Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 26, Decatur, Adams County, 6 August 1858 — Page 1

THE DECAT ER EAGLE.

VOL. 2.

* THE EAGLE. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY j PHILLIPS & SPENCER, i Office, on Main Street, in the old School House, one Square North of J. & P Crabs’ Store. Terms of Subscription : For one year, $1 50, in advance; $1 75, within j the year, and $2 00 after the year has expired. > iEFNo paper will be discontinued until all ; arrerages are paid, except at the option of the Publishers. Terms of Advertising: One square, (ten lines) three insertions, $1 00 Each subsequent insertion, 25 ] Jj“No advertisement will be considered less than one square; over one square will be counted and charged as two; over two, as three, etc. JOB PRINTING: We are prepared to do all kinds of job-work, in a neat and workmanlike manner, on the most reasonable terms. Our material for the completion of Job-Work, being new and ot the latest : styles, and we feel confident that satisfaction ■ can be given. ' “AM I NOT THIS TO THEE.” BY SALLIE M. BRYAN. A fairy dream that came With evanescent light, Across the heart of flame One early autuniu night — Am I not this to thee? A peal cast at thy feet, And worn by thee—an hour, Then left where wild waves beat, The plaything of their power—• Am I not this to thee? A lone and languid rose, That in thy smile might bloom But on the distance throws Vainly its faint perfume — Am I not this to thee? A sad and timid star That lured thy gaze awhile, Now shining on afar, Forgotten by the smile— Am I not this to thee? A half remembered strain That once entranced thine ear, Whose music thou again Wilt sometimes sigh to hear— Am t not this to thee? ‘The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower. Au empty sound—that of a railnvay whistle when you are just too late lor a train. The devil is in my luck,’ raid an unfortunate loafer to his companion. ‘More likely he is in your coat and breeches.’ Every fool knows how often he has been a rogue, but a rogue seldom knows how often he has been a fool, Why is a man who carries a watch invariably to late in his appointments? Because he is always behind the time ofday. Think like the wise, but talk like ordinary people. Never go out of the common road but for something important. •Patrick, when will water stop running down hill? ‘When it gets to the bottom, sure, yon spalpeen.’ Girls sometimes put their lips out poutingly because they are angry, and sometimes because their lips are disposed to meet yours half way. A fellow boasted that he bad a brother who was a revolutionary hero. It came out that the person spoke of was long on the treadmill. — 111 1 ■ ‘You are making a butt of me,’ said a drunken man to the persons laughing at him. ‘You appear to be making a butt of yourself,’ replied one of them. A Lady wished a seat in a crowded hall. A handsome gentleman brought her a chair. ‘You are a jewel,’ said she. “Oh, no, I am a jeweler; I have just set the jewel.’ A gentleman in Cincinnati has a game cock, two and a} half years old, which has been victor of twenty-nine battles, and the amount of mone.y earned is about 87,000! Mrs. Hays, the woman who lives without eating, is still living and still continues to do without provisions of any kind. She has lived since February 26th, 1857, to the present day, without either eating or drinking. A drv sort of genius once undertook to name and classify the different sort of fools in this world: Ist. The ordinary fool. 2d. The fool who is one and don’t know it. 3d. The fool who is not satisfied with being a fool in reality but undertakes in addition to play the fool

