33.A_K=FL,. Editor aaad Prc:ll-Itc)r_ VOL. NINE. PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT ONE DOLLAR A YEAR. PAYABLE IN ADVANCE OFFICE on Front Street, a few doors east ' l / 4 J of Mrs. Flury's Hotel, Marietta, Lancas ter County, Pennsylvania. TERMS, One Dollar a year, payable in ad 'trance, ard if subscriptions be not paid within .six months 1.1:145 will be charged, but if de layed until the expiration of the year., 01.50 will be charged. No subscription received for a less period than six months, and no paper will be discon tinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the publisher. A failure to noti fy a discontinuance at the expiration of the term subscribed for, will be considered a new engagement. Any person sending us FIVE new subscribers -shall have a sixth copy for his trouble. ADVERT (SING RATES : • One square (12 !lines, or less) LO cents fur the first insertion and 26 cents for each subsequent insertion. Pro fessional and Business cards, of six lines or less at $3 per annum. Notices in the reading col ' u tuns, fire cents h-line. Marriages and Distils, the simple announcement, FREE; but for any -additional lines, five cents a line. A liberal deduction made to yearly and half yearly advertisers. THE FULFILLED PLEDGE. "In the still midnight Col. Fry, with a (land of followers, assembled in a dimly-light cabin, and with their left hands ou the Flag wure to defend it and redeem Old Tennessee." " We swear.by the Flag, The dear old Flag, The Flag of r the brave ana the free ; And our God will help, With Ms strong right arm, To redeem Old Tennessee." The rafters echoed Those earnest words Of that brave and undaunted band, 'ho, at midnight hour, Thus pledged the faith To Cod and their own loved land. There were gray-hair'd sires, With hearts of steel, Whose blued had been freely given, In manhood's prime, For our Union's weal, Width the treit'rous fue had riven. 4, Our Father will never Our cause forsake. Ills children again shall ace ' The nag of our Union I.Vaving its wide Over Jess Old Tennessee." These were sturdy men And fair-haled youth, Fathers, sons, or brothers all, Who had sternly resigned All that loan holds dear, To answer their country's call. Tl.ey swore by the Flag, IV the dear old Flag, The Flag of " the brat•e and the free VI And aslma Cod for the help Of His strong right arm, redeem old Tennessee. With hands uplifted, And right arms bared -14 upturn'd to' Heaven, That unflinching band, NVith solemn oath, edged all that God has given To protect the Flag, The dear old Flag, Le Flag of " the brave and the free And ask'd God for the help Of His strong right arm, redeem Old Teenessee. And Cod has heard Those earnest words, d accepted the pledge they gave, And /Las lent the power Of Ilis strong right arm, Id Tennessee to save. And now the Flag, The dear old Flag, The Flag of •' the brave and the free," Is proudly waving Its stars and stripes Over gland Old Tennessee I WHAT I LIVE FOR. e for those who love me, 'hose hearts are kind and true; the heaven that smiles above me, nd awaits toy spirit, too ; all human ties that bind me, the task my God assiLned tne, he bright hopes left behind me, id the good that I can do. 'e to learn their story, ho suffered for my sake ; mutate their glory, id follow iu their wake; s, patriots, martyrs, sages, noble of all ages, .)se deeds crown history's pages, .ud time's great volume make. e to hold communion 'ith all that Is divine ; "evl their is a union 'wixt nature's heart and mine ?rofit 'by affliction, p truths from fiords of fiction,. .v wiser from conviction nd fulfil each grand design. - e to hail that season }- gifted mi ds foretold, 211 min shall live by reason, ;La not alone for gold ; ... ....m man to man united, ‘',:. Ails every wrong thing righted, , :gi The whole 'world shall be lighted 0 As Eden was of old. , k :, 1 live f or those who loved me, f 1 For those who knew me true; It Fir the heaven that smiles above me, t4e. And awaits my spirit, too ; b 0.5, .0,.1. . the ;? f or cause that lacks assistance, i ,. For the wrong that needs resistance, For the future in the distance, And the good that I can do. L -114 1. : rieitx IL iY aiiibc,,ntiit ' c ittrtuigthaniaAnna' `,ltirotth fa Vcrlitits, Nittraturt, 'Agriculture, uti23 of the gay, `AI.