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VOLI ME X.
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Office* on Colons* Street* professional Carts, 3:tr. “ Bis;. SHERWOOD. ATTORNKY-AT LAW, PtacerYttle, El Dorado Comity, California. Office —Dorsey*, Buildinp (up-stair,), Main at. (ma«tf J THOS. J. ORGON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, El Dorado, El Dorado County. (ma17 F. A. HORNBLOWER, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW, Will practice in all the Court* of the 11th Judicial District. OFFICE — At Pilot llill, El Dorado Coun ty. iuayl7-3m p. w. Sjkiuuuwc, fln. E Williams, SANDERSON A WILLIAMS, ATTORN KYP-AT-LAW. Office—Donsla*!.' BuilJir.r. neat door to the t'ary lloufe, Main street, dec d O. w. OORDON, ATTORNEY- A T - L A W . Tirflnia City, N. T. Offl-e in Collins' Buildinr. B. street. [n ■■*29 A. C. PEARLE, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, Office in Douglass' Buildin* (up stairs), Main street. Pia, rrvilie. fel.rt *m* JOBS Him B. C. §LO**. HUME A 8LOSS, ATTOBNEY 8-AT-It A W, Offlee in C ity Block, PUcmille. 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PLAZA BOOK STOKE, PLACER V ILLS, lias ju,t received a splendid assortment Standard and Miscellaneous Works, stationer*, school books. eitrr BOOLS, tors, « 0,D r '**' ■oitTsas, iC "ttl>eoS9, ROMAN sraisot*, KTC., Selected «?xi»rtf»*ly for the Corn. r J at greatly reduced rate*. Also, CrTLFEV, ▼louvft, iasir books no.. Trade, and selling AOEN TS For Sacramento Union, Alta California, , Mirror, etc. NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICAIS Kept constantly on hand, and sold unusually low. oct4 It. S. HERNANDEZ. S. HARRIS, Corner of Main Street and the Plata , ruCBtvii.il, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN Havana Cigars, Tobacco, Books, Sta tionery, Cutlery, Playing Cards, Yankee Motions, Fruits, Green .and Dried, Nuta and Candles, AT SAD TKASCISCO TRICES. Alto,receives by every Steauerthe latest Atlantic and European Newspapers, Magazines and Periodi cals, and all the WEEKLY CALIFORNIA NEWSPA PERS and MAGAZINES. octl ASSAY OFFICE. COPPER, _____ SILVER; AND GOLD ORES CAREFULLY ASSAYED I A.iHVlDUON, Main street, PlacerTille- THE MOUNTAIN DEMOCRAT. PLACERVILLE, EE DORADO COUNTY, CALIFORNIA, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1863. THE PRESSED RAN. Many yeftrs igo, when I was a young clergyman, I became incumbent of a par ish on the coast. The living was but a petty affair, when looked at from a pecu niary point of view, and the duties were arduous enough. There was no residence for the vicar’s use; the lesser tithes were small in amount, and not very regularly paid; and the parish consisted of a large noisy seaport, full of dirt and vie*. Un der such circumstances, it is not surpri sing that few could be found who were willing to accept so uninviting a post, and that the benefice for some months ‘went a begging.' My friend's shook (he ic uMs 7, the Rev. Joseph Hawley, was gazetted to the vicarage of St. 1’eter’s, Sallyport 1 was made to take such preferment, they said. Within the memory of man, the living of St. Peter's had never been held by a resident parson. Old Dr. Stall, that comfortable prebendary and pluralist, had pocketed the lesser tithes for forty years, far away in his comfortable residence un der the shadow of Mossminster Cathedral, and a starved curate bad done the work. In those days, zealous clergymen wera much more rate than at present. I was no better than my compeers, nor do I wish to advance anywpretension to superior merit; but I was one of those young mem bers of the church militant who were piqued at the success of Whitfield and Wesley, and grieved at the practical hea thenism of masses of our poor country men. That was why I became vicar of St. Pe ter's. They had sore need of a spiritual guide-, those poor inhabitants of Sallyport, and no less need of a word of sound ad vice at critical moments in their reckless lives. It was the war time, the time of the great old war against Prance and the for midatde ruler ol Fiance, and Uiitain was straining every nerve to cope with an an tagonist who leagued aga'nst her ulmost all the might of Europe. We were fight ing too haul abroad to have ltisure furre foi ming at home. The morality of the seaports, in especial, was lamentably low; there was a frightful amount of drunken ness, and there was not much more reli- ■ giou than among some benighted tribes of savages. During the first few months of my in cumbency, I had an uphill tight to wage, but 1 persevered, and 1 was thankful for the results of my persistency. The peo ple, w ho first stared at me, or jeered me, learned to respect their vicar,and in some cases, at least, to listen to and like hirn. Sallyport was a town that depended part ly on its merchant shipping, partly on trial immoral trade of privateering which the long