THE MERCIFUL FIND MERCY. BY GEORGIANNA HERBERT. ‘Oh! Henry, is it thus you reward me for all these years of patient love and undoubting faith in you? Are you serious in saying that for a fairer, younger, and more wealthy bride you will forsake the chosen of your youth? Tell me—oh! do tell me—that this is only a horrid dream; that you are not so false, so merciless!’ Thus cried, with passionate gestures and agonized features, a young woman to a man several years her senior, who stood regarding her with a cool, determined look. Not a muscle of his face moved—not a nerve of his heart trembled—as she made her passionate appeal. His face was not so easily discomposed, and his heart was as adamant. The glance of his cold, blue eye grew more steely still, ana a disagreeable smile drew back the corners of his lips, as he replied: ‘You seem strangely to forget your womanly pride, Agnes. Once I wouldn’t have thought of you as one who could stoop to insist that any man should marry her.’ The blood which had forsaken the girl’s face, and gathered suffocatingly i about her tortured heart, now rushed in I a hot flood back, turning her scarlet to the very hair. She started from her j crushed and heart-broken position, and ■ with eyes flashing indignation and scorn, I said: ‘Nor do I now! Go from this bouse, i Henry Howard! I thank you for disclosing to me so clearly the dragon’s foot, and the abject soul which, many a time, I have had cause to fear might be yours. Go! [ say. Why do you tarry? 1 would i not marry you were you io offer me a ■crown! Do you linger in order to say 1 what shall help me to bear losing you? I Kind sir! but be sure that further words are unnecessary. You have said what will be sufficient to support me. My heart will not break. Begone!’ But it was not Mns that the false lover wished to go. He was utterly confounded at the mine bis insulting words had sprung. Was this his meek and gentle Agnes? Was he to be thus turned from 1 the house out of which he had expected ' hardly to be able to draw himself tor her (clinging arms, her prayers, and sobs, and tears. Ah! sweet gentleman—it is ; proverbial that ‘still waters run deep.’ You had better depart. Human nature is a strange thing. As ■ well as he could live any one but him--1 self, Howard.had loved Agnes; and now that he saw her in so unnatural a mood, he began to dislike to have her hate him. j He had not thought her capable of so reI senting anything he could say or do — His mean soul was a little shaken; and in i a very different manner he now confron- ! ted his companion. •But, Agnes,’he began. She pointed 'to the door, turned suddenly upon her , heel, and left the room, * * * * ! ‘Please, sir, do let me sit a little while. This bundle is so heavy, and I am not well. I won’t do anj’ barm here.’ It was a poor ragged child who spoke i to the rich merchant, as he paused to order her from his marble steps. ‘Clear out! I can’t help it if you are I tired. Can’t have my steps cluttered |up with beggars and their bundles. Off with you! The child rose feebly, and tottered away; and the rich Mr. Howard entered his elegant mansion—his by his wife, the ' handsome young heiress, for whom he I left Agnes. * * * * ‘We have been able to get bntvery litj tie work, sir; and, besides, we have all ' been sick for the last few weeks. If you would but give us a little more time, we would try hard to pay.’ ‘The money or the house, by noon tomorrow!’ was the hard reply. ‘Oh! sir, consider my poor son! He is too sick to be moved. It will cost his life! Will you not have some mercy upon us? You are a rich man, it is true; but you may need mercy yourself yet. j Give us one week mere.’ ‘The money or the house!’ said IIow- ; aid, as he moved away. * * * * ‘Have mercy on me, sir! Oh! in the name of God, have mercy. It was for 'my wife and her young baby, but it will kill her. Do not expose me! I will work it out. I never did such a thing before; and it was only five dollars to buy wine and things that she could eat, for my poor feeble Mary. Have mercy! have mercy! or God will be merciless to you. ‘Have done with this outciy. You are a thief, and I shall not stand between you and justice. Officers, do your duty!’ And Mr. Howard quietly returned to his accounts. Strange that no thought | of the account that was running up ■ against himself e\ex entered his head. tOh! uncle, do not send me forth intoi the storm to die. Have some pity! I

“Our Country’s Good shall ever be our Aim—Willing to Praise and not afraid to Blame.”