-k'orcil Her fingers shame the ivory keys They ;lane° so light along ; - The bloom upon her parted ips 1 + Is sweeter than the song 0 perfujned suitor, spare th smiles ! Her thoughts are not of th e : She better loves the salted wind, The voices of the sea. Her heart is like an outbOund ship That at its anchor swings The murmur of the stranded shell Is in the song she sings. She sings, and, smiling, hears her praise, But dreams the while of one Who watches from hts sea-blown deck The icebergs in the sun. She questions all the winds that blow, And every fog-wreath dirn, And bids the sea-birds flying north Bear messages to him. She speeds them with the thanks of men Her periled life ie . save, And grateful prayers like holy oil To smooth for him the wave. Brown Viking of the fishing-smack Fair toast of all the town ! • The skippers jerkin in bescems The lady's silken gown ! But nc'er shall Amy Wentworth wear For him the blush of shame Who dares to set his manly - gifts Against her ancient name. The stream is brightest at IN spring, And blood it not like wine Nor honored less than he who heirs Is he who founds a line. Full lightly shall the prize be won, If love be Fortune's spur ; And never motion stoops to him -"" Who lifts himself to her. Her home is brave in Jaffrey street, With stately stairways worn By feet of old Colonial knights And ladies gentle bore. Still green about its ample porch The English ivy twines, Trained back to show in English oak The herald's careen signs. And on her, from the wainscot old, Ancestral faces frown,— And this has worn the soldier's sword, And that the judge's gown. • But, strong of will and proud as they; She walks the gallery-floor Its if she trod her sailor's deck By stormy Labrador! The sweet-briar blooms on Kittery-side, And green are Elliot's bowers; tier garden is the pebbled beach, 'rue mosses are her flowers. She looks across the harbor-ber, To see the wi.ite t ulis sly, llis greeting from the Northern sea Is in their clanging cry. She hums a song, and dreams that he, As in its romance old, Shall homeward ride with silken sails And masts of beaten gold! Oh, rank is good, and gold is fair, And high and low mate ill; But love has never known a law Beyond its own sweet will 0 THE DYING NM 801, I am weary, dearest mother, Of the gentlest winds that lull ; For with a sadd'ning power They're falling on my soul ; And I am weary, mother dear, Of the lung, bright summer day ; I'm weary of the sparkling stream, And the eddy's silent play. I've floated down the river, mother When the stars were dim above ; My spirit was all gladness, My young heart was all love; Rat adown another river I'm floating, mother dear, And when the stars shine out again, You'll lay me on my bier. When the summer sun shone brightly, I've lain among the flowers.; And oft at weary twilight I've dreamed away the hours; When, mother, next the sun shall shine, You'll lay me neath then' bloom, And the flowers, once so dear to me, Will die upon my tomb. I lore the pale white lily— I love the summer rose: Bring them to die, my mother dear, Above my cold repose. tlh ! lay me down at sunset, Close to the pearly stream ; I'l sleep so sweetly mother dear, Though I shall never dream. The birds will sing above me;' The same as when I played Among the water-creases, Beneath the tall pin& shade ; But methinks a sadder tone Will mingle in their song; They'll sing the sweeter, mother dear, When days are bright among. And, mother, well I know that you Will ever think of me, And how I loved the singing birds, The bright stream's joyous glee ! \l/4.... But I am growing weary— . I cannot feel.yoar breath ; Pin sinking in a dreamless sleep— I shall not wake—'tis Death. PLAIN TALK,— . IIr a proailont stock-broker, has an intolerable habit of stuttering. Desiring to buy a parrot, he called on a dealer, and began : "Have you gar-gar-gar-gar-got any pup-up-up-up ar-ots ?" " Yes," was the reply. " Ha ha-ha-ha-how d' d' d' you sell 'em ?" " Two guineas." " Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-can they tau-tau-tatt-tun-talk ?" To which the dealer replied with peculiar empha sis, "If they couldn't talk better nor you, I'd wring their necks." 