Editor and Pro-prietor..
VOL. NINE.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
AT ONE DOLT,AMA YEAR.
=
CiFFICE, on Front Street, a few doors east
I of - Mrs. Flury's Wtel, Marietta, Lancas
ter County, Pennsylvania.
TERMS, 0 .e Dollar a year, payable in ad
vance, a , (I if subscriptions he not paid within
six months $1.25 will he charged, but if de
layed until the expiratidn of the year, $1.50
will be charged.
NO F bm- ription 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.
ADV FAIT:KM' RATES : One square (12
lines, or less) 50 cents for the first insertion and
25 cents fcr each subsequent insertion. Pro
fessional and Business cards, of six lines or less
'at $3 per aunum. Notices in the reading col
umns, fire cents a-line. Alarriages and Deaths,
the simple announcement, FREE; but for any
additional lines, five cents a line.
A liberal deduction made to yearly and half
yearly advertisers.
JOB PRINTIV6 of every description neatly
and expeditiously executed, and at prices to
suit the times.
TILE HAPPY lIIIND,
Out upon the calf, I say,
Who turns his grumbling head away,
And quarrels with his feed of hay,
Buse it is not clover.
(Ave to roe the happy mind, -
That will ever seek and find
Something fair and something kind,
All the wide world over.
rTis passing good to hare an eye,
That always,mahages to spy
Some star to bear it company,
Though-plannks may - be ridden ;
And Mrs. Eve was foolish, very,
Not to be well content and marry,
With peach, plum, melon, grape and cherry,
When apples were forbidden.
We love rare flowers, but suppose
I.37e'l'e far from Italy's rich rose,
Must we then turn up our nose
At lilliee of the valley ?
Can't we snuff at something sweet,
In the "bough pots" that we meet,
Cried and Snld in the city Street,
By "Sally in our alley 1"
Give me the heart that spreads its wings,
Like the free bird that soars and sings,
And sees the bright sides of all things,
From Behrmg's Straits to Dover.
It is a bank that never breaks,
It is a store thief never takes,
It is a rock that never shakes,
All the wide world over.
We like to give old Care the slip,
And listen to the "crank and quip,'
At social beard from fluent lip,—
No fellowship is better ;
But he must lack the gentle grace,
That marks the best of human race,
Who cannot see a friendly-facer--
In mastitf, hound, or setter.
Our hungry eyes may fondly wish
The revel amid flesh and fish,
And gloat upon the silver dish,
That holds a golden plover.
Tet, if our table be but-spread
With savory, cheese, and oaten bread,
T.c thankful if we're always fed,
As well as the wide world over.
We may be poor—but then, l guess,
nur tmuble with pomp is less,
For they who wear a russet dress,
May never fear the rumpling.
And though champagne froth never hums
Between bur fingers and our thumbs,
Red aploplexy rarely comes
To dine with plain static dumpling.
AMERICA, I LOVE TREE STILL
America, I love thee still,
There's glory to thy name,
There's brightness beaming from thy birth.
And honor from thy fame.
There's beauty in thy naked soil,
Bespeaking smiles of love,
The rocks and blooming vilds proclaim
Protection from above.
America, I love thee still ;
Beneath thy valleys rest
The pilgrims of a tyrant's power,
Bright emblems of the blest—
'And round them clothed in silence, lie
The mouldering patriot's fame,
Embalm'd in secret memory's fire,
Immortal honors claim.
America, 7 love thee still,
Though traitors dire disown
f-.T.,he holy rights and ornaments,
Endeared to freedom's home :
Though misty clouds o'erspread the light,
And fears tbgether blend,
Hope's cheering rays foretell my pride
Of glory to ascend.
America, I love thee still—
Thou art my native land—
The joys, so pure can ne'er he found
Upon a foreign strand,
4 Tho' pleasure's path, and fortune's smiles
In other climes seem fair,
The brightest of their hopes and joys,
Cannotwith thine compare.
America. I love thee still—
Resplendent glories gleam,
Through all thy deeds. Thy sacred lights
Shall be my theme.