struggle against Napoleon had fostered into a regular profession. Ac cordingly, there were times when the whole place rang with revelry, when the fiddles played all night at the sign of the Valiant Sailor or the King tieorge, and when the exulting privateersmen would lling gold and silver out of the public house windows, to be- scrambled for by the mob without. There were also times when bad luck prevailed, when all were poor and d>jest ed, and when my parishioners w ere in de spair. I am glad to think that I did some good. The good they did me was proba bly in teaching me to entertain more hope and trust in hum m nature, however de based, than 1 hud previously felt. They were a kindly generous race, that am [dubious population, in spite of all their faults. I had been a twelvemonth among them, and was tolerably popular, when the old woman in whose house L lodged came one evening to announce that ‘Mary Wade wished to speak to me, if 1 pleased.’ Mary Wade was shown into my little angular parlor, w here, auiid couch shells, stuffed parrots, ostrich eggs, and dried cuttle fish, I w as busy with iny immature sermon. ‘Good evening, Mary; what can I do for Gracious, what's the matter!'’ For Mary Wade, the instant Mrs. Sim mons the landlady had closed the door, put the corner of her shawl to her eyes, and began to weep and sob most bitterly, hut in a silent and suppressed lashion, as if she feared to call attention toiler grief. ‘Dear me!’ said I, rising from my arm chair, ‘I am sorry to see you in such af fliction, poor girl. I hope your father is not taken ill For I knew that the retired naval quar termaster, Mary's only surviving parent, was very frail and old, and I could not conjecture any more probable cau>c for her agitation than the snapping of the slight thread w hich bound that aged man to file. Mai v herself was a pretty, dark eyed girl of modest demeanor, the most regu lar church goer in the parish, and the quickcst and neatest needlewoman in Sal Ivport. The w ildest youngster in the town would stop respectfully aside, as Mary Wade passed along the pavement with her work basket and her calm, hon est eyes: and fierce termagants, whose tongues mauled their neighbors cruelly, w ere forced to own that old Wade bad a pattern daughter, and the best of nurses in his dotage. ‘O no, sir; Heaven be thanked, father’s well; bu't I’m in grc.lt trouble, and indeed, sir, you alone can help me. ‘lie sure that if it is in nlV power to serve you, the will shall not be Jacking, said I, soothingly ; though I had not i!: e slightest idea what could have happened. Dot I induced the girl to sit down and compose herself a little, before continuing licr.appeal for aid. Mary Wade sat down, wiped away the tears that stained her rosy cheeks, and burst out with a gasp : ‘0, sir, it’s about Henry.’ I knew perfectly well who ‘Henry’ was, and in what relation he stood to the pret tv weeping petitioner. Henry Mills was one of the finest young seamen on all the coast ; he was as brave as a lion, and his character was unblemished. I had heard with pleasure that he had been promised a place as fourth officer on board an In diaman, and that on his return from his first voyage I was to publish the bans of marriage between Mary Wade, spinster, and himself. The young lover I had seen but twice; he bad been chiefly absent on coasting voyages; for although the privateer cap tains were eager to secure so flrstrate a hand for their vessels, young Mills had always declined their offers. ‘Mary and her father didn’t like it,’ the lad bad the moral courage to reply to more than one oily-tongued tempter, who told of French and Spanish prizes, of neb ships embayed among the sandy islets of the West In dies, and of sailors who bad won a sack ful of dollars by the flash of a cutlass, or the snapping of a pistol. Henry Mills was naturally of an adventurous disposi tion, and I can well imagine that he often looked with a sort of envy at the depar ture of a gallant ship’s company, flushed with hope and confidence, on the then fa vorite errand of plundering the enemy.— But old Wade, a very sober and religious man, had scruples regarding this rough and wanton trade, scruples which bis daughter shared, and which his iutended ,SQB-\ifclaw revyeet'vtv So, when poor Mary Wwde sobbed out the -words, *0, sir, it's about Henry,’ I was fairly puzzled. ‘Henry !’ said I; ‘surely he is at sea, and out of the Downs by this time ; and in a few months we shall hope to see him come back from Calcutta to claim his wife. The Clive was to have sailed a week since.’ ‘Ah, your reverence, but the Clive did not sail.’ sobbed Mary; ‘and now my poor dear Henry will be taken by the press gang, and sent off to the fleet and sea, as so many of our poor lads have been, and he will be killed in these horrid wars. I shall never, never see him more.’ And the girl wept more piteously than ever, struggling the while to repress her sobs, lest Mrs. Simmons should hear them and grow inquisitive; for my landlady, though a good sort of a woman, was an inveterate gossip, and publicity would be fatal to the plan which Mary had already formed in her head. A plan there was, and no bad one, to be the device of a young woman of nineteen, whose life had hitherto been spent in the simplest domestic duties. But before coming to this notable scheme, which will develop itself in due time, I must point out what was the danger against which it was directed. Men were in great request at that time for the royal navy. The bounty was high, hut the service, in those days of Hogging and discomfort, was by no means so at tractive as at present. It was on the press gang that the Admiralty chiefly relied for manning the fleet, and at this particular period the man of war tender Grasper, commanded by Lieutenant Barnes, lay in Sallyport harbor, and her crew were busy on shore. As yet, the Grasper’s men had made but few captures of able seamen, at least, for the few sailors whom the town still contained were hidden away most care fully in artful places of concealment, and did not venture to stir abroad until the pressgang should be gone. But Mary Wade had just learned the fact that Lieu tenant Barnes had discovered the biding place of a number of seamen, who were stowed away in an obscure public bouse, in one of the waterside suburbs, and that this preserve of human beings were to be pounced upon that very night. ‘And Henry’s there, sir,’ said the poor girl, in a timid whisper, ‘he is there along with the rest, and will be taken with them. Oh, sir, it was so unfortunate, the delay about his going up to London to join iiis ship. But the Clive proved to be in want of some repairs in her rigging or, masts, or sotnet* ing, and is still in dock; and the captain wrote word Henry need not come up ; and he was here when the Grasp, r came into port, and was obliged to bide like the other sailors, because Lieutenant Barnes—that cruel man — had sent a party by land from l’idemouth to intercept any poor fellows trying to es cape by the road. And now they are ail snared, like birds in a net, and in a few hours they'll all be in irons on board the king's ship.’ 1 was myself much alarmed by thisan nonneement. I had long taken a good deal of interest in this humble pair of lov ers ; though I had but a slight acquaint ance personally, with the young mariner, I still regretted much to hear that his prospects of happiness should be thus nipped in the bud, and Mary's distress would have moved a more callous obser ver than myself. I tried to comfort her, by suggesting that Henry Mills would be released on ex hibiting his written proofs that he filled the post of fourth officer in an Iudiaman; but Mary replied that this chance was de nied him; he had no written appointment to show, nothing but the captain’s letter, and Lieutenant Barnes—a hard, over bearing man, detested by all the seafaring population of that coast—would laugh his expostulations to scorn. ‘I heard, sir,’ said the girl, ‘that the Lieutenant was specially anxious to get my lierry into his clutches. He has got a list, soun how, of most of the Sallyport men, and he knows there’s no sailor among them all,except perhaps Minns and Hatchet, who are away to South America, to compare with my dear Henry, and they do so want men to fight the dreadful bat tles, and ’ Here she broke down altogether. ‘But what can I do to assist in this mat tery’ asked I, in great perplexity, for Mary kept sobbing out incoherent assev ! orations that ‘I alone—I alone, could save them both, if I pleased.’ ‘Of course I will do all I can,’ said I, as I paced the room; ‘but I own I can see no way out of this distressing atfair. I fear it would be of little use to speak to the ollicer; he is a severe man, and not very scrupulous, or report does him great in justice. If I were to go to the place, and then give warning to the men con cealed— ’ ‘Ah ! no, sir; it is too late for that,’ said the girl, shaking her head. ‘Before I heard of what was to bo done, which came about through a neighbor's child overhearing the talk of the men-ol-war’s men, every- way was beset and guarded. I dared not go there. I don't even think t'ue poor lads know their danger, and, my dear sir, they don’t know they arc sold.’ ‘Sold!’ I exclaimed. ‘Yes, sir,’ answered Mary. ‘The child I spoke of heard the tender’s crew boast ing among themselves how they had trap ped the wariest of the merchant seamen at last, and how the landlady of the Blue ! Dolphin—to think any one should be so ; base—had betrayed the poor men that were in hiding, to get fifteen guineas from i the Lieutenant.’ This treachery did not much surprise ine, for I knew that the crimps, at whose houses sailors Were hidden until they could safely go on board their ships, not ' unfreijuently gave secret Information to the pressgang, when bribed sufficiently. However, I again declared my readiness to do all in my power, while avowing that I could suggest no resource in the dilem ma. Mary, however, was prepared with a scheme, 'which at first seemed crude and rash to me, but which I willingly agreed to essay, in default of any other plan. ‘ Thank you, sir, a thousand, thousand times, whether you succeed or not in sa ving my poor Henry. I will pray to God for you till my dying day, dear Mr. Hawley.’ So saying, Mary Wade dried her eyes, wip$d away the glistening stains of tear drops from her face; and tripped demure ly from the room and down the passage, wishing Mrs. Simmons a goodnight as she went by, in a quiet, cheerful tone, as if her heart were not full to bursting of an agony of hope and fear. She was gone, and I had inv work to do. I felt rather nervous about it.it was so foreign to my usual mode of life ; it was an errand of mercy, no doubt, but it hardly seemed of a clerical nature. I was putting away my unfinished sermon, and bad my hat on, and my greatcoat, ready to sally forth, when Mrs. Simmons came, truj to the usual hour, jingling with the tea-tray. ‘Lawks, Mr. Hawley, I’d no idea you was going out any more,’ said my landla dy, with just a shade of tartness in her tone ; ‘ and without your tea, too; what a pity you let me toast the crumpets.’ Batchelors of mild disposition are not uncommonly a little henpecked by their landladies, housekeepers, or indeed nny middle aged female with whom they have anything to do, and I was a very punctu al man in general, and given to early hours. So, I daresay, I winced some what at Mrs. Simmon’s remark; but briefly excusing my apparent caprice on the ground of a visit to a parishioner who was in some danger, I hurried out. It was a dark night in foggy December, not very cold, but damp and raw. The streets of Sallyport,unclean and ill-paved, presented a most gloomy appearance as I groped my wav along them by such fee ble light as the wretched oil lamps, sparsely hung in the main thoroughfare, afforded. I knew the Blue Dolphin, a house of resort for merchant seamen, in rather an out-of-the-way nook, but I had never visited the neighborhood save in broad daylight; and it cost mo some trouble to find it on the night in question. After twice losing ray way among narrow alleys, paved with sharp pebbles, and where the crazy wooden dwellings,caulk ed and pitched like so many fishing smacks, were tapestried with nets and perfumed with herrings, I at last found ! myself within sight of the creaking sign board, on whose ground of faded pink the Blue Dolphin displayed his cerulian scales and courted custom. As I approached, two men, wrapped in those rough blue coats which sailors call ‘ gregos,’ and with glazed hats slouched over their faces, sprang forward from un der an archway on the right; while two more, who might have been twin-brothers to the Grst couple, emerged from a blind alley on the left. I heard their cutlasses clink as they moved, and I saw the brass bound stock of a pistol peeping out of the breast-pocket of the man who caught me rudely by the wrist. The pressgang ! ‘What cheer, brother! 1 ’ growled my captor, holding me fast. ‘ Whither so fast, at this time ’o night?’ ‘ What sor,t of fish have you netted, Bill ?’ said another deep voice. ‘ Is he worth picking up to nibble his majesty's biscuit, eh ?’ • lie’s only a Jand lubber; don’t you twig bis shore-going logs?’ grumbled the redoubtable Bill, whose grip was like the pressure of a vice. ‘Still, he might do for a waistcr, if not for one of the af ter-guard.’ I now recovered from the first shock of surprise. I proclaimed my name and sacred calling, demanded my instant re lease, and warned them that they would be punished if the)' molested a clergy man. The men grumbled between their teeth | some allusion to ‘gammon,’ and ‘a cock that wouldn’t fight,’ when, luckily for me, a little sunburned imp of a midship man came on the scene,followed by three seamen, one of whom had a lantern.— The moment I saw the light glinting on the boy’s gold-laced cap, 1 knew deliver ance was at hand. I renewed my appeal. ‘Avast, you fools!’ cxcluinied the youngster. ‘Lift the iantern Suiithers; throw the glim on the chap’s face—so. — Bill Jeffreys, you dunderheaded son of a sea-cook, let the gentleman go. I beg your pardon, sir, for these fellows’ blun der, but generally, in the dark, all’s fish that come to our net. Hope they hav’nt hurt you ?’ I hastily assured the little officer .that I was none the worse lor the rough hand ling of his followers, took my departure at once,and in two seconds more was tap ping at the door of the Blue Dolphin. No notice was taken of the knocking until I ventured to rattle the latch up and down, and to rtip smartly with my foot against the panels. Then, indeed, there was a great stamping and shuttling to be heard inside ; a light appeared at a lattice overhead, and the window was cautiously opened, while a female voice said, ‘Who's there ? You can’t come in, for were all just gone to bed.’ ‘ To bed at nine o'clock, Mrs. Smart! — Your usual hours must have been strange-' ly altered, I should say,’ answered I. ‘Be so kind as to admit me at once. I must speak to some of the men who are here.’ ‘Men!’ exclaimed the voice from the upper window. ‘ You’re talking of what you don’t understand. There’s no men here but my husband and the lame hostler.* ‘ I must see the persons I seek,’ I re plied with energy, but still in a cautious tone. ‘ You ought to know my voice.— I am Mr. Hawley, the vicar, and I will and must be let in.’ A good deal of consultation took place, in alternate whispers and growls,between Mrs. Smart and some one I guessed to be her husband, the landlord ; and then the light was withdrawn, and the treacherous iandiady came down to admit me, fawn ing and apologising for the delay in a manner that sickened me, cognizant as I was of her having sold the liberties of her guests for a bribe. I was at once ushered into the long low room, opening on the stable-vard, where the concealed sailors Were assembled.— Through a cloud of tobacco smoke—the room itself being dimly lighted by a sea coal fire and a coop's: nV won lamps fed vritb coarse whale oil—I could make out that about thirty men were present.— These were, for the most part, strong, able-bodied sailors—some mere lads, oth ers with grizzled hair and weather-beaten faces; but the nautical garb and bearing of all were plain enough. They were gathered in knots of four or Bve, conversing, drinking their grog from tumblers and pannikins, or moodily puff ing their clay-pipes. My appearance at first created some stir, but several of the men knew me, and told the others they need not fear—‘it was only Mr. Hawley, the good parson of Sallyport.’ Poor fel lows I as they respectfully made way for me to pass them, I loathed the treachery which had betrayed them to the kidnap pers, and I would have warned them to Hec, had flight been possible ; but I well knew that every avenue was guarded,and that, although the merchant sailors were well provided with bludgeons and knob bed sticks, they had little chance against the trained attack of the press-gang. I therefore turned to the corner of the room, where a tine-looking young sailor, taller by the head than any there, and with a very pleasing expression in his handsome, honest face, sat alone, lost in melancholy thoughts. I approached.— * Henry Mills,’ said f. in a subdued tone, * I wish to speak with you apart from the rest. You may remember me, Mr. Haw ley, the vicar of Sallyport. I was asked to come by some one who takes an inter est in you.’ ‘By Mary, sir, was it?’ asked the young man, springing up. ‘ Have you a message for me, sir, from the dear girl ?’ ‘ Hush!’ said f, coming nearer, ‘hush ! 1 I cannot tell you what I have to tell, un til you promise to obey my instructions in all this business. I cannot save you unless you will do so—unless you will promise not to be rash. And it was to ask that I would render you a service that your sweetheart, Mary Wade, came to me this night.’ ‘ Bless her kind little heart!’ said Mills warmly; ‘ but, indeed, sir, there’s no special danger; we’re safe here, and the Grasper’s crew can’t find us; and early to-morrow— ’ ‘ To-morrow will bo too late,’ whisper ed I. ‘I cannot explain matters here.— A hasty word would ruin all. Let us have a lew minutes' talk in some quieter room than this.’ ‘ Well, sir, if you wish it. The tap’s quite empty, and wo can talk there all by ourselves. There's a lantern in the passage, and I can unhook it os we go by.’ The conversation lasted about ten min utes, for every moment was precious.— At the end of that time young Mills, his oilskin-covered hat slouched over his face, and the collar of his monkey-jacket turned up so as almost to conceal his mouth and chin, returned to the long low room, and sat down in the same secluded corner, apparently lost in thought And almost at the same inement, the Rev. Joseph Hawley, incumbent of the Parish of Sallyport, quitted the public house, acknowledging, in the curtest and most laconic fashion, the profuse civili ties and verbose good-wishes of the land lady of the Blue Dolphin. The man-of-war’s men were hanging about the archway and the blind alley as thick as bees, and humming fortli a note of preparation ; but as the gleam of their lantern felt on the long great coat, the white neckcloth, umbrella, and beaver hat of their late captive, they opened their ranks and let him pass. ‘Good-night, your reverence! pleasant dreams, old boy !' said the young mid sbiptCLan, with a giggle at his own wit, and the seamen gave a smothered laugh, which ceased as an important looking per sonage in a cloak, with cocked-hat and clinking sword, came up — Lieutenant Barnes himself. But even the Lieutenant had no power to stay a minister of reli gion, and Mr. Hawley went on his nay unmolested. The proceedings of the vicar of Sally port that night were very singular; he did not go home to his lodgings, his tea and crumpets, but hung about the dark streets till the hour of ten, when the royal mail, witli horn and clash of hoofs and wheels, rcdcoated guard and bluff coachman,came dashing through Sallyport; and then who should appear at the coach-door, just be fore it drove off from the office, but the Rev. Joseph Hawley. He modestly announced that ho was going to London. An inside place was vacant; he occupied it. ‘No luggage, sir? | All right, Thomas.’ Up jumped the red- : coated guard, crack went the whip, twang j went the horn, and off rolled the coach j towards London. The pressgang exam ined the royal mail two miles out of Sal lyport, hut found no runaway seamen.— What, to them, was the name of the Rev. Josepli Hawley in the waybill, or the pres ence of the Rev. Joseph Hawley in the interior of the vehicle! At exactly ten minutes to ten, the men-of-war’s men and : marines, with clubs, cutlasses, and crow bars, broke into the Bluo Dolphin public ; house, and captured every man there.— j This was not effected without a dreadful ] fight. Bones were broken, many wounds ' and bruises exchanged, and more than | one pressed man was taken senseless on board the Grasper. But Henry Mills made no resistance ; he was taken as easily as a lamb is secur ed by the butcher, and the captors were half disappointed that so gallant and pow erfully built a young man should have shown the white feather. However, when Lieutenant Barnes, at half-past eleven o’clock reviqwed his pris oners on the deck of the Grasper, by the light of a f hip's lantern, he found out with dismay that the prisoner in the pea-jacket and glazed hat was not Henry Mills at all, but the Rev. Joseph Hawley, M. A., vicar of Sallyport; and he made the further dis covery, that Henry Mills having changed clothes with his friend, the clergyman in question, was already far beyond danger, speeding as fast towards London as four active horses could convey him. I pass over the oaths and lamentations, both loud and deep, of the crestfallen Lieutenant Barnes. But the laugh was against him. and ho was glad to go to sea in the Grasper before nightfall on the fol lowing day. Half a year later, I had the pleasure of uniting in holy matrimony the hands of Henry Mills, third officer in the Olive. Indiaman, and pretty Mary Wade. Tkcth Is mighty and will prevail. From tie Hew Hsmpoilro Itua lid CMOS. Ulnki' Conscript Pens. The man who hag been sent from Mas sachusetts into this State to sec to “catch ing” and “ taking care ” of conscripts, and whose august and sublime presence graces the capital of New Hampshire, has been engaged,with a large retinue of sub alterns, in constructing a huge pen upon the fair grounds in which to confine men who were most unfortunately born white, upon our soil,and have hitherto been sup posed—foolishly—to have some rights worthy of respect among their fellow men. This pen of Ilinks’ is constructed of wood, well secured and picketed with iron* It is several feet high, and bears a strong 'resemblance to" those imaginary pens which the Abolitionists have been telling about for several years as scattered all over the South for securing the poor downtrodden slaves. How pathetically they have talked and wept crocodile tears over the miseries of these slave pens of the South. Uow they have stirred up the feelings of our people. How they have expatiated in the pulpits and ros trums and through the newspaper press upon the horrors of humanity incarcera ted like impounded beasts, down in Vir ginia nnd the Carolines. The)’ have turned the world upside down and con structed a literal hell upon earth with its lurid fires glaring defiance to Heaven all on account of a subject matter of which they were as ignorant as an unborn child. They have sneaked into the churches, in to the parlors, drawing-rooms, nurseries, boudoirs and sculleries, crept into the prayer meetings nnd sewing circles, de fied the Creator and desecrated the best of his works, all about the slavery and slave pens of the South. They befooled one-third of the people and elected an Abolition President who never received a single vote in ten States of the Union, because his platform was a declaration of war upon sovereign States, and upon their clear constitutional rights, as ex pounded by the Supreme Court. They got up this war, deluged the land with blood, and converted our heritage of free dom and equal rights into a huge Golgo tha of human skulls. Now they are building slave pens for our white citizens, binding them in manacles and thrusting them in like hunted beasts, because they have no business to be white unless they have