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THE' WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
BY JAS. A. WRIGHT AND HIGH WILSON.
THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
TERMS.—>Three Dollars a year iu advance.
VT No Sabacriptiona taken for a shot ter
time than six months.
LETTER FROM HALLE
ATTENDING CHUBCII IN ICEBERGS.
Bayard Taylor onco said, in a lec
tnre, tbal in some part oi Nortborn
Europe he attended religious service
where it was so cold that the words,
as spoken by tlio minister, 101 l in
crystallized snow flukes upon tho
heads of tho people. The oniy ad
vantage I then saw, in pleaching Un
der such circumstances, was, that the
people oould carry the frozen words
home and study them at their leisure;
yet, after oil, concluded it was a little
of Mr. Taylor’s poetry used to is
-I'rtsss a very cold fact. J hayo sir->
concluded that what ho then said con
lained more truth than poetry. All
through Northern Europe on* find'
lofty stone piles—churches, mo-s
--grown and ivy -covered, which huvo
stood for three and four hundred
years. No architecture is so massive
and imposing as this chuich architec
ture. Before the Lutheran Reforma
tion many of those old domes wore
tho property of the Church of Rome.
They wore, therefore, built, not so
much for tho comfort und accommo
dation of hearers, as, by their struc
ture and appurtenances, to impress
tho mind with tho awe of religious
art. Owing, therefore, to tho unnec
cssary space onuiosed beneath their
high roofs, it is quite difficult, if not
impossible—at least with Dutch j»orco
lain stores—to boat them. Yon, good
people at lirtrae, with furnace-healed
churches, cushioned coats, carpeted
floors, and often robed sleighs to con
voy your mnfii-d bodit sto at and from
God’s house, can but faintly conceive
ilia luxury cf being clad in two ovoi
coats and a huge shawl, walking
st£r«»gh sL.ppjs, w»wblaf.iiowy rtroefs,
ts sonic -
ddrt^RTfrim or Uiiy c<atm<w r
(hero greets yen with it-.mid grasp;
silting on u hard, uo,,den bench, with
your feel rtst.tig on icc-cl-argcn
bikks, lisiciiiug to go< and .•iiiglng, 1 asnl
reading, and an ’.or:-’* erinm; while
tjre only occular eviib-m 0 of lire arc
two wax candles f.i'nfly burning up
on the otnarnfn( del'iir. ‘-But v.hai
are they among so inuy ?'* M*i-'t o!
lito ( tiuroliuH, ho vi vo;, toiituln 1 .w*
of boxes, « /<< ft,miie, provided v idi
glass wind. v.-s. through which the
tlUc doigt. to look out ujhj.i tho min
ister and us poor, common people,
whilotbey rest in their easy chairs,
hesido their ccniforlablo stoves.
Thoro are persona w ho, after cush
ioning their heads in UlO pului of
their bands, will close their eyes, und
profess to hoar a sermon better than
when they stc tho minister. It al
ways seemed to me that, in such ca
ses, the eyes were afflicted with a sort
of chronic Sunday weakness, which
over heated churches greatly aggra
vated. For my pari, 1 have always
felt that tho minister's face was a kind
of soul refloctor; and as light, fire,
earnestness, hope, and faith, or the
opposites, were traceable in his coun
tenance, so wero thu people impress
ed. For this reason I always want
to see the minister's eyes. But here
it is accompanied with difficulties;
for from his mouth flows a flood of
frosted breath; from my nostrils and
tho hundred pairs about me i sue
streams of the same frosted dement,
which so cliuko up and obstruct the
course of vision, that the picture pre
sented is that of a minister iu u fog,
THE BOY CHOIRS AND SXPEET-RINOI.NU.;
Notwithstanding tho disagreeable-'
ness of cold churches, -4 have al ways
received good in attending. Some of
the finest choich-choirs in Berlin,
Dresden, Potsdam, and lfaiic, cons-t,
chiefly of hoys. One thing is a li tie
peculiar— I have not seen a lady in 9 j
church-choir. The mystery is, bow I
the singing master manages to got so
much and such a variety of music out
of such unmusical-looking heads; yet
he does, and it is not ad sound simply,
but harmony of tho sweetest kind—
thrilling, rapturous music. And what
is more marvellous, these boys’ voices
imitate the most cultivated tones of
tho fcmalo voice, giving all parts in
sweetest unison. I have seen choirs
rs from forty to one hundred boyß,
behind them a huge organ, and when
the singing service is introduced, one
is nearly lifted from his feet, as that
hundred voiced, youthful choir, ac-
companied by organ and congrega
tion, sends forth tho antheui of praiso.
