Newspaper Page Text
aALLAHER'S INDEPENDENT,
PUBLIHHW) BVERT BATUBDAT AT
QUITMAN, GA.,
BV
J. C. GALLAHE R.
• • •
- - 1 ■ r;-
TKRMB OF *ITBSCIUmp!I
TWO DOLL A R$ p*r Arfvonoe.
cornua to'woo.
When Aunt Philiuda went wy, the
last tiring she said to mo woe:
“I’m going to send somebody down to
■ee yon afore long, en' I hope you’ll set
tike e sensible girl, so’ not ateml in your
own light. He’s smart as the nvoridge,
•o’ he's gut the best, farm I known on any
where in the section o' country. Yon j
couldn't do better.”
I hadn't the (ainteet idea that she would
do as she said; but I began to believe she
meant business when I received the fol
lowing letter:
Deab Hicca Maria*: —I've told Mr,
Qreee about you, an’ he’s goiu’ to come
down to your place next week. Ido hope
you 11 like Him, tor a bettor huaban 1 never :
lived than Wa ?*ke you. Afore Monet
able—that waa hi first wife—died, he was
MU Of the best providers I ever seed, on' j
ttie LiO, 1 knows M had to be sence, for ,
that sitter of his'n that keeps house for
him is awful wasteful. He's considerable
took *p with you from mv description, an'
I know he’ll like Jkm. A n.. body that’s
smart au’ capable can do well to marry
him. The children are purty behaved,
au’ take after their father. Now deni
'think, he won’t suit you 'cause he au’t flxt
up like a young mau. He’s worth a dr.i au
young men, fur's property's concerned,
an’ Mehetable used to say he was awful!
lovin.’ Do be n sensible girl, Mariur, an'
not stand in your own lighi. From your
affectionate, Pheusda.
"‘For goodness sake!” I exclaimed
when I had read the letter through to sis
ter Jane. “What shall I do? Here it’s
Monday and the letter ought to have been
h- re last week. He’s likely to happen
along any time. Such an old fool as Aunt
Philiuda ia! The idea of my marrying an
ohl widower, with half a dozen children.’’
* But they’re ’purty behaved,' and ’take I
after their father,” said Jaue, wiping the
tears from her eyes, and hardly able to
talk from laughing. ‘'And he’s awful
lovin’!"
“I don’t want any of his loving ways
round me,” says I, indignantly. “1 won’t
•peak to him. She might have known
better. I think it a regular insult.”
“I’ll toll yon what,” cued Jane, her
eyes luminous with a brilliant idea. “Let
E>e pretend that I’lu you. I'll be Muti..
tor the time b- ing, and yon be Jane.”
“W'liat goo.l will that do?” I asked.
• Ever so mneli,” answered the. ’ Fil
th- r aud mother ivon'i be back for four or
five dues’ and lean tire liiiu out before
tb it time. I’ll to, ,I,‘rtH Wiuit that la*;
•pl-udid? I wftnt lie able to hear any
thing lower than a shout. ”
“I'm agreeable to the plan.” I said.
And Jane began to make preparations for
her wooer. She combed down her hair
smoothly on each side of her fare and pot
on mother's old mohair cap. Then she
adds . spectacles, and arranged herself in
an antiquated ohl dress. W hen she fin
ished her toilet she looked old muidial), I
aasurc you. I laughed till I cried.
About three o'clock there came u rap at
the door.
“It s hint I'll bet!" cried Jane. “If it
is, retrember I’m Maria, and can't hear
you unless you talk very loud."
1 went to the door and opened it. There
stood Mr. Green, I wns sure, lie had on j
hi Sunday best, evidently, and very com
ical he looked in it, aud very uncomforta
bly he felt, judging from his actions. Hi;
was was wiping his face with a huge red
handkerchief.”
“I'm Mr. Green,” he said, making a
bow and introducing himself at tlie same
time. “I came to see Miss Mariar Law
ton. Be you her?”
“She’s expected you; she's in the par
lor. ‘‘Come in,” I said, choking with
laughter. “You’ll have to talk a little
loader than usual, for she's a trifle deaf.”
“Deaf!” exclaimed Mr. Green, “Your
snnl didn't mention that.”
By that time we were at the pallor door
Jane was all expectation, aud did look so
comical that I thought I should have to
laugh or die. But I managed to keep my
face tolerably straight while I introduced
them.
“Maris, this is Mr. Green! shouted I in
b shrill key, putting my mouth close to
her ear.
“A little londer," said she, and I sbont
tA "Mr. Green” an octave higher. The
poor man looked terribly disappointed.
HU fancy had not painted her in true
colors, evidently.
“Ah, yea, Mr. Green,” said Jane, fairly
beamingwith delight. “How do you do?”
and she shook the poor gentleman's hand
energetically. "Jane, get Mr. Green a
chair. Pot it here by the side of mine,
so that he oau talk to me, lam happy to
see you, sir. Aunt Phillnda spoke of yon
in very complimentary terms, indeed.”
‘Tm glad of that,” said Mr. Green,
•taking into the chair.
"Eh! what ffld you say?” said Jane,
turning her ear to him. "A trifle louder,
it you please,"
Mr. Green repeated his remark, while I
retired to the window to langh.
