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VOLUME XIII.-NUMBER 31.
SCTE.\TI-SIX. BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. BEFORE THE BATTLE. Tk" clarion call of liberty Kiiias on the startled gales ! The rising hills reverberate The rising of the vales ! Through all the land the thrilling shout Swift as an arrow goes ! Columbia's champions arm and out To battle with her foes ! AFTER THE BATTI.2. The bugle-song of victory Is vocal in the airl The strains, by warrior-voices breathed, Are echoed by the fair! The eagle, with the wreath, blood-bought, Soars proudly to the sun, Proclaiming lie "good tight is fought, And the great victory won !"' THE WORKING The noblest men 1 know on earth, Are men whose hands are brown with toil, Who, backed by no ancestral graves, Hew down the woods and till the soil, And win thereby a prouder fame Than follows king or warrior's name. The workingmen, whate'er their task, To carve the stone, or bear the hod— i'liey wear upon their honest brows 1 he royal stamp and seal of God ! And brighter are the urops of sweat Than di itnonds in a coronet 1 G >1 bless the noble working men Who rear the cities of the plain, Who dig the mines and build the ship 3 And drive the commerce of the main ; God bless them, for their swarthy hands il ive wrought the glory of all lands. COIiIAG, LOVE. BY MARY H. C. BOOTH. I hear the rustle of the leaves, 1 see a shadow glide From the sweet stillness of the eves When we were side by side, And all the world was wide, And we were ail the world—miuc own, Its joy, and melody, and moan, Until their crept an undertone, And swelled to this deep dirge —ALONE. Th\ shadow, love, is coming Across the weary years. My heart is faintly humming A song thy name endears ; It almost breaks to listen— I feel thy tread so still, And all the dew-drops glisten, And all the roses thrill; And all the blessed angels Are smiling from above, And singing sweet evangels, For thou art coming, love. AX I \LXALI; RS-;2* FRIJIXD. u It must be my child," said the poor widow, wiping away the tears which sluwlv trickhd down her wasted cheeks. There is no other resource. I am too sick to work, and you cannot, surely, see uic and your little brother starve. Try and oeg a few shillings, and perhaps by the time that is gene 1 may be better. Ijro, Henry, my dear, t grieve to send yen en such an errand, but it must be done." The boy, a uoble looking little fellow of about ten years, started up, and throw ing his arms around his mother's neck, left the house without a word, lie did not hear tlie groan of anguish that was uttered by his parent, as the door closed behind him ; and it was well he did not. for bis little heart was ready to burst without it It was inaby-street iu Phil adelphia, and as lie walked to and fro on the sidewalk, he looked first at one por son and then at auother. as they passed him, but no one seemed to look kindly on him, and the louger he waited, the faster his courage dwindled away, and the more n • difficult it became to muster courage to beg The tears were running fast dewu bis cheeks, but nobody noticed them, or if they did nobody seemed to care ; for although clean, Henry looked poor and miserable, it is common for the poor and miserable to cry. Everybody seemed in a hurry, and the poor boy was quite in despair, when at last ho espied a gentle man who seemed to be very leisureiv taking a morning walk. He was dressed in black, wore a three-cornered hat, and had a face that was as mild as an angel's. Soaiehow, when Henry looked at him he felt all lears vanish at once, llis tears l ad been flowing so long that his eyes were quite red aud swollen, and his voice trembled—but that was with weakuess, fur he had not eaten for twenty-four hours. As Henry, with a low, faltering voice, begged for a little charity, the gentleman stopped, and his kind heart melted with compassion as be looked into the fair oountenance of the poor boy, and saw the blush which spread over bis face, and listened to the modest, humble tones which accompanied his petition. 44 \ou do not look like a boy tliat has been accustomed to beg for his bread," said he, kindly laying his hand on the boy's shoulder ; " what has driveu you to this step ? " 44 Indeed," answered Henry, his tears beginning to flow afresh, 44 indeed, I was not born in this condition, but the mis fortune of my father, and the sickness of my mother, have driveu me to the ne cessity now." 44 Who is your father?" inquired the gentleman, still more interested. 