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VOL. NINE.
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lC The following beautiful, sweet and sim
ple lines, will make their way directly and
to the heart of a reader:
I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.
I remember, kremember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn ;
lie never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often Wish that night
kled borne my breath away !
I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white,
The violets and the lilly cups,
Those Rowers made of light !
The blacks where the robin built,
And where my brother set,
The libernum on his birth-day, -
The trees living yet!
I remember, I remember,
" Where I.used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as freshly
To swallows on the wing ;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow !
nemernber, I remember,
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky ;
It was a chidish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm further off from heav'n
Than when I was a boy !
TRIFLES.
0,•• • ~,,, •••
how is it o'er the strongest mind,
That trifles hold such sway?
A word—nay, e'en a look unkind,
May darken all Ws day.
Oh, in this world of daily care,
The thousands that have erred,
Can any'hardship better bear,
Than they can bear a word.
The man who with heroic heart
Can stem misfortune meet,
U ollinchingly perform his part,
And struggle 'gaunt defeat,
With faith unaltered—yet can lose
His temper, e'en fin ought
Which fulls not as his will would choose,
Or proves not what he sought.
And woman can forgive a wrong
Which casts her ou the world,
Far Letter than forgive the tongue
That may some sneer have hurled;
A thousand times parer a lot
As hard ae want deplores,
Than feel or think herself forgot
Ity one her heart adores.
Alas, the human mould's at fault,
And still by turns it claims
A nobleness that can exalt,
A littleness that shameS.
Of strength and werikness still combined,
Compounded of the mean and grand;
And trifles thus will shake the mind
That would a tempest stand.
(ire me that siml-sutilirior power,
That conquest over fate,
Which sways the weakness of the hour,
Rules little things as great;
That lulls the human waves of strife.
With words and feelings kind,
And makes the trials of our life
The triumphs of our mind.
UNFADING BEAUTY.
Ile that love a rosy check,
Or a coral lip admires,
or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his tires ;
As old Times makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away:
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thougths and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combin'd,
Kindle never dying fires ;
Where these are not ; I dispise
Lovely cheeks, or lips or eyes.
An exchange paper gives the following
ellusion of some inspired poet:
I kissed the tiny hand I held,
pressed the fairy form,
1 vowed I'd shield her from the blast,
And from the world's cold storm
She raised her melting eyes to mine,
They were filled with drops of wo,
With quivering lip she said,
"Now, darn ye, let we go !"
fn alubtpukut Verutvitmuia afaurnal getrat6 to ratifies, Siferatute, Agriculture, Ran al ftz Pap', `Natal alai - enigma, -gt.
THE HYPOCRITICAL HUSBANDAT HOME.
"Why the devil isn't my breakfast
ready 7"
This is the gentlemen's first "saluta
tion to the morn,"Aeliveredina tone of
voice admirably expressive of having
arised from his couch with a determina
tion of being in a particular ill humor
for the rest of the day, or, as the saying
is, "got out of your bed wrong end fore
most."
"But, my dear, it is not late 7"
"Not too late? not too late I.:Suppose
choose to have breakfast a trifle earlier
than usual, when .I< am half starved.—
But people are so infernally lazy in this
hone—Ah I here it comes at last ! The
old story—muddy coffee. It is strange
that,l can never be allowed a drop of
chocolate of which .I am so passionately
fond."
"Well, my dear, -why .do you .never
mention it beforehand."
"Why do you never ask me if I should
prefer it 1" •
"You generally take coffee'—even
when we have chocolate on the table."
"Ind what of that 1 The very reason
why I should prefer now and then choc
olate for a change. At any rate it
would not give you a great deal of troub
le once in a while. Who made that
fire ? Or rather who was idiotic enough
to imagine that pile of green logs could
ever be converted into a blaze—Pll be
d—d if the people in this house know
enough to make a fire. Pray can you
inform me what this dark colored mess
is supposed to represent ?"
"Thatis brown bread toast."
"I thought - so !by heavens this was
put upon the table, expressly to enrage
me—you know I hate the cursed stuff.
I heard some one ring this morning—
who was it ?"
"why that young man, that—what's
his name—who has been to see you
twice before you know—l told him you
bad gone out—you say he's such a bore.
I know you wouldn't like be bothered
with him at breakfast time."
The married man throws himself back
in his chair and smites the unoffending
table with his fist; to the evident aston
ishment of the cups and simmers.
"And who the devil authorized you to
deny me to my friends ? You are al
ways making some cursed blunder. I
made a particular appointment with
that young man to see him this morning.
