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PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. I.
The Old Home.
The roof tree stands as ever it stood, the jasa
mine stars the wait,
The great westeria’s purple blooms o’er dark
gray gables fall,
The roses that our mother loved, blush ’neath
her window sill,
And the clematis our father trained, droops, as
he taught it, still.
The August sunset lights the panes, where we
were wont to watch,
Its rays of crimson and of gold on baby brows
to catch,
On the wall where your first nest we found, the
grand old ivy waves,
As when we chose a shoot to plant upon our
sacred graves.
The thrushes that we paused to hear are dead
long summers gone,
Yet the sweet rose thicket echoes now to the
self-same ringing tone.
The flowers a filler glory show, and tho trees a
deepened shade..
Naught else on Nature's face is changed, since
here of yore we played. c
Nanght else on Nature’s face. Oh! life, can
ever seasons pass
And leave our hearts renewed as fair and bright
as meadow grass 1
Heath’s icy shadow rests for ns, on the home
that once was ours,
We soe through tears the bairns that sport
among our childhood’s flowers.
Tue stranger’s shadow flits across our old
familiar floors,
The stranger’s footstep as of right seeks our
old opeu doors,
With a dim sense of lob and wrong, like one
from death returned,
We look on all for which for years our faithful
fondness yearned.
Better to keep the fancy sketch of all it use ! to
be,
Better than blurring by the truth tho hues of
memory 1
Oh ! earth has no abiding place, but the mighty
word is given,
No cloud, or care, or change will vex the count
less homes of Heaven!
POLLY’S VICTORY.
An extemporized stage, a princess love
ly as the light, a French count, brilliant
costnmes, and acting that is not to be
spoken of, made up the" the tout-ensemble
that delighted the good people of Pittstou,
for one night at least. The proceeds were
to he devoted to charitable purposes.
Thump went the canes and umbrellas,
and with every “ coming on” of Kitty
Bessom, the beauty of Pittston, snoh a
vigorous clapping of hands ensued that
one was fain to hold his ears, or be deaf
ened with the applause.
The National Hall was decorated with
banners. Deacons and doctors aad law
yers had spent a week on its embellish
ments. The Pittston band had been prac
ticing for months, and wound up by play
ing “ Hail, Columbia,” in their grandest
style.
Very reluctantly the people left the
scene of entertainment, all walked to
gether.
The wide green in front was brightened
all overby the illuminated windows, save
where the posts and primitive chains made
long shadows in the grass.
“ It beats all holler,” said Deacon Simp
eon ; “ bnt I feel sort o’ guilty.”
“Well, I dunno,” responded Aunt
Methuin; “ it’s got up for a charitable
purpos; but I reckon ’tain’t a gret many
removes from a theater arter all. What
an awful smart young man that French
oonntwas! They say he’s a clerk to the
new store. And I declare for’t if I didn’t
feel kinder bad for Bob Langton when he
was a-makin’love to Kitty, all in gold and
scarlet, with his bobbin, white feathers.”
“ Wasn’t Kitty just a little witch ?” in
quired Libby, the deacon’s daughter: “she
looked so sort o’ real pleased. If I’d
bin Bob Langton. I’d rather took the
count myself than the clod-hopper. What
a country lad he was, to be sure! I nev
er could ’a b’lieved that was Bob, never;
and the connt was so handsome.
The crowd begin to thin. Sundry
vehicles, being filled with “ wiinmin
folks,” drove off at a jog trot pace.
Pretty little Polly Lee, who had taken
the part of a country lassie, stood at the
foot of the steps, revealing under her
carelessly arranged shawl a pair of snowy
shoulders and the knots of crimson ribbon
that, adorned her white dress.
Polly’s little heart was aching, despite
the red lips and the bright color of her
cheeks. For that one night, at least, Bob
Langton had been her lover. Had she
lived a century in those few ecstatic
hours? How she gloated over the thought
that Bob had been at her very feet! had
talked all the romantic nonsence in which
lovers generally indulge as if he meant ir,
little thinking what the light of Polly’s eye.
the trembling of her hand and voice, all
indicated—little dreaming, while he
thought it very good acting, and looked
jealonsly on at the back of the stage at
the French count on his pink and silver
knees at the feet of his own betrothed,
that little Polly had loved him long be
fore she exchanged her pinafores for the
maiden’s dresses—had loved him with an
overwhelming passion that but few natures
experience.
“ Well, it’s all over,” sighed Polly, ty
ing the strings of her chip hat under her
dimpled chin, angry with herself that she
said it—that she could not crush this un
hidden passion that seemed in her Kw'eet
eyes uoinaidenly. •
Suddenly the lights were extinguished,
and Bob stepped out of the vestibule.
