Crawfordsville Review, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 31 December 1859 — Page 1

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From the Chicago Times.

KliXlNO DEAD MA If." FIGUT1NG "A SHADOW.** Shakspcare, in his wonderful delineations of human character and feeling, pats ittto the mouth of a wretch who had been saddettly awakened from a horrible dream, the expressive confession that—-

By the apo«ll« PanT. BHADOW8 to-niglit fittve truck moro terror to the soul of Kichurd Than CAD the substance of ten thousand loldier?. Armed la proof, and led by shallow Richmond."

In the New York Tribune of a few days ago was published approvingly a statement that Douglas was absolutely ruined that he was a wreck—wrecked in health, wrecked pecuniarily,.wrecked politically, and in a few short months would sink into oblivion, if not into the grave. We need not remind our Illinois readers that Douglas has been "killed," on an average, about four times a week during the last three yeaTS by Trumbull and Lincoln! The Chicago newspapers have reported his "untimely but not undeserved end," with extraordinary fidelity three arid four times a week, and the Republican party has been as often assured that the power of tbe "arch demagogue" has been "forever" destroyed.

'When Douglas, in order to faithfully preserve the doctrine of the Democratic party, and as faithfully to carry it into practical execution opposed the violation of the Cincinnati plat^prm by the admission of Kansas under the Lccompton. constitution,, the same papers united with the federal organs in preaching funeral orations over the grave into which they were in hope he was surely to fall. They assured the world that Douglas was so dead that no earthly power could galvanize him even into a spasmodic movement. They fought in 1858, not Douglas living, but the shadow"—the ghost—of the once powerful chieftain The dead man was heard from throughout the State the Democrats of Illinois did not believe he was dead they rstllied around him as in days of yore.— When he declared at Freeport, what he had been accustomed to declare during the

firecedingtwclve

years of his congressional

ife, it was declared that he had "killed himself" certain. Once more the wolves bowled in expectation of the carcass of the dead. But with aperverseness altogether unkind, Douglas would not die, His Freeport speech instead of consigning him to the grave, opened the eyes of thousands who had not previously approved the Democratic platform. When the first news came of the result of the election, Illinois was represented to have opened wide her prairies ready to rcceiyc the body of the man, who refusing to die voluntarily had been killed by the judgment of his constituents! Twenty-four hours later the grave was declared to have closed up, and that instead of entombing Douglas, the people of Illinois had resolved to "kill" him more effectually by allowing liini to go.back to Congress to work more mischief and do more evil! A few months later, and tin men who had been proclaiming him as dead announced that Douglas persistently refused to abandon the Democratic party and join the Republicans, and had once more "killed himself forever." Senator Gwin also undertook the pleasant task of "killing" Douglas. Senator Gwin was a man of too tender a stomach to relish the Freeport speech, and so Senator Gwin and Dr. Pomeroy Fitcli resolved to kill Douglas by appointing another person as chairman of the Committee on Territories.— Strange to say Douglas survived that!— Santa Anna, at the batttlcof Buena Vista, in the very heat of the firht, sent a white flag to the American camp, and a messenger to inquire "what General Taylor was fighting for did he not know lie was whipped?" General Taylor responded that he «••. did not know he was whipped, and was fighting to whip the .enemy. In a like manner, Dr. Pomeroy Fitch and Dr. Gwin, after having performed the extraordinary surgical operation of cutting off Douglas' head, waited a reasonable time to know if

Douglas did not intend to die—give up the ghost! But Douglas, with some of Old Zack's obliviousness, could not understand that he was dead, and kept on making 6pceches and leading the Democracy of the coutitry, north, east, west and south, just as readily and effectually as if the world did not contain such eminent- surgeons as Dr. Pomeroy Fitch and Dr. Gwin. Douglas would not even hold his tongue! he actually discussed popular sovereignty in the Senate, in the very presence of the two men who had "taken his head off."

In August last, Douglas "killed" himself agaiu by his Harper's magazine article. That was an awful death. Iu "killing" himself he actually took two hundred thousand Republicans from their party, and enrolled them in the ranks of the Democratic party. Not content with "killing" himself and decimating the Republicans, he inveigled the renowned law officer of the crown into a discussion, which resulted in converting that officer's "political axioms" into popular jokes, and in eausin^ the American people to have a very strong doubt as to whether the Attorney General knew enough law to interfere seriously with his taste for the President's old Monongahcla!