"Avery fine day I he added.
"Good crop of hay? I’m glad of it,”
responded Jane. "I’m greatly interested
In farm matters. Mr. Green. ’’
"I said the weaker was fine,” corrected
Mr, Greea. '
“When’ll I Tie yonrs? Why, you’re so
Ridden, Mr. Green I” exclaimed Jane, pre
tending to blush. "I don’t really feel as
if I knew you yet And yet, my heart
tells me that yon are an affinity," and
tfcen fire wicked girl leaned moM be witch-
{Stalkl )ti f § % n&cpnt bmt
.■* i / j
VOL. 11.
ingly upon the uneasy mau, who looked
at meappealiugly.
“I didn’t say that,” ho shouted. “I
spoke about the weather.
“Yes; I hope we’ll tie happy together,”
said Jane, pensively. “Oh, Mr. Green,
if you knew how I have longed for the
companionship of some heart like yours
these many years,” and then she pro
ceeded to ahed unseen tears in her hand*
korohief.
Mr. Green was touched.
“She’s awful uffeckshuuate, ain’t she?’
he said to me. “I wish she wasn’t so aw
ful dost. Can’t anythiug bo dune for
her?”
“Oh, you won’t mind that, after a lit
tle,” said I cheerfully, “We don’t.” “I
dun no’ ’bout that," said Mr. Green,
doubtfully. “We couldn’t never havo no
secrete, ’cause the neighbored here ’em
’fore she did, if I weut to tollin’ her any.
Don’t seem to mo’s if I ever *• anybody
quite so deaf as she is."
“Talk to me,” said Jane, who had dried
her eyes. “Tell me all about your chil
dren. I know 1 shall take so much com
fort with them. Bless their souls."
Thereupon Mr. Green began his family
history way up in the octaves, and I got
so nearly deafened at his shouting that I
had to leave the room. 1 sat dowu on tbe
back stops aud laughed tor half an hour.
When I atopped I could hear him shout
ing still, but I fancied he was getting
hoarse.
Jane kept him talking all the afternoon.
I never saw any cue quite so relieved as
he was when I announced that supper was
in readiness.
Jane fastened herself on him, aud ae- j
compauied him to the supper-table.
“It’s such au awful pity about her,”
said the jHior man to uie, regretfully.
She’s got a wonderful affeekahunate way
au’ she’s awful anxious to be Miss Green; j
bat," and there Mr. Green stopped, du
bionslv, ”1 kuiiw'd au old woman who
was so deef tliat when it thundered, she >
thought someone was knockin’ an’ hoi
lered ‘come in;’ an’ she diu’t begin to be j
as deef as she is, no, not begin. I dun t,
s’pose you’d lie wiiliu* to settle down on a
farm, now, would you?” hopefully
“Oh, I couldn’t think of such a thing,” |
I answered. “Maria is the wife for u j
farmer." She takes such au interest in j
sucli matter*. 1
‘That’a a fact,’ said Mr. Green. ‘I dun’ j
no when Ivo s,cn a woman mote intei- ,
es'ed than she is. 1 swan’ I’d give twen I
ty-five dollars if ’twould core her an’ up j
oar way we can get a good cow for that
price,"
Mr. Green had got so used to taliuug to j
Juue that he had forgotten I was nut deaf,
ahd shouti-d the last sentence at me.'
'You say you are fond of rice? Oil. so
aiu I,’ said Jane, delightedly. ’Jane.'to
me, "yon put- some on to cook after sup
per; we’ll have some for breakfast. ’
‘Dout’t put yourself out for me, shouted
Mr. Green.
•Wish you had some for tea, did you
say? I wish so, too.’ Jane smiled nn
otlier tender smite at her suitor, aud sip- j
ped her tea slowly, smiling at him every I
time tie looked at her.
“Where's your folks?” he asked, and- j
denlv, us if he had just thought of them.
“Yes, it is a good plan,’ answered Jane, j
nodding her head appreciatively. ‘Geese j
always ought to wear yokes. If they j
don't, they'll get into the garden and eat
everything up.'
“I asked after your father an' mother,’
shouted Mr. Green, with awful emphasis,
and turning red in the face with the exer*
tion.
‘Let me see,' mod Jane thoughtfully, j
‘llenry Bascomb’s brother? No, Air. ;
Green, I don't think I ever knew him.’
‘Oh, dear,’ groaned Air. Green, ‘She |
gets deefer and deefer. I can’t rnurry her.
What if I wanted to say anything to her
|in the dead o’ night? I’d havo to wake
i tiie hull house np to make her hear. It’s
! an awful pity, I swan."
Jane kept him shouting at her all the
evening, under the beaming effulgence of
j her smile. I never laughed so much in j
| my life before.
He came into the kitchen next morning,
! where I Was getting breakfast,
j ‘l'm so hoarse I can hardly talk loud,
ihe said, mournfully, ‘I like her. She’s
j smart, naturaly, an’ seems willin’, an’ she j
j wants to get married as bad as any woman
i I ever saw; but she’s too deef! I guess
! I won’t stop to breakfast, ’cause it’ll only
1 make her more sot on havin' me, an' I
! can’t make such a sacrifice for the sake o’
anybody. If you’d think favorable 'bout
! it, I’d say. Couldn’t you now, s’pose?’ |
| with a very tender smile.
