tho vr,hcle teTrieaty, is almt threo cents lata, The Cruelty of Wirz. • The eilorts of Louis Sehade, Wire's coun sel, to whitewash the memory of the Ander sonville jailor, has brought out some strong testimony from an eye. witness of his cruelties L J. Perry, of the Waupaeca (Wis.) Crite rion, who served as a non-commissioned offi cer in the Second Wisconsin, in the Army of the Potomac, was taken prisoner and confin ed at Andersonville, writes in his paper as follows; • war we had the - tnisfAune to Le captured by the rebels, and served as a pris oner twenty months, during the greater part of which time we were in the hands of the -demorrwirorn - they - (the) b - el papers), Wd by Sande, are making a martyr of. • During that horrible blank in our life we saw this man knock down and stamp upon snit Union prisoners, who were too weak to get out 'of his way; we saw and heard him order a reb el guard to fire at a group of Union prisoners which order was obeyed, by which means a Union soldier was maimed for life by the loss of a leg; we saw him once manacle two men together and then whip one of them with a riding whip. until the man could not stand; we saw four men shot dead, coolly and deal,- (irately, by rebel guards under his orders, who were murdered without cause; we saw during the twenty months, not less than fif y 4.d -bodies-of-brother-Union - soldiers murdered; we have heard Wirz, at Rich mond, order anci`even urge his guards - to - kill every prisoner tbcy could,plausibly;we heard him say more than a hundred times that e-'1 very d—d Yankee prisoner in the South ought to be hung; we know that his watch words were kill, slay, destroy,and__lait,—but-1 not least, while those thirty thousand wretch ed beings were literally starving at Ander sonville during the months of July and Au gust, 1864, his expressions of demoniac de light were often heard. We heard him say at that time, if the North could be whipped by starving prilioners, he could put a quietus to thirty thousand in short meter. All this and numberless_ather_acta,-Whie , convinced us all that he was a cruel, relent less, blond-thirsty'inan, and that human suf. fednge an ivation .was w. at y e iveL up on. Republicanism. In the early days of christianity the disci ples of our meek and lowly Saviour--twelve in number--gathered together in an upper chamber at Jerusalem to engage in Bennet prayer and worship, for, in those days, to acknowledge ones-self a christian was shure to draw down upon them the indignation of the worshippers of idols. Years have passed since then. and the example of those disci pies have been followed up, and the influence has led to the christianizing and civilizing the world. In every land beneath the sun the benign influence of christianity is felt and thousands, yea millions, are brought be neathTts potent power. So gas it been with Republicanism in this country. A few men at the North, censid ered as fanatics, and afraid to pass beyond the limits of their State, knowing their lives were in jeopardy, at first conthipneed the agi tation of Inertial rights and privilges; but now their iutluenceis felt throughout the length and bredth of this vast country. It has o verleaped,all Varrieri made by sin and slavery, and to-day it stands as the acknowlenged fundamental principles- that underlie this government. It has been assailed at every point, and sometimes its success seemed doubt ful, but its sublime truths soon dispelled the thick, gloom and caused it 'to shine all the brighter for its being enveloped in murky darkness. Gradually has it sped on its course, converting everything within its reach beneath its benign influences. Its ed dying circles were weak and feeble at first, but each succeeding wave only served to in crease its power, until it stands as the cham pion of those inseperable fell destroyers, cop perheadistu, and treason. Too Good to Keep We were much amused a few evonir.gs 'since, by hearing Mr.—, a life lone ' Democrat, and for years a_slaie to — drink: 1 1 butfertwenty miniths past a radical temper ance man, tell the following ;incident which happene - d a few days ago: He was sitting in his office conversing with several of his friends when the door o pened and Mr.—, a rigid old Democrat, same in. The •usual compliments passed, when the latter gave Mr a slight nudge and winked him'out to the back door, when cautiously peering around to see that no one was observina" them, be drew from the deep recesses of his pocket, a pint flask, which bore the appearance of having been - several times visited, and asked him to drink. 'No,' replied a, do not drink.' 'You are a—liar,' said Mr. pledge you my_word,' returned 11., 'that I have not drank a drop for over twenty month, 'ls that so?' 'lt is, and now am a tnember"of the Good Templar Lodge in this place! For a moment a look of blank astonish ment came over the countenance of the old Democrat, which gave way to one of anguish as he eaid: 'ls it possible that you live left the Dem ocratic party?' ' ' • Mr. 11. is still a strong Democrat but, thinks the above to good to keep. friierregpondent wants to .know :why. an old maid is like a sucked arrange, and then has the assurance to answer by saying, 'Be cause neither of .thim worth squecsing.,;, A lady who was married on Friday, ,when asked why she consummated such important business on such an unlucky day, responded that she had been married on every - other day in the 'week, and had always made .eurth a poor fist of it, that she concluded to test hangman's day,. hoping the halter wouldn't slip this limo. The Winter of the Heart. A beautik writer counsels wisely when ho says: 'Live so that good angels.way protect you from this terrible evil—the winter of the heart. Lot no chilling influence freeze up the fountains of sympathy and happiness in its depths; no cold burden settle over whithered hopes, like thi3 snow on faded flowers; no rude blast of discontent moan and shriek through its desolated chambers. Your life -path-may-lead throughlrials, which - for a time seemed utterly to impede your progress, and shut out the very light of heaven from your anxious gaze. Penury may take the place of ease and plenty; your-lax-urious—reom may be changed for an bumble one, the soft couch for a straw pallet; the rich viands far the coarse food of the pour. Summer friends may forsake you,and the.cold unpitying world pass you with scarcely a look or word of compas sion. 