These hoys sing with a will—sing
lustily —throw back their heads, open
their mouths, expand their lungs, and
pour forth such volumes of sweet
sound that ono never would have
dreamed resided there. But the Gor
mans are ready singers, natural sing
ers, love singing, and in some form
ami somewhere are always engaged
in it. The children all sing, are
taught it early—so early, that ono al
most concludes they are born singing
The first street singing I encountered
was at itudolsdorff It forcibly re
minded me of >0 ing Lullior singing
for bread in the streets of Magdeburg
and .Eisenach. But, as ref/jit-eis street
singing, Italic eclipses ail other cities
1 have yet seen.
For tho pail six months these little
singers have formed their circle be
- my window every Friday morn
ing, often before it was light, und
treated me to their sweet music. But.
I doubt if one ol them I;inws I am in
the city; vet my rooms being opposite
or.c of tho teacher’s rooms, for whom
they sing, I enjoy it, also. Everybody
in Germany, of a public or profes
sional character, from tho king to a
strcct-cxpressman, wears some dis
tinguishing regalia; so those littlo
fellows have Ihciis, which consists ot
a tali black silk hat, varying in height
shape, and breadth of rim, including
till fashions and regarding none—
evidently, from their ancient appear
ance, tho gifts of some friendly dis
posed patrons. Their eais prevent
the hats from ontircly resting upon
their shoulders; mid though they give
their bearers rather a comic appear
anno, tho music which comes out from
under them is sweet, clear, and thrill
ing Since beating tlu-su boy choirs
;n church and street,! have become
convinced that we t.rj losing a valu
able element ol {K-wor in our church
es. We have thousand)! of boys in
all our churches, and yet tin ir singing
' power is often dormant in W.SpiV
i“K>Ht iihf:
beat j-ingei’s. liVSj h tiro 6timi afraid or
n.-hamo.l to sing. Hero tho reverse is
trno Why could not the twenty or
ui.o bundled boys, who arc to bo
found in nearly all our societies, bo
formed into a singing class for church
riui'ic, us a substitute for adult choirs,
which are too liiqm-utly generators
of strife und discoid.- ? Give tfi.-m a
judicious leader, infuse into then an
cnlhc-iiiisiu for Kitreimi, and jor. will
not only have good singing, and in
such work beiitfU the boys, but have
always on hand a church singing nur
sery. Ilia worth trying.
The Honey-Guide.—Among the birds
of Africa, there is one called the “Honey
Guide, ” which Dr. Livingstone says seems
almost designed as a type of tho Chris
tian missionary. The “honey guide” is an
extraordinary bird; low is it that every
member of its family has learned that all
men, whether whito or black, are fond of
Itonsy ? The instant the little fellow gets
a glimpse of a man, he hastens to greet
him with the hearty invitation to come,
as M. C'a translated if, to a bee’s hive,
and taka some honey. Uo flies on in the
proper direction, perches on a tree, and
looks back to see if you are following
then on to another and another, un'il lie
guides you to tho spot. If you do not
accept his first invitation, ho follows you
with pressing importunities, quite ns anx
ious to lure the stranger to the. bees’ hive
as other birds are to draw him away from
their own nests. Except when on the
march, our mea were sure to accept the
invitation, and manifested the same by a
peculiar responsive whistle, meaning, as
they said, “All light, go ahead; we arc
coining.” The birds ucver deceived them
but always guided them to a hive of bees,
though some had put little honey in store
A Fact for Farmers —lt may be
generally known that tho seed of the
sunflower is tho most infallible remo.
dy yet discovered, for the speedy
euro of founder in tho horses. Tho
directions, which wc glean from a
brief article upon the subject in the
Essex Banner , says:—“lmmediately
on discovering that your horse is
foundered, mix about a pint of the
whole seed in his food, and it will
perfect cure.”
