Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 31, Decatur, Adams County, 10 September 1858 — Page 1

THE DECATUR EAGL E,

VOL. 2.

[THE EAGLE. ■VBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY IPHILLIPS & SPENCER, Off.oe, on Main Street, in the old School House, | one Square North of J. & P Crabs’ Store. Terms of Subscription : •or one year, $1 50, in advance; $1 75, within .the year, and $2 00 after the year has expired. ||IEFNo paper will be discontinued until all fererages are paid, except at the option of the Publishers. Terms of Advertising: ©ne square, (ten lines) three insertions, $1 00 Each subsequent insertion, 25 ’ ID'Nn advertisement will be considered less than one square; over one square will be counted and charge! as two; over two, as three, etc. —2 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 of the latest styles, and we feel confident that satisfaction can be siven. Written for the Eagle. THE FARMER. BY PLOUGH BOY. Os all pursuits, by man invented. The Fanners make the best contented; ■ His calling good, his profits high, And on his labors all rely; Mechanics all by him are fed— I Ofhim the merchant seeks his bread. B His hand gives meat to every thing, Op from the beggar to the king; B The milk and honey, corn and wheat, Are by his labors made complete— Our clothes from him must first arise To deck the fop and dress the wise. J We then, by vote, may justly state The Farmer’s rank among the great; More independent than they all, That dwell upon this earthly ball, Hail all you Farmers young and old, Push on your plow with courage bold. Your wealth arises from your clod, Your independence from your Gon; Since then the plow supports the nation And men of rank of every station; Let Kings to Farmers make a bow, And every man procure a plow. Success of the Atlantic Telegraph. XIV WILLIAM BOifl WAJ.tACK. There’s a sound upon the mountains; There’s a sound upon the lea, . Voices by the inland waters; Voices by the grand old sea; Continents are in rejoicing; Worlds themselves arc clasping hands—i Hark! the hyms of peace are blending From a thousand, thousand lands! There’s a sound within the heavens! How it falls on hill and glen, Through the trumpets of’God’s Angels — “Peace on Earth! Good-will to men!" Bee the wings of Time are trembling; See the shades of prophets old, See from Judah’s mounts of vision Pass away the mystic fold! Nat ions! for a moment silence— Feel you not a Presence nigh? Listen! bow your heads and listen! — God Himself is passing by: Though unseen, He blesses Ocean Through its wide, but fathomed, span — For at last it owns His power In the conquering Image—Man! : — — —- — The volume of nature is the book of knowledge, and he becomes the wisest ! who makes the most judicious selections. Profound Reflection. —I have often observed at a public entertainment, that when there is anything particular to be seen, and everybody wants particularly to see it, everybody immediately stands up, and effectually prevents anybody from seeing anything. A correspondent of the Lewistown Journal, writing of the Oldtown Indians, eays: ‘ A young lady of the tribe one day in the cars was asked by a rowdy if she would not like to marry a white?— I‘No,’ was her ready reply, ‘because good white men do not want to marry me, and poor scamps like you I won’t have!’ The rowdy left at the next station.’ An old Dutch farmer, just arrived at the dignity of Justice of the Peace, had his first case of marriage. He did it up in this way. He first said to the man: 'Veil, you wants to be marrit, do you?— Veil, you lovesh dis woman so goot as any woman you have ever seen?’ ‘Yer,’ answered the man. Then to the woman —‘Veil do you love dis man so better as any man you ever seen?’ She hesitated a little, and he repeated—‘Veil, do like him bo veil as to be his vife?’ ’Yes, yes,’ she answered. ‘Veil, dat is all any reasonable man could expect. So you are marrit; I pronounce you man and vife.’ The man asked the Justice what was to pay, ‘Nothing at all, nothing at all, you are velcome if it vill do you any goot!

