Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 33, Decatur, Adams County, 24 September 1858 — Page 1

Till' n I.’ r A Tll D 17 A P I IT .I 1 I* li Alt L .ill <

VOL. 2.

TH E EAG LE. I PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY ; PHILLIPS & SPENCER, Office, on Main Street, in the old School House, one Square North of J. & P Crabs' Store. Terms of Subscription : For one year, •fl 50, in advance; $1 75, within < the year” and $2 00 after the year lias 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 O'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 of the. latest styles, and we feel confident that satisfaction can be given. „ - . __ < “I AM A DEBTOR.” BY R M. m’CHEYNE. When this passing wot Id is done. When has sunkyon glaring sun, When we stand with Christ in glory, Looking o’er life’s finished story, Then, Lord, shall I fully know — Not till then—how much I owe. When I hear the wicked call On the rocks and hills to fall; When I see them start and shrink On the fiery deluge brink, Then, Lord, shall I fully know— Not till then how much I owe. When I stand before the throne Pressed in beauty not my own ; When I see thee as thou art, Love thee with an unsinning heart. Then, Lord,shall I fully know — Not till then—how much I owe. When the praise of heaven I hear, Loud as thunders to the ear, Loud as man v waters’ noise* Sweet as harp’s melodious voice, Then, Lord, shall I fully know — Not till then —how much I owe. Even on earth, as through a glass Darkly, let thy glory pass, Make forgiveness feel so sweet, Make thy spirit’s help so meet, Even on earth, Lord, make me know Something of how much I owe. Chosen not for good in me, Wakened up in wrath to flee. Hidden in the Savior's side, By the Spirit sanctified, Teach me, Lord, on earth to show, By my love how much I owe. Oft I walk beneath the cloud. Dark as midnight’s gloomy shroud; But when fear is is at the height, Jesus comes, and all is light; Blessed Jesus bid me show Doubting saints how much I owe' When in dowry paths I tread, Oft by sin I’m capt ive led; Oft I fall —but still arise— The Spirit comes—the tempter flies; Blessed Spirit bid me show Weary sinners all I owe. Oft the nights of sorrow reign— Weeping, sickness, sighing,pain; But at night thine anger burns — Morning conies and joy returns; God of comforts bid me show • To thy poor how much I owe. Fine Chances to Marry.—One of the ' ministers, says the princess Celgiojose, in her eastern travels, in very good circumstances, had three daughters. The min-j ister perceived that no one made an offer, thought it advisable to wait no longer. — One Sunday he preached on matrimony, she text: “Increase and multiply.” De- j daring to his congregation that it was a command and not merely a counsel. He dilated with eloquence and warmth on the , chaste pleasures of wedlock, and ended his sermon by offering his three daugli-, ters to any person who was willing to marry them. He added, that after the sermon he would receive the names of the offerers, and that his choice would fall on those of the best moral character. A facetious Irishman who was present did not wait the moment indicated by the minister to raise his voice; he requested that his name should be placed on the list for two, A contemporary says, ‘There is a man up in our country who always pays for his paper in advance. He has never ■been sick a day in his life never had any corns or the toothache —his potatoes never rot —the weevil never eats bis wheat—the frost never kills his corn or beans—his babies never cry in the night, and his wife never scolds!’ Ahem