63 - Wife (complainly)—"l haven't more than a third of the bed!' Husband (triumphantly)—':'That's all the law al lows you." MARIETTA, PA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 1862. AMY WENTWORTH, ON'T PROPOSE IN THE DARK i The pretty, square farm house, stand ing at the corner:near Kilbes lane (for the first phrase, although giving by far the closest picture of the place, does, it must be confessed, look rather Irish), and where the break winds away by an other lane, until it spreads into river like dignity, as it meanders through the sunny plain of a Hartley common, and fi nally disappear's amidst the green re cesses' of Ferge wood—that pretty, square farm house, half hidden by the tall elms in the flower court before it• which with the spacious garden and or chard behind, and the extensive barns, yards and . outbuildings, so completely occupies one of the angles formed by the crossing of the lane and the stream— that pretty farm house contains one of the happiest and most prosperous:fami lies in Aberleigh—the large and thriving family of Farmer Evans. Whether feom from skill or from good fortune—or, as it is most probable, from a very lucky mixture of both—every thing goes right on his great farm. His crops are the best in the parish ; his hay never spoiled ; his cattle never die ; his servants never thieve ; his children are never ill ; ho buys cheap and sells dear ; money gathers upon him like a snowball —and yet, in spite of all this provoking and intolerable prosperity, everybody loves Farmer Evans. He is so hospita ble, so good natured, so generous and so homely 1 There, after - all, lies the charm.— Riches have not only spoit the man, but they have not altered him. He is just the same in look, and word, and way, that he was thirty years -ago, when he and his wife, with two sorry horses, a cow and three pigs, began the world at - Dean Gate, a little• bargain of twenty miles off. Ay, and his wife is tho same woman—the same frugal, tidy, industri ous. good natured Mrs. Evans—so noted for her activity in tongue awl limb, her good looks and plain dressing; as fru gal, as good natured, as active, us plain dressing is Mrs. Evans at forty-five as she was at nineteen, and in a different way almost as good looking. The children, six " boys," as Farmer Evans promiscuously calls them, whose ages vary from eight to twenty, and three girls, two grown up and one the youngest of the family, and just what we might expect from parents who are so simple and so good. The young men, intelligent and well conducted ; the boys docile and promising ; and the little Igirl, as pretty a little surly headed, rosy checked puppet as ever was the pet and plaything of a large family. It is, how: over, with the eldest daughters wo have to do. Jane and ratty Evans were as much alike .as bath ever befallen two sisters not born at one time ; for, in the matter of twin children, there has been a series of puzzles ever since the days of the Dromois. ' Nearly of one age, exactly of a stature (so high that Frederick the Great would have coveted them for his tall regiment), with hazel eyes, large mouths, full lips, white. teeth, brown hair, clear, healthy complexion, and that sort of a nose which is neither Greek nor Roman, nor aquiline, nor ce petit nez ret rousse, that some persons perfer to all, but a nose which moderAely promi nent, and sufficiently well shaped, is yet as far as I know, anonymous, although it may be, perhaps, as common or es well looking a feature as is to be seen on an English face. Altogether, they were a pair of tall and comely maidens, and be ing constantly attired in garments of the same color and fashion, looked at times so much alike that no stranger ever dreamed of knowing them apart, and oVen their acquaintances were rather accustomed to speak and think of them as the " Evanses" than as the separate individuals Jane and Patty. Even those who did pretend to distinguish the one from the other wore not exempt from mistakes, which the sisters—Patty espe cially, who delighted in the fun so often Produced by the unusual resemblance— 'Were apt to favor by changing places in a walk, or slipping from one side to the other at a country tea party, or playing a hundred innocent tricks, to occasion far once a grave blunder and a merry laugh Old Dinah Goodwin, for instance— who, being rather purblind, was jealous of being expected of seeing loss clearly than her neighbors, and have defied even the Evanses to puzzle her discernment —seeking in vain on Patty's hand the cut finger which she had dressed on Jane's, ascribed the incredible cure to, her own incomparable salve, and could