] ‘Not for a minute,’ said I.
And seeing that there was no hope, Air.
Green took his departure.
Annt Philinda evidently saw through
the state of affairs, as reported to her by
Mr. Green, for she hasn’t been visiting
since. I wonder if he is still single?
A man dressed in sailor costume was np
in a criminal court the other day upon the
charge of stealing a pair of boots. As be
had no counsel, the court appointed a
yonng lawyer to take charge of the de
fence. Tbe lawyer opened the case with a
speech, in which he alluded to his olient
as “a child of the sad sea waves, a nnrsliDg
of the storm, whom tbe pitiless billows had
cast, a forlorn and friendless waif, upon
tbe shores of time, after a life spent in
fierce and heroic contests with the raging
elements, ' Then the defendant was put
in the dock, and the fact was revealed that
he was cook on a canal boat, previous to
which he had hawked fish in Whitechapel.
The “nursling of the storm” is now in jail
tor six months.
QUITMAN, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 2* 1875.
The Spectre of an Elderly Female, and
How she Frightened a Cat
In anew volume by the Rev. J. S.
Wood, entitled “Man and Beast Here aud
Hereafter," occurs the following ghost sto
ry, which the reader may credit or not, as
he is accustomed to do legends of this
sort:
“There are, as we know, many persons
who cuunot believe that, as they put it, the
living should be able to see the dead.—
Neither do I believe it. But as the spirit
lives, though the material body no longer
enclose it, surely there oau be no difficulty
in believing that the living spirit within
an earthly body may see a living spirit
which has escaped from its material gar
ment. We do not doubt that after the
death of the body the spirit will live and
see other spirits similarly freed from earth,
aud it is no very greut matter that the liv
ing should see the living, though one la*
still enshrined iu its earthly tabernacle aud
the other released from it.
“This being granted—and it'is not very
much to grant—it necessarily follows that
if the lower animals possess spirits they
may be capable of spiritual aa well as ma
terial vision. That they do possess this
power, and that it can be exercised, is
shown by the story of Balaam. There we
find it definitely" stated not only that the
ass saw the angel, but that she bhw him
long before her muster did. Now, the an
gel, being l a spiritual buing, could only be
seen with the spiritual eye; and it there
fore follows that, unless the story be en
tirely false, the animal pessessed a spirit,
and saw with the eyo of a spirit.
“I should think that none who believe
iu the truth of the Holy Heriptarea (and I
again remind the reader that this book is
only intended for those who do so) could
doubt that In re is a ease which proves that
the spirit of the ass is capable of seeing
and fearing the spiritual angel. And if
that be grunted, I do not see how any one
| cun doubt that the spirit which saw the an
gel partook of bis immortality, just as her
' outward eye, which saw material objects,
: partook of their immortality. Shortly af
terward tbe eyes of the proplu t were open
j ed, and he also saw the angel; but it must
; be remembered that the eyes of the beast
were opened first, aud that she, her master
and the angel met for the time in the
same spiritual plane.
“I have for a long time lmd in my pos
! session n letter from a lady, in which she
narrates a personal adventure wjiieh lius u
singularly close resemblance to'tlie Scrip
tural story of Balaam. It bad been told
me immediately after I threw out my
•feeler’ in the ‘Common Objects of the
Country.’ As I had at that time Uic inten
tion of vindicating the immortality of the
; lower animals, I requested the narrator to
; w rite it, so that I might possess the state
ment authenticated iu her own handwri
ting.
“At t,lic time of the occurrence the ludv
| and her mother were living iu au old coun-
I try chateau iu France.
| “tot was during the winter of 18—that
1 one evening I happened to be sitting bj
Ime oie of i, oh our fnl tire in my bed-room,
! busily engaged in caressing a favorite cat,
| the illustrious Lady Catharine, now, alas I
' no more. She lay in a pensive attitude and
: a winking state of drowsiue s in my kip.
“‘Although my room might be without
: candles, it was perfectly illuminated by the
light, of the tire. There were two doors—
one beliiud me leading into an apartment
which had been locked for the winter, and
another *m the opposite side of the room
which communicates with the passage,
“ ‘Mamma had not left me many min
utes, and the high backed, old-fashioned
armchair which she had occupied remained
| vacant at the opposite corner of the fire
j place. Puss, who lay with her head on my
arm, became more aud more sleepy, aud I
j pondered on the propriety of preparing for
1 bed.
“‘Of a sudden I became aware that
| something hail affected my pet’s eqnanim
-1 ity, The purring ceased, and she exhibited
! rapidly-increasing symptoms of uneasiuess.
I bent down and endeavored to coax her
into quietness; but she instantly struggled
to her feet in my lap, and spitting vehe
mently, with back arched and tail swollen,
she assumed a mingled attitude of terror
and defiance.
“The change in her position obliged mo
to raise my bead; and on looking up, to
1 my inexpressible horror, then perceived
! that a little, hideous, wrinkled old hag oc
i copied nan mu’s chair. Her hands were
\ rested on her knees, amt to* body was
I stooped forward so as to bring her face in
: close proximity with mine. Her eyes,
| piercingly fierce and shining with an over
powing lustre, were steadily fixed on me.