THE CALICO CLOAK. ‘Have you seen the new scholar?’ asked Mary Lark, a girl of twelve or four- | teen years, as she ran to meet a group of ; schoolmates who were coming towards I the school-house; ‘she cuts the most comI ical figure you ever saw. Her cloak is made out of calico, and her shoes are bro- | gans, such as men and boys wear.’ ‘Oh, yes, I’ve seen her,’ replied Lucy I Brooks- ‘she is the new washerwoman’s daughter. I shouldn’t have thought Mr. Brown would have taken her into the Academy; but I suppose he likes the money that comes through suds as well as any. It is clearer o! course. And the air rang with the loud laugh of the girls. ‘Come let us go in and examine her,’ continued Mary as they ascended the steps of the school-house; ‘I am thinking she will make some fun for us.’ The girls went into the dressing room, . where they found the new scholar. She was a mild, intelligent looking child, but ; very poorly, though tidily clad. The j girls went around her whispering and j laughing with each other, while she stood I trembling and blushing in one corner of the room, without venturing to raise her eyes from the floor When they entered the school, they I found the little girl was far in advance of those of her age, in her studies, and was placed itwa class with those two or three ! years her senior. This seemed, on the whole, to make those girls who was disposed to treat her unkindly dislike her the more, and she being of a retired disposition, through their influence had no friends, but went to and returned from school alone. ‘And do you really think,’ said Mary | Lark as she went up io the little girl a few j weeks after she entered school, ‘that you | are going to get the medal. It will cor-' respond with your cloak!’ And she caught hold of the cape and I held it out from her, while the girls around joined in her loud laugh. ‘Calico cloak get the medal! I guess ’ she will! I should like to see Mr. Brown giving it to her!’ said another girl as she caught hold of her arm, and peeped under the child’s bonnet I The little girl struggled to release her- | self, and when she was free, ran home as I fast as she coul go. ‘Oh, mother,’ she said as sho entered | her mother’s humble kitchen, ‘do answer Uncle William’s letter and tell him we will come to New York to live! 1 don’t like to live in Bidgeville. The girls call me ‘calico cloak,’ and ‘Brogans,’ and you don’t know, mother, how unkindly they j treat me.’ ‘Lizzie, my dear,’ said her mother,’ you-must expect to meet with those who . will treat you unkindly on account of your poverty; but you must not be discoura- ! ged. Do right my child, and you will eventually come off conqueror.’ Al 1 though Mrs. Lee tried to encourage her j child, yet she knew that she had too meet : with severe trials foi one so young. I ‘But mother, they are all unkind to me replied Lizzie; ‘there isn’t one that loves me!’ And the child hurried her face in her hands and sobbed aloud. In Bridgefield Academy there were a few selfish, unprincipled girls; and the [ others joined them in teasing the little cal-[ ' ico cloak, as they called her from thought-[ lessness; and from a love of sport. But; ■ they knew not how deeply each sportive | word pierced the heart of the little stran- j i ger, and how many bitter tears she shed ■ in secret over their unkindness. j Mrs. Lee learning that the scholars still j j continued their unjust treatment toward ; her child, resolved toaccept her brother’s I i invitation though he was a poor man, and become a member of his family, hoping that while there, her child could continue , her studies, and perhaps through his in- ■ fluence lead to a happier life among her ; schoolmates. Accordingly at the end of I the term, she gained the medal, and it was worn from the Acrdemy beneath the despised garment. Weeks, months and years glided away i to the students of the Bridgeville Acade- | my, and the little ‘Calico Cloak’ was forgotten Those who were at school with her had left to enter upon the business of lite. Twelve years after Mrs. Lee and her daughter left town, a Mr. Maynard, a young clergymen, came into Brtdgevill and was settled as the pastor of the vil-1 lage church. It was reported at the sewing circle, the week following his ordina- ; lion, that he would bring his bride into town in a few weeks. There was a great \ curiosity to see her, and especially after it was reported that she was a talanted . young authoress. Soon after, Mr. Maynard satisfied their curiosity bv walking into church with his young wife leaning on his arm. She was ■ a lad'- of great intellectual beauty, and ' every- body (as they always are at first) was deeply interested in the young minister and his wife.

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

DECATUR, ADAMS CODITY, INDIANA, SEPT. 24, 1858.