“ Polly, have you seen Kitty f” he asked.
“ She promised to wait for me.’’
“/saw her,” said somebody under the
lamp-post—probably one of Kitty’s re
jected suitors. “ She was a-going home
along of that French count.”
Bob’sfaee grew white ns he stood there,
and he shut his teeth, once, witi. a click.
“ Polly, you’ve a good ways to go,” he
said, in a voice as calm as before, “and
there’s no moon.”
*’ Caleb promised to come,” said Polly,
peeling out in the road.
“Caleb is old and forgetful,” responded
Bob; "so we’ll play out the rOU a few
moments longer. Igo right by the gate
you know.”
Polly took Bob’s right arm, quite fright
ened to feel the heavy, rapid beating un
der it, and listened to his purposeless talk,
ite Jfmittfil itoiivnitl,
and was so grieved for him that she al
most forgot her own great trouble; for
she knew that Bob loved Kitty, and she
feared that Kitty was not true to Bob—
not, at least, as she would have been.
“ Good-night, and good-by, little Polly,”
said Bob, as they reached the gate that
led to Widow Lee’s cottage. “ You’ve
always been my steadlast friend; you
mustn’t forget me, Polly.”
“Forget you!” half sobbed the girl,
who felt the meaning in his words. “ Oh,
I—never, never—”
“ No, I’m sure you never will,” Bob
responded, with anew pang; for in one
swift moment he divined that this sweet
child loved him.
“Yon see, Polly,” he went on in a low
er voice, “ circumstances may compel me
to leave Pittston. I’ve a fine offer from a
friend of mine in the Melton factories, and
likely I shall accept it. If I do, I shall
leave in the six-o’clock train to-morrow
afternoon. Good-night, little friend.”
And his voice sounded in Polly’s ears just
as it. lmd in that memorable never-to-be
forgotten moment when he had said, in
the parlance of the play, how fondly he
loved her.
At all the Pittston breakfast-tables next
morning the little drama was discussed.
Some half regretted that they had lent
their countenance to a play; others re
called the mimic scenes with real pleasure;
and still others, would-be critics, pointed
out defects and laughed at comical mis
takes.
“I say, Kitty,” said boisterous Tom
Bessom, “I didn’t blame the count for
going on as he did last night—for yon did
look confoundedly handsome. I’d have
kissed yon myself if I’d been in his place.”
“ He didn’t kiss me,” said Kitty, offend
ed on the instant. “He only seemed to,
and you know it.”
“Now, Kitty honor bright!” said
Tom, in such a comical manner that he
set the whole table to laughing and
brought flaming roses into his sister’s
cheeks.
“And it Bob wasn’t jealous! My!
wasn’t he, though?” cried precocious
young William, a boy of ten. “1 seen
him a-peekin’ in at the back there. I
seen his eye snap!”
“ Hold your tongue, sonny,” said his
mother, smartly. “ The idea of babies
like you talking that way! I’m sure
Kitrv only did what she had to do, and
she made the prettiest princess ever I
saw.”
“ How many may you have seen in the
course of your life, mammy dear?”
queried Tom.
“Nomatter,” was the somewhat tart
reply. “I rather think I have seen as
many as yon have. Kitty, do take some
toast.”
“I haven’t any appetite, mother,” re
plied Kitty, languidly; and the pretty
beauty sauntered away from the breakfast
table, and going into another room, be
gan to set back the somewhat disarranged
furniture. Then she took up her photo
graph album, and turning to a meek but
rather handsome face, she stood studying
it for some moments.
“ He can’t hold a candle to Bob!”
This inelegant but forcible sentence she
repeated, and then started at Will’s rap
on the window.
“ I say, Sis, the store clerk’s coming,
and so was Bob; but Bob he saw t’other
and stepped into the potecary’s shop to
git some sody, j guess, and steddy his
nerves. T tell you Bob looked cross! ”
“Let him look cross,” muttered Kitty,
as she smoothed her hair, and cast a rapid
glance in the mirror. “ T never saw such
a tyrant. He’ll scold me, T suppose, for
walking home with Mr. Loyd. Well, he
should have come out sooner, not left me
the last thing to attend to. You’re not
married yet, Mr. Robert Langton;” and,
flushed with resentment, looking more
beautiful than ever, she responded to Mr.
Loyd’s modest knock.
That gentleman, with auburn locks
freshly curled, a spotless tie of the latest
fashion, and kids that had not been clean
ed too often, hoped Miss Kitty’s exertion
had not been too much for her. He had
heard on all sides the most charming com
pliments, etc., etc.; to which Kitty re
plied graciously, thinking all the time of
Bob, and what he would say.