Pure from the realms of victory's sky,
The.crown was given ro thee—
'Mid starry lights, eternal stands
rt ,
Lill
aitaioeptoent Vensglimia *urnal prbot6 #oVolitics, Niftraturt, a,ricutturt, NCPUs of the p q , Notal ainttiligtott, tt't.
• It is one of the saddest facts in-life
that marriage is often a failure; and it
is so, in many cases, not because of any
great vice on either side, but simply by
reason of a false estimate of the condi
tions by which the married state, like
all other states, is governed. The rpot
of the evil lies in perverse principles
affecting the whole social intercourse of
the sexes. In the minds of a large pro
portion of young men, the feeling with
regard to women is a mixture of sham
gallantry and real • disrespect. They
have no opinion of the female intellect,
and ne reverence for the female charac
ter. How so low an estimate of the fe
, male nature can be arrived at by any•
man who recollects that he has, or has -
had, a mother, (for we may set aside as
of no account the few monstrous excep
tions to the sacredness of the maternal
character.) is difficult to explain ; but
the fact is too often manifest. It is a
vice of fashion and of training, which
like most vices, has the power of repro.
during itself by the contagion of exam
ple. We may deplore its existence, but
we must take it into our calculation,—
Young men often find themselves ex
pected, on entering the world, to be ex
tremely complimentary and deferential
to women before their faces, and cyni
cally contemptuous of them behind them
backs. The old schoolboy sense of
scorn for "thoSe girls" is retained, but
it is decorously hidden behind a thin
veneer of gallantry. Perhaps it would
be more correct to say that there is an
attempt to hide the rougher and more
genuine feeling, for the untruthfulness
of the profession is made more' manifest
by its fulsome exaggerations. The
showy nonsense uttered by young men
in ball-rooms is resented at heart by all
girls of. intellectual capacity and com
mon self-respect ; but it is unfortunately
encouraged by the more frivolous, who
do not detect the real indifference it
masks, or who yield themselves willingly
to an enchantment which they know is
false, but which they feel is pleasant. 's
There are of course, two forms of gal
lantry—the true and the spurious.—
That feeling of tender, protecting re
gard for women, as the weaker of the
two sexes, which seems to have origina
ted with Christianity, or at any rate to
be more directly encouraged by the re
ligion of
-equality •than by `boy other, is
TitieLgenuine gallantry of cultivated and
-considerate men. It ands its 'loftier
expression in the solicitude with which
manly natures shield women as far as
possible from the rough accidents of
life ; and its lighter in the brightness
and gayety of social intercourse. The
spurious development of gallantry we
all know too well. It is the -reproduc
tion in general society of the simpering
airs of a Beau Bruminell rendering ger
viceit self distasteful by officiousness,and
compliments offensive by their gross
ness. The type of true gallantry may
he seen in the Chevalier Bayard ; th;
of false gallantry in the vulgar gentiF y
and barely disguised selfishness of Sa
nej Pepys, Esq., Secretary to the A.drai
ralty, and hangeton at the Court of
Charles 11, or in Charles II himself.—
It was, indeed, in the reign of that mon- I
arch that spurious gallantry became first
systematized, and both professed and
practised as an article ofsocial religion.
We have long ago risen out of the
worst corruptions of that evil time ;_ but
we have not yet entirely shaken our
selves free from the low estimate of wo
men which was fostered and vaunted in
the latter half of the seventeenth cen
tury. The misconception, as we have
already shown, is widely diffused among
the unthinking, and it results in the-fre
quent failure of the married state. The
young fellow who from his eighteenth to
his five-and-twentieth year has prided
himself on having "no opinion of wo
men," excepting as a kind of pretty
plaything, suddenly finds at the latter
period that he is under very heavy, yet
very pleasant, bonds ti one of that de
spised community. He has lead flirta
tions and trifling fancies a dozen times
before :
The summer pilots of an empty heart
Unto the shores of nothing ;
but now he is really in love. To that
extent he is sincere ; and so far his sham
gallantry merges into the true. But he
has been so accustomed to false preten
ces, that• his very sincerity takes a form
which is itself insincere. He has no
idea of truth apart from exaggeration,
and has so accustomed himself to the
language of excess, that be can speak
in no other tongue. The old habit of
unreality clings to the new-born truth,
and ruins it. Because he Ws the lady
pralable and kiad, considerate for others,
(i . ke . 3:6) : • 41 Ct tit-Ilia/It+
MYER OR ANGELS.