And you have told him I was not at
home ! It seems to be your soul-study
to see what you can do to put, me in a
passion."
And in his rage, he unconsciously
brings one elbow in contact with his
coffee cup—which consequently Rising
its equilibrium, the contents are duly de
livered upon his brocade dressing gown.
"There by--d ! Now I hope you're
satisfied—you have been the means of
ruining my mourning gown, which cost
me twelve dollars day before yesterday !
"I'm sure I didn't request you to up
set your coffee."
"But you put me in a passion."
"I put you in a passion ! You have
been cross as a bear ever since you got
up."
"Take care 1 Don't impose too much
upon my good nature."
"You're a brute, for all you're so
mighty loving before folks."
"Will you hold your tongue ?"
"Every body thinks you're a pattern
of a husband, and that I am the hap
piest wife in the world. Oh !if they
knew how you abuse me whenme are by
ourselves."
"Will you bold your tongue?" (with s.
grinding accompanied of the teeth.)
"And yet, before company, I must
pretend to be mightily pleased when
you kiss me, Pooh ?"
"If you don't hqld your tongue this
instant I'll throw this cup at your head !"
"You dare not I you dare not, you
vile monster !"
"Ah ! I'm a monster' am I a---Whizl
and a cup is launched at her head with
the very best intentions, which hOwever
are frustrated py the, lady's stooping,
with a celerity which could only have
been acquired by the most frequent and
deserving practice. She escape's the
missile, but alas ! not the brutal blow
which speedily follows it from the hard
hand of a Hypocritical Husband, who
doubtless considers it his duty to punish
her for his having broken a coffee cup
and damaged a dressing gown.
Hark ! the door belt rung, and now
the poor wife vainly endeavors to sup
press her tears and sobs. The servant
announces a visitor. The Hypocritical
Husband approaches her with a threaten
ing air, says—
"You're, not surely going to blubber
before company ! Dry your eyes quick-
1 - ,11 - I;iritt - 4;vrt+.
MARIETTA, PA., SATITRDAY , ,, !;. M8E11,13, 1862.
ly, or else, by heavens, as soon "as the
are gone, I'll resume my remarks whe
I left off."
The visitor is ushered in.—The : y
pocritical Husband immediately assumes
a cheerful amiable expression, and pass
es the usual compliments in tones of
singularly sweet and gentle modulations.
The visitor (a lady) remarking the ap
pearance of the agitated wife exclaims :
"Bless me? how pale yoa look ? how
red your eyes are I Have you been un
well !"
Ba our gentleman will not trust to
his wife to reply, and hastons to explain
with—
"Oh ! nothing is the matter ! She sat
up very late last night reading—rnin
ous to the eyes you know. I often tell
her t 'My dear, you abuse your eyesight
reading small print by candle light,' but
she won't listen to me ; and you see the
consequence, the next inorning she's
pale as a ghost, and her eyes look ex
actly as if she'd been crying.—But she
won't do so again will you love? She
promised to be a good little girl; hav
en't yon darling ?"
SO saying, the affectionate creature
presses her fondly.
THE MOURNER RA-MODE.
I saw her last night at a party,
(The elegent'party at Mead's),
And looking remarkably hearty
For a widow so young in her weeds ;
Yet I knew she was suffering sorrow
Too deep for the tongue to express, •
Or why had she chosen to borrow
So much from the language ofdrcas
Her shawl was as sable as night;
Her gloves were dark as her shawl I,
And her jewels that flashed in the light
Were black atia funeral:pall ;
Her robe had the hue of the'rek,
(How nicely it fitted her shape !)
And the grief that was heaving her breast
Boiled over in billows of crape I
What tears of vicarious woe,
That else might have sullied her face,
Were kindly permitted to flow
In ripples of ebony lace I
While even her fan, in•itslplay,
Had quite a lugubrious scope,
And seemed to be waiving away
The ghost of the angel.of Hope t
Yet rich as the robes of a queen,
Was the soinbre.apparel. she, wore ;
Pm. certain I never had seen
Such,a sumptuous sorrow before ;
And I couldn't help thinking the beauty,
In mourning the loved and the lost,
Was doing her conjugal duty
Altogether regardless of cost.
One surely would say a devotion
Performed at so vast an expense, •
Betrayed an excess of emotion
That was really something immense ;
And 3 et as I viewed, at my leisure,
Those tokeis of tender regard,
I thought: It is scarce without measure,
The sorrow that goes by the yard
Ah ! grief is a curious passion ;
And'your's--I am sorely afraid,
The very next phase of the fashion
Willfind it beginning to fade ;
Though dark are the, shadows of grief,
The morning will follow the night.