Sunflowers are easily grown along
side of fences and in out cf the way
places where they take up but little
room. The seed when fed in small
quantities to the Loises is very health
thy, giving to the hair a peculiar gloss.
It is diuretic in its tendency. Fowls
like it much and thrive on it
WASHINGTON, WILKES COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY, JULY iO, 1868.
OLD DONALD’S SNUFF MULL.
Somo years ago thoro was a young
Scotch girl who atlondcd a Bible-class
that was held in a schoolroom in tho
Edgewaro Ra id. She was a thought
ful, intelligent girl, and I considered
the family fortunate who had socured
her as a sort of upper servants, or
nursery governess to their children.
It rather surprised mo that Isa Grant
should bo able to ho so regular in lior
attendance, for the care of children is
a continuous work, and young woinon
engaging in it must often bo content
to give up many privileges.But Isa
was a very o' ’igiflg gb’. ready to as
—lot oiheis in the household, and al
ways prompt and beforehand with
her own wo, k, so Gnu k was not ea
sy for tho l.nly of ;he honfiohold to
refuse l.cr llui only slot
e. .vcd bad indeed sit, uVed lot—
U‘ii;,':»us worship and 01 ill no' '.Oil ;
and the under servant* of the family
wero won by her kindness to them to
give bue£> iii the m sen 1., her ab
sence., so as to scon re h r tho. privilege
.-ha valued.
Like many—indeed, most of the
natives of North Brit: in lsa had
been well grounded in Scripture
knowledge; and once, when the
toucher of the class was unable, from
a cold, (o give an exposition of tho
chapter, lea did it. very well indeed.
Thoro was moro than moie head
knowledge in her simple) words—there
was spiritual enlightenment. It was
so evident that she had boon with
Jesus and learnt of Him, that she
was asked by tho teacher us to what
led to her conversion; and her reply
was, in substance, if not in exact
words, (lor she kept the “accents of
tho mountain longue,”) the following
account:—
“When 1 was a girl, my mother, a
women, used to send me off; 11
to laVs my gi;>,udf.itln-i ’s monh when
ho wr.. ont own look mg the stone
TF" :|*g in the hills near our villugo.
r.osas w\. 0 . be was a young stalwart
workman. Olten, when i took his
dinner; if tho day wa - fine 110 would
pqff out bis pecker Bible and make
me fit down beside bin a.d lead
aloud ; and lie would explain to me
the meaning, nod ask mo question j
Aid being 1 lonely th'id among il>o|
nnuntaiiw, 1 had hokum thoughts of |
God, and of ilis great love ,11 Jmitsj
Gli*is’. It happened that thoro was j
great dislr • one autinV', who ij
was about nine years old, and many j
families looked wiLb dread to the j
coining Winter. Wo had no fear of;
wunt in our hoi. ho; my father, a mate
iu the merchant service, was away
with bis ship, and had left his hull
pay for my mother arid ns littlo ones
and my grandfather—Old Donald, as
the neighbors called him—lived with
us in his own cottage, and carried
quite enough lor his wants, and, it
may bo, helped our mother, for wo
were six bairns then, und I tho oldest.
80 wo bad no fear for ourselves, but
wc feared for others, as, indeed, wo
were bound in Christian love to do.
“One day I bad taken a mug of hot
pease broso to grandfather, and my
mother, putting some oat-cake—ban
| nocks ihoycali them in Scotland—into
a bug that she slang on my arm,told
me to go on over the bill, after 1 had
beet: to grandfather, and given them
to widow woman, whoso distress w e
rath' r guessed fit, f<>»- she did not like I
1o mrko imr case known: the people
ot my cotinl iy would almost rather]
starve than beg. But there was a
houseful of bairns, niul ,t was known
they imtst be in want. ‘Co this once,
child, I cannot send you again,' said
my mother. ‘Why not?—why only
once?’ I said. ‘Because, child, it’s
only by care we can manage lor our
selves, and your fachor gets bread for
you by fighting with wind and waves
and I must not waste a penny of his
earnings; so ask no moro qucslione,
but go.’ 1 went with sadness in my
heart, and a text 1 hud lately learn
ed came into my mind, ‘B’cssod is bo
that considereth tho poor;’ and I do
think, child as I was, that I was led
to pine after that blessedness. I came
to the place among the hills wheie
my giandfalhcrubcd to sit, and gave
him b’s brose (broth), and then said
‘l’m going to widow Mikle.’