44 My father was a rich merchant in this city, but lie became a bondsman for a friend, who soon after failed, and he was entirely ruined, lie conld not live long after this loss, and in one mouth he died of grief, and his death was more dreadful than any of our trouble. My mother, my little brother, and myself sunk into the lowest depths of poverty. My mother has, until now, managed to support herself and my little brother by her labor, and I have earned what I eouid by shovelling snow and other work that I could And to do. But night before last mother was taken very sick, and she has since become so much worse that," here the tears flowed faster than ever — |' 4 that Ido fear she will die. I cannot think of any way in the world to help her. I have not had any work for sev eral weeks. I have not had the courage to go Jo any of my mother's old acquaint ances, and tell them she had come to need clia.ity I thought you looked like a |stranger, sir, and something in your face overcame my shame and gave me courage to speak to you. - Oh, sir, do pity my poor mother." The tears, and the simple and moving language of the poor boy, touched a chord in the breast of the stranger that was ac i customed to frequent vibrations. 4- Where does your mother live, my boy ? " said he, in a husky voice) is it far from here ?" " She lives in the last house on this street, sir," replied Henry. 44 You can see it from here, in the 3d block on the ; left hand side." 44 Have you sent for a physician ?" 44 No, sir," said the boy, sorrowfully shaking his head. 41 I had no money to j pay either for a physician or medicine" " Here," said the stranger, drawing isome pieces of silver from his pocket. " here arc three dollars, take them, and ! run immediately for a physician." Henry's eyes flashed with gratitude— he received the money W'th a stammering and almost inaudible voice, but with a ! look of warmest gratitude lie vanished. Tiie benevolent stranger instantly sought the dwelling of the sick widow. He (entered a litele room in which lie could see nothing but a few implements of fe male labor—a miserable table, an old bureau, and a little bed which stood in the corner, en which the invalid lay. Sic appeared weak and almost exhausted— and on the bed at her feet sat a little boy, crying as if his heart would break. Deep ly moved at the sight, the stranger drew near the bedside of the invalid, and feign ing to be a physician, inquired into the nature of her disease. The symptoms were explained in a few words, when the widow, with a deep sigh, added. "Oh, my sickness has a deeper cause, and one which is beyond the art of the physician to cure. I am a mother—a wretched mother. I see my children sinking daily deeper and deeper in want, which I have no means or relieving. My sickness is of the heart, and death alone can end my sorrows; but even death is dreadful to me, for it awakens the thought of tin? misery into which my children would be plunged, it—" Here emotion checked her utterance, and the tears flowed unre strained down her cheeks. Dut the pre tended phy-ieian spoke so consolingly tu her and manifested so warm a sympathy for her condition, that the heart of the poor woman throbbed with a pleasure that was unwonted. " Do net despair," said the stranger, il think only of recovering and of preserv ing a life that is so precious to your chil dren. Can I write a prescription here?" The poor widow took a little prayer book from the hands of the child who sat on the bed with her, aud tearing out a blank leaf, " I have no other," said she, " hut perhaps this will do." The stranger took a pencil from his pocket aud wrote a few lines upon the paper. " This prescription," said he, " you will land of great service to you. If it is necessary, 1 will write you a second. I have great hopes of your recovery He laid the paper on the table and departed. Scarcely had he gone when the eldest sou returned. " Cheer up, dear mother," said he, go ing to her bedside and affectionately kiss ing her. " See what a kind and benov lent stranger has given us. It will make us rich for several days. It has enabled us to have a physician, and he will be here in a moment. Compose yourself, now, dear mother, and tako courage." DcboicD io ii)i tVipcipL's of Jinje jDjfyochieij, qi)D % of ?j?ci'qiify, JLiicirqlulre qqj fi'clvs. COUDERSFOr.T, POTTER COBHTY, PA., TKUESBAY, JULY 25, 1851. ■' Come nearer, my son," answered the mother, looking with pride and affection on her child. Come nearer that I may bless you. God never forsakes the inno cent and the good. O, may llc watch over you in all your paths ! A physi cian has just been here. lie was a stranger, but he spoke to me with a com passion and kinduess that was a balm to my heart. When he went away he left that prescription on the table, see if you can read it." Henry glanced at the paper and started back —lie took it up, and as bo read it through again and again, aery of wonder ful astonishment escaped him. 44 What is it, my son ? " exclaimed the widow, trembling with an apprehension of she knew not what. 44 Ah. read, dear mother ! God has heard us." The mother took the paper from the hands of her son, but no soonev had she fixed her eyes upon it than, •' My God !" she exclaimed, 44 it is Washington," and fell back fainting upon her pillow. The writing was an obligation—for it was indeed he—by which the widow was to receive the sum of one hundred dollars, from his own private pioDerty, to be doubled if necessary. Meanwhile the expected physician made his appearance, and soon awoke the mother from her fainting lit. The joyful surprise, together with a good nurse, with which the physician provided her, and a plenty of wholesome food, soon restored her to perfect health. The influence of Washington, who vis ited them more then once, provided for the widow friends, who furnishe 1 her with constant employment, and her ons when they a: rived at the proper age, were placed in respectable situations where they were able to support and render the remainder of their mother's life comfort able and happy. Let the children who read this story, remember, when they think of the great and good Washington, that he was not above entering the dwelling ot poverty, and carrving joy and gladness to the hearts of its inmates. This is no Act;- iious talc, hut only one ot a thousand in cidents which might be related of him, ■and which stamp him one of the best of men. TIIE MINIE RIFLE. —The first rifle in vogue in France was the so called pillar rifle of Thorvenin, but the invention of M. Minie is the one which has practically revolutionized the firearms of the present day. The improvements made by M. Minie are confined almost wholly to the form of the gun out of which it is fired. The ball is of an oblong conical form, something like an acorn without its cup but instead of being solid, this cone is hollowed out at the base into a cup form. The advantages of t.his form of projectile are t! at it oners less resistance to the air than a round bah would, and that having its centre of gravity in its foremost part it has wo tendency to turn over in its flight; but its chief merit in a military print of view, is that with it the rifle can he loaded as easily as the ordinary smooth bore gun. the forcing of the ball into the grooves of the barrel being effected by the ramrod. The form of the rifle proper to these conical missiles differs very little from those used with the old spherical bullets, except that a three grooved gun, and it is still an unsettled question wheth er four grooves would not be better than three. With this weapon the soldiers can make far better practice at five bun dred, or even one thousand yards, than he could with the oid musket at one or two hundred yards. A REMEDY roit SLEEPLESSNESS. —How to get to sleep is to many persons a mat ter of great importance. Nervt us persons, who are troubled with wakefulness aud excitability, usually have a tendency of blood on the brain, with cold extrem ities. The pressure of" the blood on the Drain keeps it in a stimulated or wake ful state, and the pulsations in the head are often painful. Let such rise and chafe the body and extremities with a brush or towel, or rub smartly with the hands, to proMiote circulation, and withdraw the excessive amount of blood from the brain, and they will fall asleep in a few moments. A cold bath, or a sponge bath and rub bing, or a good run, or going up or down stairs a few times just before retiring, will aid in equalizing circulation and promot ing sleep. These rules are simple, and easy of application in ca.stle or cabin, mansion or cottage, and may minister to the comfort of thousands who would freely expend money for an anodyne to promote " Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." There is something odd in the disposi tion of an Englishman's senses. He sees with his lingers and hears with his toes. Enter a gallery of pictures, you iind all the spectators longing to become handlers. Go to hear an opera of Mozart's, your uext neighbor keeps all the while kicking time, as if he could not kill it without. War and its Lessons. BY HORACE GREELEY. At length, our country realizes the mo mentous fact that she has been plunged into war. War iu its most savage, and desolating form—that which divides and arrays a nation against itself—is now fully upon us. Almost e\ery day brings its bulletin of a new conflict, whereof the issue may be auspicious or adverse, but the inevitable incidents are bloodshed, destruction, wounds, and death. The most insignificant