MARIETTA, PA., SATURDAY, JITNE , 6, 1863.
and prone to do gracious things gracious
, he fancies her supernaturally perfect.
He constructs an ideal out of her best
qualities, and does her a substantial in
justice by expecting that she is always ,
to act np to that impossible measure of
perfection. She ceases to be mere wo
man, (which ought to be, sufficient to
satisfy any reasonable man,) and floats
the ether of his fancy a winged angel.
Her admirer is never modest enough to
ask his conscience what right he has to
expect an angel for his companion, him
self being none. He probably makes
DO effort on his own part to rise above
the weakness of humanity—the petty
accidents of temper, common at'times
to all of us ; the sordid instincts of
daily life ; the selfishness that insinuates
Welt' under s,o many crafty forms ; the
meanness, distrust, and want of charita
ble allowance, that grow with our
growl h, unless perpetually checked and
beaten down. He does not consider
how far perfection on one side, and im
perfection on the other, would be a pos
sible or even a desirable , association.—
He pays - his sweetheart the egregious
and even cruel compliment of trying her
by a standard wholly impracticable and
artificial, arbitrarily fixing her to it, and
shaping all his future prospects by a
law which he ought to know is non.tg
iskeet.
HO '['ha man who began by thinking all
women fools, and who passed out 15f that
opinion into the belief that one particu
larwoman was an angel ; marries in the
glamor of the latter faith, and antici-
pates a lifetime of celestial ministra
tions. Let us say the honeymoon is all
honey; still, when. the active, yet mon•
otonous round of, daily existence com
mences, it will be- strange if the angel
does not sometimes prove mortal.' She
may be a true-hearted loveable woman ;
she may have all the devotion, the self
sacrifice, the quiet grace and harmony
of her sex; but she will also have her
wayward humors. She will be out of
spirits once in a while, out of health
sometimes, and out of temper at others.
Why did not Jones, her husband, think
of this before? Why does he resent it
now, as if his wife had married him un
der false pretences ? She never put
herself forward as a seraph . ; that was
his mistake. Vet Jones thinks himself
deceived because, after a little while, he
finds those gauzy wings which be would
needs fasten to the human shoulders of
Mary Jane dropping off iato nothing.
ness. Affection and trust, sustained
and rectified by mutual charity, are not
enough for him. Those -are the condi
tions of the beet of mortal friendships;
but they will not satisfy the prodigious
requirements of Jones. He had bar
gained for au angel; and because he has
not got one, all is a failure. Thence
follow heart-burnings and quarrels ; sep
aration ensues, and perhays the Di
vorce Court brings the miserable error
to a close.
Marriage is the touchstone before
which the deceptions of courtship fade,
and are forced to declare themselves for
what they are. Shakespeare, with that
wonderful power which he possessed of
implying a profound remark in the ver
bal mistakes of some of his characters,
makes Slender say to Justice Shallow,
when the latter recommends him to
marry Anne Page, and asks whether he
can love her : "I will marry her, sir, at
your request ; but if there be no great
love in the beginning, yet Heaven may
decrease it apon - better acquaintance
when'we are married, and have more oc
casion to know one another. I hope
upon familiarity will grow more con
tempt; but, if you say, 'Marry her,' I
will marry her." The great dramatist
knew from his own experience, as well
as from general observation, that the
love in the beginning, w;iether much or
little, is frequently "decreased upon bet
ter acquaintance," when the couple'"are
married and have more Occasion to know
one another." Did he, with all his in
sight, make the mistake of expecting too
much ? Certainly Shelley did in his
first marriage. This would seem to mil
itate against our assertion that real po
ets are not likely to fall into such Fi
rers; but it should be recollected that
bOth Shakespeare and Shelley were
mere youths when they were -wedded--
the one to Anne Hathaway, the other
to_ Harriet Westbrook. The worst of
the matter is, that the mistake is fre
quently committed by men of maturer
years.