Nor was this the final end of Douglas.. He got ill—bodily sickness came upon him. The Republican papers got pathetic —they knew he had "gout in his stomach," and dreadful as was the fact, still it was true, that no one was ever known to have recovered from an attack like that! Brilliant editorials graced the Republican pa-

Jor

iors they regretted his untimely death— "got in the stomach" was incurable.— But Douglas did not die—he is recovering his health and strength rapidly and once out of" dauggcjEr^m phjsjc&L disease, the same-papers again arc filled with accounts

his political death. He was dead, politically, a few weeks ago, that ius.namc, it wasrdeclarcd, would not be .permitted to mentioned in the Charleston, conventiof, even in debate! The people of Ohio, as obstinate^ifc would seem as Douglas himpelf. w^ii not belicvche is .dead, and have gone so far in their delusion,, that they have instructed the entire delegation from that State to vote at Charleston for the nomination of_aJIii^d-JiianJ\ 2fejjr England, too, aeeuisjcfchave Jost the. native canning fafc.irhiQh her sops are 90 remarkable, and fafaMw* quarter jriil fo »U tnoosly wking fcr the pppiMlitW 4.#'

man who has teen "killed" so often.— Iowa, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, New York, and New Jersey, in a few days, owing to the incredulousness of their people, will have delegates appointed all asking for th: nomination of the man who was pronounced '-'dead" by Dr. Pomeroy Fitch more than eighteen months ago!

Still, the New York Tribune and the Republican press of the West, insist that Douglas is a wreck—personally, pecuniarily and politically. Yet, wreck as he is, empty shadow as he is, his is the only name which carries terror to their guilty hearts.

They care nothing for ths Charleston convention—if it does not nominate Douglas! Douglas is the only name they respect because it is tbe only name thcy-fear. lie is "dead" they all exclaim, yet there is not a Northern State in which the Republicans hope to meet successfully, "the broken, wrecked, and ruined Douglas."— His single name is enough to destroy their whole army.. It is more fearful to them than the entire Democratic party, because they know that unless he is nominated as the Democratic leader in 1860, they will sweep every northern State except Illinois! With Douglas the Democratic party will be all powerful in 1860, without him, the Republicans know their triumph is certain "Wreck," "shadow," "dead man" as he is he stands before the country the only man the Republicans fear. "Dead," "wrecked," "killed," as these men declare him to be, he will, on the first of February, have a large majority of the delegates to the Charleston convention, pledged and instructed to secure his nomination. For "dead man," we think that is something extraordinary.

We have been induced to make these remarks by witnessing day after day the very silly attempts made by the Republican papers in the Northwest to create the impression thatDouglas is politically dead. Yet, "dead man," as they proclaim him to be, their entire columns arc surrendered to heap destruction upon him. Why so bitterly assail hiin him if he be dead?— Arc you afraid of ghosts? Why call out your militia and your regular troops to put down a man who is so dead as that "he has not one friend on earth?" Why, we ask, iu the name of common sense, do these Republican editors stultify themselves by an incessant, reckless, unprincipled warfare upon a man, from whom, they daily assert, the country may never again expect good or evil, because his power to do ei thcr is gone, and gone forever!

A PLEASANT PLACE TO LIVE. The Louisville Courier gives the following sketch of Bardstown, Kentucky:

"Within a half scorc of j-cars as many men have met a violent death. Among those we remember that Robert Logan Wickliffe shot Pat. Gray that James Pottingcr was killed by George Wilson this was followed by a fight between Theodore Wilson and Lud and Monroe Able, in which Wilson was killed. In less than a year Lud. Able was killed by John Wilson, a brother of the deceased. William Hardin and John Robertson had a street fight, in which Hardin was mortally stabbed and died in a few uays. lie was a son of Ben. Rowan Ilardin, who was murdered on the Isthmus of Panama 1849, and grandson of Hon. Ben. Hardin. And last, as we have recorded, John Talbott was slain by Thos. Hinds Slaughter, in his own house. Truly this is a bloody aud fearful rceord."

A CONVICT'S RUSE.

Sheriff Snyder brings the following anecdote from Alton:

A few days since one of the convicts in the penitentiary got into a cart in which another convict was hauling shavings out of the yard, to throw into the river. After he had taken his position, the other covered him very snugly with shavings, and promised to dump the load at some convenient place where he might remain concealed in the shavings until the proper time to make his escape. But, unfortunately for the concealed convict, another driver was directed to take charge of the cart, who was ignorant of the attempted ruse, as the concealed convict was of the change of drivers. And ere the poor fellow discovered that he had fallen into the hands of one who knew not Joseph, the cart was driven to the bluff, and the load of shavings was dumped over a precipice fifteen or twenty feet high, into the Mississippi. Zounds! but it was cold comfort. He emerged from his cold bath, astonishing the driver as much as he was astonished himself and without attempting to travel further into the cold charity of the world, took a bee line for the penitentiary, where he will remain, probably, until warm weather before he attempts a repetition of his ruse.—<Paris (Ill..) Beacon>. ———<>———