It was ns if a fiend were glaring at me
through them. Her dress and general ap
pearance denoted her to belong to the
French hourye.oite, but those eyes, so won
derfully large, anil in their expression so
intensely wicked, entirely absorbed my
senses and precluded any attention to de
: tail. I should have screamed, but my
i breath was gone, while that terrible gaze
so fascinated mo I could neither withdraw
my eves nor raise from my seat.
“I had meanwhile been trying to keep a
tight hold on the cat, lmt she seemed res
olutely determined not to remain in such
j ugly neighborhood, and after some most
desperate efforts, at length succeeded iu
escaping from my grasp. Leaping over
tables, chairs and everything that oume in
her way, she repeatedly threw herself, with
frightfnl violence, against the top panel of
the door which communicated with the
disused room. Then, returning in the
same, frantic manner, she furiously dashed
against the door on the opposite side.
“My terror was divided, and I looked by
turns dow at the old woman, whose great
staring eyes were constantly fixed on me,
anil now at the cat, who was becoming
every instant more frantic, At lust the
dreadful idea that the animal had gone
mad had the effect of restoring my breath
and I screamed loudly.
“Mama ran in immediately, and the cat,
on the door opening, literally sprang over
her head, and for upward of half an hour
ran up aud down stairs as if pursued. I
turned to point to the objeot of my terror,
but it was gone. Under such circumstan
ces, tbe lapse of time is difficult to appre
ciate, but I should think that tbeapparition
lasted about four or five minutes.
“‘Some time afterward it transpired
that a former proprietor of the house, a
woman, had hanged .herself iu that very
room.’
"The close bnt evidently unsuspeoted
resemblance of this narrative to the story
of Balaam is worthy of notice. In both
cases we have the remarkable fact that the
animal was the first to see the spiritual be
ing, and to show by its terrified actions
1 that it had done so.”
Our Smith..
John Smith is his euphonious cognomen
a name that was not born to die. Every
city aud villugo on the hubituble globe Ims
its Smiths and Jones, anil they all pre
sent a variety of characteristics difficult of
solution. Some of the Smiths figure
prominently in history, especially John
Smith of Pocahontas fame. That was iu
tho rude days of the republic, when the
Smith family was iu an embryonic state,
comparatively speaking. In these modern
days this illustrious household havo been
very prolific. Just salute a gentleman as
Mr. Smith, and every other mau you greet
will return the salutation us an appropri
ate “hit” on his uuiue, aud he goes mus
ingly along aud wonders to himself how
“that feller knowed I was a Smith.”
That’s enough on the Smith family, gen
erally speaking, so here goes for the idio
syneracies of our indefatigable Joliu
Smith, the prt terpluperfection of ropor
torul Wisdom.
Onr “Jolm” is infinitely superior in the
role of reporter, aud has a tact for gob
bling up items that would startle the
vigilance of a New York quill-driver.
Just let John see any other reporter mak
ing rapid strides along the streets, he
sniffs and item on the breeze, and flies off
at a tangent and seeks to be first on the
soenc ut disaster by takiug “nigh cuts”
on the other fellow. Sometimes he makes
a good thing of it, but us a general rule
be makes u complete “bust” of the mat
ter, and Ntands on tho corner us if gazing
way over into Africa. Our "John” last
week was foiled iu a trick. Standing over
at the National hotel, he saw another re
porter making lightning speed up Feuoh
tree. Ho bore an anxious countenance
and with pencil in hand showed every
symptom of having an item in view. Onr
Smith disguised himself by turning bis
lmt brim dowu und his coat collar up and
followed in hit pursuit. He muttered to
himself as he passed Wesley chapel, “By
jacks, I’ll bet there’s somethin’ terrible ter
pay. That reporter’s gut a rape, or mur
der iu view. But I’ll ho on hand, you
bet." John strode on manfully, keeping
just in view of tho other reporter. After
going a mile our John remarked again,
"Darn my skin, I’ll have that item or bust.
Can’t that fellow travel though?” Anoth
er mile was soon traversed, aud a little fur
ther on reporter No. I, hauled up at l’onee
de Leon. Right in his wake came John,
aud walking up to where the other report
er was standing, said: “Hello, old fel,
what brought you away out here?" His
laconic reply was, “Just simply to see if
you would follow me.” Our John wilted
aud sat down, feeling all the anguish of
being so terribly duped. Scratching his
be wild tied noggin, he was hoard solilo
quizing: "Well, I’ve gone arid done it.
Just made a complete uss of myself,
walked half to deutli through the dust ami
wind, and didn’t get nary bit of news.
Another commendable trait fully devel
oped in our Join! is his hankering after
“free lunch.” J:to t*s t stetaiaeb pecu
liarly adapted for that kind of “hush,”
and his remarkable assiduity iu limiting
up such dishes i3 simply astounding.
He’ll walk further and finite! for a plate of
■ free soup” than any mau in America.
