Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 45, Decatur, Adams County, 17 December 1858 — Page 1

THE DECATUR EAGLE,

VOL. 2.

VH E KAGLE. EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY KIIIIPS & SPENCER, oL., on Main Street, in the old School House, ; .. Square North of J. & P Crabs' Store. C Terms of Subscription : gn e vc-ar, $1 50, in advance; JI 75, within and $2 00 after the year has expired. -y., paper will be discontinued until all are paid, except at the option of the Kjishere. a Terms of Advertising: rsquare, (ten lines) three insertions, $1 00 [h subsequent insertion, 251 j'Ni> advertisement will be considered less I a one square; over one square will be conn- | and charged as two; over two, as three, etc. JOB PRINTING: fe are prepared to do all kinds of job-work, i meat and workmanlike manner, on the most satiable terms. Our material for the comple- j Bof Job-Work, being new and of the latest Its, and we feel confident that satisfaction I , be given. WOMAN SPARE THAT TEA. 1 Woman spare that tea! Touch not a.single cup, bi youth it tempted thee. Cut now, O give, it up. J'snow thy mother's hand First put ittc thy lip, But woman, let it stand, Unless it be—catnip! 11. i That old familiar tea, Whose poison and renown Are spread o’er land and sea Wbv will you drink in down? Woman, thy hand refrain, Or thou the cup will rue, ' 1 will give thee many a pain, And deli - ium-tea-mens too. HI. When but a little girl, You sought the fatal draught, It made your senses whirl, While grandma sat and laughed, Your papa had no fear, But candy rolled his quid, Forgive this foolish tear — They knew not what they did. IV. i hat habit to the clings, Close, as thy rinkled skin, And the kettle sadly sings Tn see thy trimbling chin. O’ thy fumes still wave, But woman leave that pot, As you’ve a soul to save, O, touch it, touch it not' The following very clever parody of the above well known verses, appeared in the last number ■of the Home Journal: WOODMAN SPAKE THAT TREE. I. Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough, In youth it sheltered me, And I’ll protect it now, ’Twas my fore father’s baud That placed it near his cot; There woodman let it stand; Thy axe shall barm it not! 11. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o’er land and sea— And wouldstthon hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth bound ties ; O, spare that aged oak, Now towering to the skies. 111. When but an idle boy I sought its greatful shade; In all their g ushing joy, Here,too, my sisters played, Mr Mother kissed me here, My father pressed my hand; Forgive this foolish tear— But let that old oak stand. IV. My heart, strings ’round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild birds sing, And still thy branches bend, Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot While I’ve a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm itnot. A Printer in Court. —A suit came on ’he other day in which a printer named Kelvy was a witness. The case was an assault and battery that came off between two men named Brown and Herderson. 'Mr. Kelvy, did yon witness the affair referred to?’ 'Yes sir.’ 'Well, what have you to say about it?’ ‘That it was the best piece of punctuation I have seen iti some time.’ 'What do you mean by that? 'Why, that Brown dotted one of Henderson’s eyes, for which H. put a period to B.’s breathing for about half a minute. The court comprehended the matter at and fined the defendcut fifty dollars.