PREPARATIONS FOR THE GREATEST "IRREPRESSIBLE CONFLICT."—Thc Quebec correspondent of the Toronto Colonist savs:

A. fact, very important, if true, has just been made known in Quebec. A person, long a resident in Newfoundland, and who has just come tlience, states that for the last three years the French have been secretly amassing immense stores of coal in a portion of the coast reserved exclusively for thc fishermen of the nation. My informant adds that upward of a hundred thousand tuns of coal have thus been quietly collected. Every attempt was made to prevent, thc fact becoming known, and it jvas at last only accidently discovered. It is said that the English Government has been in utter ignorance of this startling proceeding, and will now probably hear of it for the first time. If true, a? I have reason to believe it to bo, it is time for Canada to look seriously to her defenses.

LENGTH OF THE DAYS.—According to thc old Farmer's Almanac, the days reached their shortest point on Sunday last, the 18th inst. They remain of the same length, taking the authority above named as our guide, until thc 27th—nine days—each day containing nine hours and four minutes. On the 27th, the day will be nine hours and five minutes in length, and in a few days thereafter the increase will be quite rapid. It is rarely that the days continue at the lowest point for so long a period.

NEW SERIES-VOL. XI, NO. 24. CllAWfORDSYILLE, MONTGOMERY COUNTY,1 INDIANA/' DECEMBER*'T31r 1859.

FUNERAL OF JOHN E. COOK. The funeral of John E. Cook took, place yesterday morning, at ten o'clock, A. M., from the house of Mr. S. L. Harris, No. 114 South Ninth street, Williamsburgh.— At a little before nine o'clock the body was removed from the undertaker's, No. 88 Grand street, of the house of Mr. Harris, and soon afterwards a large crowd began collecting in front of the door—none but relatives and immediate friends of the deceased, and representatives of the press, were a]jQired inside the house—and notwithstanding the heavy storm of rain which continued throughout the forenoon, not less than five hundred persons, a large portion of whom were .ladies, stood in the street from nine o'clock until after eleven when they were admitted to view the corpse. Iff

It was expected that the Rev. Dr. Caldicot would address the assemblage from the steps of the house, but in consequence of the unfavorable state of the weather this portion of the programme' was changed, and the address delivered to the audience inside. The corpse was clothed in a white merino robe, trimmed with grey satin, bound by a satin cord round the waist, and a black neckerchief. The coffin was of dark mahogany, ornamented with silver nails and a silver plate bearing the inscription, "JOHNE.COOK, died Dec. 16th, 1859, aged 28 years."

On the coffin just below the plate, was laid a handsome boquet of cedar, camelias and other symbolical flowers. The face of the deceased was much discolored, and presented a shocking contrast to ths life-like photograph placed near the corpse. Among those of the friends and relatives of the deceased who were present were Hon. E. D. Culver, City Judge, Governor Willard and District Attorney Voorhees, of Indiana.

At a little after 10 o'clock, Rev. Dr. Caldicott commenced the services by reading appropriate selections from the scriptures, after which he delivered a brief address. He alluded to the character of the deceased as that of a Christian a true friend, and an affectionate son and husband. He was led by strong impulses to leave home and friends, yet his heart was always there. If he believed he had a higher and holier object in view than the life of home among his friends, it was his duty to persue and obtain it. It was untrue that John was a wayward and disobedient boy his father testified that lie was a loving and affectionate son. He never ceased while far away to remember, love and yearn for home and friends, and lie never lost his respect for the Christian religion, forgot the ordinances of that religion, denied his Savior, or failed to believe in the efficacy of his atoning blood. If he erred, it was in the grand mistake of his life, his love for Christ's oppressed ones. And even if we view his act as a guilty one, is there no hope? must his memory be consigned to infamy because he did wrong? Oh, you who would cast a single stain of reproach upon that character, remember Christ's words to the Pharisees, "Let him that is without siu'east the first stone." Think of his love to the dying malefactor. "This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." The speaker then read the following touching letter, the last ever written by the deceased to his wife and child, remarking that it was evidently written without any fear of drtith. The hand was firm, and the tone one of high Christian courage, and trust in an all-supporting God:

CIIAULESTOWN JAIL. V.I,. Dee. 10th, 1S59. DEAR WIFE AXD CHILD.—For the last time I take my pen to address you for the last time to speak to you through the tongue of the absent. I am about to leave you and this world for ever, but do not give way to your grief. Look with the eyc-s of hope beyond the vale of life and sec the dawning of that brighter morning, that shall know no clouds or shadows in its sunny sky, that shall know no sunset. To that eternal day, I trust, beloved, I am going now. For ine there waits no far off and uncertain future. I am only going from my camp 011 earth to my home in heaven, from the dark clouds of sin and grief to the clear blue skies, the flowing fountains

and the eternal jovs of that brighter land icon wer'e ti

whose only entrance is through the val-1 ley of death whose only eternity is thc tomb.