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, AUG. 6, 1858.

make no excuse; but remember that the 1 Lord was merciful even to one like me. For His sake let me stay till this storm isover. 1 cannot —I cannot go out into the street this night!’ ‘We shall see if you cannot, my lady. Have vou tied up your things, or do you choose to go without, them? You may take that handkerchief full of cloths if you’ll be quick; but tramp you shall within sis- ■ teen minutes' And mind you never let me see your face again. ‘Uncle! uncle! for my mother’s sake let I inc remain. ‘Your mother’s sake! My sister was ' a decent woman, and for her sake I will I turn such a baggage as you are out doors. I Hurry, will you!’ '* * * * ‘Not this month’s wages, yer honor? Oh! not this month’s wages, for me mother is sick, and wants it every cent. Och‘ yer honor, ye wouldn’t be keeping back this month’s wages, when it might cost ; me mother’s life! | The steel in Howard’s eyes never soft- ; ened as he sternly replied—- [ ‘Yes—this month’s wages, girl. They ! are already due; and we are therefore sure of our pay for all that you have so ■ carelessly smashed. You would very likely walk off rather than pay for them | were Ito hand you the wages for the ; month just closing. You Irishare always ready with a story: Your mothers and cousins come amazingly handy.— Hush! I won’t hear a word. Down stairs with you. 1 want to read in peace.’ The old mother was turned from her : cabin, and, in consequence, she soon died. The young niece—who staked her all upon man’s truth, and lost—went, in her hour of agony, forth into the storm, and in the darkness she and her child both perished—God onlj’ knows with how long or how short a struggle. The young clerk wan shut within a prison: and the shock of hearing this, and what it was for, was more than his poor, pale young wife could bear: misery and despair broke her heart; and before her husband was set free, she was hid from his sight in the grave. ; The poor family—one of whom Mr. ’ Howard ordered from his steps the day he turned them all into the street—found a rude shelter in the shed of a neighbor, and there the sick son breathed his last, I amid the silent and hopeless sorrow of his family. Agnes —whose heart he wrung most bitterly, and whose self-rdspect he outraged—was the only one benefited by his cruelty. It was a mercy to her, for it saved her from the curse of becoming his wife; and she afterwards married a man. “Mercy! mercy! mercy! Oh, God! oh, God! have mercy!’ The shriek of the dying man rang fearfully through all that lofty dwelling. The children in the nursery heard the cry, and slunk together in terror. The servants in the basement heard it, and superstitious dread seized on their hearts. His wife by his bedside heard it, and with blanched cheek, and trembling lips, strove to calm the sufferer. ‘Shall I not send for the minister,’ she said. ‘No! no! he can do me no good. Only i one can do me good, and be ‘There- ■ fore I will laugh at your calamity, and I laugh when your fear comethl’ yelled the ' wretched being; and then he asked, in a j frenzied manner, why his wife allowed i I his outcast niece to come and scream j ■ such awful things into his ears. ‘No one is here, mv dear husband. — ; Why will you not let me read to you ; something from the Bible? lam sure you need not be so distressed. You have I always been such a just man; and so parI ticular about going to church, and paying | your part of all expenses; and then you know that God is so merciful. ‘Yes, yes—‘To the merciful I will show myself merciful!’ But I ‘He that i si tie th in the heavens shall mock!’ again he shrieked; and then, writhing and twistj ing as if in utmost pain, he besought his ’ wife to turn out the wife of his clerk, who had repeated this passage to terrify ‘ him; and to drive away all the people, I that Agnes was leading into the room, ; and beckoning to surround his bed. ‘I cannot see beyond them! She makes' them bend over me so that my prayers cannot rise! Oh! lam going, and He has | not heard my cry. They hold it down! jlt does not reach Him! Oh, I mercy!, mercy! mercy 1’ He sprang to his feet, and tossed his arms on high. Horror, despair, and the extremity of fear and wo sat on the fea- ' tures never stamped with sympathy or ■ moved by pity for other’s sorrow. Fall - i ing forward upon his face, with one loud groan, the man that was not merciful went forth to meet his doom! We may not judge the dead; but who would die the death of the merciless? What is better than presence of mind : in a railroad accident? Absence of body.