A RIFT IN THE CLOUD. BY T. 3. ARSHUR. Andrew Lee came home at evening i from the shop where he had worked all day, tired and out of spirits—came home i to his wife, who was also fired and out of ! spirits. | ‘A smiling wife and a cheerful home—i what a Paradise it would be!’ said Andrew to himself, as he turned his eyes from the clouded face of Mrs. Lee, and sat down, with knitted brows and a moody aspect. Not a word was spoken by either. Mrs. Lee was getting supper, and she moved about with a weary step. ‘Gome,’ she said at last, with a side glance at her husband. There was invitation in the word only, none in the voice of Mrs. Lee. 1 Andrew arose and went to the table. ‘He was tempted to speaker an angry I word, but controlled himself, and kept 'silent. He could find no fault with the ehoo, nor the sweet homemade bread, I nor the fragrant tea. They would have j cheered his inward man, if there had onIly been a gleam of sunshine on the face of his wife. He noticed that she did not ’ eat.

‘Are you not well, Mary?’ The words were on his lips, but he did not utter them, for the face of his wife looked so repellant that he feared an irritating reply. And so, in moody silence, the twain sat together, until Andrew had finished bis supper. As he pushed his chair back, his wife arose, and commenced clearing off the table. ‘This is purgatory!’ said Lee to himself, as he commenced walking the floor of their little breakfast room, with his hands thrust desperantely away down into his trousers pockets, and his chin almost touching his breast. After removing all the dishes, and taking them into the kitchen, Mrs. Lee spread a green cover on the table, and placing a fresh trimmed lamp thereon, went out and shut the door after her, leaving her linsband alone with his unpleasant feelings. He took a long, deep breath as she did so, paused in his walk, stood still for some momepts; and then drawing a paper from bis pocket, sat down bv the table, opened the sheet, and ' oommcnood roarlincy Singularly enough, the words upon which his eyes rested where, “Praise your wife.” They rather tended to increase the disturbance of mind from which he was suffering. ‘I should like to find some occasion for praising mine. How quickly his thoughts expressed that ill-natured sentiment. — But his eyes were on the page before him, and read on. ‘Praise your wife, man, for pity’s sake, give her a little encouragement; it won’t hurt her.’ Andrew Lee raised his eyes from the paper, and muttered, ‘Oh, yes. That’s all very well. Praise is cheap enough. But, praise her for what? For being sullen, and making your home the most disagreeable place in the world? His eyes fell again to the paper. Shemadeyou home comfortable, your hearth bright and shining, you? food agreeable; for pity’s sake tell her you thank her, if nothing more. She don’t expect it; it will make her eyes open wider than they have for ten vears; but it will do her good for all that, and you, too.’ It seemed to Andrew as if this sentence were written just for him, and just for the occasion. It was the complete answer to his question, ‘Praise her for what? and he felt it also as a rebuke. — He read no farther, for thought came too busy, and in a new direction. Memory was convicting him of injustice towards his wife. She had always made his home as comfortable for him as hands could make it, and had he offered the light return of praise or commendation? Had he ever told her of the satisfaction he had known, or the comfort experienced? He was not able to recall the time or the occasion. As he thought thus, Mrs. Lee came in from the kitchen, and taking her work basket from a closet, placed it on the table, and sitting down, without speaking, began to sew. Mr. Lee glanced almost stealthily at the work in her hands, and saw that it was the bosom of a shirt, which she was stitching neatly. He knew that it was for him that she was at work.

‘Praise your wife. The words were ■ before the eyes of his mind, and he could not look away from them. But he was not ready for this yet. He still felt moody and unforgiving. The expression !of his wife’s face he interpreted to mean ill-nature, and with ill-nature he had no patience. His eyes fell upon the newspaper that lay spread, out before him, i and he read the sentence — ‘A kind, cheerful word spoken in a gloomy home, is like the lift in a cloud i that lets the sunshine through. Lee struggled with himse fft while longer. Ills own ill-nature had to be conquered first—hi* moody, accusing

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

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, SEPT. 10, 1858.