There’s science in the manner iu which lie
dishes up free invitutiuiis to take a “half
dozen fried," nr a bowl of dessieuted veg
etables, He'll walk up to a kimlheurted
restaurateur with tlmtSmavity usually dis
played by a voracious individual, and says:
“Well, sir, you enjoy tile best reputation
in the city us a caterer. Heard a man say
that your soup was unsurpassed for its
excellent taste. And I suppose it must be
good, though I never hud tlm pleasure of
trying it. You see, old fellow,” patting
him nu the shoulder, "I’d patronize you,
but I never have a single ’red,’ and don’t
like to run niy ‘cheek.’ Whew! wasn’t
that Mil awful gust of wind. Let’s step
inside out’u the dust. Yes, you’ve got
the best cuting-bouse I know of, and—
Well, I must go to dinner, and haven’t
got time to dwell on all your good quali
ties. Look out, I’ll give you a stunning
puff to-morrow.” Right here he plays
down the winning card, und ia forthwith
invito*! to try anything he wants to oat or
drink. A second asking is unnecessary.
He bulges for tho Urat chair and calls out
for a variety of dishes only suggested by
au insatiable appetite. It is worth seeing
him devour a “free dinner.” One thing
notable about bis getting “free basb,” he
never gets the second invitation from the
same man. One sitting gives entire satis
faction to any landlord
Out all day, he’ll rush into the compos
ing room with two bushels of copy.
Items by the cart load. Printers just
reaily to go home, and the foreman lock
ing up the forms. Says Smith: ~lmport
ant news—must go in. Couldn’t get in
any sooner.” lie dives his hands down
iDto his breeches pockets up to his elbow,
aud says; “I’m off,” and darts out like a
man with a stomach full of croton oil or
aa over dose of Vinegar Fitters. The
foreman would cars* a little for bringiug
in the copy at this t’aufnour, but tie hap
pens to lie a Christian sort of a mau.
Ouo wicked compositor, over in the cur
uer, remarks: “That dad blasted Smith
ought to have his mug mashed.” All
hands, pulling off their coats, go np to
the copy book and get a “lake,” and
“What in the devil is this word?” Anoth
er printer drawls out: "I wish that
darned Smith could write. Why don tho
go to a night school?” The good man,
who manipulates under slug ten, says:!
“Greut jeewhillikins, wlmt can this word
be? It looks like ‘horse,’ but it ’taint;
yes —no—yes, I believe it’s ‘horse’ after
all.” All hands juggle over it, and finally
resolve that it is “herirse.” But they do
everlastingly give him particular fits about
his copy. The writing looks as if a fly
had a broken leg with ink on it, and hud
crawled around over the paper in agony.
It is worse than Greeley’s miserable man
uscript, aud that alone gives him a name
among journalists. Our John can’t be
beat as u news gatherer, ji free-luuoh
eater, an awkward writer, and, “last but
not least,” in genuine fun and good com
panionship. His last feat at interviewing
was perpetrated on the Indian sign in
front of Engelbert’s. He took it to be a
Comanche chief and put tbe question to
him, “Hula woens cha, willee letee me
askee question?”' Someone explained to
John his mistake, and he now sits in the
back room of the office, musing over tbe
multiplicity of mistakes he commits in tbe
eventful calling he has chosen. John is
destined to make his mark, as he possesses
all the elements necessary to accomplish
it—a pencil and fingers.
The Dead Republic.
The Forty Third Congress w ill he uotd*
rums in history. Notorious for its unpar
allelled corruption, for its barrenness, of
! intellect, for its subserviency to the will of
j the President, and, above all, us tho last
Congress that peaceably assembled at the
National Capitol. This may be regarded
us a bold assertion, but we believe the
events of the next six or eight months will
prove its correctness. Armed with the al
most absolute powers accorded to him by
| his henchmen of the Forty-Third Congress
Grant is in a position to seize forcibly the
reins oi government, and defy all attempts
to peaceably dislodge liira. lie has tried
his hand at overturning States and found
the process comparatively easy. He has
defied the public opinion of the country,
anil with brazen effrontery asked to be
clothed with powers,not only never con
templated, but expressly forbidden by the
Constitution, which he is sworn to sup
port. He has, with military swagger and
bravado, trampled the laws of the country
under his feet, and has stricken down with
ruthless hand every human being that Ims
dared to stand between him anil his pur
pose. No man has ever succeeded iu con
vincing him of error, and those who have
endeavored to stay or thwart the execution
of his plans have been swept out of the
w ay quietly bnt certainly,
With him a political antagonist is an ob
stacle to be removed, and ho sends a Han
cock to Alaska with ns much nonehalenee
as he ordered a oorps of sappers and mi
ners to cut down a thicket or remove a
rail fence that impeded the movement of
his army. W ith a will as unbending us
that of a bull-dog, with unlimited power,
with a people unused to treason and to
revolution, and with army tainted with
Imperialism, there would seetn to be very
little to prevent him from executing his
treasonable designs of erecting a mon
archy upon the ruins of this great Repub
lic. It is said the North and West would re
bel, and rushing to arms, crush the army und
sweep tho traitor from power. Tho North
and West are asleep, and are really power
less. They have seen Louisiana stricken
at the feet of this Ctesar, anil her people
ground to earth by the mere exercise of
his will; they have seen' legislators elected
by the people thrust out into the streets at
the point of Grant's bayonets; they have
witnessed u number of their sister States
made mere footballs for carpet-baggers
and the retninejs of the President; they
have seen Congress passing laws which are
plainly unconstitutional and revolutionary,
and in spite of it all they have gone on re
fusing to move until now it is almost too
late.