THE FOURFOLD DREAM. If there be no city called Hippesford among the northwest towns of England, let it be there, whether I went five years ago to see the Italian hung. The name under which he suffered was supposed to be a feigned one; the crime which he ex piated was that of murder; the slaying of his master and his benefactor as he slept, j and the taking of a sum of money, which {in all probability he might have had for the asking. One of those atrocities, to (give a reason for which baffles the student of human nature. The defence set up for Mavbranei was that of insanity: there being no doubt whatever as to his I having committed the deed; but this plea I was, in my opinion, very properly set aside. His advocate happened to bean: intimate friend of mine; and it was through tiie interest —morbid and reprehensible I ' am well aware—with which he had in- J spired me in the unhappy criminal, that ! I found myself among that crowd in front of Hippesford Goal I heard something going on near me, a little too jocose fori the occasion. •You cruel-hearted ruffian, if you dare to mock the poor wretch again,’ cried a deep low voice, 'ITI save Mr. Calcraft some trouble in your case.’ The speaker was a Gno, powerfullvbuili. sailor, towering by half a head above the throng; and, under his flashing eyes and threatning brows, the fellow who had provoked his wrath subsided at once into mutterings, and presently into sullen silence. Having achieved this end he made no further observation, but kept his looks ■ intently fixed upon the ghastly preparations above us. He alone—amidst hum and noise of the crowd—maintained an inviolable silence, and strained his eyes i upon the scaffold above, as though be ! would have numbered every nail in it; the extreme anxiety of his face was remarkable, even amongst those thousand eager ' and expectant countenances. Not caring to look upon the dread sight dirctly — 1. watched that face when the death-bell began to toll, as though it were i a mirror—feeling sure that I sliould see reflected in it what ever was happening. It was burning and quivering with excitement, when the wretched criminal was carried up by three or four persons into view. Immediately after he came in sight this fired exproeeion vanished as completely as though a curtain had been I drawn over some picture, and, as the ■ sailor-cast his looks upon the ground, I heard him mutter, in a solemn whisper, : his thanks to heaven. As the sailar and I was borne along together by the resistless human tide, I said to him, secure of sympathy. ‘This is a sad sight, my friend —is it not?’ ' ‘Yes, sir,' a terrible sight indeed, ‘but 1 it might have been worse.’ ‘How so?’ stid I. ‘Well, it’s a long story,’ he replied ‘but :if vou like to listen to it, and to take a j cup of tea with me (of which I feel the need) at my lodgings, I shall be pleased enough. It will be a relief to me, I feel, to tell it even to a stranger.’ So we two went up into a little room overlooking the scene, and which had been let (as had been agreed upon when they took the apartment) throughout the morning to a party of five gentlemen (!) and a lady ('•!) who had only just evacuated it. And there he told me this story: j ‘You must excuse me, if lam a little slow, at first for yon throng has fairly dazzled and dumfounded me. lam quite new to sights of this kind, thank God; nor have 1 ever seen so great a crowd be- ; fore, 1 live upon the southeast coast where : the folks are not as many as they are in these parts, and my own employment is a particularly solitary one; lam a lighthouse man. I sometimes pass whole weeks without seeing any other face than ; that of my mate, without bearing any other voice save his, and that of the batfled wave which beats forever against our rock. Even my holiday-time is kept or ; spent among people who pass almost as lone lives as I do. My friends dwell at ! a coast-guard station, far away from any town, and indeed from me, only they can : see every night our lantern burnig steadI ily out to sea, which my mother and sister says is a great comfort to them when my father is away from home. It is lone- • some you see, for them to know there is ■no human being save themselves within miles of them, the next post beinf a lang distance beyond the headland, whither often on the darkest nights my father has I to go feeling for the white chalk-heaps I that are laid down to mark the road betwixt the stations, the direction of which in old times, they say, the smugglers used jto alter, so that the poor revenue-men were guided over the precipice, into the I arms of death below. Twelve years ago a vessel was cast ashore, and went to piecesone wintry night at the cliff-toot, ‘ beneath our guard-houee, and all of the crew, save one, were thrown by the scornful sea upon the shore, dead men; save ! one •’ . , .i . , The sailer gave an involuntary look to-

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

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA. DEC. 17, 1858.