“Why, it’s two miles and a rough
road, child your mother must be daft
to sctld you so far.”
“ ‘l’m to take hc-r this bag
nocks, I said sadly. ‘lts the last
mother says that she can send her.’
“ ‘Well, child, don’t look so sad, wo
can’t, help it, be said, in a grieved, yet
half- inquiring voico.
“‘Can’t wo/ I answered! and then
I voniurod'io say, 'I was thinking,
as 1 canto along, that if father hadn’t
given mo toy nceklaco I would sell it,
and buy meal for widow Mikle’s
bairns with tho monoy; and if you
and mother would lot me, l y et would
soll tt, though I like ray beads very
much; for you said, grandfather, that
a ChrisliatT ought to bo willing to
take up a cross.’
“As 1 spoke, my eyes 101 l Oil grand
father's sniff mull; it was a very fine
horn, wth, silver mountings,
and i( laid /by his s'do, within reach'
of bis hunk lie saw my glance, nod
li owned moment, then lie, 100,
looked nt ik and said slow!,’ to him
self. ‘The giivi is right—tho bairn is
right.’ 11l liitcd up the mull, and
held it in Its hands silently; thou ho
avk'(l,‘Art* you, ha, are willing to
take the bfads off your neck, that
your fat hm|put there, to buy food for
widow .Mikles fatherless bairns; and
yot, my dejtr, necklace is but of In
dian berriof, und worth Tory littlo,
and it eo.stii nothing to keep it where
your daddF ptuced it. Biay, my bairn
I’il go wit(Lyou.’
“Uo rose up, took my hand in fiis
shollored mo from tha wind with his
plaid, and wo walked iu silence to tho
widow’s ootlago.
“It wasi dosolalo place: the poor
littlo bairici wore crouching together
al their M.Hirer's loot, and she, sil
ling anion" them, was knitting with
ull haste to finish a pair of hose for a
neighbor; before sho could got a sup
per of porridge for the little ones.
Bho did not complain : wbut need
when hunger was written on ull their
l.iccs. I remember to LLin hour the
cry of the children ns I took tho ban
nocks oui of the big, and then the
decent wny in which they hushed
them solves! and how woo Willie, the
ouly LorA the family, iried to ask a
blossiug\*foro ho ate, and could not
lqrj-btsjl'UtJu.isut' roso in Ins throat.
fyTTT I’m ...Il ly, ,a: 1 Ml.,
grand fallen 1 . ‘l’m sure your troubles
is very bard to b ar.’
“'ll is; but I’m helped by one
above,’ she ausworod, and its a com
f'i■•*. to know I never wasted or squ in
h ted when 1 had it. Aito spirits or
beer, w'u have abstained from them
i. r ytais ind from all luxuries.’
“Mi Mickle,” said my grandfaih
cr, inloi 1 iipting her, ‘i wish l conic
sry tlic same. But this child, hue,
has taught me a lesson: tho would
give her row ot beads to help you;
but, poor bairn, their worth is oniy
that they wero her father’s gift. Now
I’ll give up snuffing, the Lord help
ing mo, lVom this day.’
‘Oh, Mr. Donald, thunk 3-0 kindly
for tho thought, hut don’t bo depriving
yourself ol what you’ro bo long used
to.'
“ ‘Hoot, woman dear, I’ll bo hotter
without it. My reason told rao that
a long day since.”
“I shall never forget how changed
from its stern look was my p'randfulh
cr’s face as he Bpoke, and, putting
something in wee wiliie’s hand
that I guessed was the prico of a
quarter of a pound of snulf, wo left,
and ho took mo still with him on to
tho neighboring town, where at tho
silvermnitu’s, that vory day, he sold
his snuff uiull, bought a bag of meal
und a bushel of potatoes u ith part of
the money, and sent them to tho
i widow Mjklo..