Oh yes! think tbat-I am only going home, going to meet my Savior and my God goiug to meet my comrades and to meet and watch for you. Each moment passes, every tolling bell proclaims that this world is not our home. Wc are but pilgrims here journeying to our father's house. Some have a long and weary road to wander, shadowed with doubts and fears. They

pletc their pilgrimage in the bright morn of life. They know no weariness upon the journey, no ills or cares of toilsome age.— If my comrades were and arc among that number our pilgrimage is nearly ended.— We can almost see our home. A few more hours and we shall be there.

Sure it is hard for me to leave ny laving partner and my little one lingering on the rugged road, in which life's storms are bursting. But cheer up, my beloved ones. These storms will soon be over through their lingering shadows you will sec the promised rainbow. It will whisper of a happy land, where all storms are over.— Will you not strive to meet me, in that time of unending sunshine? Oh yes! I know you will. That you will also try to lead our child along the path of glory that you will train him for an entrance into that celestial city whose maker and bnilder is God.

Teach him the way of truth "and virtue. Tell him of wh'at his father left him. ere his infant lips could lisp my name. Pray for. yourself and for him. Remember there is no golden gateway to the realms of pleasure here, but there is one for the redeemed in "ffic'land th'alHes star ward-— There, I hope we may meet, when you have completed your pilgrimage on this road of life. Tears will pass on and yonr journey will soon be ended. Live so that when from the .verge of life you look back, you may feel no vain regrets of bitter anguish fer mis-spent years.

cast yourself on him, when the heart ia dark and heavy with sorrow and woe. He will shed upon you the bright sunshine of his love, and take away the burden from your heart And now farewell. May that all-wise and eternal God, who governs all things, be with you to guide and protect you through life and bring us together in eternal joy beyond the grave. Farewell, foud partner of my heart and soul. Farewell dear babe of our love.— Alas! along farewell till we meet in heav en. I remain, in life and death, your devoted husband. JOHN E. COOK.

He also read a letter written to his brother and sister just before his death, in which the same characteristics were remarked as the previous one to his wife. The speaker then proceeded with his address. Friends who had visited him confirmed the report of his faith in Christ, and what say the Scriptures, "He that believeth, though lie were dead in trespasses and sins, yet shall he live, and he that livcth aud believeth in me shall never die." His was not dying, it was bursting at once into eternal life. Such were his hopes, and who shall dare, to-day, to say that they were not realized? Even were he a malefactor iu the eyes of men, yet God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, he judgcth not as man judgcth.

Crimes regarded dark and deep amongst men, are not colored in that hue among the records of the eternal, yet unbelief and disobedience to God, deemed as trifles among men, God may mark as among the more damning sins. Your departed son and brother forsook not God ev#n his fault, if fault it was, leaned to Virtue's side.— Who shall now charge him with selfishness, who shall say he did it for profit or political ambition? None his whole soul was full of benevolence, and to relieve the oppressed, he endangered aud forfeited his own life

The audience then joined in the tune of Greenville, in singing the i^iitli hymn commencing as follows:

Guide inc. oh. thou grout Ji hrivah, Pilgrim through tlii* barren land 1 am weak, bin thou art mighty, Lead me with thy powerful band.*' Rev. Mr. Johnson then delivered a fervent and impressive prayer, during whic!

from various parts of the ,]

sobs resounded room.

\\hcte the body'wwTnterrcdin

Mr. llobert Crowi

., 7'

ervwTov

SOSm

I1M a

T' T'

1 1 1 a a a

\Tt Vprnon llible fnr S DEBTS rn RI

amid the coniulsivo sok of the agooiied to Vl.TnI.kL %'nJ tULVt^cc'lj-ou 'JJ1

Slavery Standard writes: Wc have lately been startled bv the news that all the expenditure of breath

often tire and faint on life's roadside, yet land labor was in vain and money spent for still all wearied they must move along.— omc make a more rapid journey and com-

Ii \t -"PP

0SC 11

ting his full price for them, is not able to give a title to the same, after all? I believe it is literally true, from what I have heard on good authority. The story I have heard is, that that valuable personage, not content with his speculation in tbe lands of Washington, went into one in lands in Chicago. The unhappy submcr-

MAUD MAE. I.

Then to-night we part forever. Maud Mae, Does the troth sound suvoet to you? Think you the daisies by the cottage wall, ill blossom next Spring as blac? s.r

'II,

Will the blood cour.se as fine in their dainty lips, A« it did for you and me? And the swallow's twitter about tho eavej. And you happy here by tho sea? 7' 'ih: 7 You'll not crow to a pale-faced girl— When we shall have parted. Maud Mac Ah no. some new lover you'll find, "1 ou know the red turns gray."