Popular Sovereignty. Overall the tempest of facttons, and through all the confusion ol partisans, a sagacious eye can trace the progress of ■ the principle of Popular sovereignty as : the future and only plan for harmonizing .all the questions of slavery, as they arise 'in Territories and in States. Gradually it is coming to be accepted as the eom- ; mon platform of all national men. Even ' those who still hesitate to support it cannot deny that it has been most vigorously defended and explained and will be as vigorously insisted upon. They see that rather than yield it up, rather than compromise it, some of the leading Democratic statesmen of the nation have not hesitated to take issue with an Administration, in the flush and fullness of its patronage and power. In the last Congress the Republicans and the Americans supported it in a body; and in one shape or another, all the Democrats did the same thing. Even those who yielded to the exactions of theLecomptonites deemed it the highest policy to say that thev were strongly attached and fully committed to it. The Administration through its otgans, proclaimed its special regard for it; and the President, while making Lecompton a test, took care to say that ‘hereafter’ the people of every Territory should be protected in that of which the people of Kansas have been so persistently deprived. This .-cclaim of devotion to Popular Sovereignty means much. It is the pledge of the nation, in support of the principle of the Declaration of Independence, and the guarantees of the Federal Constitution. And woe betide the leader or the party that attempts to evade this pledge by going behind it. It is true that here and there are objections urged against the doctrine of Popular Sovereignty. An extreme Southern man insists that his slaves can be carried into and kept in a territory in defiance of Constitution and laws, and an exi treme Abolitionist demands to know how ’ the people can be clothed with full power to regulate their domestic institutions in their own way with the Dred Scot deciI sion securing to slaveholders the right to , carry their ‘property’ into any Territory '(and, according to the Washington Union . into any Statejin defiance of the local law. But these objections fall into nothing bei fore the fact, that as Popular Sovereign;y ;is not intended to deprive the South ot I any of its rights, neither is it intended to i be made the cloak of politicians who think I the overthrow of the will of the majority the highest acheivements of political science. If the people of the territory want ■ slavery, they will have and ought to have it; but if a minority choose to hold slaves in defiance of the public wish, as expressed at the polls, the Dred Scott decision will be of little practical consequence.— Every effort to colonize slavery in Kansas failed, and failed, too, without the infringement of the right of a single slave* holder, backed as the minority were by the whole power of the Government, the army inclusive. Where slavery is profitable, it will find its way; and where it is not, Dred Scott will scarcely be called in to perpetuate it. There are regions where domestic slavery will find its way; where it will flourish and compensate those interested in it. There are other regions where it cannot be maintained, and where it never will go. The laws of Nature will thus come in aid of sound political economy, and we shall cease to wrangle about that which, left to itself, and to those directly concerned in it, will be forever removed from the halls of ConI gross and the arena of national politics. I The party which, in 1860, abandons : the doctrine of Popular Sovereignty, will die the death of the wicked. Whether it is attempted to substitute for this doctrine that of Congressional control or intervention on the hand, or that of the Lecompton swindle on the other, those who undertake the task will perish in the attempt. I The Democratic party has been the coui stant champion of this doctrine. It assumed the responsibility, and sustained the burden of the defense, at an early day. That party will ascend to new triumphs and to new power if it is permitted to be true to ieeif and to its history; but if it is 'seduced into other paths, it will expire ' amid the wreck of all those other organI izations which have been powerful only Iso long as they were honest, and died j when they became treacherous and false. —Philadelphia Press. Getting Naturalized.—A Dutch grocers wife up town, who patronizes dentists and barbers, or, in other words, who wears artificial teeth and hair, was engaged in familiar chat with an Irish customer the other day, when she asked, ‘Have you cot naturalized yet?’ ‘How the Dickens could I see to work and make out my way isl hadn’t?’ was the indignant answer. ‘Natural eyes indeed! To be sure I have, an’ always had an’ more than that I have natural hair an’ teeth, too.’ Always whip the willing horse.