The fatal chalice is about to be com
mended to their own lips, and we shall see
how they like the draught. With the dis
solution of the Forty-Third Congress the
American Republic, which has so long
clmllenged the admiration of the world,
and which bus been a beacon light and
haven of rext to the toiling millions of Eu
rope, virtually ceases to exist, anil we pass
under a government, which lias every fea
ture of Absolutism except the tinsel and
titles, and they, wo may be sure, will not
he long coming. It is a sad anil startling
reflection, but he who does not read the
hand writing on the wall must be blind.
Let the centennial buildings not bu push
ed forward too rapidly—they will lie com
pleted in time for the people to meet
therein, and sing a requiem over the dead
Republic.— N. 0. llu/letin.
An Apparent Resurrection
A young man in the town of Vassal
borough, in this county, was suffering in
tile last stages of consumption, the disease
which had insidiously anil stealthily
brought him to the verge of the grave.
For several weeks lie lmd been entirely
prostrate and unable to speak, even to
articulate a syllable. Ho became so op
pressed for breath that lie compelled his
attendants to raise the windows iu his
room, put out the fires and resort to every
means to obtain fresh air. On the 13th
instant the young man died. Friendly
hands prepared tho poor, emaciated body
for the burial; but just as the attending
friends were arranging the remains for the
casket, there appeared unmistakable evi
dences of returning life in wbat had
seemed to them ab iiianimatemass of clay,
and it was discovered that the heart had
begun ils slow and measured palpitations,
the pulse throbbed anil the young man
arose from the deutli shrouds, opened his
mouth and spoke in clear and distinct
words to those who stood appalled in the
death cLamber. There was no huskiuess
iu his voice; be appeared lively ami ac
tive, said he felt not the slightest pain,
lmt to use his own language, “I feel just
us well as I ever did.” At his request tho
neighbors were called in, who crowded the
house for hours, declaring tliat tho recov
iry of the man was equal to any miracle
recorded iu the Scriptures. Ho told this
startled assemblage of his friends and
neighbors that, us ho died, all things
seemed dark, but only for au instant; bis
eyes suddenly opened to a now world, the
real heaven, which had given him so
much comfort in his last weeks of pain
and sorrow. He sood upon an eminence
which overlooked a vast and beautiful
plain; the magnificent plain stretched
farther than liis enlarged vision could
penetrate, aud he described it iu language
which, to his mortal auditors, seemed ex
travagant in the extreme. But tho revivi
fied life of the young man was not to con
tinue long. Before night lie again resigned
himself to death. The body was kept a
reasonable length of time and hurried on
Sunday last, the funeral being largely at
tended.—A wjusta (Me) Chronicle.
Lono Words. —"Rob,” said Tom.
“which is the most dangerous word to
pronounce iu the English language?”
“Don’t know. ’ said Rob, “unless it is
a swearing word.”
“Pooh!" said Tom, “it’s stumbled, be
cause you are sure to get a tumble between
the first and last letter,”
“Ha! hal” said ltob. “Now I’ve one
for yon. I found it one day iu the paper.
Which is the longest Word in the English
language?"
“Valetudinarianism, ” replied Tom,
promptly.
"No, sir: it’s smiles, because there s a
whole mile between the first aud lust let
ter.”
“Ho! ho!” cried Tom, “that’s nothing,
I know a word that has over threo miles
between its beginning and the ending.”
“What’s that?” esked Rob faintly.
Beleaguered,” Said Tom,
GENERAL R. E. LEE.
HIH R El. OCT AN OR TO ENTER THE) REBEbMON.
11l an address before the Leo Memorial
Association in Baltimore, on Saturday
evening lust, Mr. 8. Teaekle Wallaoil read
j the following heretofore unpublished let*
j ter of Gen, Robert E. Lee:—
And here I am permitted, by the kiud
| ness of a friend, to read some extracts
■ from a letter of the illustrious soldier,
wliioh have never seen the light before,
and which will show through wlmt sad
struggles, of both heart and mind, he
passed to what he felt to be his duty. I
doubt not—nay, 1 kuow— that many a
gallant gentleman who fought lies de him,
and many another in the opposing host,
grieved with as deep a grief aa Lee, to
draw his sword. The letter tliut I speak
of bears the date of Jan. Hi, 1861, and
was written from Fort Mason, near San
Antonio, in Texas. It was addressed to a
young lady, a relative of his, for whom he
had great affection, anil the passages of
which I speak were written as a message
to her father. Alluding to the homes of
two families of friends, he said:—
I think of the occupants of both very
often, and hope some day to sea them
again. I may have the opportunity soon;
for if the Union is disolved I shall return
to Virginia to share the fortune of my
people. But before so greut a calamity
befalls the country I hope u!l honorable
means of maintaining the Constitution
and the equal rights of the peoulo will be
first, exhausted. Tell your father he must
not allow Maryland to bo tacked on to
South Carolina before the just demands' of
the South huvo been fairly presented to
the North anil rejected. Then if the
rights guaranteed by the Constitution are
denied us, and the citizens of one portiou
of the country are granted privileges not
extended to the other, we can, with a clear
conscience, separate. lam for maintain
ing all our rights, not for abandoning all
for tho sake of one. Our nutiouul rights,
liberty at home and security abroad, our
lauds, navy, forts, dockyards, arsenals,
and institutions of every kind. It will
result in war I know, fierce, bloody war.