IV.

And he "will see in yourpreat blue eyes, Strange tales of love, 1 ween And worship like mad, your ringlets fair. And call you his own dear Queen.

And you'll wander with him in the Summer woods. Uown by tho Summer sea Watching the sunset's gold grow palo. A re am A ad

VI.

But I forget. You'll excusc me, Maud Mao, Your hand. Good night, then. What say you? The lost Pleiad unhappy? But 'twill never roturn Again!

A YOUNG HUSBAND'S SOLILOQUY.

The queerest little Presses My eyes hiive ever seen. 1 sometimes catch a glimpse of,

And wonder what they mean.

All folded up so neatly. And fashioned out with gracc With little bows of ribbon,

And little bits of lace.

I gaze on these with wonder And in Viola's eyes I try to read the secret—

But she is all too wise.

And unto all my questions She makes but this reply: "If you'll have patience, dearest,

I'll tell you—I!V-AXII-«V!"

HUMOROUS.

:Y GOOD STORY -—In the village of W lived a man, who had once been judge of the count}', and was known all over it by

Even were his act wrong, Christ (the name of Judge L. He kept a store came into the world to save sinners, and he thst comcth to him shall, iu no wise be cast out. Think not of him as a transgressor, nor as degraded and disgraced among men, but as beloved of God, and as now having passed from the toil and strife of this world, and entered that heaven he himself so beautifully describes.

The speaker then addressed some brief remarks of consolation to the weeping widow, reminding her to cast her burden of care and sorrow upon Christ he would sustain her in all her woe. In the same strain he consoled (he other relations and friends, remarking that though the path of the deceased to eternity was one no one would wish to choose, yet God regards it not, and be whom we now mourn has risen to a crown of immortal glory. May we all, to day, learn lessons from this death, may we learn that if wc would do good, we must do it among conflict and strife, danger and death. Hut shall we ccasc from doing right when we know what the right is, be" cause wc .are exposed to the loss of life?— "He that would save his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." And again, "What is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul, and what shall a man give in exchange for his soul1'

and saw-mill, and was always sure to have the best of a bargain on his side, by which means he had gained an ample competency, and some did not hesitate to call him "the biggest rascal in the world." He was very conceited withal, and used to delight to brag of his business capacity when any one was near to listen. One rainy day, as quite a number were seated around the stove in the store, he began, as usual, to teil of his great bargains, and at last wound up with the expression, "Nobodv has ever cheated me, nor they can't ncithcr." "Judge, said an old man of the company, "I've cneatcd you m'ore'n you ever did me." "How so?" said the Judge. "If you'll promise you won't go to law about it, nor do nothing, I'll tell, or else I won't you are too much of a law character for me." "Let's hear! let's hear!" cricd half a dozen voices. "I'll promise," said the judge, "and treat in the bargaiaj.f you have." "Well, do you"'remember that wagon you robbed me out of?" "I never robbed you out of any wagon," exclaimed the judge, "I only got the best of a bargain." "Well, I made up my mind to have it back, and—" "You never did!" interrupted the 'cute judge. "Yes I did, and interest too." "How so?" thundered the now enraged jud

"Well, 3"ou see, juuire, I sold 3-011 one

a very nice pine log, and bargained with you for a lot more. Well, that Jo

After its conclusion, those outside were stole off your pile, down by your mill, the

admitted at the hall door to obtain^ a iast night before, aud the next day I sold view of the deceased. The coffin was placed in the hall, and the visitors passing it one by one and leaving the house by the basement door, occupied almost- an hour. At length all had passed, aud after a last sad parting by the relatives, the coffin was closed and removed to the hearse. A

jer of carriages filled principally with 1 twenty-seven logs of the same measure-i per: I the relatives of the deceased, followed the

nt."

Si?.lot

a a a

tion of wore off until it was only ten feet long— lau'diiru--. In

just fourteen feet shorter than it was the would squeak'

jy by ltcv. Mr. John-- 1 1 ..

Mi*»-and

was into tnc jg

standers, the bodygrave.—iV. Y. Sun, Dec. 21.

JOIIN A. WASHINGTON* FA ILUKF.-1 ^ULUIHUUU oi tne judge was His INABIMTYTOGIVI: A TITLK TO drowned in thc shouts of thc bystanders,: th' V*^

-It. ernon liable for his debts in that d.-_ vluU I think again all the days of my

rection and perhaps in others. This, if I life true, is a lame and impotent conclusion of all those mighty schemes and of all those pains. Mr. Everett will have to begin over again. Dr. Radcliffe, when he lost twenty thousand pounds in the South Sea Scheme, said, "Well, it is only going up twenty thousand to make it all riiiht pairs of stairs to maKe it an ngtit again: i-O'Mr. Everett may console himself by the and that was mv son Aaron—he took thought that it is only speaking of the

Washington Oration over a hundred times

Look to Goa in all jmi oonBlea, and of a eaatiron'jaatkej^

sideration therefor is to be received.