hardly be undeceived. even by the ailing off of Jane's gloYe and the ex- Rion of the lacerated digit sewed ound by her own bandage. Young George Kelly, too, the greatest beau in the parish, having bet at a Christmas party that he would dance with . every pretty girl is the room, lost his wager, which Patty had overheard, by that saucy damsel Blipping into her sister's place, arid persuading her to join her own unconscious partner; so that George danced twice with Patty and not at all with Jane—•a bantering piece of malice which proved as the young gentleman (a rustic exquisite of the first water) was pleased to assert, that Miss Patty was not displeased with her partner. How little does a vain min know of womankind. If she had liked him, she would not have played the trick for the mine? of Golconda. In short from their school days, when Jane was chid_ den for Patty's bad work, and Patty slapped for Jane's bad spinning, down to the prime of womanhood, there had been no end to the confusion produced by this remarkable instance of family likeness. And yet nature—who sets some mark of individuality upon even her meanest productions, making some unnoted dif ference between the lambs dropped 'from one ewe, the robins bled in one nest, the flowers growing on one stock and the leaves growing on one tree —had not left these maidens without one permanent distinction a natural and a striking dissimilarity of temper,— Equally industrious, affectionate, hap py and kind; each was kind, happy, affectionate and industrious in a, different way. Jane was grave ; Patty was gay. If yen heard a laugh, or a song, be- SUM it was Patty ; she who jumped the style, when her sister opened the gate was Patty ; she who chased the pigs" from the garden, as merrily as if she were running a race, so that the pigs did not mind her, was Patty. On the other hand, she that co carefully was making with its own ravelled threads, an invisible darn in her mother's hand kerchief, and was hearing her sister read the while; she that so patiently was feeding, one by ono, two broods of young turkeys ; she, too,-that so pen sively was watering her cwn hod of delicate and somewhat rare flowers— the pale hues of the alpine pink, or the alabaster blossoms of In white eve ning primrose, whose modest flowers, dying off in the blush, resembling her own character—wee Jane; Some of the gossips of Aberleigh used to assert that Jane's sighing over the flowers, as well as the early steadiness of her character, mese from an engagement to my lord's head gardner, an intelli gent, sedate, sober and steady young Schotchman. Of this I know nothing. Certain it is that the prettiest and new s plants were always to be found in Jane's little flower garden; and if Mr. Arch ibald Maclane did sometimes come to look after them, I did not sea that it was anybody's business. In the meantime, a visitor of anoth er description arrived at the farm. A cousin of Mrs. Evans had been as suc cessful in trade as her husband had been in agriculture, and now he sent his only son to become acquainted with his relatimss, and to spend some weeks in their Charles Foster was a fine young man, whose father-was nei ther more or less than a linen draper in a groat town, but whose manners, edneation, mind and Character might have done honor to a far higher sta tion. He was, in a word, ono of na ture's gentlemen, and nothing did he more thoroughly show his taste and good br ceding than by entering entirely into the homely ways and old fashioned habit of his couatry consins. He was delighted with the simplicity, frugality and industry which blended well with the starling .goodness and genuine pru dence of the great English farm house. The women especially pleased him much• These formed a strong contrast with any he had met with before. No finery, no coquetry, no French, no piano. It is impossible to describe the sensation of relief and coinfort with which Charles Foster, sick of musical misses; ascer tained that the whole dwelling did not contain a single mesical instrument ex cept the bassoon, on which George Evan's was wont, - every Sabbath, at church to excruciatellitrears of the whole congre gation. He liked botlysisters. Jane's softness and considerateness engaged his I full esteem. PaltY's -innocent playful ness.snited best with hie.irwn high spirits and anirn ated 'icenversatio . He had known theni