Half tints will betoken , relief,
Till joy shall be symboled in white !
Ah ! well—it were idle to quarrel
With Fashion, or aught she may do;
And so I conclude with a moral
And metaphor—warranted new—
When measles come handsomely out,
The patient is safest, they say ;
And the sorrow is mildest, no doubt,
That works in a similarway I
WINTER.
The year is hastening to its close
And icy fetters hind the ground;
The march of time will soon disclose
That earth's revolved her circuit round
The snow- flakes thickly mantle earth,
The *int'ry blasts their force unite,
Nature assumes a perfect dearth,
And cheering sun-beams loose their might
No more is heard the warbling notes
Of birds that flitted through the air
One glance around this thought promotes
That we the winter's gloom must share
Notir is the, time for dazzling belles
To glide majestic in the dance;
And some admiring beau now tells
The pleasures
_which these scenes embrace
The tinkling sleigh-bells new are heard
As they pass by at even-tide,
And happy times are now enjoyed
Be lovers of this sportive ride.
The poet's muse is filled_with fire,
Resplendent glows his fruitful mind ;
He clothes his song in rich attire,
..knd all his verses are refined.
Thus winter has its charms for some ;
Nor should our better feelings rest
Till all;VhO are b3' want O'ercome;
Receive a share from those thus blest!
[From the New York • Mercury.]
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.
The sun had sunk below the lurid
horizon ; the radiance of the dying day
had'ilisplayed,its . dolphin colors. in the
west; the watery skin:l s mer of the new
moon was seen _dimly, through the smoky
haze that floated over.the field of deadly
strife; the camp Ares ware lit, and cast
a glare on the moving forms of worn-out
soldiers—on , the begrimed and blood
stained faces' of wearied men—on the
trees despoiled of their waving branches
by the irresiatable round shot, or
stripped bare of leaves and twigs by the
explosion of volcano-like shell.
Nature mourned, for the fallen or mu
tilated children of the forest, for the
fruitful field whose waving- corn was
trodden into the dust, for the velvet
sward charred and blasted ; but drinking
the, blood of men, which had fallen to
the ground like rain in spring, hopefully
Waited the time when the sanguineous
flood, more enriching than the fertilizing
overflowings of the Nile, would make
the blasted field thrice blessed, and the
barren desert to blossom in unwonted
luxuriance.
So the cool night-wind rustled through
the trees that bowed their broken forms
in acquiescence, fanned the fevered
brois and shattered limbs of the wound
ed 'warriors, caused the flames to leap
merrily from the fires, and shed a glow
of heat and comfort to the chilled and
disconsolate soldiers, who stood with
outstretched hands before the grateful
blaze.
Distended muscles will,relax ; over
taxed frames demand rest; high-strung
courage, the danger over, will_becoine
depressed.
A soldier, brave as a lion in the com
bat, true as steel to the principles that
nerved his arm in 'the hour of danger,
tremblingly held his weried hands over
the dancing flames. The excitement of
the contest was over ; the wounded had
been gathered- tcithe hosisital ; the * dead
had been buried.- A-few half-shed tears
had attested the worth of a slain com
rade, and borne witness that the viarri
.
or was still human. And now, haff-re
clinfng against a tree, he looked wistful
ly into the fire. Hisface was lit up by
the red glare. A look of blank aimless
nesi pervaded his countenance. The
body and the mind alike rested. NOW
a deep sigh escapes him—active con
sciousness is returning. He casts a look
of hasty survey around him, shrugs, his
shoulders as the scene of devastation is
sensed, and relapses into a waking
dream.
Sinking to a sitting posture at the
foot of the tree, his eyes bent earnestly
on the glowing centre of the fire, his
thoughts wander to the home he has
left—to his loved wife—to the helpless
babe who was but learning to recognize
his voice and spread out its tiny hands
in welcome as he sprang to embrace it
—to the well-known haunts andTamiliar
faces of friends and companions. Re
sees many a scene depictefi in the glow
ing ashes that'had been acted long ago.
The quip, the joke, and the light-heart
ed laugh sound in his ear, A smile .
beams on his face. The blood thrills
through his veins. The current of
thought is turned. Joyous and strong
once more, he is about to utter his
thoughts aloud, and to start to his feet,
when a groan from some wreck of hu
manity fighting with death in the hospi z
tal-teni, recalls the present to his min
animist:ins& Ho stares wildly around, as
if doubting his locality, and with a deep
sigh, he wonders if he ever shall see-
home again
Languidly, he stretches out his limbs
to 'the heat: He ponders what will . be
the end of:all his.toilS. Why men suf
fer, bleed, and die, apparently in vain.—
Puzzled for answer, he ponders over the
enigma; heaVy grow his eyelids, sientor
eons his breathing; his horny palm sup
ports his reclining temples. The sol
dier sleeps,
The unconscious body . twitches - and
starts with nervous uneasiness, but the
active mind, following the last dominant
waking thought, pursues the inquiry, and
demands : " Why `am I here ?" and
"What will'my reward be ?"