“ I thought I must call on my way to
the store,” said Mr. Loyd, as, rising, he
saw the album open at his picture. • The
crimson flew to Kitty’s cheeks as she
caught his glance.
“ What a fool I was!” she exclaimed,
mentally.
“Bo you know, I think it would be a
sweet idea to be phetograped in charac
ter, yon and I,” he said, his eyes shining,
and ill-concealed triumph in his manner.
“ I am sure yon looked every whit a prin
cess; I never saw better dressing on any
stage. I think f will act upon that idea,”
he continued, seeing that Kitty remained
silent; “ and if you will allow me. Miss
Kitty-”
“ I wouldn’t be taken in that costume
for a kingdom!” blurted Kitty. “I’m
■rare I shonld feel foolish every time I
looked at the picture.”
Her vehemence silenced him, and after
a few more commonplaces he left, won
dering what had come over Miss Kitty.
This had come over her: the remem
brance of Bob in bis smock-frock and top
boots, bis straw hat and whip in hand—
nothing of all this had detracted from the
nobility of his appearance.
“ And yet he sh’n’t tyrannize,” she
muttered, conscious that she was too will
ing to exonerate her lover, and almost
ready to apologize, but yet determined to
rule her little kingdom still. She trem
bled when she heard his step, but drew
her head up haughtily and pressed her
lovely lips together.
“ Good morning, Kitty!” said Bob, and
her quick ear detected the constraint in his
voice; so she steeled her heart.
“ I met Mr. Loyd at the gate,” he said;
and now it was not constraint, bnt pas
sion, that changed the rich tones.
“ Yes, he has been here,” Kitty said
quietly.
“He’s a fool!” cried Bob, and threw
his hat violently on the table. The album
had not been shut. He had never liked
seeing that simpering face in the same
book with his own ; now he took the leaf
in his hand and rudely tore if, ont.
“There!” exclaimed Bob reduoingcard
and page to atoms; “ that’s what I’ll do
to him if he isn’t careful.”
Bob looked magnificent, and Kitty
thought so for all her anger; bnt she was
angry.
“ I wouldn’t act like a madman if T was
jealous,” she said passionately.
Bob calmed himself in a moment, and
by a mighty effort.
“It was foolish,” he said, with a
GA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 22, 1872.
strange smile: “ not at all like me. Kitty,
I’m come to say good-by. You promised
me on your honor that yon would never
let that fellow go home with you again.
What must he think of me ? However,
that’s all over; I made up my mind this
morning. The woman who deliberately
breaks her promise is no wife for me.
Good-by, Kitty; I’m off to-night. Yon
won’t see me in Pittston again; and I wish
you joy of >our new conquest.”
A word might have changed him, but
Kitty could not speak. A frightful dizzi
ness seized her, though she was conscious
of holding out her hand mechanically;
and when her mother came to look for
her, she found her all huddlqd up on the
sofa, utterly unconscious.
At the depot that night Bob met little
Polly. She had come down, with her
brother, to send a letter by him, and she
slipped a little bouquet of heart’s-ease in
his hand.
“ That’s the girl I should have loved,”
he said to himself bitterly ; “ but oh, my
God! my heart is bound up in Kitty Bes
som, and she has played me false. But
I’ll forget her, so help rap Heaven !”
“If ever you want a friend, Polly, re
member me,” said Bob, and sprang on
the train.
Pittston heard of him no more. There
was a rumor that Kitty Bessom was en
gaged to Mr. Loyd, but nobody really
kn w.
Two years had passed, and Bob said
often to himself that he had unlearned
his lesson. One day, when he was in the
overseer’s room, a card was brought to
him. He read the name; his whole face
brightened. Harrying down stairs, he
eutered the office.
He saw a small, womanly figure, her
head turned away from the light, and by
her side sat a boy not half grown.
“Why, Polly!” he said, in the old rich
voice that had once made such sweet
music, in Pittston choir. “ You don’t
know how feally glad I am to see you!
Why. child, you look thin and sick 1”
“Yes, Mr. Langton, I have been quite
ill, and so has little Harry ; but we are
both well now. You know yon said once
if ever I wanted a friend, I must remem
ber you. Well”—she made a little pause
—“mother is dead, and—and —Caleb
would go to the poor-house. So here we
are, you see.”
Her voice trembled, but she restrained
her tears.
“My dear little friend 1” exclaimed
Bob, ruefully, a world of sympathy in his
honest eyes.
“ And I thought I might get a place in
the mills,” she added, unsteadily.
“Yes, yes,” said Bob, reflectively;
“ I have it: just the thing for you—light,
easy work. You shall board with Mrs.
Crisp, over the way, and Harry shall go
to school. How will that suit?”
“Oh, Mr. Langton!” cried Polly, with
a great sob, and hid her face in her hands.