'You may be forced to toil wearily steadily on to carp a livelihood; you may en counter fraud and the base avarice that would extort the last farthing, till you well-nigh turn in disgust from your fellow beings, Death may sever the dear ties that bind you to earth, and leave you in tearful darkness. That no ble, manly boy, the sole hope of your deelin- - ing years, may be taken from you while your spirit clings to him with a wild tenacity, which even the skadovi_of-t he—tomb--eann o wholly subdue. - Amid all these sorrows do not come to the conclusion that nobody was ever so deeply of lieted as• you are, and aban don every anticipation of 'better days' in the ' unknown future. Do no'. lose your faith in human' excellence, because confidence has sometimes been betrayed, nor believe that - . rkeniship - was only a deltTion, and love a bright phantom which glides away from our grasp. Do not think that you are Luta to ha miserable, because you are disappointed iu your expectations, and Wiled in your pur suits. Do not declare that God has forsaken you when your way is hedged about with thorns, or repine sinfully when he'ealls your dear ones to the land beyond the • rave.— "-eepr-a- •1y - trust in heaven through every trial; bear adversity -with fortitude, and look u s wards in hours of tem tation and_suffeting When your locks are white, your eyes are dim, and your limbs weary; when your steps falter on the :verge of death's gloomy vale, still retain the freshness and buoyancy 'of spirit which will shield you from the winter of the heart' Uncle Sam's Possessions. —The London Telegraph—a paper devoted to the rebels in our late war—in its issue of Dec. 15th has'"good words" for the lan kees, It, speaks of, the Tories of ngland acing "miserable because America is big," and says: "The real reason why they hate ,0 her is because her Government is so free, and the success of its wonderful." And speaking of the 'patriotic imagery' and hyp erbolics' used by the American Telegraph says: 'And if bigness justifies big words, we should like to know who is to blame the:3c inventive and flowery patriots? lies any other nation forty millions square acres of fat corn ground for a back-yard, which will grow six quarters to the acre, as long as you like to plow the old crop in? has any other nation mountains o f solid iron t.o make plows of like Pilot Knob, in Missouri, or seas of oil under the ground and shores of solid copper along the lakes? Does any other na tion double • its population every twenty years and suck in the emigration of Europa without counting it; or carry cargoess2,ooo" miles along one river; or venture on the im pudence of a Monroe doetrine; or fight a war with a million soldiers, and have them all home again, like boys after school within a year? And what other people colleCt a rev enue of £118,000,000 sterling and with £2O, 000,000 in gold at a time in its Exechequer laughs at a debt of X 500,000,000, and enga ges to wipe it out in ten years?' that BUG.—Every gardener knows that this is a most destructive insect among:. melon, cucumber and other yaUng — vines, sometimes _damagiag — tba crop seriously.— Many remedies have been suggested, so.ne of them no doubt good in their way but troub lesome. Now we have tried for several years another which has proved with us a complete success. Instead of aiming to drive away the insect by soot, ashes, &c., we pet it, or rather furnish it with food better than the young melon and cucumber plants. We sow around each bill at the time of each planting a few radish seed, and coming up about the same time d the tops supply pas. tare for the bug which it much prefers to the vines: Lettuce will also answer, but the radish is rather liked the best, While our vines aro untouched by making this little provision for'it, the young radish tops aro completely perforated. We can recommend the remedy with confidence.— Gerntaneozan Telegraph. Spain although three centuries ago one of the lendinpZposvers in Europe, is now the raest,backward in all that concerns progress ive enterprise and education. In this respect even Turkey is in advance of her; for the Turkish children—so the missionaries say,— can road and write. But in Spain, out of a population of seveiracen millions, only three million, can read and write. Yet the priest, hood number no less than 125,000. If the enemas sums that are expended in the sup port of clergy were devoted to the education of the masses, that country would •be raised from its degradation, and take its place is the ranks with Protestant nations. The wealth of the priesthood is very great and displays itself in costly churches and con vents, white . anything like a common school system is disequraged. A free peas '4lOO exigt, and adeotirits have recentlf reached US 'of the imprisonment of ttuce editors for the expression of liberal opinions. ,iTay,t!nAjteen setnu at. eigt ty . ., dollars * 'ton . ai ,:k111.11.);ta, Ga.,' and ilardirh n'y - to b, had at that pelue. ..; • %. V) 'Zoe% MIBER 48