skirmish, which scarce ly arrests the reader's eye as he glances over his morning paper, carries desolafton to some hearth and heart—perhaps to sev eral such. The novel reader or playgoer melts at the contemplation of one tragedy ; but a battle is the culmination of hun dreds, often thousands, of tragedies, each of them a separate heart-break. The in dividual and national miseries of a huu dred years of peace are compressed into and intensified in a single year of war. This War had to be. There was no jescaping it but by giving up the Ameri can Republic, in substance and essence j —the Republic of the Fathers and of Freedom —and letting a virtual despotism, compounded o+ Slavery and \ristocracy, be set up in its stead. The Slaveholdiug Rebellion is a revolt against the forms inotonlv but the spirit of the Constitu tion—against the fundamental idea of our Revolution—against the capacity and the right of 31 an, as Man, to .self-government. Not only docs this rebellion affirn the pro priety of overruling by the bayonet the result of legal and peaceful election— and so reduce us, at once, if successful, to the instability, insecurity, anarchy, and impotence of the Spanish-American Re publics; it does this for the sole reason that the new Federal Administration is more favorable to an equality of rights between man and man than the conspir ators deem wholesome or safe. It is a rebellion of the only privileged class in the Republic to enforce a demand that their privileges shall be increased. Net to meet and beat them is to admit that Government is rightfully the monopoly of a caste, and that the sharpest sword j should dictate the law. In the struggle thus forced upon us, | there is, then, there can be, no comprom ise and no cessation until one side or the other shall have absolutely triumphed The Nation must vindicate its authority unqualifiedly, or it must cease to be. It must crush out its domestic foes, or be come at once a Lower Empire of corrup tion, barbarism, and decrepitude. Never was sword drawn in a more righteous cause than that now symbolized by the Stars and Strines. and never did an atro cious conspiracy against Right and Law more imperatively demand unqualified ! suppression, in the interest alike of Coun try and Humanity, than does that where iof Jefferson Davis is chosen head. And that the issue will be auspicious to the integrity and stability of the American Republic, we will not harbor a doubt. But the signal puhishtnent of reckless, criminal ambition is by no means the only lesson which this contest should teach, ft will not have yielded all its proper fruit unless it imprints deeply on the hearts of our countrymen these lessons : I. War is always and everywhere a hor rible calamity. A great general is recorded as having humanely and truly observed that, next to a great defeat, a great victory is most, deplorable. Many l fe-long warri ors have been humane, Chaistian men; yet it is nevertheless true that a partici pation in deeds of violence and carnage ! tends to harden the heart. The ex-soldier returned to his home and his former peace , f'ul avocations may b(j sober industrious, jaDU every way exemplary ; but Jus milita ry experience will not liave tended to make him so. Where one will have been made better by the influences and expe riences of camp life, there is a strong probability that many will have been i made worse. However promptly the war may be fought out and ended, it is hardly [doubtful that a new flood tide of demor alization and intemperance will be among its lamentable results. 'II. The wastefulness anil ruinous cost of a great war have seldom been fully realized. That our Government is now rushing into debt at the rate of nearly a! million dollars per day, is generally under-! stood; but this is only the first item in ■ the heavy bill which is rolling up against I the authors of this atrocious rebellion. The destruction and consumption of stocks and stores of timber, powder, lead, cart-j ridges, lirearms, etc., etc., laid up in navy yards, armories, and arsenals in time of i peace, the burning of ships and other 'property to save them from capture on one side or prevent their use on the other, are among the inevitable incidents of such a struggle. But the rebels would seem to have resolved to make this contest as ruiuous as possible by the wanton whole sale deetruction of canal dams, railroad blidges, engines, cars, etc., etc., and of property generally. Their ocean forays will have cost tnuch in vessels and cargoes 1 aptured, but far more tu the paralysis of our cotnmcice and navigation through fear of a kindred fate. Industry arrested, families pining iu hunger and misery be