spirit had to be subdued. But he was coming right, as to will. Next came the question as to how he should begin. He thought of many things to say, yet feared to say them, lest his wife should meet his advances with a cold rebuff. At last, leaning towards har and taking hold of the linen bosom upon which she was pt work, he said, in a voice carefully modulated with kindness—‘You are doing that work very beautifully ,Mary. Mrs. Lee made no reply. But her husband did not fail to observe that she lost, almost instantly, that rigid erectness with which she had been sitting, not that the motion or her needle-hand coneed ‘My shirts are better made, and white? than those of any other man in our shop, said Lee, encouraged to go on. ‘Are they?’ Mrs. Lee’s voice was low, and bad in it a slight huskiness. She did not turn her face, but her husband saw that she leaned a little towards him. He had broken through the ice of reserve, and all was easy now. His hand was among the clouds, and a few feeble rays were already struggling through the rift it had made.

‘Yes. Mary,’ he answered, softly, ‘and I’ve heard it said more than once, What a good wife Andrew Lee must have. Mrs. Lee turned her face towards her husband. There was light in it, and light in her eye. But there was something in the exrpession of the countenance that a little puzzled him. ‘Do you think so?’ she asked, quite soberly. ‘What a question!’ ejaculated Andrew Lee, starting up and going around to the side of the table where his wife was sitting. ‘What a question, Mary!’ he repeated, as he stood before her. ‘Do you?’ It was all she said. ‘Yes, darling,’ was his warmly-spoken answer, and he stooped down and kissed her. ‘How strange that you should ask me such a question!’ ‘lf you would only tell me so now and then, Andrew, it would do me good.’ — And Mrs. Lee aiose, and leaning her face against the manly breast of her husband, stood and wept. What a strong light broke in upon the mind of Andrew Lee. He had never given to bis faithful wife even the small reward of prais for all the loving interest ■dip had manifested daily, until doubt of his love had entered her soul, and made the light around her thick darkness. No wonder that her face grew clouded, nor that what he considered moodiness and ill-nature took possession of her spirit. •You are good and true, Mary. My own dear wife. lam proud of you—l love you, and my first desire is for your happiness. Oh, if I could always see your face in sunshine, my home would be the dearest place on earth. ‘How precious to me are your words oflove and praise, Apdrew,’ said Mrs. Lee, smiling up through her tears into bis face. ‘With them in my ears, my heart can never lie in shadow.

How easy had been the work for Andrew Lee. He had swept his hand across the cloudy horizon of his home, and now the bright sunshine was streaming down, and flooding that home with joy and beauty. Reb Hair.—‘lt is a pity that girl has red hair,’ said a thoughtless, ignorant woman, as she looked upon a beautiful girl. Upon which the Portland Tribune says: ‘A pity hey? Where’s the pity* with her beautiful skin, rosy cheeks and bright eyes, what is so becoming as the hair that nature gave her? You seldom see a person with red hair who has not a tine complexion—and yet you condem it.— Did you not know that many of our talented women have sandy hair? Who will say that red hair is not prevalent among men of genius and talent? Shakspeare and Milton had red hair and so had Lafayette. Neal and Longfellow have sandy hait, and so has Greely, Severance and Green, three of our talented editors—one of whom is in Congress. If we may believe the account of historians, the Savior of the world had red hair, which flowed over his shoulders. Who then will dispise red hair? Who will not rather be pleased to see and admire it in his friends and children?

If there is a person who lacks wisdom and discretion, it is the individual who will make such a remark as we quoted above. Oh, sugar! Below Point Coupee. Louisiana, is one broad field of sugarcane covering thirty-thousand acres.— There are rows four miles in length, and strait as an arrow. At one point the traveller may count fifteen brick sugarhouses at one glance. A man was walking quickly down street the other day, when he was suddenly struck by a thought and knocked into a gutter.

