Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.