“ Well, it’s all settled,” said Bob, who
had turned away for a moment. “ Let us
try to look things bravely in the face, my
little friend.”.
So Polly found a home and easy work,
and Bob found himself thinking of her.
The old conviction forced itself npen him;
it was she he should have lwved ; and see
ing her gentle face, with its timid soft
brown eyes, there grew in his heart the
sweetest sympathy, so near akin "to love
that it deceived him.
One day he asked Polly to marry him.
He had taken her for a walk, and tb ey had
strolled together into the edge of the
sweet-smelling woods, where the checker
berry peeped up from the mosses at their
feet. Poor little Polly had just been say
ing to herself, Whv won’t he speak of
Kitty ?”
“ I think I could make you happy, lit
tle Polly—l am sure 1 could. My circum
stances are very easy. I have earned a
home, and you will be to me the sweetest,
constant companion that ever man could
have,” said Boh.
Polly clasped her hands, and felt as if
her heart would leap from her bosom.
Ob. what a life spread out before her!—
what love, what -hopes, what rich fulfill
ments ! Never had mightier temptation
beset a human bosom. She paused a mo
ment, then turned round, the light of
•victory shining in her eyes.
“ Why won’t you speak of Kitty ?” she
asked.
He started. The tell-tale blood flew to
his cheeks, his brow. She could see him
tremble from bead to foot.
“ Kitty is”—nothing to me, he tried to
say, but could not—“ is buried, or mar
ried, tor all I know,” he answered, in a
harsh voice.
“No; Kitty Besson is neither married
nor buried,” said brave Polly, steadily.
“ Misfortune lias overtaken her, a> it. did
me.. Her lost his farm, and it’s
killed him; her mother died soon after;
her oldest brother went to sea; and Wil
ly is in a store. Oh, Sir, perhaps 1 should
not tell it, dut I know tjmt ever since you
left her senseless that morning she has
been very true. I know she would come
here to the mills hut for her pride; I know”
—dear little Polly! her voice trembled
now—“stie has refused some good offers
of marriage, because— because her heart
was not her own too give. Oh, o"gltt Ito
tell yon this? —have fa right to plead her
cause ?”
“You blessed little angle!” he mur
mured, brokenly.
“ And she is living out —sweet and
beautifnl as she is —a servant: and she
will live so all her life, working hard for
others, unless—unless—”
Polly broke down. Bob had never
been so moved in his life. The old sweet
love had rushed back upon his mind.
“ But I have asked you to be my wife,”
he said, in a low almost indistinct voice.
“ And I say no! a thousand time no!”
sobbed Polly. “ Let me be your friend —
yours and hers. Kitty is noble; noble
enough even for you.” She faltered, then
added, in even tones: “Did yon know
it is getting very dark? 1 must go home,
Mr. Langton; Harry will be wondering
abont me.”
And months after, when Kitty Langton
knelt down to call blessings upon her hus
band, and Polly bowed the knee in her
own lonely, humble home, there was a
crowd upon each beautiful bend, but
Polly’s was the brightest.
The children in the U. S. under 5 are
6,513,343 —2,707,887 male and 2,717,466
female; The male children from 5 to 9,
inclusive, are 2,437.442, and lexnale
2,377,271; total, 4,814,713. The male
inhabitants of all ages under 21 are
10,050,568;' female, 9,976,307; total,
20,026,870.
OUR COUNTRY’S WEAL.
How to AdvertfM.
“How to advertise” has w'orried many
a man who desired to try his fortune in
the newspapers. It is a matter in which
it is not easy to give rules which would
apply to all cases but its features may be
considered as they come to the surface,
while now and then we are sore to find a
style which may at least be marked down
as one to be avoided.
There are many ways in which to ad
vertise and certain styles of advertising
are, doubtless, more effective than others.
Much depends upon the article itself and
the class to whom it is t* be offered.
These considerations alone, will often de
cide the style of an advertisement. Some
firms, however, adopt and retain a
certain manner of Writing an advertise
ment no matter of what ”,- ure the arti
cle may be or the class whi&h ft is
intended. Perhaps of the two styles of
wording—the “light” and the “dignified”
—the latter will hold its own for a longer
time, while it will certainly appeal to a
higher, though, perhaps, not so large a
class of people. In the long ran, and for
an article intended to he advertised for a
length of time, it is not unlikely that dig
nity will tell to the best advantage.
People are more likely to improve it on
“the sober second thought.”
It is curious now and then, to watch
the progress of certain advertising ven
tures. “Don’t yon think the Dolly Var
den business has been a little overdone ?”
said a large advertiser a day or two sinoe,
“everyone seems tired of it, and modest
people are almost afraid to wear articles
called after it.”