Bnt so will secession, for it is revolution
aud war at lust, and cannot be otherwise,
and we might as well look at it in its true
character. There is a long message, A—,
for your father, aud a grave one, which I
had not intended to put in my letter to
you, but it is a subject on which my se
rious thoughts often turn, for asun Amer
ican citizen I prize my government and
country highly, aud there is no sacrifice I
am not willing to make for their presi rva
tioii, save that of honor. I trust there is
wisdom and patriotism enough in the
country to save them, for I cannot antici
pate so grant a calamity to the nation as
the disroiution of the Union.
Centennial of “American Abolitionism.”
Concert Hull, Philadelphia, on the 14tb
instant, was the xia-sie of another act iu
the farce of "negro-equality” now being
played in this country. The old “Penn I
Abolition Society” met, to celebrate their
one hundredth year, an to spit on their
wrinkled hands anil take another pull ut
the negro, in order to "elevate” him and
secure him “fuller equality." Well, we
suppose that these doubly-distilled fools
will keep up their silly ding-dong,
declaring right on, the “natural abilities,
moral and intellectual, of the negro being
equal to those of the Caucasian, if you
only give him a chance,’’and in the mean
time, at Liberia, Bt, Domingo, Jamaica,
tho United States, and wherever else
“free” negroism exists, down—down—
down Samdo goes, lower and lower, anil
lower, in the scale of humanity giving
the lie daily and hourly to the stupid and
fanatical asseverations of these “Aboli
tion” blockheads, that there is no differ
ence between white and black human
creation, save color. Here is the Ameri
can negro rapidly turning pagon, vaga
bond, and utterly worthless, aud as the
penalty of this, rapidly dying, aud yet he
lias been ten full years in the condition
these white blockheads said would “devel
op a manhood which, in all its attributes,
would equal that of the while man.”
Now, tho honest und able men of this
country are trying to correct the abuses
heaped upon the people, through this
very fanatici m which these demented old
tea-pots gathered in the city of Philadel
phia are endeavoring to perpetuate. AVe
do not exactly advise anybody-down iu the
Quaker city to distribute poisoned sau
sages among these senile, toothless gab
blers, bnt we think that the city would be
justified in ordering one of the fire en
gines out and squirting water into the
crowd and driving them all home. This
country has heard nothing but "negro”
ever since Thompson, the Exeter Hall
renegade, came here in 1832. The final
result of that visit was tho death of a
million of the flower of the Caucasian
race iu a horrid four years’ civil war, a
public debt of 83,000,000,000, a commer
cially ruined country, and a rotten, cor
rupt und infamous political power domi
nating, which bids fuir, by the aid of
"negro-equality,” to transform this Re
public into a despotism, and wipe out tho
last vestige of Democracy from American
soil. These being some of the fruits of
this incessant twaddling about “negro
freedom,” uow that tho negro has his
“freedom,” and the country has breu
plunged into general woe as price of that
“freedom,” we move that the old fossils of
Penn cease Abolitionizing any more, and
get up prayer meetings in behalf of
Grant's moral backsliding, aud general
rottenness of his political party.
A New AVay of Bhatinu Faro.— Night
before last, says the Virginia, Nev., En
terprise, of March 26, three “sports” beat
a faro game in this town by a stratagem.
One of them asked the dealer to take n
drink, and in bringing the drink he car
ried it on a huge waiter, which ho held close
to the dealer’s breast. AVhile the platter
was there held, another of the trio
changed faro boxes, takiftg away the box
from which the deal was being made arid
leaving in its place a box in which the
cards had been stocked. This trick not
being observed, tlie men who played it
had things all their own way, and had
drawn from the bank $1,450, when a part
ner iu the game crime into the room, and
discovered the trick that had been played.
A trick of this kind is considered fair in
gambling—any way to get tbe money out
of the bank so long ns yon do not take a
olub and linoc); the dealct off bis scat.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Faith is neoessary to victory,
If you huve done a good deed, boast not
of it.
Confession of a fault makes half amende
for it.
The pursuit of even the best things
ought to bo calm und tranquil.
Is it not strange that some men hate
vice and are vieioviH? love virtue und do
not follow it ?
A man may be said to know thoroughly
only what he cun correctly communicate
to others.
Treason doth never prosper ; wlmt is the
reason ? AViiy, if it prosper, none doth
care to call it treason.
Do not be above your business. Etc
who turns up his nose at his work, quar
rels with his bread aud butter.
Say what is right, and let others say
what they please. Yon are responsible
for only one tongue, even if you are u mar
ried man.
A thought is often original, though you
have uttered it a hundred times. It has
come to you over anew route, by new
expiess train of ussociutioiis.
Real fidelity may be rare, but it exists
in heart. They only deny its worth anil
power who never loved a friend nor la
bored to make u friend happy,
NO. 50.