SOator Douglas and the South—“ What Does it Mean!’’ The Memphis (Tenn.) Avalanche, of tl» 18th inst., contains the following able aid just communication in relation to the trie position of Senator Douglas and the Siath. The South appears to be waking unto its true interests; and the indignaticn shown at the couise of the Lincoln or-' gas in this city, is what might be very ■ pnperly expected. Editors of the Avalanche: I have! before me the New York Tribune, and fid a whole column or more of that pa- ' pa - devoted to S. A. DoUglas, of Illinois. ! 'here held up as an enemy to freedom daw ;j|j n g supporter of Southern drivers! Disgusted with this i I whctesale abuse of Greeley, I turn to the I Wasbngton Union and find it, if possible I more V.rulent in its denunciations of the j Illinois Senator than Greeley himself. I ask you, Messrs. Editors, what does this ' mean? Htw is it that two leading paper*, I iof antagonistic parties and principles, i ; should so cxmpletely harmonize in their ! denunciations of one man?' The Tribune “ays that Douglas is in enemy to the North, and the Union says he is a traitor j to the Constitution and the South! There ! is something vrong in all this, and it is I easily explained. Douglas has uni- ■ formly, and at all times, opposed the : Black Republicans and defended the; I rights of the Soith. He has taken, and now takes, th* position that the Con-1 ■ stitution of the country was made for ' white men, and tot for negroes. But, on the other hand, Douglas and ' the Administration fell out—not about the rights of the South, the dignity of the African, the rights of the slaveholder, or • any of that sort of thing, but simply about ayuesfion a/ fact’, and that was whether of not the Lecompton constitution was the willed the Kansas peonle. — I This was the quarrel; and now, because of this quarrel, the organ of our party is opening on Douglas, and denouncing him as a traitor! I ask, in what has he proven himself a traitor? Not on the reference of the Kansas constitution to the people; because that matter involved no principle of questions, recognized in our creed and consecrated in Democratic history, because in all these things Douglas stands as true to his party as Buchanan or any member of his Cabinet! At this time Mr. Douglas is fighting j his battle with the Abolitionists, and with I them alone; and yet it is strange, passing ; strange, that the Union at Washington is 1 raising the yell against him and giving its , mighty influence in favor of his defeat. — I If this is the way friends of the South are jto back our Northern friends, they may well pray to be delivered from such j friends in the future. I wish, sirs, ; that you and other Southern editors would ■ speak out on this subject, and tell us what ' the South is to gain in Illinois by the j election of a Black Republican Senator? I What are we to gain by the defeat of Douglas who has been as true to the South as if he had to the “manor born.”

He it was that carried through Con-, gress the enactment of the great principle, | that the people of a Territory shall es- j tablish their own institutions. But for j S. A. Douglas the South would now be j cursed and disgraced with Missouri restrictions and Wilmot provisos. Whatever demagoges and time-severs may say, j • the great principle is thoroughly fixed I and established that in all future legisla-! j tion Congress will not interfere with do- i j mestic institutions of a territory. I ask i if the man who carried out and successI fully established this great principle does ' not deserve eternal honor from the people! of the South? What if the people of Kan- 1 sas vote themselves a free State? It is I their will, let it be so. What if the future j States coming up from the Southwest, I ■ whether from present of after acquired ; Territory, shall determine to hold slaves,! j This but illustrates the principle of j self-govenment and the rights of Ameri- • can citizens to frame their domestic insti-' tutions in thier own way, uninfluenced by ; the action of Federal Congress. II say, sir, that this great principle of self government has been fixed and settled by our party; and for it a greater debt is due: , to Stephen A. Douglas than to any other} man in this Union; and yet, notwithstand- j i ing all these facts, this man is hunted | i down by Democratic papers, who are I yelping in the same pack with Horace Greeley, Hale, Giddings, and Seward.— 1 Such conduct is a shame to the Demo- ; cratic party —it is an insult to the South; and, if preservedin, will blast the best; hopes of those who seek to preseve the integrity of the Constitution. Let it be understood that the writer is no apologist for Mr. Douglas. In his quarrel with the Administration he was wrong—clearly wrong! But 1 do not protest against the doctrone that & dispute upon a question of Administrative policy is a ground for expulsion from the Democratic party. John Randolph took ground against Madison on the war question; yet who dares to deny to him the honors of