But it did not seem to ns that it had
been over advertsed. It would be hard
to overdo anything in that way. Bat it
seemed not to have been rightly done. It
was put ont upon too low a scale, so that
paragraphists and punsters found their
game in it, and made it at least a piece of
such common property that no one wanted
it. It seems on the whole, that there is
no such thing as over advertising an arti
cle which should be advertised at all,
while it is equally certain that in all cases
the right tone and style must be chosen
to prevent the matter from becoming
either tiresome or so common and vulgar
that it is instinctively avoided.— Rowell’s
Reporter.
Very Fast Living. —Much has been
said and written about the recklessness
ef young English heirs. Tbe lwjfc story is
of young Brooks, who recently obtained
from the Vice-Chancellor an injunction
forbidding a bill discounter named Morris
to negotiate a promissory note which
Brooks, before attaining his majority, had
given to him under the following circum
stances : Brooks desired to obtain £l,lOO.
He therefore resorted to the astnte Mor
ris, who gave him the money in exchange
for a promissory note for £1,625, bearing
interest at the rate of one shilling per
pound per month, or something more
than fifty per cent. Had this note been
due in one year from its date, Brooks
would have owed Morris no less than
£2,600 making the £l,lOO which he bor
rowed cost him £1,500. Thiß, however,
was by no means the full extent to which
he was fleeced. He afterward borrowed
other snms of Morris, doubtless on the
same peculiar terms, and ultimately gave
him in settlement his note for £2,600, re
ceiving in exchange his lormer notes, and
£335 in cash. For this transaction Mor
ris charged £390 for “interest and com
mission,” besides exacting the usual in
terest of one shilling per pound per month
on the Dote of £2,600.' Brooks, finally
grew tired of borrowing money at the
rate of over one hundred per cent., and,
as has been said appealed to the Court of
Chancery to forbid Morris to negotiate
his last note. This injunction was granted
upon Brooks undertaking to pay to Mor
ris the amount he had actually received,
together with £IOO. The usurer
was thus defeated, and it is probable that
Brooks will hereafter shun the bill of dis
counters.
Strange Case. —Wei learn from a
Southern paper, that there was a colored
man living neai Panola, Miss., who treated
religion with more levity than solemnity,
and who went fishing on Sunday. Being
remonstrated with, some weeks ago, be
replied irreverently that be would go the
next Sunday morning “before God gets
up, and catch a nice string of fish.” Ac
cordingly, on the following Sunday morn
ing ho repaired to the banks of the Talla
hatche River very early and threw bis
bated hook and line into tbe river. Scarce
ly had he done so when there was a violent
tugging at bis hook, and a counter pull
from tbe shore brought to the surface of
the water a huge lally-cooler, which found
voice to say : “You shall remain here fish
ing all the days of your life, till God gets
up,” and then disappeared. Since that
time all efforts to drag the unfortunate
fisherman from the bank of the river have
proved unavailing. It is evident that he
labors under a strange hallucination, but
he insists it is the judgment of the Al
mighty, and that he must continue angling
in that spot until he receives absolution
from bis offended Maker.
A lady in Lewiston, Me., has a dregs
which she has worn every summer for
twenty-five years. The dry-goods men
look upon her with perfect scorn, while
she is tieloved by every married man in J
town.
A Letter from Speaker Blaine.
Speaker Blaine, in a letter to Chas.
Sumner, on the political views of the
day, says: It is of no avail for you to
take refuge behind the Republican re
cord of Horace Greeley. Conceding
for the sake of argument, (as I do not
in fact believe,) that Horace Greeley
would remain firm in bis Republican
principles, he would be powerless against
the Congress that would come into powel
with him in the event of his election.
We have had a recent and striking illus
tration in the case of Andrew Johnson
of the inability of the President to en
force ajpolicy, or even a measure, against
the will of Congress. What more power
would there be in Horace Greeley to en
force a Republican policy against a
Democratic Congress than there was in
Andrew Johnson to enforce a Demo
cratic policy agaiust a Republican Con
gress? And besides, Horace Greeley
has already, in his letter of acceptance,
taken ground practically against the
Republican Doctrine sd often enforced
by yourself, of the duty of the National
Government to secure the rights of every
citizen to protection of life, person and
property. In Mr. Greeley’s letter ac
cepting the Cincinnati nomination, he
pleases every Ku Klux villian in the South
by repeating the Democratic cant about
“local self-government,” and inveighing
in good rebel parlance against “central
ization,” andfinally declaringthat “there
shall be no federal supervision of the
international policy of the several States
and municipalities, but that each shall
be left free to enforce the rights and
promote the well-being of its inhabitants
by such means as the judgment of its
own people shall prescribe. ”
The meaning of all this in plain Eng
lish is, that no matter how the colored
citizens of the South may be abused,
wronged and oppressed, Congress shall
not interfere lor their protection, but
leave them to the tender mercies of the
“local self-government” administered by
the white rebels. Do you, as a friend to
the colored man approve this position of
Mr. Greeley?