apart - from the first, and in_ deeill ied that the likenesses were at 11 puzilingeor more than is usual among .Z l l. - ID - ria. 141854, sisters ; and secretly thought Patty as mach prettier than her sister as she -aas avowedly merrier. In doors and get he was constantly at her side ; and befo r e he had been a month in the house all the inmates of the house had given Charles Foster as a lover of his young cousin ; and she, when rallied on the subject, cried "Fie !" and "Fish 1" and "Pshaw 1" and wondered how people could talk such nonsense—and liked to have such nonsense talked to her better than any thing in the world. Affairs were in this state, when one night Jane appeared even graver and more thoughtful than usual, and far, far sadder. She sighed deeply ; and ,Patty —for the two sisters occupied the same room—inquired what ailed her. She burat,into tears, whilst Patty hung over her and soothed her. At length she roused herself by a strong effort, and turning away from her affectionate cote forter, said in a low tone " I have had a great vexation to-night, Patti; Charles Foster has asked me to marry him." Charles Foster l did you nay Charles Foster ?" asked poor Fatty, trembling, unwilling even to turn her own senses against tho evidenv, of hot. kart "Charles roster? "Yes ; our cousin, Charloa Postzz !" " And you have accepted him. 2" in quired Patty. in a hoarse voice. "Oh ! no—no—no I Did yoa thin!: I had forgotten pour Archibald ? Besides, I am not the person whom he enght to bare asked to marry hint—false and heartless as he is ; I would not be his wife—cruel, unfeeling, uemanly as his conduct has been I No 1 cot if he would make queen of England 1" "You refu9ed him, then"' " No , my father met us suddenly, just as I was recovering from the surprise and indignation that at first stric's dumb. But I shall refuse him—the false, deceitful, ung,raieful viliian 1" "Poor father—he will be dimppointed. So Will mother." "They will both bo disappc:ntod, and both angry, but not et Ely rofusal, Oh I how they will despise him l" added Jane. Poor Patty, melted by her sister's sympathy, and teachod by an indigna tion most unusual in that mild and gen tle girl, could no longer commend her feeling, but threw herself on the bed in that agony of passion and grief which the first great sorrow seldom fails to ex cite in the young heart. After a while she again resumed the conversation. "We must not blame Lim too severely. Perhaps my vanity made me think his attentions meant more-than ho really did and you Lad all taken up the notion.— But you must not speak of him so un kindly. He has done nothing but what is natural. Yeu are so much better and wiser than I am, my own dear Jane ! Fie laughed and talked with me--but he felt your goofiness ; and he was right.— I was never worthy of him, and you are ; and, if it were not for Archibald, I should rejoice from the bottom of my heart," continued Patty, sobbing, "if you would accept"—but, unable to spa 3 her generous wish, she burst into a fresh flow of tears, and the sisters mutually and strongly effected, wept in each other's arms and were comforted. That nightre.tty cried herself to sleep but such sleep is not of long duration.— Before dawn she was up, and pacing with restless irritability the dewy grass walks of the garden end orchard. In less than half an- hoar a light, elastic step—s! le knew the spend well—came rapidly be hind her ; a hand—oh ? how often had she thrilled at the touch of that hand— tried to draw hors within his arm; whilst a well-known vo'.ce addressed her in the softest and , teaderest accents : " Patty--my-own sweet Patty 1 have you thocght of what I said to yaa last night?" " Said to me i" replied Patty with bit terness. "Ay, to be sure—to your own dear self! do you not remember the question I asked you when your good father—for the first time unwelcome—joined as 80 suddenly that you had not time to say 'yes,' or no ?" Mr Poster," said Patty with seme• spirit, "you are under a mistake here It was to Jane that you made the propo sal, last evening, and you are taking me for bar this very moment." " Mistake you for your sister I Pro pose to Jane I Indredible I Impossi ble I You are jesting I" " Then he mistook Jane, for .me last night, and ho is no deoeiverl" thought Patty to herself, ak with smiles beaming brightly through her tears, she turned round at his