The court martial in the case of
Gen. Corcoran, for shooting Col. Kim
bail, has conclnded its investigations.
The result isjustification of the Gener
al;
GIVING AWAY ME BABY.
A MOTRER'S STORY
"It was the third day after my hus
band's funeral," said the widow, "and I
was so stunned by his sudden death that
I could do nothing but sit and think
over it, and try to realize how it could
be so. Only the Sunday before he had
been sitting with me, watching the baby
as be sat in the sunshine, laughing and
clapping his little hands, as the shadows
of the trees were flung across the bare
floor, and moved by the passing breeze.
Now the child was sitting in the same
spot, the warm October sun streaming
in on his bright curls, and making him
look so pretty—so like a picture ; but
the father was gone from us forever.
"It seems to me I mast see his dear
face once more ; that he would surely
lift the latch and come in, and take our
child up, and say, as he so often did,
'Mother, what would you take for this
little brother?'
"Even the baby missed him, and would
come and stand at my knee, calling 'Pa
pa! papa!' until I thought my poor
heart would break. Thb two oldest
children were at school, the rest were
out playing, so that. I was quite alone.
By and by the baby was tired of his
and came and got up into my lap.
illamma cry—mamma musrn't,' he
lisped out, and wiped my wet face with
his chubby bands; but I could only
hold him closer to me, and then cry
more bitterly.
"Just then Mr. and Mrs. Lorrimer
drove up in their handsome carriage.—
They lived not far off, and were our
richeit neighbors. When I had invited
them in, and had dried my tec,rs a little
they seemed at a loss how to begin the
conversation ; but Charlie had slid
away from my side, and went sr.d stood
at the lady's knee, and pointing to her
heavy gold bracelet, said, 'Pretty ! pret
ty P in his childish way_. She took it
off and gave it to him saying : -
"Won't you come to bo my little boy,
Charlie 7"
"My mother's heart took fright at
once. They had no children arid I
seemed. to feel tte plainly cs they had
told me, that they had come to ask for
one of mine.
"No, no, mother couldn't spare him,'
I said, quickly snatching him away, al
most rudely, I fear.
My dear woman,' began Mr. forrim
er, have you thought seriously of the
impossibility of your getting along with
five children under twel:e years of age I
It has required all your husband'a ef
forte,to make a living for you—how can
you hOpe to do without him ?
"We offer,' • rejoined in his wire, 'to
take the most helpless of your little"
ones, to give him all the adVantages
we would our own child ; and surely
you must see that God's hand is in it,
hat through us he intends to help you.'
"r needed not tell you how long I
withstoOd all their arguments. But at
last, overcome by their entreaties, I
consented to consider the matter. In
two days they came for the answer. I
never mentioned their visit to any of
the children, end I bad changed my
mind alinost every hour since I had seen
them. At last, convinced that it was
for the child's good, I consented to
give him up. When I went to dress
him to go, my resolution almost failed
me. I lingered over every article I put
on him, and made every dear curl over
and over before I could get it to.please
;and I kissed the little white should : .
ers until they were all rosy. But at
length, he was, reedy, and I thought •he
never looked so pretty. He Was full of
animation, fur he was old enough to
know what it meant to 'go riding,' and
he clapped hie hands and laughed aloud
at, the horses as they were driven up.—
I handed him to his new mother, (the
children supposed that he was to come
back soon,) and he never even looked
at, me. Oh; how jealcins my aching
heart grew
"When I came back into the house,
the first thing my eye fell on-his cradle.