j wards the thing that hung upon the high goal wall there motionless, with its ghast!ly cowl drawn over it—and that man was lan Italian foreigner. My people took i him in, and acted toward him as Chris- . tian people should do, and he was greatful, and stayed with us, making himself as useful as he could for weeks, for months. AV hen he had been our guest lor near upon a year, the man who was then my mate in the light house died; and, mainly through my father’s recommendation, the Italian was appointed to be tny companion in his place. I was pleased that the poor fellow was thus provided for; but yet I had rather that he had been given any other post than that; not from any assignable cause, nr of nqiu-sp this could have been prevented; but from a vague uncomfortable feeling that I had always in connection with him, such as 1 should not have dreamt of mentioning to his prejudice. I did not mention it, lam perfectly certain, even to my mother. ‘When I found myself in the narrow light-house, alone with this man upon the waste of waters, this antipathy increased. I could not meet him on the winding stairs without a shudder. I loathed his company m that little sitting room upon the | lower story, which, when my old mate was with me, had seemed as comfortable a parlor as need be; and when I was at work in the lantern, I was forever thinking, What is he doing below there, and whereabouts shall 1 find him when I descend? Ido not think that 1 was afraid of him, then. Time was when I had not shrunk from a death struggle with a far more powerful man than he, and had come off victor; but still, I did not fancy taking my rest in the snug little bedchamber, as of old, knowing that this man was awake and watching, watching, all the night long. ‘Still, beyond being reserved and taciturn, and having this something repeliant about him, which I cannot explain, there was nothing evil to be said against the poor Italian foreigner; and I was ashamed , of myself, whenever I reasoned about the matter, for feeling as I did. ‘On the night of this day, twelve years ago, the 16th of August 1841, my lather was off duty, at home, and while he lay in bed, combatting a certain idea which shadowed his mind like a nightmare, my mother shook him in piteous terror. ‘Husband,’ cried she. I have had a fearsome dieam, and it seems so like the tiuth that lam miserable. Wake, wake, I do believe our George is being murdered by the Italian maul’ ‘Great Heavens’’ cried my father.— ■Why, I was awoke just now by that very dream, and cannot shake it off my mind, do what I will. But it must be only fancy. Consider how full the poor fellow has always shown himslf to be of gratitude to us all, and what could he get by the murder of our George?’ ‘George keeps all his savings in his room at the light-house,’ returned my mother, sobbing. ‘I cannot help —-— Hark! did you hear that scream?’ Two or three shrieks rang through the house, as she spoke; and my sister Alary, with her hair disheveled, and in her •night-dress, rushed into the room. ‘Oh, mother! father!’cried she. ‘I cannot stay any longer by myself; I have dieamed a dream that haunts me whenever 1 shut my eyes. When I left my room just now to come to you, I thought the Italian was at my very heels, who seemed before, in my sleep; to be murdering George. He has murdered brother George, 1 do believe.’ ‘You dreamt that?’ exclaimed her parents. ‘Yes,’ said she. ‘I dreamt that he cut my brother’s throat in the light house.’ "‘My father rose in haste, dressed himself, and started at once, in the moonlight for the fishing village over against the jrock, which was my lonely dwellingI place. It was a good ten-mile walk, and i when he had been about two hours upon his way, and it was 5 o’clock, he met me i coming homeward, with a distressed and unwonted look. Little did 1 understand why he wrung my hand, and welcomed me so heartily, without even asking me how it was that I came to be upon the chalk-lands, there at such an hour, instead of at my post. I had a tale to tell to him which I was, by that time, ashamed to relate, although I had started on the way i expressly to do so. ‘Father,, said I, ‘1 have done a foohsh, cruel, cowardly thing.’ ‘George,’ replied he, ‘I forgive you before you tell it to me. lam too glad to find you alive and well for reproach; say on.’ ‘I have quarrelled, father, with the poor Italian foreigner, although he has not deserved it. I have given him fair warning that I will not be his mate in the light-house any longer.’ ‘Thank Heaven!’ cried the old man ‘Nay,’ said I, surprised enough, ‘but it was" a hard thing to Jo, since I had nothing whatever to justify it, except a dream.’ ‘A dream!’ exclaimed my father, with