You cannot forget, Mr. Sumner, how
often during the late session of Congress
you conferred with me in regard to the
possibility of having your Civil Rights
bill passed by the House. It was intro
duced by your personal friend, Mr.
Hooper, and nothing prevented its pas
.sage by the House except the rancorous
and factious hostility of the Democratic
members. If I have correctly examined
the Globe, the Democratic members on
seventeen different occasions resisted the
passage of the Civil Rights bill by the
parliamentary process known as filibus
tering. They would not even allow it
to come to a vote. Two intelligent col
ored members from South Carolina,
Elliot and Rainey, begged of the Dem
ocratic side of the House to merely allow
the Civil Rights bill to be voted on, and
they were answered with a denial so ab
solute that it amounted to a scornful jeer
of the rights of the colored man. And
now you lend your voic6 “and influence
to the re-election of the.-e Democratic
members who are co-operating with you
in the support of Mr. Greeley. Do you
not know, Mr. Sumner, and will you not
as a candid man acknowledge that with
these men in power in Congress, the
rights of the colored men are absolutely
sacrificed so far as these rights depend
on Federal legislation?
Still further: the rights of the colored
men in this country are secured, if se
cured at all, by the three great constitu
tional amendments, the 13th, 14th, and
15th. To give these amendments full
scope and efiect, legislature by Congress
is imperatively required, as }Ou have so
often a 1 and so eloqenlly demonstrated.
But the Democratic Party are on record
in the most conspicuous manner against
any legislation on the subject. It was
only in the month of February last that
my colleague, Mr. Peters, offered a reso
lution in the bouse of Representatives,
affirming the “validity of the constitu
tional amendments and of such reason
able legislation of Congress as may be
necessary to make them in their letter
and spirit most effectual.” This resolu
tion—very mild and guarded, as you will
see—was adopted by 124 yeas tosß nays;
only eight of the yeas were Democrats;
all of the nays were Democrats.
The resolution of Mr. Peters was fol
lowed a week later, by one offered by
Mr. Stevenson, of Ohio, as follows:
Resolved, That we recognize as valid
and binding all existing laws passed by
Congress for the enforcement of the
thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth
amendments of the Constitution of the
United States, and for the protection of
citizens in their rights under the Con
stitution as amended.
On tbe vote upon this resolution there
were 107 yeas to 65 nays. All the yeas
were republicans, and they are now
unanimous in support of President
Grant. All the nays were Democrats,
who are now equally unanimous in sup
port of Mr. Greeley.
It is idle to affirm, as some Democrats
did in a resolution offered by Mr.
Brooks, of New York, that “these
amendments are valid parts of the Con
stitution ” so long as the same men on
the same day vote that the provisions of
those amendments should not be en
forced by Congressional Legislation.
The amendments are but “ sounding
brass and tinkling cymbals ” to tbe col
ored man until Congress makes them
effective and praclicul. Nay, morp; if
the rights of the colored man are to be
left to the legislation of the Southern
States without Congressional interven
tion, he would, under a Democratic
Administration, be deprived of the right
of suffrage in less than two years, and
he would be very lucky if he escaped
some form of chattel slavery or peonage.
And in proof of this dunger I might
quote volumes of wisdom and warning
from the speeches of Chailes Sumner!
When, therefore, you point out to the
colored men that their righls will be safe
in the hands of the Democratic Party,
you delude and mislead them—l do not
say willfully, but none the less really.
The small handful of Republicans—com
pared with the whole mass—who unite
with yourself and Mr. Greeley in going
over to the Democratic Party, oannot
leaven that lump of political unsonnd
ness even if you preserve your own
original principles in the contact. The
Administration of Mr. Greeley therefore,
should he be elected, would be in the
whole and in detail, a Democratic Ad
ministration, and you would be com
pelled to go with the current or repent
and turn back when too late to meud
the evil you had done. Yonr argument
that Horace Greelev does not become a
Democrat by receiving Democratic votes
—illustrating it by the analogy of your
own election to the Senate—is hardly
pertinent. The point is, not what Mr.
Greeley will become personally, but
what will be the complexion of the great
legislative branch of the Government,
with all its vast and controlling power.
You know very well, Mr, Sumner, that,
if Mr. Greeley is elected President,
Congress is handed over to the control
of the party who have persistently de
nied the rights of the black man. What
course you will pursue toward the col
ored man is of small consequence after
you have transferred the power of Gov
ernment to Ins enemy!