I -could only throw myself on it and
sob alqud. , Then came the trial of tell
ing the whole truth to the children.—
None of them seemed reconciled, and
I felt that the worst was to come when
the two oldest should return from
school. I almost dreaded to meet them
especially Willie ; be was like his fath
er,: so quiet and calm Outwardly, but
hiding beneath his apparent coldness
strongest, deepest 'feelings. . But the
others went to meet them as they came
home, and I was pleaSantly disappoint
in the Way the oldest took it: He
• • •
seemed to fees that I. had dose it foi
Establish~c7 April 11, 185-I._
the best, and that he must hide his own
sorrow for my sake. He was more
thoughtful for my comfort, gentler than
ever, only very still and grave.
"The day ended, as the longest will
at last, and it came time to go to bed.
I had taken Willie down stairs to sleep
near me. Since his father's death, the
other children slept just above us.—
Well, when I came to lie. down, there
was the empty pillow! Baby had al
ways laid his little rosy face as close to
mine as he could get it, and slept with
one little warm hand on my neck. All
my grief broke .out afresh when I
thought of him. Willie raised up at
last, and said, earnestly;
"Mother, it's Charlie you are crying
for isn't it 1';
"Yes,' 1 answered, know it's for the
best; but, oh ! it's so hard to give him
up:,
"Mother,' ‘ continued the child, 'when
father died, we know it was all for the
best, because God took him -from us
btit I have been thinking ever since we
laid down how poor little Charlie must
be crying for ynu, and how God gave
him to us, to love him and keep him ;
and now you have given him away. If
lle had meant him to be Mr. and Mrs.
Lorrimar's baby, wouldn't He have giv
en him to them at first r
"The child's Words carried more
weight with them than all the argu
ments of my rich neighbors. 'After
considering a moment, I said,
impalsive
ly:
"Oh, if I only had him back, he shonid
never go away_ again, no matter how
poor we might be !"
"The moon was shining so brightly
that it was almost as light as day, and
presently Willie said:
"Mother, it's only half a mile across
the tields, and.they won't go to bed for
a long time at Mr. Loreitner's—let us
go and get Charlie. Why, mother, I
seem to bear him crying now."
"Urged by tho childs entreaties and
the foUd promPtings of my own, heart,
I consented. I think. I never walked
half a mile so quickly in my life, and
neithelv , spoke until we reached the
mansion. Then wo stopped a moment
foe breath, and, sure enough, we could
hear baby screaming at the top of his
voice. We went round to the sitting
roomdoor and knocked. They seemed
half frightened when then they saw who
it was, but asked us in 'politely: A
hired nurse was walking with the child
up and d'own'the floor, trying- to pacify
it. Mrs. Lorrimer bad wearied herself
out, and was lying on a lounge.
"Come to mother,' 'Mine said, and
he brought the little fellow to me at
once. •
"How he clung to TOO Still sobbing,
yet smiling all the while to find himself
in my arms !
"I cannot give him up,' I Said, at last
when I Could get my voice clear. 'You
Inuit let me take him home."
"They evidently thought - me"eilliest:
of .omen ; but their cold Words only
made me more determined; and e 'star
ted bank'in' ess than halfan hoer after
we came, I carrying the baby. .Willie
offered to help me, hut I felt as though
I could carry him in my arms forever.
"When I had laid him .bed; not fast
asleep, but still lobbing,, and reaching
out his little hands to feel if I was there
I said - : -
"God helping mt., come What will, I
will never part with one of my living
children again I And I never did.
"I need+not tell you hov with joy, the
rest of the children were, when they
found the baby in bed next morning;
they almost fought over the little fellow;
and from that day forth it was their
greatest pleasure to amuse Charlie ; and
have him with them.
"When the affair came to he known,
many blamed me, and many favors that
my rich neighbors might have done me,
they withheld, I think, for my folly, as
they called it. But a few poor- women,
like myself, that had alivays nursed
their own child - ren, said I did right.--
We had many trials, and often scarcely
a crust of brad in the house; but- our
hardships only bound us the more closz
ly together. •
"All my children proved comforts and
blessings to me ; God took care of one
for me; but as Willie said, we knew
that was for the best. The rest mar
ried in thecourse of time, and left me;
but the prop of my old_ days, the one
.
whose industry and management gave
me this plentiful and comfortable home
has never left me sineb the day I gave
him away."—Little Pilgrim.