The following week the ladies flocked to see her, and she promise to meet tlem at the next gathering of the sewing,circle. The day arrived and although it was quite stormy, Mrs. Deacon Brown’s was filled with smiling faces. The deacon’s, carriage was sent to the parsonage after Mrs. Maynard, and in due time it arrived bringing the lady with it. The shaking of hands that followed her arrival can only be imagined by those who have be-n present on such occasions. ‘How are you pleased with our vil' jge? I asked a Mrs. Britton, after the opeitr r. over, as she took .. beside Mrs. Maynard. j ‘I like its appearance very much, it I certainly has improved wonderfully within the last twelve years.’ ‘Were you ever in Bridgeville before?’< asked another lady as those around looked somewhat surprised. Their curiosity was excited. ‘Have you friends here?’ asked a third after a moment’s pause. i ‘I have not. I resided with my moth-; j er, the widow Lee. We lived in a little 1 i cottage which stood upon the spot now occupied by a large store, on the corner of Pine street. ‘The widow Lee?’ repeated Mrs. Britton. I well remember the cottage but 1 do not recollect the name. ‘I think that I attended school with you at the Academy,’ replied Mrs. Maynard; you were Miss Mary Lark were you not?’ ‘That was my name,’ replied the lady, as a smile passed over her features at bei ing recognized; ‘but I am really ashamed ; that mv memory has proved so recreant.’ : ‘I was known in the Academy- as the I little ‘Calico Cloak.’ Perhaps you can I remember me hy that name.’ The smile faded from Mrs. Britton’s j face and a deep blush overspread her features, which in a few moments was seen i [ deepning upon the faces of others present.; There was a silence for some minutes; when Mrs. Maynard looked up she found she had caused consideradable disturbance among the ladies of her own age making herself known. t ‘Oh! I remember very well when the I little‘Calico Cloak’ went to the Academy,’ said an old lady, as she looked up over her glasses, ‘and I think, if my memory serves me right, some of the ladies prestent will owe Mrs. Maynard an apology.’ ‘I had no intention whatever, ladies,’ replied Mrs. Maynard, ‘to reprove any present by making myself known; but, as it may seem to some that such was my intention, 1 will add a few words.— Most of the younger ladies present will remember the ‘Calico Cloak;’ but no one but the wearer knows how deeply each unkind word pierced tho little heart that beat beneath it. And as I again hear the old Academy bell ring, it brings fresh to my mind the sorrows of my childhood. But let no lady mistake me, by supposing I cherish an unkink feeling toward any one. I know that whatever the past may have been, let me add, if you have children, learn a lesson from my experience, and treat kindly the poor and despised. A calico cloak may cover a heart as warm with affection, and as sensitive of sorrows as one that beats beneath a I velvet covering. Whenever you meet a ■ child who shows a disposition to despise the poor, tell the story of the ‘Calico Cloak;’ it will carry its own moral with it. ! ‘That is the shortest but besr sermon 1 ever heard,’ said the old lady again as site put her handkerchief under her glasses; J ‘and I do not believe its moral effect will be lost upon any of us.’ The old lady was right. The story 1 went from one to another until it found its I way into the Academy. At that verytime a little boy was attending school i there, whose mother was struggling with I her needle to give him an education. — I The boys often made sport of bis patched knees and elbows, and he run sobbing home to his mother. But when the ‘calico cloak’ reached the scholars, the little boy (for he was naturally a noble hearted boy) became very popular in school; and the children, from that lime, very kind to ‘Little Patchey,’ as he had always been ; called. When Mrs. Maynard heard the story of I ‘Little Patchey,’ she felt that she was well repaid for all she had suffered in childhood. A young minister in a highly elaborate I sermon which he preached while supplying an absent minister’s pulpit, said several times, when giving some new exposition of a passage, ‘The commentators do not agree w ith me here.’ Next morning as he was running on with Lis performances, a poor woman came to see him with something in her apron. She said her husband heard his sermon; and thought it was a very good one; and as he said "the common taters did not agree with him here," he had sent some of the very best “Jersey Blues.”