three hundred dollars to pay for the luxurious privilege. Ilinks thinks he is doing a smart thing. He is a Massachu setts scurvy politician, educated in the Jacobinical school of Sumner and Garri son, in mental capacity a plcbian, in physical manners a flunkey. He is our New Hampshire slave driver, imported for this special occasion, under the aus pices of our Gilmore administration. He strides our capital like a gorgeous Colos sus, and no free citizen, or no citizen heretofore considered free, has the right to ask “ Why do ye so V” It is a part of t.ie war policy, the military necessity of the federal administration to overthrow the free States of the North in order to subjugate the slave States of the South, to make conscript slaves of our own white citizens in the great work of giving “freedom ” to the negroes of other States. The work goes bravely on and Hinks’ conscript pen is receiving its victims.— Detachments have been sent from this city during the past week to swell the solemn throng. And still they come.— These ample acres where cattle and hogs were wont to be displayed to gaping, in telligent crowds in times just past, are now the arena of a dilferent kind of ex hibition, with an enticing premium of hu man blood as the only stimulant for cora petitjon. Granting, for the moment, all the pre tended necessities of the Conscription,we have the right to demand that our citi zens who are forced to take upon them selves the dangers of the war, shall be treated like men having human feelings and emotions, and not like brutes or gal ley slaves. But we hear no word of pro test from any administration satrap. No administration newspaper has a breath of fault to find. The shoddy contractors, official plunderers and thieves, look on, and like the Pharisee thank God that they are not as the poor conscript, hut they fast twice a week and give tithes of all they possess, sublimely inspired with in their halls of damask, with walls fes tooned from the fruits of plunder at the South. What has become of that vast exuberance of human compassion and sympathy which throbbed their bosoms in behalf of the happy and contented ne groes of the plantation ? It still runs in frothy channels, the pestiferous malaria of the land, the brave man's scourge, the patriot’s hate, the banc of liberty, the curse of humanity. Until this is’check ed, dried up forever, there is no hope for our country or our race. Wno was Petek f—There ore few po sitions of more delicacy than in interro gating Sunday schools, especially young scholars. This is shown by experience of a clergyman who was opposed to hav ing any mirth in Sunday schools He thought it injurious to all and unneces sary to the entertainment of the children. He offered to address the school and show how they could be well entertained seri ously. The following dialogue ensued.— “Children, I am going to tell you about Peter. Who knows who Peter was ?” — No answer. “ Cannot any one—those large girls—tell me who Pe'er was ?”— “ I can,” -said a littlo fellow over in the corner. “ Ah, that’s a good boy. Now you come up on the platform by my side, and stand up in this chair and tell those girls who Peter was.” Jimmy did as he was bid and in the shrill voice of child hood repeated, “Peter, Peter, was a pumpkin eater, had a wife and couldn’t keep her." At this point he was request ed to stop, but not before the full point was taken by the school, and Mother Goose’s poem appreciated. Mr. Toot coming home late one night from “ meeting,” was met at the door by his wife. “ Pretty time of night, Mr. Toot, for you to come home—pretty time, three o’clock in the morning; you, a respectable man in the community, and the father of a family I" “ ’Tisn’t three—it’s only one, I heard it strike ; council always sits till one o’clock." “My soul! Mr. Toot, you’re drunk—as true as I’m alive you’re drunk. It’s three in the morning.’’ " I say, Mrs. Toot, I’m sure it’s one, because I heard it strike one as I came around the corner, two or three times." NUMBER«. A Rebel Pobtbait or Jam. bmmmr The following pen m4 ink portrett-ia from the ChaHa»eegnSf|pi We should judge that it was not ftTJom cortnctZl- Abraham Lincoln is s mb above the medium height. 'HepoMkfhe six foot mark by an inch or is nw boned, shamble knock kneed, pigeon-toed, s<mHHH, s shape* less skeleton is a very tuBgb, eery dirty, unwholesome skin. His hair is or was black, and shaggy, his eyes dark and Bre* less, like a coal grate in winter time. His lips are large and protrude beyond the natural level of the face, but are pale and smeared with tobacco juice. His teeth are filthy. In oorjovenile days we were struck with Virgil’s description of the ferryman who rowed the disembodied souls of men over the river of death.