We feel that we have made a Cain expedition- in. coming to 3Iinnesota. If we were only Able wo would leave it. Cold! its cold enough to freew tibe twl off

first time 1 brought it and when it got so called out— short, I drew it home aud worked it up in1 to shingles, the next week you "Sir!" was responded in a faint ton

j- Vr,urbought!

ever was shaved.

yagon back—and stowed away in

my pocket-book." The exclamation of thc

can be true slaves should be given up, because we

that ilr. John A. ashington, after dick- should render unto the seizers thc things ering for his great relative bones, and get-

that are

se zcrs

.»

man, "I never had but one who took after

after rae

with a club."

to raise his contribution over again. Only, I 'SOT An exchange says that, "in the Irs Morgan, the wiie ot,-

[should think he would keep hold of "it I absence of both editors, the publisher had |°fS

himself next time, until he is sure the con-! succeeded in securing the services of

gentleman

JSTThey have had weather at St. Paul, her husband. Minnesota, which "sent the quicksilver thirty degrees below zero. A local editor says:,

I "THE WIFE'S SECRET.'

Break a little every three months

0Gf"Wisconsin is one of the Western States, and its chief productions are pretty girls, railroad bonds, mink and other skins, seed wheat, Sons of Malta, tax titles, corner lots'and white fiA.—Pmmy Pras.

AN A FF I (I INTER. VI W BETWKEN CAPTAIN COOK, AS1) HIS SISTUKS, AND GOV. WJI.LAICO. [Correspondence of the *cw York Herald.] ... CIIABI.ESTO\VX, VA., Dec. 14.

The arrival yesterday of Gov. Willard, accompanicd by Mr. Voorhees, Mrs.!(he following interestin Crowley, and Mrs. Stanton, sisters off

man slept in the same room, but I was not

aware of it till then. self, she turned to the old man spoke: "Girls," said lie, "the schoolmaster i- iti your bed." cry well," said Sarah, and passin through the room I slept in went up stairs. I [About an hour had elapsed when I heard

Judy, the other one, come. She stood at

it to the door a long tinK

you. The next night I drew it back home,: ler," then entered soft: v." Disrobin and sold it to you the next day, and so I feet she entered the room, where I I kept on until you bought your own log of her stoekinir feet, carefully undre=sV me twenty-seven times!" self aud coming to the bed "That's a lie!" exclaimed the infuriated [get in. Now it happened I iay in the midjudge, running to his books, and examining die and turning back the clothes she gave his log accounts "'you never sold mc me a shake and saul in a simnresscd''wliis-

talking with her

-Lav over Surah." I

ro.!iicdw

said the vender iu logs,—

°T

er and whi

The Schoolmaxtrr sin that bed. ith one loud yell and an "oh ens!" she landed

jand the log-drawer found the door without jer heard thc last of it I can tell votr but

The Boston correspondent of the An f. thc promised treat. And to see a mad- probably she learned something abotifstavman, you have only to ask the judge if he iu' out late a 'sparkm' and trying to slip in unbeknown to the old folks."

An Old-Line Whig, in a neat afterdinner specch, remarked that "fugitive

WE DON'T BELIEVE IT.—Last winter, it] "Joshua knows," said thc little is said, a cow floated down thc Mississip-i the foot of the class.

r. 1? 1 I"A9 Al^ O W I AAA I A A A

A .. I

I®" A pedagogue was about to flog a

pupil for having said he was a fool, when

gencc of corner lots through the'great flood the boy cried out, "Oh, don't! don't! "if ^.

of 1857, has left him high and dry, and won't call you so any more—I'll never say

I a! 1 f. A /J A It #v

pi River on a piece of ice, and caught "Well" said the teacher, "if Jos! such a cold that she has yielded nothings knows, he may tell." but tcc crcam ever sincc. "In thc fire!" said Jushua, looking very

so emn

and wise.

tal1,

makm

'W~'jlr^

,cc at

r.F 7 N .L. summer, strolled down to thc beach in

liB

WHOLE NUMBER '910

JOHN HANCOCK THE KEVOLUTIONAUY PATRIOT. Edward J. Parker, Esq., lately delivered a lecture iu Ho3ton upon the Revolutionary patriot. John Hancock. Wc mak