reitererated praytw, and yielded the hand he sought to hie pro NO. 3. Ea@ "He mistook her for me 1 He that defied us to perplex him 1" And so it was I an nnconscion' and unobserved change_ of place, as either sister resumed her station beside little Betty, who had, scampered away after a glow-worm, added to the deepening twi light and the lover's embarrassment, produced the confusion which gave poor. Patty a night of misery, to be followed by a lifetimO of happiness. Jane was al most as glad to loge a lover as her sister was to regain one. Charles has gone home to his father's to make prepara tions for his bride. Archibald has taken a great nursery garden, and there is some talk in Aberleigh that the mar riage of the two sisters is to be celebra tinc on the same day. Oamp Literature. A friend hi , s furnished us for ptablica. tiou, a copy of the " Chronicles of the Pennsylvania Reserve Volunteer Corps..' They are very handsomely printed on a fly sheet of letter paper convenient for circulation, and have evidently had an extensive "run." They read us follows : CURONICLES OF TIME PENNSYLVANIA RR SERVE VOLMITEER CORPS.—Man that is born of a woman, and enlisteth as a sol dier in the " Pennsylvania," is of few days. and short "rations." 2. fr.n.that comoth for at " ravine," is present also at "retreat ;" yea, even at " tattoo," and retireth apparently at taps." 3. Ho draweth his rations from the commissary and- devoureth the same.— He striteth his teeth against much "hard bread," and is satisfied. He filleth his canteen with aqua Pura, and clappeth the mouth thereof upon the bung of a whiskey barrel, and after a while he go (Ail away rejoicing in his strategy 4. Much soldiering hath made him sharp ; yea, even the seat of his breech es is in danger-of being cat through. s. 'He covencriteth with the crednloiiii farmer foi many chickens, and much honey and mil!r, to be paid promptly at the end of cult ton days ; and lo I even upon the ninth da7, he is no where to be found. 6. His tent is filled with potatoes, cabbJE,o, turnips, kraut, onions, and oth er delizate morsels of a delicious taste, which abound not in the commissary-de partment. 7. And many other things not in the "ret , zre," and which never will return ; yet, for a truth, it must bo said that a soldier of the " Pennsylvania Reserve," that cf a surety he taketh nothing which be cannot conveniently reach. 3. I.le frreth his musket at midnight, and the whole camp is aroused and form ed into a lime, when lo ! his mess comes bearing in an adult porker, which he de clares so resembles "secesh" he was com pelled to pull the trigger. p. When he goeth into Washington ho girerh the Provost Marshall much trouble, often captureth his guard, and possessoth himself of the city. 10. At such times lager and pretzels flow like tn:lk and honey from his gene rous hens. Ho giveth without stint to his comrades; yea, and withholdeth not from his lank, e;:pectant, "raw," friend of the "Pennsylvania Forty-Ninth."_ 11. The grunt of a pig, or the crowing of a cock, awaketh him from his sound est sleep, and he sauntereth forth, until banned by the guard, when he instantly clappeth hie hands neon his " bread bas!:et," and the guard, in oommissera tion, allowsth him to pass to the rear. 12. Ho ;termer hath he passed the sen try's beat than he striketh a " bee-line " for the nearest hen-roost, a seizing n pair of plemp pullets, returneth, solilo quisieg- to himself "The noise of a goose saved Rome ; how much more the flesh of a chicken preserveth the soldier." 13. Re playeth " Old Sledge" with the chaplain, whether there will bo preaching in camp on the Sabbath, and by dextrously "turning a Jack" from the bottom, postponeth the service. 14. And many other marvellous things doeth he ; and lo ! are they not already recorded in the morning reports. Yea, verily. g "Hullo, driver, your wheel is go ing round," sang out a little urchin to a cart driver, who was driving furiously through the street.the othei-day.'-arty pulled up and looked anxiously one side and then on the other. " needn't look now, it's stopped 1" .coolly`- added the provoking- little rascal. or A. soldier on sentry was noticed byhis officer with having a black eye and charged him with fighting. !Please sir," replied the soldier, "wasn't it for that purpose you enipped aye:"
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