A Haunted House. There was a lone house standing by itself, near a plantation not far from GuildI lord. This house nobody would ever take, because it was haunted, and strange , I noises heard in it every night after dark. Several tenants tried it, but were frightened away by the noises. At last, one individual more courageous than the rest resolved to unravel the mystery. He accordingly armed himself cap-a-pie, and having put out the light, remained sentry ; jin one of the rooms. Shortly he heard on ’ the stairs pit, pat; a full stop, then pit, .! pat; a full stop again. He flung open the ; door—hurry-skurry, b.vfig; went something down stairs with a tremendous jump [ anti all over the bottom of the house the ' greatest confusion, as of thousands of demons rushing in all directions, was heard. This was enough for one night. The next j night oir crafty sentry established him- ' (self on the first landing with aheap of I straw aid a box of Lucifer matches; soon I all wasquiet. Up the stairs came again i the pit pat, p’t pat. When the noise was j close Io his ambush he scraped his match I and set fire to the straw, which blazed up like abonfire in an instant; and what did he see? Only a rabbit, who stood on his | hind legs, as much astonished as was the sentry. The noise made was only the rabbit’s fore and hind-legs hitting the boards as he hopped from one stair to the other. The Tabhits had got into the house from the neighboring plantation, and had fairly frightened away, by their nocturnal wanderings, the rightful owners thereof. The courageous sentry held his tonague as to the cause of the ghost, got the house at a reduced rent, and several cap- I dial rabbit pies made of the ghosts’ bodies into the bargain. »♦< )*l Shun Affectation. I There is nothing more beautiful in the ; young than simplicity of character. It is ■ honest, frank and attractive. Howdiffe-I i rent is affectation! The simple-minded ! are always natural. They are, at the ; i same time, original The affected are. never natural. And as for originality, if, I they ever had it, they have crushed it| [out, and hurried it from sight, utterly.— ; IBe yourself, then, young friend! To ati tempt to be anybody else is worse than ' 1 folly. It is an impossibility to attain it. It is contemptible to try! But suppose I you could succeed in imitating the greatest man that ever figured in history, 1 would that make you any the greater?— 'By no means. You would always suffer in comparison with the imitated one, and be thought of only as the shadow of a substance—the echo of a real sound —the counterfeit of a pure coin! Dr. Johnson aptly compared the heartless imitator — for such is he who affects the character of another-*-to the Empress of Russia, when she did the freakish thing of erecting a; palace of ice. It was splendid and conspicuous while it lasted. But the sun 1 soon melted it, and caused its attractions I to dissolve into common water, while the humblest cottages of her subjects stood firm and unmarred! Let the fabric of your character, thougn never so humble, be at least real. Avoid affecting the character of another, however great. Build up your own. Be what God intended you to be — yourself, and not somebody else. Shun affectation. Twins and Triplets.—A singular circumstance, but not one out of the course I of nature, occurred on the steamer Superior during her trip from Louisville to ■ Cincinnati. A lady passenger gave birth to a pair of twins—line bouncing girls—as the boat was about making a landing jat Warsaw, at 9 o’clock on Sunday eveI ning last. Scarcely had the pleasurable . excitement consequent upon the occasion subsided, when intelligence was received [ in the cabin that a German lady on deck ! had become the mother of three boys.— Such a hasty addition in the passenger way rather confounded the officers. . I Bayard Taylor tells a story of a Yan- . kee, who in walking along the streets of St. Petersburg one muddy day, met the Grand Duke Constantine. The sidewalk , was not wide enough for two persons ,\ to pass, and the street was very i deep in filth—whereupon the American f took a silver rouble from his pocket, shook . it in his closed hand, and cried out, ‘crown ( . or tail?’ ‘Crown!’ Guessed the Grand [ Duke. ‘Your highness has won,’ said the American, looking at the rouble and stepping into the mud. The next day the ' | American was invited by the Grand Juke to dinner. ‘Keep your Powder dry.’—The New- ' buryport (Mas.) Herald says:—lt is rath!er a remarkable circumstance that the II powder which was usedin Sandwich in 1 firing off the cannon to celebrate the conr | nection, by a cable, of England to the 5 i United States, is the same which was purl chased in the war of 1812 to fight, our f I then, English enemy. It has been kept t ’ in a tight cask, in the old magazine, situ1 ated in the old cemetery since that time.