- Unsatisfactorily the subject is dis
cussed. There appears to be no solu
tion. Suddenly 'he 'dreams 'that the
trumpet-sounds wake the echoes of the
night—the rolling drum reverberates in
the vale. The elarm-shots of the ad
vanced post proclaim the enemy near.
The soldier starts , to his feet. He obeys
the order to fall into ranks. Mounted
officers ride back and forth in mad
haste. The heavy rumblb- of thci
lery -sounds like the forerunner of an
earthquake. The hissing signal-rocket
Established April 11, lE3s'4_
pierces the atmosphere, as if it were a
fiery fiend escaped from the burning pit
to make war on high heaven. " For
ward, march 1" rings out clear above the
hubbub. With a loud cheer, the batal
ion moves machine-like in - its tread.—
Now the dogs of war begin to bay.—
Screaming rifle-ball and swashing shell
rush on their mission of death and de
straction. A= masked battery thins the
ranks of the . batallion. The dead lie in
heaps in the harvest-field of battle. Up
to the cannon's mouth they rush. Hur
rah 1 the battery is won. The 'guns are
spiked. The retreat is commenced.—
Ab, a flash I a shriek ! The soldier
dreams that he falls. The life blood
gushes from' his month: The death
damp is on his brow. The spirit has
lost its dominion over the body.
In the hollow made by the exploding
shell lies the corpse of the soldier. The
burial -patties see it not. Th'e rank
weeds hide the remains from the gaze
of the casual passer-by. The* spirit,
loth to leave its earthly tenement, hovers
over it, and strives to guard it from the
invisible vulture, Corruption. Alas, in
vain ! The next midday sun lights the
approach of the gnawing worm. The
warm wind blows on the cheek of the
corpse with putrid breath. The night
dews tot the iron muscle. The autumn
rain pelts pitilessly on the peeling skin.
Creeping things of the forest riot on the
flesh ; birds of prey fight over the well
molded features. A few rising and set
ting suns, a waning moon, and the wild
beastsgnaw the bones of the warrior.
The spirit sees the bones scattered by
the foul feeders of the wilderness. Only
the skull is left The•dome of the tem
ple of life is stripped of all ornament—
eyeless sockets, tongueless mouth, brain
less cavity, attest its desolation. Yet
still the soul quivers near it in affectipn
ate remembrance. Still there is enough:
of ea7th left to attract the spirit born of
heaven.
Througli the pale moonlight, through
the dristcy night, through mists and fo'gs,
through storm and sunshine, in summer's
heat and winter's cold, flickers the in
visible welcher. Revolving suns pro
claim day and night--moons wax and
wane. Retufning and departineseasons
proclaim the lapse of years. Still the
anxious sentinel keeps its post. .
The clash of arms has long since
ceased to resound in the valley. The
pestilence bred of corruption has become
extinct, for want of food. The silence
of noonday has been seldom broken by
the sounds of human voices. The val
ley, has become a wilderness, tbrougli
which the lonely traveler hiirries with
awe, imploring the protection of the
heavenly guardians.
The abomination of desolation is made
perfect.
But from the ashes of Corruption
springs tho,phoenix Prosperity.
The trodden soil' enriched with the
bones of men, watered with the rains of
heaven, warmed by the godlike sun,
slowly renews its prolific powers. Grass
grows where the fierce wind drove about
the dust a:nd'sand in clouds.. Wild flow
ers of variegated hue . shed their Sweet
fragrance where rose the'vapor of ac•
casing blood shed by a brother's hand.
The light:foOted deer crop the sweet
verdure. Then comes the cheery voice
of the hunter—the honest bark of man's
truest friend among brutes. Soon the
distant sound of the workman's axe is
hee,rd. A. cottage• peeps from among
the trees. Ascending smoke—the in-
cense of universal humanity—seeks- its
way from earth to heaven.. The,jocund
laugh rings out in the still air. The
sound of the cow-bell iv borne by the.
gentle breeze'. 'Morning ' biings the
shrill, glad voices Of happy children.--
Eve-ning lists to the song: of praise` ad
dressed to it-bountiful Creator.---
The abomination of desolation is re
moved.