There are no songs comparable to the
I songs of Zion, no orations equal to those
of tlie prophets and no politics like those
which tlie Heriptuica teach. — MiUon.
Tho prudent see only the difficulties,
the bold only the advantages of a great
enterprise; the hero sees b tb, diminishes
those, makes these preponderate and con
quers.
True glory consists in doing wlmt de
serves to be written, in writing wbat de
serves to be read, and iu so livtog as lo
make the world happier und better for
our living in it.
Let onr young men remember that their
chief happiness iu life depends upon tlielr
utter faith iu women. No worldly wis
dom, no misanthropic philosophy, no gen
eralization, cau cover or weaken this fun
damental truth.
Sunshine is beautiful and joy-inspiring
always. All things animate and illuminate
take on anew life in its jlreseuee. Not a
(lower but grutelully recognizes it, Hot a
song-bird but curula tho sweeter under its
touch.
Tlie great end of all stiffly, all acquire
ment, are ability aud tlispositfou to dis
charge more effectually onr duties as men
and as citizens. He who is not a better
broteer, neighbor, friend and citizen, be
cause of his superior knowledge may very
well doubt whether his knowledge is really
superior to the unlettered many around
him.
Love’s Strategem.
The Baltimore Gazette days r “This is
is the story of a dowry gamed by strate
gem which conies to us from abroad. Two
wealthy bachelors lived iu the vicinity of
Paris. With them lived a young girl named
Marie. French heroines in humble life,
nine times iu ten, are n allied Marie, arid
the tenth time Lizotte. Marie was pretty,
fresh and modest. Like most French girls
of her station, she was frugal and neut.—
Bbo must havo a lover, of course. Bach a
prize wits not born to bloom ufiscen. Tho
lover was a young artisan of Paris. Need
we say he was all manly perfection? He
was. So at least Marie, nil confusion and
blushes, informed her employers, the two
rich old bachelors. She was sorry; she
! must leave them; she was tobemnrried.
j In vain they tried to dissuade her. If they
j could find a place for her husband, she
would stay, she replied; otherwise she
could not. She could not be happy with
out her Henri (and here she lifted npjjer
face and applied the corner of her apron to
her eyes) would go mad, ha loved her so;
ho was so devoted; so good; such au an
gel without wings. So Marie carried her
point. Before she had gotten through hex
little pieco of acting, tire old bachelors
were crying, too. It was so affecting.—
Marie was so true; so sincere; so fond of
tbetn, and so loth to leave them; so sim
ple-hearted aud without guile. They re
solved that they would bring her name be
fore the municipality as a candidate for the
prize given to the ‘liosiere’ of that year.—
So Marie was to go-—poor Mario. Bui then
she was to go with Henri—happy Marie.
But Mario had resolved otherwise, and
when a womun will she will, depend on it.
Slay she would and put money in her
purse also, and Henri should stay, too.—
She knew the bachelors had in the bouse
nearly a hundred thousand francs, about
which they were always iu a flutter. The
residence of the old men was some
distant from the main road, and stood near
the rivei Seine. It was a lonely, gloomy
location, and on the night iu question the
winds swept through the lull larches sur
rounding the munsiou with doleful anil
mournful cadence. It wits the night after
Marie had announced her determination
to leave them. Robbers were hi the bouse.
The bachelor brothers shivefed with ter
ror and were unable to sneak. In rushes
the brave Marie. ‘You have a gun,’ cried
she; ‘protect yourselves.’ The terrified old
men shivertd the more, and staved at In i.
‘Cowards (’ said the brave girl, WlOlolull.' .
‘I wish I were a man for five minutes.’—
Just thou came a heavy crash upon ti e
apartments below. ‘AVe shall be murder
ed in onr beds,' said the girls. A,Ve will be
found by the police in the morning with
our throats cut from ear to ear. Psi>
fools, give me the gun.’ hho seized the
double-barrelled gun that wan lying on the
shelf, and started down stairs, while the
two frightened men watched her without
saying a word. Presently bang went the
gun, aud a groan was heard. Bang went
the second barrel, and a scream of pain
resounded through the house that caused
the blood of tlie brothers to run cold. No
one slept that night. In the morning marhs
of blood were found in tlie hall and the
path along which the bleeding body was
dragged. The robbers had, it seemed,
been severely wounded, but had gotten
off. The bravery of the pretty and modest
Marie was the. talk of the country side—
The two old batchelors were profuse iu
gratitude. They offered her a dowry. iSiio
accepted on condition that she was not to
leave them. ‘You might be again attacked
by robbers,' said sin, ingei u usly. So
they settled it that Maria and her faithful
Hemi were to live in the tower part of the
house and see that the whole establish
ment was kept in perfect order, and espe
cially that no robbers were allowed on tho
premises. Henri married Murie, und they
accepted tho dower and the house. Venrs
passed, and recently the real facts of the
midnight robbery came to light. Both
the old bachelors were dead, and bi and
willed Mario another thirty thousand
francs. The brave girl did not refuse it.
It turned out, however that the robin rs
were not plnml. Henri acted as tlie bur
glar, the blood was from a lamb killed tor
the pnrpose, and tlie plot wns but a ri so
of tbe two lovers to open the hearts aud
purses of the tvro old misers.”