Woman.—As the dove will clasp il’s wings to its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals, so it is the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection.— With her the desire of the heart has failI ed. The great charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all the cheerful exercises that gladden her spirits, quickt n the pulse and send the tide of life in her cheerful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken, the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams; ‘dry sorrow drinks her blood,’ until her feeble frame sinks under the last eternal assailment. Look for her after a little while, and you find friendship weeping over her untimely grave, and wondering that one who so lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty, should now be brought down to ‘darkness and worm.’ You will be told of some wintry ■chill, some slight indisposition that laid her low, but no one knows the mental malady that previously sapped her strength, and made her so easy a prey to the spoiler.— Washington Irving. A San Francisco Scene—There is fun in San Francisco when a steamer arrives. The correspondent of the New York 'limes witnessed a recent arrival and thus describes the scene: The passengers were a forlorn looking set when they arrived. Sea sickness had taken all the romance out of them and they looked as if they didn’t care much whether they ever got to shore. I noticed several ‘Mealio’ hats, somewhat the worse for salt water—lots of bonnets that had met the fate of all bonnets on ship board—been sat on a few times. The females came ashore, however, in hoops that for the same cause, had assumed all sorts of angles, like a broken umbrella in a wind—some were three square, some i octagonal, and some gone, to wreck generally. It is the fashion you see, here, for every body to go down to the steamer when she lands to twig the fashions and newly arrived clothes, and to see the kissing. There’s some awful ‘bouts’ at it; ■ and the first rush of husbands and proj prieturs of crinoline aboard is very ava- : lanchy; they are utterly oblivious and rej gardless of starch, curls, hair or new bonnets. ‘Go in lemons.’ You will often see a chap go in with a ‘rush,’ and come | out with fragments of side combs in his ’ whiskers —while the woman has an indistinct idea of having been severely hugged ruthlessly kissed and generally ‘mussed.’ ' There’s great fun sometimes. HI — Tl Boy’s, be Prompt, Never say, when told to do anything, ‘ln a minute,’ or ‘By and by.’ This leads to a bad habit, which if not overcome, will prevent all confidence in you ' as you grow up. Yon will then put off the duties you owe to your parents and ; neighbor in the same way, and lose their confidence. Many men lose the respect of their neighbors, not so much because they mean to do wrong, as through mere carelessness. ‘By and by,’ and ‘to-mor-row,’ have ruined thousands, have robbed the men of their character, and made i them anything but blessings in their station Little confidence can be placed ‘ in their word, and that because of their , carelessness. Let none of our young readers lose the confidence of their parents or their school fellows, by such carelessness. But fulfil every promise and every obligation promptly, and you will succeed in every laudible undertaking and be so respected by all good men. i Why Ladies Should Read Newspa- ( pers.—lt is a great mistake in female ed- ■ ucation to keep a young lady’s time and i attention devoted to only fashionable lit- 1 i erature of the day. If you would qualify her for conversation, you must give her j something to talk about—give her edui cation with the actual world and its transpiring events. Urge her to read news ■ and become familiar with the present | character and improvement of our race. History is of some importance, but the | past world is dead and we have nothing to do with it. Our thoughts for the presI ent world, to know what it is, and im- [ prove the condition of it. Let her have I an intellent opinion and be able to sustain 1 an intelligent conversation concerning the . mental, moral, political and religious im- ' provement of our time. Let the gilded i annuals and poems on our centertable be i kept part of the time covered with week-1 ]y and daily journals. Let the whole I family—men women and children, read I the newspapers. Mrs. Partington on Health—‘La me!’ sighed Mrs. Partington; ‘here 1 have been suffering the bigamies of deaih three i mortal weeks. First, I was seized with a bleeding prenology in the left hemisphere of the brain, which was exceeded by a stoppage of the left ventilator of the I heart. This gave me an inflammation of the borax, and now lam sick with the I 1 chloroform morbus. There is no blessin’ I'ke that of health, paiticuiarly when 1 you’re sick.’