CooiJ, and Miss Hughes, a cousin ot Cook's .'apparel, splendid equipages and liveried wife, created great interest, and was the servants, John Hancock, "the delight of theme of various comments. At halt past the (own,"'tho merchant-prince, the Lotwo 0 clock Mrs. Crowley and M~s. Stan- renzi cli Medici ot' America. Tho only ton, escorted by Gov. Willard, visited the charge ever brjiighc against him was his jail, and were admitted to see Cook.— love nf display and of popuiuritv. 1'is5heriff Campbell accompanicd them to the play certainly made, such as benefitted room. lie informs me that never in his his wealth and station. lie belonged life has he witnessed such a decplv affecting and painful scene. When ('apt. Avis. the jailor, opened the door of the cell, Mrs. Crowley rushed in, "lirothcr! 0I1, brother! .1 never thought or expected to sec you thus, throwing herself in his arms and sobbing hysterically for many minutes. Captain Avis says lie eould not stand it and had to leave the cell. It, was the duty of Sheriff Campbell to remain and be a witness to tho distressing interview, and it required all the fortitude of which lie is possessed to keep from shedding tears. When the time for parting came—t'hev remained with Cook about three hours— Captain Avis came to the door to let them out. He informs me that the scene was now really and truly heart-rending such a picture of woe and extreme sorrow he has never seen. After Governor Willard had taken final leave of Cook he rushed from the cell, threw himself upon C'aptam Avis, clung to him for support and wept aud sobbed for many minutes. Last evening, about half past eight, Governor W and those accompanying him took their departure for Harper's Ferry on their way to New \ork, where they will remain until the body of Cook is sent on. The ladies were treated with the most marked kindness and rcspcct.

''I1'1

Ifavinir warmed her:ave tho room when

ccl thc corn(? of

mouth, to keep from bounced but the bed Tne old mm hoard it and

jinir into the :id jtt:inir room, was waniiiii" r'l"'"" a.-'ward f.u- tlnve weeks, before some coals, which were alive on t!ie!

hearth. It seems the old lady and gentle- iM".'11'!01'-

'!i

on tho floor and fled with w'ho.^e consent, it would not have been rapidity of a deer upstairs. She nev- adopted. Kveu v.hen the war was raging he founded public schcolsi "When tiio

-Wh ore was John Rogers burnt to

death?" said a teacher to one of the pupils oblig in a commanding voice. He couldn't tell. "The next."

girl nt

slab-sidetnankets who was

h,s

''i

MORGAN'S WIFE

*In-'

pS| lxscs nnd

h:A

bathing timc 0u sedn! the bevy (|f

beauties disporting in thc waves, he burst

46?" A Mormon advertisement reads into a fit of enthusiasm. "Jerusalem! if as follows: "To be let—Rooms for two that don't jest remind mc gentlemen and four wives, or rooms for Jgood wc have to hun." one gentleman and six wives." I "What is that?" ii I heard him. 1ST "Among all my boys, said an old Wbat

somet iing

es tracts from it:

Here lived, in princely style, with rich

10 win :ii! lV

W1 !l

lli-

r.er-

prepared to

the only aristocracy which this country' should ever tolerate—the aristocracy of wealth well employed, ami tlij aristocracy of talent devoted to his- countrv. Kossuth, also, was accused of being vain.— But such men were above"orriieary rules, and should not be judged by them. As for his popularity, it was gained by doing good. lie had the largest cstato in tho country.

He was the gentleman ot Massachusetts as Washington was tho gentleman of Virginia. Over one thousand families were dependent upon him. As Adams said, ho was 110 dissembler: his generosity was radic.il. lie was no mean orator, lie was willing to give up all for his country, offering to burn up the city and make himself a beggar, in order to dislodge the British troops, lie was born a leader, lie was an example to the merchants of the present day to take an interest in their country's affairs, inMrad of idlv deploring their. condition. '1 bus lie became popular, and the speaker wished that sueh popularity,'v thus gained, might become genera!. Hancock was horn at Quincy, in the year 17*17. Ho was left an orphan, and adopted bv his uncle, who gave him an education aud sent.

TIIESCHOOLMASTER'S l.\ T1IAT HFD. A correspondent of the New York Wavcrly gives the following as one of the many incidents that befall a "boarding round schoolmaster:"