being a Democrat. John C. Calhoun and Gen. Jackson disagreed; yet Cal-; houn was considered one of the finest Democrats of his day, and the principles for which he contended, and for which he . was denounced, now live in full and ma-! lured strength, and his works form the ' text-book of Southern statesmen. It may be truly said that there was not an important measure of the Administration, that received the United support of the Democracy in the last Congress; and vet expel the refractory members who failed to support Mr. Buchanan. So far as Douglas is concerned, it matters little to me whether he is considered a Democrat of a Blnck Republican; but i the policy which shall drive him off will ’ send from us the best and truest part of' the Northern Democracy. It literally : destroys our organization in the North. | And for what? Not because they have gone into heresy— not that they j have given their opposition to our party : creed, but because of a quarrel which ; wise men would seek to heal, but which political jugglers and wire-workers would prefer to aggravate. A Southern Democrat. A few remarks are necessarry to the ■ above sound letter. Ist. ‘A Southern Democrat’ asks, how is it, the Tribune and Union, two leading papers of antagonistic parties and princi- | pies, should so completely harmonize in 1 their denunciations of Douglas? We tell him it is not because the Tribune has become a Democratic paper, but because the Union has become a Black Republican organ: openly avowing, as the Tribune does its interference for Lincoln. The Union I has ceased to be antagonistic in party or i principle to the Tribune and of course has become opposed to the party and principles of Douglas. 2d. ‘The organ of our party is opening on Douglas and denouncing him as a traitor. The Union is not the organ of our party. It assumed the central organship, to throw discredit on the party by the enunciation of infamously undemocratic doctrines. It has, however, now openly declared for Lincoln, and not to call Douglas a traitor would prove the Wendellists unworthy of their hire too soon. 3d. The Union is laising the yell agaisnt him and giving its mighty influence in favor of his defeat.’ Os course, for the reasons given; but we rather think J ‘Southern Democrat’ is somewhat satiric ! but true when he characterises the ‘mighty influence’ of the Union as a ‘yell.’ So it is voxet preterea nihil — [Ed. States.

An Organ Difficulty.—A parish in the west of England, after much effort lately purchased a self-acting organ, warranted to play twenty tunes, and a larger congregation than usual met to inaugurate it. The first psalm had been successfully brought to an end, when, after a short pause, the organ chose to commence spalm tune number two- In vain the officiating persons endeavored to stop it; in vain the church wardens left their own pews to stifle the noise; still the organ, as though uncontrollably pleased with its own execution, kept on with the new air. What was to be done? The service was suspended, in the hope that the musical stranger might be content when the second tune was played out — Vain expectation! It commenced number three! and nothing remained but to carry the instrument into the churchyard, and there cover it with the vestry carpet to choke its voice, for on and on it went till the number of twenty tunes had been played out, much to the edification of the less attentive part of the congregation, who could hear only half-smothered melodies.—London Times.

A Nervous Traveler.—Traveling over a western railroad, seated in a baggage car, quietly smoking a ‘gentle Havana,’a nervous individual entered the car, and commenced overhauling the baggage. The baggage master, after eyeing him a moment, accosted him with—‘What’s wanting, sir?’ ‘I am looking for my trunk,’ demurely answered the nervous man. ‘I take care of your trunk, sir—that is my business,’ retorted B. M. ‘Oh! I am aware of that sir, but I would always much rather keep my trunk under my eye.' ‘Well, then, sir, you should have been born an elephvnt, and then you could have your under your eye all the time! The nervous man suddenly vamosed.

Slight Mistae.—A most excellent sermon preached in the parish church of Crowle, by the Rev. Henry Phillips, R. A., from “Except ye repent, ye will all likewise perish.” Amongst the Congregation was a female who was dull of hearing, and on her return home she told her husband that the reverend gentleman had taken for his text —“except you pay your rent, you must go to the parish.— Hull (Eng.) Advertiser.