A Lesson tea Selodiag Mother. A little girl who had witnessed the ■ perplexity ot her mother on a certain occasion, when her fortilude gave way under severe trails, said: ‘Mother, does God ever fret or scold? The query was so abrupt and startling, it arrested the mother’s attention almost with a shock. ‘Why, Lizzie, what makes you ask that question? ‘Why, God is good—you k»ow you used to call him the ‘good Man,’ when I was httie—-ana I should like to know if he ever scolded. ‘No, ch ild, no.’ ‘Well 1 am glad he don’t for scolding always makes me feel so bad, even when I’m not in fault. 1 don’t think 1 could . love God much if he scolded me. The mother felt rebuked befere her simple child. Never had she heard so forcible a lecture on the evils of scoldin'-. ■ The words of Lizzie sank deep into her heart, and she turned away from the innocent face of her little ono to hide the I tears that gathered in her eyes. Childj ren are quick observers; and Lizzie seeI ing the effect of her words, hastened to I inquire: •Why do you cry, mother? Was it naughty for me to as k so many questions? ‘No, love, it was all right. I was thinking how bad I was to scold so much, when my little girl could hear and be troubled by it.’ ‘Oh, no, nanima, you are not bad; you are a good mamma; only I wish there was not so many bud things to make you (ret and talk like you did just now! It makes me feel away from you so far, as if 1 could not come near you. as I can when you smile and are kind; and Oh, I sorne- ■ times fear that I shall be put off so far I I never can go back again. ‘Oh Lizzie, don’t say that,’ said the mother, unable longer to suppress the tears that she had been struggling in her eyes. The child wondered what could so affect its parent, but instinctively feeling that it was a case requiring sympathy, she reached up and laid her little arms about her mother’s neck and whispered; ‘Mamma, dear, do I make you cry? 1 Do vou love me? ; ‘Oh, yes, I love you more than I can I tell,’ replied the parent, clasping the child to her bosom, ‘and 1 will tiy nnv|er to scold again before my sensitive lit- ■ tie girl. ‘Oli, lam glad. I can get so near to j you when you don’t scold; and do you ; know, mother, I want to love you so much? This was an effectual lesson, and the mother felt the force of that passage of j Scripture, ‘Out of the mouths of babes, have 1 ordained strength.’ She never scolded again. Wise and Douglas,—The correspondent of the Philadelphia Inquirer says: ‘Governor Wise and Sentator Douglas had several long important interviews in I this city before the departure of the lat- ■ ter on his western mission. This fact ap- | pears to give the organs here considcrable uneasiness, and well it may, for these ■ two gentlemen are without doubt the I most vigorous and capable politicians in ■ the Democratic party, as well as the ■ most fearless and independent. Whatever programme they have decided upon iat these recent visits, it may be pretty safely said will be carried out. In spite iof the hue and cry against Gov. Wise he will assuredly control the State of Virginiia at its next election, and Mr. Douglas will as certainly come back to the Senate. Mark the prophecy. i The Washington Telegraph mentions the flourishing condition of a new town near that county, (Daviess,) which bears one of the queerest names we ever encountered. It is “ Loogotee!" It is on the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad. Indianapolis Jour. The town derived its cognomen from the names of two gentlemen, Mr. Loo a very popular engineer at one time employed on the road, and Judge Gotee, a I prominent citizen and politician of Martin ■ county. Joined together, the two 1 names make Loogotee, the first syllable representing the railroad and the latter j the county in which the town is located. 1 The city of Lamasco, adjoining Evansville, was named in a similar way, the word of Lamasco, being composed oi a ' part of each of the names of the original proprietors—Law, MaCall, Scott.— E’in, Gaz. It is said that the choice of a wife by the Prince of Wales, that future monarch of England, if lie outlives his mother, is ; limited to several royal princesses. Prin- , cess Alexandra of Denmark is considered the most suitable match of the seven. When the Prince of Wales comes of age in 1862 she will be 18. A negro, who has shockingly abused a respectable young white woman, was taken from the officers and hung by a mob in Enterprise, Miss., on the 18th ir.st.

NO. 26.