TakiuK Things Coolly. ‘You’re a scoundrel! said a fierce look-, ing gentleman, the oilier day, coming up I ! with great wrath to a Yankee who was 1 (Standing quietly on the sidewalk; ‘you're I -a scoundrel!’ ‘That news to me,’ returned the Y'ankee quietly. ‘News, you scoundrel? Do you call that news?’ ‘Entirely so.’ ‘You needn’t think to parry it off so easily; I say you are a scoundrel, and I can prove it!’ ‘1 beg you will not, 1 shouldn't like to be proved a scoundrel.’ ‘No, I dare say you wouldn’t but answer me immediately—did you or did i I you not say in the presence of certain la- [ dies of my acquaintance, that 1 was a—‘CU//7 Oh, no, sir the Huth is not to; be spoken al all times.’ ‘The truth! Do you mean to call me a. ! calf?’ Oh, no, sir, 1 call you nothing.' ‘lt’s well you do, for had you presumed to call me a—‘Aman, I should have been grossly mistaken.’ ‘Do you mean to say that I am not a man?’ •That depends upon circumstances.’ ‘What circumstances?’ If I should be called as evidence in court of justice, 1 should be bound tospeak the i truth?’ ‘And would say that I was not a man hey? do you see that cow skin?’ ‘Yes, and I have seen it with surprise ever since you came up.’ j ‘What surprise? Why do you suppose I was such a coward 1 dare not undertake I to use the article when it was demanded? ; ‘Shall I tell you what I thought?’ ‘Do it if you dare.’ ‘I thought to mvsc-lf what use has a ‘caZ/’for a cows skin?’ ‘You distinctly call me a calf then.' I ‘lf you insist upon it, you may.’ I ‘You hear him gentleman, speaking to I the bystanders, ‘you bear the insult. — > What shall I do with the scoundrel? •Dress him! dress him! shouted the j ! crowd, with shouts of laughter. ‘That I’ll do at once.’ Then turning to the Yankee, he cried out fiercely: ‘Come on, step this way, you rascal, and I’ll flog you within an inch of your life.’ ‘l’ve no occasion.’ ‘You’re a coward.’ ‘Not on your word.’ ‘l’m a liar, then, am 1?’ ‘Just as you please.’ ‘Do vou hear that gentleman?’ ‘Ab! was the response, you can’t help flogging him now.’ •Oh, heavens, grant me patience, I’ll I flv out of my skin.’ i ‘‘lt’lNbe so much the better for your pocket —calf skins are in good demand.’ ‘I shall burst.’ ‘Not here in the street, I beg of you. — It would be quite disgusting.’ ‘Gentlemen, can I any longer help flog-1 ging him?’ ‘Not if you are able,’ was the reply. — ‘Go at him.’ Thus provoked, thus stirred up and encouraged, the fierce gentleman went like lightning at the Yankee. But before he could strike a blow, he found himself disarmed ot his cowskin and lying on his back under the spout of a | neighboring pump, whither the Yankee; i; had carried him to cool his rage, and before he could recover from his astonishment at such unexpected handling, he was as wet as a drowned rat from the cataract of water which his antagonist had ; liberally pumped upon him. l His courage had by this lime, like that i of the viliant Bob Acres, ‘oozed out at the palms,’ and he declared, as he arose and went away drippling, bom the pump, that ■ he would never trust to the appearances again, and the old Harry himself might undertake to cow-hide a cool N ankee tor all of him. A Musical Bed. —The last novelty from Germany is a musical bed, which recieves the weary body and immediate- ’ ly‘laps it in Elysium.’ If is an invention of a mechanic in Bohemia, and is so con- ' structed that by means of a hidden mechanicism, a presure upon the bed causes a soft and gentle air of Auber to be playled, which continues long enough to lull I ' the most wakeful to sleep. At the head J is a clock, the hand of which being placed : at the hour the sleeper wishes to rise, ! when the time arrives, the bed plays a march of Spontnno. with drums and cyinballs, in short with noise enough to rouse the seven sleepers. The Jews of London intend to present 1 to lady John Russel a boudoir suite, con- ' I sisting of a table and four chairs, compos- ‘; ed of solid silver, as a mark of their sense ' i of the obligation they owe to her husband, t William Cary Jones, literary legatee - to Col. Benton, is engaged in writing the latters biography.