The politician who undertakes to do
tke people, generall7 undoes kimseff,
NO. 45.
LOUISVILLE JORNALIDIS,
A Correspodent calling himself -Kit
ten" writes from "Fort Hell at Bran
denburg." Perhaps he is the oft-men
tioned "cat in h ell without claws."
A good many lawyers, out of busin
ess, !Live joined the army, We suppose
that, having no other prosecuting to do,
they concluded 4o help prosecute the
war. •
A clergyman in Pennsylvania has ex
cluded rebel sympathizers from the com
munion table. Indeed we d'in't like to
commune with them ourselves.
If the salamanders or tire-eaters of
Charleston get entirely out of food, they
will. perhaps set 6re to their city for
the sake of one good meal.
Gen. Van Dorn was defeated by Gen.
Curtiss at Pea Ridge ; badly whipped
by Geo. Roseerane at Cori:at' ; and fin
ished by Dr. Peters near Murfrees
boro.
In would seem that the rebel ladies
in the portions of Tennesse visited by
the Federal troops can't be considered
as exactly presentable. A letter to the
Chattanooga Rebel says that they have
been "stripped of everything."
We met a man a few days ago from
beyond the robe! lines, who said he had
not seen a fowl upon the table for six
months. In that region an old soden
t'.7,.ry hen would be deemed a feast for
the gals.
Somebody writes to the Grenada Ap
peal that General Buckner is "willing
to be judged by h!s works," Which of
his "works" does he want to be judged
bye Those that General Grant pro•
posed to move upon immediately?
The •order of Gen. Shackleford re
quiring the ...;iti/ens of Todd county to
take the oath of allegiance of go South
took effect on Li ,nday last since which
time *there have been lively times in
"driving out and swearing in."
The Richtnond Whig admits the se•
rions damage threatening Vicksburg,
and acknowledges that Richmond, too,
would be a little shaky should an im
mediate attack bo made upon it.
The New York. Times says "a soldier
never should be politician." The poli•
ticitms aim generally to think that
they should never be soldiers.
It is pleasant enough to learn that
the Richmond Whig, which all along
scoffed at the id'aa of any considerable
soaring in the South, has perished of
unendurable misery. With its expir
ing breath, it cried aloud that it was
dying of Confederate taxes. We sup
pose the Editor will now go forth fro©
his bankrupt establishment as a sutler
or some othor sort of camp-follower—
"As maggot; crawl fr.;;:a out a tuined nut."
No cue should live without labor
labor is - n grelt bles sing. Nev-r corn
plain that you are obliged to work, but
go it with alacrity and cheerfulness. Is
makes Men hea'thy, procures them food,
clothing, and all the necessary comforts
of hfo, and places a strong barrier
against the temptation to be dishonest.
When Mattge was very little girl, her
father faand her chubby hands full ol
the blossoms of a beautiful tea-rose, ot:
which he had bestowed great care.--
"My dear," he said, didn't I tell you
not to pick ens of, those flowers without
leavt.?" "Yes, papa,"- said Madge, in
nocently, "but all these have leaves."
The evils from which a morbin mac
suars most are those that don't hap
pen.
Rather curry a man's horse than his
favor. ilostlere are less offensive than
85't9Phanti•
troubles that ;year the heart
ou.t,„/Iteis easier to throw a boinhsheli
a mile than a feather--evest witli artil
lery.
Man creeps into childhood, boundu
into youth, sobers into manhood, softens
into age, totters into second ghildhoo ti
and stumbles into to the cradle prepar
ed For us all.
car Mrs. Partington says tbat he
cause' dancing girls are stars, it is n ,,
reason why they should be regarded
heavenly bodies.
'True merit can be compared to a,
river, the deeper it is the less noise i:
makes. So with knowledge : the learn
ed mind is still, deep, and thoughtful
the shallow brains: are tribulent like is
shallow wirer, running headlong ti -thy
.
(nen.