Mrs. Snow’s Literary Husband. Yes, I’m Mrs. Peter Snow, an editor’s ' wife. I well remember the day when Mr. asked ine to become his. I confess ! I liked Mr. Snow, and thinking would be i a very fine thing to be the wife of an edi- ' tor, 1 said ‘yes,’ as I knew how, and became Mrs. Snow. I have seen ten years lof married life, and find my husband to be an amiable, good-natured man. He always spends his evenings at home, and is, in that respect, a model man; but he always brings a pile of exchanges, which is limited only by the length of his arms, and reads while I patch the knees of our boy’s pantaloons and coat. After wo have had a Quaker meeting of an hour's ■ length, I broke the silence by asking: ‘Mr. Snow did you order that coal, f i spoke to you about?’ ‘What did you say,my dear,’ he asks, ! after a few minutes silence. •Did you order that coal I spoke to you ; about?’ ‘lndeed, my dear, I’m sorry, but I for ! got all about it. It shall come to-mor- ! row.’ 1 Another hour’s siletice, which is reliev- : ed by the baby crying; and rather liking to hear a noise of some sort, I made no j effort to quiet him. ‘My dear,’ said Mr. S., after he cried a ' minute or so, ‘hadn’t you better give the baby some catnip tea to quiet it? He troubles me.’ The baby is still; another hour passes without a breath of noise. Becoming tired of silence, I take a lamp and retire for the night, leaving Mr. S. so engaged with his papers that he does not Bee me ' leave the room. j Towards midnight he comes to bed, and ! just as he lias fallen to sleep, the baby takes a notion to cry again. I rise as quickly as possible, and try to still him. While lam walking the room with the small snow in my arms, our next —a boy three years—begins to scream at the top of his lungs. What can I do! There is no other course but to call Mr. Suow, so I called out: ‘Mr. Snow! Mr. Snow!’ The third time he starts up and replies: ‘What, Tim, more copy?’ ' As though I was Tim, that little imp running about his oflice. I replied rather i tartly:

•No, I don’t want any more copy —I've had enough to' last me my life-lime. I want you to see what Tommy is crying about.’ Mr. Snow makes a desperate effort to rouse himself; as Tommy stops to taka breath, he falls asleep again, leaving ma pacing up and down the room in as much vexation as I can comfortably contain. The next morning, at breaklast, when I gave Mr. Snow an account of last night’s adventure, be replies: ‘lndeed, My deaf, I’m sorry the children trouble you.’ That is always the way. If I complain it is ‘indeed, my dear, I am very sorry.’ But should the very same thing occur the subsequent night, directly before his eyes, very likely he would not see or know anything about it, unless it happened to interrupt the train of his ideas.— Then he would propose catnip tea; but before I can get it into the infant’s stomach he will be far away in the realms of thought, leaving me not a little vexed at his apparent stupidity. Mr. Snow knows the nature of every paper oublished in England and the United Stater; but he can’t for the life of him tell the names his children. He knows exactly the age of every American journal; but he dosen’t know the age of his own baby. He .knows how every contributor looks; but I don’t believe he can tell whether my eyes are black or blue. The woild says Mr. Snow is getting rich. All I know is, he gives me money to feed and clothe our boys, and that, too, without a complaint of poverty. I hope the world is right in its opinion; and. when I am full v satisfied that it is, I shall advise him to resign his editorial honors, and spend a few months in becoming acquainted with his wife and children. The little ones will feel much flattered at making the acquaintance of so literary a gentleman.

Be not slow in the breaking of a sinful custome; a quick, courageous resolution is better than a gradual deliberation; in such a combat, he is the bravest soldier that lays about him without fear or wit. Wit pleads; fear disheartans; he that would kill Hydra, had better strike off one neck than five heads; fell the tree and the branches are soon cut off. A digger in the gold regions, writing to his friends, says, ‘Three days ot exploration with the spade had enabled biro to discover several very small grains of gold and several tons of exaggeration.” Hoofs a»d Tight Pants—The unqualified representativesof financial extremes. May the charms of the ladies be as boundless as their skirts; and may the gents never get as tight as their breeches.

NO. 31.