The colored men of this country are
not as a class enlightened, but they have
wonderful instincts, and when they read
your letter they will know that at a great
crisis in their fate you deserted them.
Charles Sumner co-operating with Jeff
erson Davis is not Charles
Sumner they have hitblfto idolized —
any more than Horace Greeley, cheered
to the echo in Tammany Hall, is the
same Horace Greeley whom the Repub
licans have hitherto trusted. The black
men of this country will never be un
grateful for what you have done for
them in the past—nor in the bitterness
of their hearts will they ever forget that
heated and blinded by personal hatred
of one man, you turned your back on
the millions to whom in past years you
have stood as a shield and bulk wark of
defense!
Very respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
JAMES G. BLAINE.
The Canvass.
The road to victory, says the N. Y.
Times, is through organization. We beg
our Republican friends to remember this
pregnant tact. What has been done—
what is being done, by the supporters of
Gen. Grant in this city to place the Re
publican Party iD a state of thorough
and effective organization?
Our opponents are by no means idle,
and trust nothing to chance. Their
leaders and agents are on the wing.
Their presses groan with “campaign doc
uments;” Sclmrz’s speeches, Sumner’s
letter, and like electioneering matter
are spread over the land with no parsi
monious hand. If our own impulses
are not timely and to the purposes, let
us learn of the enemy.
It is by no means sufficient to call a
few meetings to listen occasionally to a
popular speaker. These things are well
enough in their way, but something
more, a great deal more, is needed.
Something has been done, it is time, in
the formation of Grant and Wilson clubs,
but the system could be further and use
fully extended. The public pulse beats
well, the means are at our disposal for
carrying the State by an overwhelming
majority if rightly used. But we must
go to work; we must rightly organize
Thor-e avast_.be those preliminary vr.
rangements which will show that the
whole soul of the party is in the cause—
which will enable the party to know be
orehand something definite of its num
bers,something of its available strength,
and to what extent its whole available
force may be brought to the polls. All
this is important and necessary to inspire
the party itself with confidence in its
success. The battle is half won when
the conviction becomes general that its
triumph is certain.
There are many Democrats both in
city and county, who loathe the un
natural birth which first showed its head
at Cincinnati and was consummated at
Baltimore. They retain tlieir self-re
spect, have a sincere regard for old max
ims, and do not like to be “sold like
cattle in the market.” They do not be
lieve at heart that Gen. Grant’s mode oi
administering public affairs is unsafe or
injurious to the public interests. They
prefer the stability Grant’s re-election
insures, to a change that comes charged
with evil forebodings. They do not
want Tammany re-installed here or at
Washington. Such men should be
sought out and enlisted in the good cause.
They are numerous enough to make up
for all the boasted defection from the
Repu ilican ranks, which go to form the
tail to Greeley’s kite. Such an organ
ization as is wanted in the present emer
gency, which will render assistance
uoubly sure, is required to induce thi
class of voters to rally under the Grant
flag-
But whether acquisitions of this kind
are practicable or not, the perfect organ
ization of the Republican Party, if it
only includes its own members, and
those who naturally attach themselves
to it is indispensable. Let it be attended
to in city and country without delay. We
apprehend that the country is in a bet
ter condition in this r< spect than the
city. But let not the piebald opposition
be "encouraged by its neglect anywhere
Activity and determination arc of them
selves powerful adjuncts. They beget
confidence; they rouse the rank an.i file
—the great body of the electors; they
beckon the young men, about to cast
their first vote, to an earolment which
is to have a lifetime influence upon their
political associations. What nobler
spectacle can be exhibited than that of a
great party moving in solid columns
towards an object which comprises the
public good in the highest sense, and
Irowns upon the evil influences, combin
ations and conspiracies that threaten the
existence of the State ami till the minds
of all intelligent and reflecting citizens
with alarms for the preservation of order
and liberty! That spectacle is the one
which the Republican Party of Now
York should offer by a complete organ
ization of all its material and moral
forces, and which, if it has made that of
which it is capable, and which the occa
sion calls for, cannot fail of winning
it memorable triumph.
No llomk. —Many of those unfortunates
who, during the late “ heated term” in
New’ York, were struck down in the
streets, were found to have no home. In
these cases, probably sunstroke was far
from being the true cause of death. “No
home” conveys such a pitiful idea of des
titution and misery that we do not wonder
that human beings forced to wander
through the streets, subject to rigors of
weather almost intolerable to those who
enjoy all the comforts of a home, should
droop and fail and die, being weakened
and exhausted by all the various ills and
deprivations incident to the misfortune of
having no home.
$2.00 PER ANNUM.
Let TT Have The Steam Plow.