cause of the sudden withdrawal of their means of subsistance, and thousands sink ing through want into vice and crime— such are among the inevitable conse quences of such a struggle. This war cannot be ended so soon that it will not have cost our people One Thousand Mill ions of Dollars, or about the actual cash value of all the property in the State of New York. A few years of peace will en able us to recreate this property ; but who can feel confident that the moral disasters of the conflict can be repaired so speedily ? We shall have borne these trials to less than their proper profit if any one of the ! lessons deeply imprinted on the National heart by them is nut a profounder, inteuscr | loathing of war, and of the dreams of con quest, of extended area and of imperial 'domination, wherewith political aspirants ; are too apt to drug the National conscience jand debauch the popular heart. 111. Another lesson which this war is calculated to teach,aud of which nu people ever stood more in need than ours, is that of respect for constituted authority and obedience to the mandates of Law. We have been sadly deficient-in this regard, and the punishment of our trausgression is now upon us. Our habits of free and fearless criticism of public men and meas ures have 'ended to this laxity, but. in de fiance of the plainest and most necessary distinctions. You do not assume the piety, genius, wisdom, benevolence, or integrity, of the constable whose summons you defer to ■ he may within your knowl edge be personally a knave, a dunce, or a sot: but you recognize him in his official | capacity as a representative of the State ■a messenger and minister of her will em bodied in Law —and you obey the precept of which he is the bearer in deference not at all to him but to her. And so the man Fierce, or Buchanan, or Lincoln, may be ever so worthy or indifferent; but his personal deserts or demerits in no degree qualify the obedience which you pay to the President of the United States, and which you canrct refuse without a clear defiance of Christian ethics aud patriotic l duty * ' . . - These are very simple truths, but a lack of clear conceptions of their scope aud force is now costing this country thous lands of lives and millions on millions of money. Our National existence having ! originated in a successful resistance to | overstrained authority, a tendency to con found authority with usurpation lias ever since been latent in our blood, as Shay's Rebellion, the Whi.-ky Insur rection, and some less matured manifesta tions of the same spirit, have too painfully attested. But we must teach our chil dren to distinguish clearly, in the lan guage of Burke, between the extreme medicine of the Constitutian and its daily bread. Armed resistance to lawfully con stituted authority is the last, desperate! resource of a people to whom all other escape from intolerable oppression is con clusively denied. To appeal from an op n and free ballot box to a revolt is like ap pealing from tiiC Supreme Court of the United States to a mass-meeting at the Five Points. Even though the result of an election be clearly wrong—nay, be cause it is wrong—there is hope that the next wiil reverse and redress that error. It must be realized and taken to heart by our people that an unnecessary revolt is a heinous crime; and this eventful year,; so full oi disaster aud woe, should be made to impress that moral. Restless, disap pointed ambition, desperate fortunes,' bankrupt hopes, and all forms of unthrift,; are naturally too ready to appeal from j Law to Force ; they must he taught that j this appeal is from adversity to ruin. "Beware of entrance into a quarrel," j says I'olonius to Laertes in substance; " but heiitff in. bear thyself so that thine enemy shall beware of thee." The Nation has now. in generous measure, civeti heect to the former of these admonitions, it is about to give full effect and emphasis to the latter. Unless this rebellion is so dealt with that wc shall not he troubled j with another for at least two or three generations, much precious blood will been shed wastefully if not wholly in vain. ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER. Our young friend, Harry Turn, recently married his cousin of the same name. When interrogated as to why he did so, he replied that it had always been a max im of his that "one good Turn deserves another," and he had acted accordingly. " AND where was the man stabbed?" asked an excited lawyer of a physician. " The man was stabbed about au inch and a ha'f to the left of the medium line, and about an inch above the umbilicus," was the reply. " Oh, yes, I understand now ; but I "thought it was uear the town-hall." " JEANNIE," said a venerable Camero nian to his daughter, who was asking his consent to accompany her lover to the al tar ; " it's a solemn thing to set married." " I know it," replied the damsel; "but 1 it's a great deal solemner not to." TERKS.