I have been teaching in Mason county, in this Sucker State, and this term was boarding round." One evening after school one of my little scholars stepped up to me and said— "Mr. Jones, father said you would come home with mc." "Very well," I replied, and forthwith set out for my patron's house which was distant some two miles. Now be it known James McIIarry—for such was his name —had two daughters, the pride and euvv of the whole communitv. I had heard so much about them that 1. was naturallv aiixions to see them. It seemed however that I was to be disappointed. lien wc arrived I learned that the "gals"'had gone to a party on the other side of the erode, sn I went to bed grumbling at. the iuck which deprived me ot seeing them that night. The night had well advanced when

him to the I'r.iver.-it}'. At (he ago t,f eighteen he went into his uncle's store, was punctual devoted himself to business and became a model youticr man. At the age of twenty he went to England, and saw the coronation of that monarch who S was soon to sign his death-warrant. About two years after his uncle died, and, instead of rushing into prodigality with Ilia vast wealth, he still retaincdTiis businesss [habits. Still he went into society, was a favorite with the ladies, and cultivated tho graces of polished life. One of his business ailveriisenients is still preserved:— "Kngiish Goods, Indian V.'ares, and Irish Butter, Cheap for Cash." So ran the advertisement, and under it was a notice to his uncle's debtors to settle up, "to avoid trouble." For some time lie made nionev, and then turned his attention to making a na'ion.

His generosity was princely. He gave a lire-ciiL'ine—then no small cift—to tho town lu distributed dock-loads of fuel atnonir the poor, he opened to them his wood-lot: when a Mori of his houses were burned down, lie scattered guineas among the homeless p"or he crectod a steeple iiieeiiiig-hou.se. Ji. was steeple which remained

,l 1(1

I heard one of the girls come home, pass-)1.'1"

vns ri

'V vears

the mutieringi the re-.oluiioil be^ He was a great favorite at. the Cmirt of the Viceroy, but resisted ail the blandishments of power, and became immortal. He alI tended thc North hind caucus, and bv his advice to burn Boston, anticipated, bv many years, the policy of "the llussians nt

Moscow. Otis and 'in.'iiiv other natriots wavered, but Hancock, never! I^mg (ieorge olivred to i.ardoii all tie rebels except Adams and 11 'neo. but lorn: before hi had christened bis vessel the .Libcrti/, and he stuck by his ship^ He was selected President of Co'.igresand was the first, to sign the I )"c!aration of I ml For some lime, even when if. thc head of the army, his was nature to that pancr, and its

^penuenee. was rea at the only sigstrong bold ny eanona

characters frown:.".! like so ma upon thc cuc i»y.. He was elected Major-Ocneril of the Massachusetts militia, and headed those very cadets from who-e command he had been 'posed by order of King (.i.jorge.---. In 11

he was elected (Jovcrnor of Mas-:

saehinctts, and re-clc-l.c I for thirteen years afterward with the exception of two years. Though a strong .State Jtights man. as strong as Calhoun—he carried the Fedcav-' cil Constitution in Massachusetts, without

State was pre-sed for nioiiev, as *be immorally is, he gave up twelve hundred dollars of iiis salary. His st

(]e

r(Jln ier

remarked a friend who

is it? ?a (I Jolinati)an smacki

1 1

of -Iconic fame is at present a.

^he stiburos of Mem{.iiis, anu

to edit the paper that week." resided that vicinity for some time.

She has been connected with the Leath

Her opinion of Orphan Asylum since her advent there.) jand her labors iu behalf of thc poor and

How TO BECOME A GREAT BROKER unfortunate will not soon be forgotten by

the recipients of her favors.

of living as Gov

ernor prevented the people from regretting the A iecrev, and Mr.-. Adams was often to send out at an early hour in tho imorintiir to have the tiic cows milked for the coffee and punch. niike Crattan, bo isat by thc cradle of bis country, but did not follow her hearse, lb: died in tho sixtieth year of his a^e, after having declared to the Senate hi? belief, that tho: State was sovereign, and should be frco

from tuc military or the slj?-iff.

I'.XTr.Aor.I!NAHv CASK.—Some time in February, ISO I, Dr. S. M. King was called upon to perform an operation on the person ot Mrs. Adams, residing a few: mile.-* from Monoii«£ahe!a City. She was" afflicted with witli dropsy, or as medical men term it, ascites, and the doctor drew

fourteen gallons of water. From

•••, that time to January, he drew from

Ler 0I)e luI1(ir( (I a,'uI

f(.,lirteen and a half

I gallons, and up to the IS th of October last had taken six hundred and twenty-eight gallons and two quarts, or nearly twenty

,. barrels.- Mrs. Adams is about turtv-fivo is A

vears onJ, in tne enjoyment oi to:erab:o

iCa

ith, and should nothing ann-ual

occur, bids fair to live several years yet. Her health is much better now than when tbe first operation wa.i performed.—Putsbur•' Press.

BeS" Money lender—" i'uu waut a hundred dollars.' Here's the money I charge, five percent, a month, ami as you want it for a year, that leaves just forty dollars

I5?*A firm of Republican merchants Chicago are cbarged with having taken two coniiug to you. negro children, who belonged to a deliu- Innocent Barrower—"Then if I wanted quent Sonthern debtor, and sold them for it for two years, Iher'd b« something ootn. $700. |in£ to you."