— Lincoln, if our memory fail us not, must be a near kinsman of that official of the other world. At all events they look alike, and, if a relationship be claimed when Abraham reaches the ferry, be will be able, we do not doubt, to go over free of toll. In the next place, his voice is coarse, untutored, harsh—the voice of one who has no intellect, snd less morsl nature. His msnners are low in the ex treme, and where his talk is not obscene it is senseless. In a word, Lincoln, born and bred a rail-splitter, is a rail-splitter still. Bottom, the weaver, was not more out of place in the lap of Titania than her on the throne of the ex-republic. Tns Lincoln Administration.— For two years and a half Mr. Lincoln has been President of the United States. What miserable and disastrous years they have been to our country ! "How much of prosperity and happiness have bens. de stroyed— how many bright hopes have been scattered to the winds 1 Of how many States may it be ssM, with trnth, that Mr. Lincoln found them a garden and has left them deserts; of how many flourishing institutions that he found in reality, and left them but a name; of bow many families that he found them united and prosperous, while tbey are now de cimated by war and divided by faction ( The exchequer of America was full, and is empty ; her credit was high, and is all but extinct; snd the evil of to-dsy is re garded by those who can foresee and cal culate the future as altogether light and endurable compared with the disaster* which are looked for from to-morrow.— And yet, another year and a half must bo endured before the people will be able to escape from the despotic rule of the pres ent f Administration whose imbecility and mismanagement have brought so much distress upon them. Patience I The Voice of Aroostook, Maine.— The following comprehensive resolution « as passed by the democrats of Aroos took, Maine ! Resolved, That whilo our beloved country was governed by Democratic principles snd Democratic rule, it showed to the world a people prosperous, happy and blest beyond example. Two years of Republican Abolition rale has garner* ed as its fruits i A violated Constitution. Two hundred thousand new mods graves. Three hundred thousand cripples. Four hundred thousand orphans and widows. A national debt of fifteen hundred mil lions of dollars. A burden of taxation far above the re sources of the people. A shinplaster currency. An almost utter prostration of all busi' ness except official swindling. A whole nation impoverished, demor* alized and disheartened, and, worse than all, fast becoming infidel to the elemen tary principles of free government. Toe Result of Street Education.— Keep your children off the street By that we mean, do not let them make acquaintances on the sidewalks. If they frequeut the public schools, you must es tablish a sort of verbal quarantine at yonr own door, and examine the youthful tongue once a day, to see if it has not got a secretion of slander upon it Mrs. Careful's little son Manfred came running into the paternal mansion the other day, shouting to the cook : “ Now, then, old girl, let’s see you slap up that dinner 1” “ Why, Manfred 1” began his astonish ed mother, “ where did you learn such language 7 Who have you been playing with r “ Me." said the hopeful; “ I play with Dick Turner, ’cause he’s a bully boy with a glass eye ! That’s so." The fond mother was about to express some astonishment at the optical mister* tune of Dick, when the son continued : “ Ma, I’m going to buy a plug. Jem Smith wears one, and I'm as big as he." “ A plug !" gasped the mother. “Yes, sir-ec, a plug. I’ve got the spondnlics salted down in my box, sure. It’s bound to come." The mother at this juncture ordered the youngster up stairs, and sent ter * man-servant to interpret the slang. A sailor went to a watchmaker, and presenting a small French watch to him, demanded to know how much the repair of it would come to. The watchmaker, after examining it, said : “ It will be more expense repairing than the original cost." “I don’t mind that,” said the tar, “I will even give you double the original cost, for I have a veneration for the watch.” “ What might you have given for it ?" said the watchmaker. “Why,” replied the Ur, “I gave* fellow a blow on the head for it: if you repair it, I will give you two.’* All Equal Herb.—It is related of the- Duke.of Wellington, that once when he remained to take the sacrament at bin parish church, a very poor old Man bad gone up the opposite aisle, and reaching the communion Uble, knelt down dose by the Duke; some one— a pew owner, probably—came and touched the poor man on the sbolder, whispered to move further away, or iu visa and wait until the Duke bad received the bread and wine. But the eegle eye end the fsiek ear of the great oommander caught th* meaning of that touch and that whisper. He clasped the old man’s hand held Ufa, to prevent his rising, and in a reveren tial undertone, but most distinctfr, aw} “ Do not move—we are all equal hath.*'