--$l.OO PER AN&UEL American ln Paris. PARIS, May, 1861. —Crossing ovet fr<m Brighton, where I had held Mil : slonary meetings, I passed the last Sab bath in Paris, and preached iu the Amer ican chapel. A day or two previous, two or three scores of Americans were invited to assemble at the rooms of Mr. Sanford. the Uuited States Embassador to Bel gium, now here on Ins way to his hew post. Stirring patriotic speeches were made by Mr. Strong of New York, who was chairman, and by Dr. McCllntoek, and others, and Four Thousaud Dollars were subscribed on the spot to purchase" cannon for the American Government; and it was not doubted that 82,009 more would be added, by gentlemen in Paris who were not present and by the Ladies, h was not the fruit of any angrv ebulli tion, but of a deep aud tearful detcrmina ; tion to do all iu their power for their loved native land, now so fotely wronged and disgraced before the Christian world, by ! infatuated rebels, for the support of a ! system which heathendom hardly equals. The lowest subscription on this ocCSh jsion was literally and emphatically at the head of the list, as was that of the widow's mite in the Gospel. It was from Dr.Mac gowen, an excelleut missionary physician from China, who, wit 1, a fiue patriotic speech, modestly apologized for the sniall ness of liis contribution, by stating that ho is away from his post on account of ill health, find not to be burdensome to his society while absent from bis wcrk, lie is delivering lectures on Japan and ! China, when able to do so. to obtain bread jfor himself and his family ; and from his ; little pittance his country uiustsbafS. The astonishing energy and devotion l of the free states, at last so thoroughly ; roused, awaken the deepest joy and grat itude of their sons and daughte s abroad, , and command the profound respect of foreign nations. Let our suffering coilu try men keep iu mind that they are now j reaping only the legitimate/ruit of slave* \ ry, bitter as it is, aud never provoke h?gh heaven by guilty compromises with the' relentless monster. If they must stilF wear the galling yoke of the hard bond age that has so long enthralled them, to' , what purpose are these sacrifices of treas ure, and it may be of blood, so freely poured out. J. PERKINS, in the Inde ; pendent. PaiNOti llrowiilow's Last. KNOXYILLE, April 22, 1861. GEN GIDEON J. PILLOW: —I have' just received your message, through Mr. 1 Baie, reque.-ting me to serve us Chaplain in your btigade in the Southern army; and in the spirit of kinduesa :TT which this request is made, but iu all candor, I return for an answer, that when I shalF have made up my mind to go to Hell, I will cut my throat and go direct , and not ; travel round byway of the Southern COG ! foderacy. Very Respectfully, W. G BROTTNLOW. The world has acquired curious nc-' lions concerning the comparative obliga tion < f men and women to be constantly busy. It is thought a mark of idleness in a woman to sit a whole evening, unless reading, without some manual employ ment ; and if she go abroad to spend an afternoon, she must carry her knitting or sewing, but her husband or brother may accompany her without any work to oc cupy his hands. " Doctor," said a waggish parishionc-T' of good old Parson E. to him one day. "I think I must have a pew nearer the desk than where I now have it. ''Why,' said the parson, " can't you hear well where you arc?" " Oh, yes," was the replv; ''but that ain't it. The fact is, there are so many people between me and the pulpit, that bv the time what you say gets back to where I am, it is as hat a? dish water." HAPPINESS must arise from our own* temper and actions, aud not immediately from any external conditions. No man will ever regard you as his dear friend if you make yourself too cheap to him. MAN is the only animal that is doomed to the drudgery of forever carrying pans upuu his knees. I? you crack rough jokes at other pco-. pic's expense, you nicy get youf head' cracked at your own. THE bachelor has to look out for num ber one —the married man for number tuo. TJIE handsomest compliment you can' pay to a woman of sense, is to address her as such. POVERTY humbles p*.ide. A man when he is short, can hardly carry a Ligl. head. MEN generally make way for him who is determined to push boldly past them. VICE stings us even in our pleasure*; but virtue consoles us, even in our paius. MOVING for a new trial—courting A second wife.