“That day, I know, did good to
the dear old man, and to mo. Ho
seemed renewed in spirit from that
time. I learned what a real, tnio,
loving tht, • is religion, and that sin
cere Christians must bo ready to
prac.ice self-denial for tho good of
others. I fear I have not ►’eon. or
dono vvhat I ought, a’tcr such an ox
amplc; but yet, whatover little good
there has been in me was strengthen
ed by tlio dear old man’s life of faith
aud prayer from that time, and by
his peaceful and happy death eight
years after. And 1 was not tho only
011 c who liurnt by that act of self do
nial. Widow Mikle, whoso circum
stances mended in a few months, told
of her old neighbors iriendly act, and
many in that district, when a kind
deed was done, would say, ‘Ab,
they’ve had tho benefit of Old Don
lads’s Snuff Mull.”' —Friendly Visitor.
An attempt is to be made to raise t“-0,-
000 among the colored people, for the
purpose of purchasing a homestead for the
head of the Frcedmen’s Bureau, Gen. O.
O. Howard
THE BEAR’S DINNER
“O, papa! please tell us a story
now, whiloyou have nothing to do 1”
So exclaimed one and another of a
group of little ones, climbing around
their father as bo sat resting by tho
evening fire.
“Well, as I havo ‘nothing to do/ I
suppose I must. What sort of a sto
ry shall it bo ?’’
“A bear story,” said one; “O, yes,
tell us about tlio boar who stole a
dinner !”
Ikipa protested that ho had told
that story over and over again, but
indulgently gave it. again, as reques
ted.
We listened, too, to tho story which
was such a favorite w ith the children,
wild as wo havo nover seen it in tire
newspaper, wo thought it. might per
haps amußO our littlo folks.”
“A good ipany years ago,” said pu
pa, “before I was born, my lather and
mother went to live in tire northern
part of Now York State. If you
look on youV may, you will soe towns
and villages dottod about 1 whero then
thoro wero scarcely any settlements—
nothing but thick woods.”
“Rears in ’em?” asked a with
wide-opened eyes.
“I shouldn’t think your father und
mother would have liked to go and
■live where Lite hears wero.”
“O, the boars did not often troublo
settlers. I do not know that any
over came near my father’s place.
But afterwards when thoy had come
back to the East to live, and 1 was a
little fellow climbing on my fathers
knee, just as you do new, he used to
toll me this story about a man who
settled out there—l suppose some
where near them.
“This man had built a saw-mill
some distance from his house, and of
ten ho used to go to tho mill to work
nil day, and .taking bis dinner with
him.
“You havo soon a saw-mill. You
know ils use is to saw big, heavy logs
—thu trunks of trees—.into nice,
’HiiiooTT) boai , ds'.''t<i'biYiiu Houses' with.
“Well, uuo day tho man bad boon
hard at work all lire morning at his
mill, and when it drew near noon ho
begat) to fool hungry, and thought
Ire would stop and o.il his dinnor.
Ho he sat down upon a largo log up
on which the saw was working, With
Ids tin pail by bin side. Was he
afraid ol tho saw? O, no; bo could
jump I■&' at any moment, if ho came
100 near lire saw.
“While be win calb.g tho good
ibings which his wile had put up for
him, and thinking of liis work, his
homo,'and his babies, who should
come up but a lough old hoar!
“Bruin smelled the goodies, and
thought ho would put in for a sbaro.
Soho quietiy mounted tho log, on
tho other side of the dinner pail, and
stuck his nose into it, as who should
say, ‘Give me some.’
“The good man was somewhat
startled, you may believe, by the ap
poaranco of such a visitor. Os courr
he would not be so impolite as
fuse him a share of tho feast ;
was afraid that when
i'lred lii.s dinnor ire might l;dH
his head to give him a
way of thanks—So ho
withdrew to a safe distance, aud
up tho whole to him. Bruin
od in perfect content, with his nose
in Lire pail ar.d his back to the saw,
while the owner of the dinner loolc
orl on iiorn bis hiding place, and
wished for u gun.
“But in the niv«s) time tho log had
been-gradually working up towards
tho saw, and now all at once tlio bear
felt a slight nip at his tail. At this
he”growled, and gave an angry shako
moving a li;t.Io further along lire log.
Presently ho received another nip,
and growled moro savagely, but
could not turn from his delightful
ropast. But when lie was moved a
third time within reach of tho saw,
arid-felt another bite, his boar nature
couid stand it no longor, and huggod
the old saw with all his, might. And
what happened thon ? Why, of
courso, be was cut in two; and tho
man had boar moat onough for a
number of dinners, besides nieo hoar
skin caps for his littlo boys, to keop
their oars warm.”