For the Bluffton Banner. , The Meeting on Wednesday. ! Mr. Editor:—l thought it would not 1 be amiss to give a history of the meeting iat Bluffton on yesterday between Mr. i Coffroth and Mr. Pettit, lor the benefit of ' those who were not present. Mr. Coffroth was at Bluffton from Saturday until Monday morning and Mr. Pettit and his friends, fearing to meet Mr. Coffroth, kept Mr. Pettit’s appointments as dark as Egypt until about an hour after Mr. Cots- ; roth left here for Buffalo; then thinking [ all danger over they commenced posting Mr. Pettit's bills, w hich informed us for I the first time that he was to speak at I Bluffton, yesterday at 2 o’clock P. M ; land Mr. Coffroth’s friends, seeing the fraud attempted to be practiced upon I them, immediately dispatched a racssen- ; ger to inform Mr. Coffroth of the fact.— ! Mr. Cofiroth immediately returned to . Bluffton and met Mr. Pettit at the time appointed, and a sore day it was for the latter, as the sequel will show. By agreement, Mr. Pettit opened with a speech of of one hour and twenty minutes, in which time we heard nothing but bleeding Kansas, &c. He even neglected to tell us what he had done or intended to do in the event of another election, Mr. Coffroth followed in a speech of an hour end a half and M.i. Pettit closed in fifteen minutes. During Mr. Coffroth’s speech, he was I repeatedly cheered, while Mr. Pettit’s speech elicited only a faint murmur.—• Mr. Coffroth showed up to the public gaze the votes of Mr. Pettit in Congress, which told with tremendous effect, to-wit: That he had, by voting for Dunn’s bill, voted to fasten slavery upon Kansas; that he voted against the repeal of the odious bogus laws of Kansas; that he voted to recognise the Locompton constitution as legal by voting for the Montgomery amendment; that he voted to throw every obstacle in the way of legal adjustment of the difficulties in Kansas; that agitation j was the only object; that he voted to inI crease the pay of the officers in the array > and that he voted to give way millions of I acres of oui public lands to soulless corj porations without remuneration; that he I voted against a bill to punish by fine and imprisonment any member of congress who will take a bribe to secure a vote; that he dodged a vote t>> expel Mattison and others from a seat in Congress for fraud and corruption; that he was in favor of granting to the Wall Street Broki ers a large amount of lands to pay them : for the bonds they hold against the Peru i and Indianapolis Railroad company, which i thev obtained at from sto 25 cents per i dollar; that he was, in fact, continually in favor of wool. 1 consider Mr. Pettit the worst used-up man I ever saw. During this time Mr. Pettit manifested great uneasiness, and the effect of the discussion is apparent to all. His friends look defeated, and it betokens an overwhelming defeat to Mr. Pettit, as it would to any man who will neglect bisown constituency and worship false gods (Dollars and Wall Street Brokers.) Upon the whole i Wells county will, on the second Tuesday ! in October next, stamp the seal of condem- ■ nation on Mr. Pettit, so as to be a warning in future to all public servants, that ! their proper course is to serve their own constituency, instead of lucre. j Sept. 16 th 1858. VINDEX. The Peroration. I The following is in conclusion of one of Judge Douglas’ speeches, made in the presence of Lincoln; Now, my friends, you sec that on these very points I arn as far from bringing Lincoln to the line as I ever was before. He did not want to avow his principles. 1 do want to proclaim mine as sunlight in j midday. The Democratic principles ara founded—l>emocracy is founded—in the eternal principles of truth. The plainer those principles are avowed the stronger ' the support they will receive. I only [ wish I had the power to make them so ' clear that they would shine in the heavens I for every man, woman and child to read. I And the first principles that 1 would pro- , claim would be in opposition to Mr. Lin- ! 1 coin’s doctrines of uniformity between the . | institutions of the different States, and j would declare in lieu of it the sovereign . I right of each State to decide the Slavery . 1 question as well as all other questions, . tor themselves, 'without interference from . any Stale or power whatsoever. When I you will recognize that principle, vou will [ have peace, and harmony, and fraternity, | i between all the different States of this Union. Till you do recognize that doct trine, there will be a sectional warfare, . agitating and disturbing the peace of the . country. What does Mr. Linfloin propose/ He says the Union cannot endure thusdivided, then he muststrivfe to make t' them all free or all slave or to be for a - : dissolution of the Union. w i A lady has applied to the Lord Provost of Edinburgh to discover any person mutilated in India, that she may endow him or her with an annuity. The offer has been widely advertised, but no candidate can , be found.

NO. 33.