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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.”