The watching ppirit begins to see the
end and purport of the life-reiPsion.,
The low of cittle, the' blealing of
sheep, the, cries of tame biids, form a
happy medley in the valley. Hoes ,.
eared corn, nodding wheat, and bearded
barley glisten with golderptints in the .
sun. The birds of the air`join in the
joyful chorus of the cliildren` of the
earth. The plow and the. sickle hare
resumed their reign. Suddenly, a thrill,l
of joy fla'sleh on the lonely spirit: The
skull—the last tie binding it to the ma-,
terial—has been lifted from the greund
by the soft hands of a child.
"Mother, what is . this ?" is the eager
question.
"The skull of a man. The hood of one
who was once living, like. you."
"Like me! Mother, it has no eyes,
nor mouth, nor body, nor limbs.. Where
therore
NO. 20.
"All turned to dust—what we are all
made of."
"Then how is this not turned to dust
oo?"
"Through time it will."
"But how came the man here ? Why
did they not put it deep down in the
ground, as theyput my poor grandpa 2"
"Most likely he was a soldlef, who was
killed in one of the battles gr,andpa used
to tell you about, and there was no one
to bury him."
"Poor soldier ! • What Inkida them
fight ?"
"Bad men tried to mist the country
that they - might do what . they pleased.
They wanted to treat black men work
ing for them like cattle ; and they want
ed make poor white men do whatever
they told them to, whether they liked
it or no."
"Were they once so cruel here ?"
"Yes ; before our country was in its
glory—the joy and hope of the world—
there were many dark deeds done by
evil-minded men."
"Bat why did they not put the bad
men in some place where they could not
hurt nobody but, themselves ?"
"Evil had its allotted time in our hap
py country 'as in all others. And . it
seemed to our fathers that the bad
would finally triumph and the good al
ways suffer. But ttt last the fruits of
evil, which is ruin, became the portion
of the wicked, and then the good pros
pered, the nation became happy, and the
victims fled to other lands, to hide their
heads in shame and oblivion for the rest
of their days, and to die miserably."
"And to drive the bad men away they
had to fight ?"
"Yes. Had they not fought we would
have been at mercy of the rich men of
the State. Long ago there were few
schools . that the children of the poor
could go to. Many poor men could not
read. Bad rich men "'told the people
anything they liked, and they believed
it so that the poor were in the power of
the wealthy, and did as they said."
"But I would not have done it."
"But you would uot.ba-ve - known any
better, nor your fajhor, nor I,"
"Then pa would have to do as Squire
Bernet told him."
‘eYes ; and you would not be going
to school next spring, and John would
not have learned to read, nor M.ary to
play•"
"Then this poor :man fought against
these bad men," said the child, looking
wistfully at the skull.
'"I hope so. Most likely he did. Be
thankful, my child, that those horrid
days are past. We can learn and
speak what,..we like now. The lash of
the oppressor and the sound of violence
have left our happy land forever. Let
us bury the skull."
With broken branches of the under
brush they managed to scrape a hole in
the yielding soil, The young mother
as she thinks of her own happy home
and her fond husband, sighs over the re
mains of one who died unconsoled and
alone in the wilderness. A tear trickles
down her cheek, and falls on the rem
nant of human mortality. The skull is
laid reverently in the little grave. A.
ray of sunshine pierces through the
leaves of the bushes, and sheds a-golden
.glow on the bleached'bone. The watch
ing spirit, though without power to ut
ter words of thanks, so affects the hid
den springs of feeling, that mother- and
child feel the blessed consciousness of
doing a good deed. The earth is filled
in. Mother and child turn away. Their
voices - become faint and fainter in the
distance. The spirit's watch is ended.
The blast of a trumpet resounds in
the air. Louder and louder it grows.—
Seal and body reunite. The soldier
starts from his slumbers. The witch
fires have ceased to burn. The sun
shines in golden glory. Doubtingly, the
&miner looks around. He sees that
he is still clothed with the garment of
mortality._ it is the reveille that he has
heard. The deties of a soldier claim
his attention `still. But, nerved by his
dream, hopefully, and even joyfully, he
obeys the summons.
eir A jolly old doctor once said that
people who were prompt in their pay
ment always recovered in their silliness,
as they were good customers, and the
physicians -could not afford to lose them.
..er An Irish pedagogue recently in
formed his pupils that the feminine gen
der should be applied to all ships and
vessels afloat, excepting mail steamers
and men-of-war.
,
tieb It is a papular,tt „ elusien that pow
der on a lady's face has the same etLet
as in the barrel of.a musket--assists her
-to go off.