Now, you have been told to look
out fra moral in a story. What
shall we loam from this? Why,
first, that he who steals a dinnor is
| likoly to pay dear for ft; second,
That bo wlio flings himself into a
passion against anything that ar.-
VCL. Ill—NO. m
noys him, will be apt to get sorely
cut and wounded thereby, and make
matters very much worse.
KTT CARSON.
On the twenty-third of May, the
renowned pioneer, hunter, and guide,
Kit Carson, died at Fort LynD, Col
orado. For years ho has been the
most noted of that onco numerous
class which is rapidly disappearing
biforo our advancing civilization.—
Kit Carson was born in Kentucky, in 1809.
While he was but mi infant, his parents
moved to Howard comity, Missouri, where
he remained until the age of seventeen,
when ho commenced the adventurous life
ol hunter aud trnpper. He accompanied
Lieutenant Fremont in his explorations, the
success of which was largely duo to bis
seivieos as guide. In 1847, Carson
ocivod ihn eomrtu' sion of Lieutenant iii
die Ritlu Corps of tho United States army,
and dining tlio war rose to the rank of
Brigadier-General by brevet. In 1853
lie was appointed Indian Agent in New
Mexico. It is probable that tor many
years past there has been no white man so
thoroughly acquainted with the Indian
charaoter as Kit Carson, or evincing such
cool judgmout and wisdom in dealing
with the rod men. ITe has thus been
useful in aiding in the uegotiations of most
of our Indian treaties.
Kit Carson was peculiar for the modest
estimate which he placed upon his own
merits and achievements, presenting in this
respect a marked contrast to other men of
his class. In an interesting volume of
Westdin travel, published a short time
since by Hurd & Houghton, we find a
chapter devoted to Kit Carson. The book
is entitled Two Thousand Miles on Horse
hack, and describes a summer tour, taken
by the author, Mr. James F. Meline
through Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, and
New Mexico, in the year 1800. It ex
hibits throughout evidences of a close
observer, as well as a pleasing writer; and
a few extracts relating to the lately de
ceased hunter will, doubtless bo accepta
ble to our readers;
“The pleasantest episode of mT.-.p'.':;
bcrefiWe m>) -trasr v„a.y ttie soc'.er^
Kit Carson, with whom I passed *
days, I need hardly say A
is one of the few men I ev
talk long hqurs Io T IVT t|fl
seen, aud yet 1 UIjJM
lie has to be ■
q'n 1' ' iii :
, • JB ’ /-p ,
Ya '<
.I,'
Corning l^^^H
Kd'-
-4n - ■ J • x
'H* • i
!,. if, ’
I'll
a; ; /c
t j, w?jjl,i.
Ad,air i„/j|
ahot I .' It wa? ff, lbtV
'flu I" i\ of US hffiH.
m' 1 ’ buli'alu, op in Bio Snake coiflH ’
Wc had made a pretty good
came into camp at night, intending to staNV
in next morning. Well, we camped
Had a good many dogs with us, come of
them good dogs. They barked a good
deal, and we heard wolves. As I l|y by
the fire, I saw one or two big wolves
sneaking about camp—one of them quite
in it. Guidon wanted to fire, but I would
not let him, for fear of hitting some of the
dogs. I lied just n little Buspioion that the
wolves might be Indians, but when I saw
them turn short /our.d, and heard the snap
of their teeth, As the dogs came too close
to one of ’em, 1 felt easy then, nnd made
sure it wag a wolf. The ludian fooled me
that time. Confound the rascal, (becoming
animated,) ‘confound the rascal, do you
think he hadn’t two old buffalo bones in
his hand that he cracked together every
time'he turned to snap at the dogs? Well,
by and bv wo dozed off asleep; and it
wasn’t long before I was awoke by a crash
and a blaze. I jumped straight for the
muleg, and held ’em. If the Indians had
been smart, they'd had us all, but they run
as soon as they fired.’’
I 1 it Carson, at the lime of his death,
was Colonel of thu New Mexican cavalry,
apd Indian Agent for Now Mexioo, to
which position he was, for tire second time,
appoint) and lust year. — The Methodist,