It is no longer a question whether steam
plowing is practicable or profitable. That
has been abundantly shown by the con
stant use for several years in England of
these implements, and the proof that the
heaviest lands may he plowed at a cost
thereof, in some cases, not over one dol
lar per acre. The question is with us;
Can we apply this system of ploughing to
our peculiar circumstances ? We need it.
By no other means can our heavy soil be
properly prepared. It has been shown
that clay soils which have been cultivated
in the best manner by horse power, when
cultivated by steam to a depth of three
ffeet, gave immediately double the usual
crops. Such cultivation is manifestly im
possible without the aid of steam. With
this power the heaviest soils can be loos
ened and mellowed, and made to admit
air and heat—made, in fact, to breathe
and live— as we may desire.
The very impossibility of doing this in our
present circumstances has given rise to a
prejudice against it, and deep cultivation
has come to be a bugbear with many. But
if we were once able to penetrate and
loosen the soil (not invert it) to a depth
of thirty inches, we should never hear
the least objection to the practice. The
result of course, as the conditions are
equal, will be the same here as in England,
and this is sufficiently profitable to lead us
to make an attempt to secure it. Co
operation is the method id which it may
be done. Congress has removed all import
duty on foreign made steam plowing ap
paratus and engines, so that the objeption
of the enhanced cost is removed. Mani
festly private enterprise, at least among
ordinary fanners, is insufficient to under
take this task single-handed, but con
jointly it may be done. The first attempt
should be made in such States as Illinois
or California, where level ground, heavy
dry soil, farms of considerable size, and
sufficient capital and public spirit, are all
to be met with. Joint stock steam plow
ing companies in England have made a
profit of fifteen per cent, in addition to
laying aside a fund for renewal of plaDt,
and have done the work at half the cost
and four times as well as with horse power
Theu why should not the attempt suc
ceed here? There is ever}' thing to gain
and not much to lose by making it.
What rs Watek.—What is water!
I suppose some men are ready to make
the Dogberry like reply, “water, sir, is
water.” That certainly reaches the point
by a very short cut, but to the thinking,
inquiring man it is not satisfactory. Let
as answer the question from the stand
point of the chemist. Water is rust, the
red powder that falls from iron which has
long been subjected to the action of mois
ture, is rust of iron. It is the oxvde of a
metal and so is water Water is the rust
of hydrogeninm, a true metal. This
wonderful element no human eyes have
ever looked upon and probably never will
as in its free state it exists only in the
form of an invisible gas. Quite recently,
science has demonstrated experimentally,
what has long been suspected, that hy
drogen gas is a metal, and capable of as
suming a solid form in alloys. Oxygen,
by uniting with this gaseous metal, rusts,
xydizes or burns it, and water is the rust
or ashes. This strange metal, hydrogen
ium, and its oxide, play an important
part in all the operations of nature. It
is not alone confined to the little ball of
earth upon which we live, but it exists in
the stellar world above ns, and in those
misty points of light, the nebulae, which
have so long puzzled and perplexed the
astronomer and men versed in the physi
cal sciences. The recent discoveries by
means of the spectroscope have proved
that this element enters largely into the
unformed chaotic masses of matters, mov
ing in space, of which the worlds are
made. It is ready, when the formative
act is fully accomplished* for taking its
place in combination with oxygen, as
water, to aid in sustenath.n of animal and
vegetable life upon spheres so far distant
that onr imagination even oannot reach
them.— Exchange.
Too Stbiot. —The Bt. Petersburgh
Gazette tells a story which illustrates the
stringency of Russian passport regula
tions. The village of Volotchik, on the
Galician trontier, was a week or two ago
surprised by a fire. Of course there was
no engine in the place. Prompted by a
feeling of neighborly char ty, the Austrian
town of Brody dispatched its corps of
firemen with all speed to the atsistance
of the distressed village. They made for
tho frontier at a brisk gallop, bnt on arri
ving there, they were stopped by the
I louane soldiers and gruffly reminded of
their ommission to provide themselves
with passports tor the nocturnal trip.
The could not therefore be permitted to
cross the frontier, hut had to return to
Brody, their way home berag lighted up
by the flames wliiob they had set out to
quench.
Au eccentric farmer who lives near
Doylestowu, Pa., for the last twenty
years, stacked all the hay that he raised .
on bis farm, selling none of it, and using
very little. The result is that he has
fifty large stacks of liny on his premises,
making an aggregate of about 400 tons.
Of course they are in various states of
preservation, some being quite rotten.
The man vouchsafes no explanation
whatever of his singular freak, but keeps
on, year after year, r; ising hay and
Blacking it up, refusing the most liberal
offers from would be purchasers.
NO. 28.