a look of terror. ‘What! another dream? Did you dream he was going to murder I you. lad?’ •Yes, father, I dreamt that dream two hours ago; and even now in the broad daylight, 1 'eel that 1 could not venture to sleep another night upon the rock, with j him only asmy companion.’ ‘Heaven forbid you should,’ responded my lather, solemnly. •I saw him,’ continued I, ‘as though with my open eyes, as 1 lay in my bed, with his hand kept back behind him, as j though it were holding some weapon out : of sight, and the murder set upon his face as plainly as though the word had been written t! re in blood. I was on my feet in n sec.-A. bv.t yot not soon enough to prove that iny dream was true. 1 thought I heard his agile step upon the iron stair. I thought I saw a shadow flit for an in- 1 stant across the door of the lantern; but j when I got up there, he was trimming the lamps so naturally, and met all my angry suspicions with such astonishment and coolness, that I am, upon reflection, fairly staggered, and don’t know what to thiuk. So certain was lat the time, however, of the warning which my drcam seemed to convey, that I bade him seek i some other employment elsewhere, for I would have him for my mate no longer. Then I signalled for a boat, and came on ( shore, intending to tell you all, and to consult upon what is best to be done in j this strange business. But lam afraid j vou think me a fool.’ ‘Then my father, upon his part, told me of those dreams at home, and of the reason of his being upon the'way wheieon I had met him. It seemed to us both I that the neglect of four such wonderful coincidences —to say no morS—would be ■ far from right, but that at the same time; we should not be justified in punishing, upon such evidence, one who might be, j after all as innocent of any evil as either of us. So I turned back to the village ' with my father, with the intention of pul- ; ting off to the rock, and coming to some I arrangement with the Italian that should not deprive him of his bread. ‘A little after my departure, however, it appeared that he had himself signaled for a boat, and that, taking with him. what little property he possessed, he had landed and been seen to walk away northward out of town. None of us have ever 1 set eyes upon this man from that eventful night. Whether he is inoocent u. | whether he is guilty it is not in human I power to tell. So certain, however, in i m y ignorance, did I feel of this evil mind ' that when I read in the paper of their be-■ ing about to hang an Italian foreigner nt this place for the murder of a man in his sleep, I came here at once to satisfy my-; self —in hope rather than in fear, lam ashamed to say that this fourfold dream, would be found to have had foundation, j Pity forihe soul ofyon poorwretch, how ever, soon touched my heart, even before I saw him; and when I looked upon those | awful lineaments, as he was lifted upon the scaffold, I thanked Heaven from the bottom of my heart, that the man was a stranger, and that our dreams, wonderful as they were and are, still need unraveling.’ Here the story of the sailor ended; and presently he strode away to the railway station of the line which was to take him home. I have never seen him since, or heard any other reference to this tale; but the circumstances under which 1 heard iti with all their terrible realities of vice and death, are not more firmly fixed upon my memory than the occurrences which he related above; neither do thej- bear more distinctly, in my own mind, the impres- i sion of truth. The Judge and the Witness. ‘Our Brown,’ of the Boston Post, tells a story of one of the Southern cities of the Empire State, which he says is a true as any fact in ‘Y ork State.’ Judge G. is well known to the bar of the Southern counties as a decided ‘character,’ and more good stories are told about him than any man on the bench in that region.— The Judge’s manner in court is dog-mat-it, pragmatic and arrogant, and nothing pleases the bar so well as to see him | laughed at. They had a fine chance one■ day when an Irish witness was on the stand, who being unmanageable was taken in hand by the Judge, with a man-j ner which said very plainly, ‘You shall see gentlemen, how I shall handle him.’ ; 'Well, Dennis,’ said the Judge blandly 1 tell me the contents of that chest.’ ‘Yis, ver worship,’ said the witness ; eagerly." ‘First there was a picture of Dan O’Connell, the great Irish patriot. Maybe yer honor’s heard of him?’ •Certainly,’ said the Judge, ‘go on with ; the inventory,’ ‘Then there was a picture of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Maybe yer honor's heard of him?' The unaffected look of inquiry and doubt that accompanied the witness words set the audience in a roar of laughter and the Judge will never hear the last of it.

President’s Message; Fellow-citizens of the Senate and Hovxe of Representatives. When we compare the condition of the I country at the present day with what it I whs a year ago, at the meeting of Con- | gress, we have much reason for gratitude to that Almighty Providence, which has never failed to interpose for out relief, al ' the most, critical periods of our history—- ! One year ago the sectional strife between j the North and the South on the danger- ' ous subject of slavery, had again become :so intense as to threaten the peace and : perpetuity of the confederacy. The application for the admission of Kansas as State into Hie Union, fostered this uuj happy agitation, and brought the whole l subject once more before Congress. It j was the desire of every patriot that such ■ measures of legislation might be adopted, j as would remove the excitement from the j States, and confine it to the Territory where it legitimately belonged. Much Jias been done, I ain happy to say, towaids the accomplishment of this object : during the last session of Congress, j THE LAW OF J’ROPERTY IN TERRITORIES, i The Supreme Court of the United I States had previously decided that all American citizens have an equal right to i lake into the Territories whatever is held |as property under the laws of any of the Stales, and to hold such property there I under the guardianship of the Federal j Constitution, so long as the terrritorial 'condition shall remain. This is now a well-established position and the proceedings ot the last session were alone wanting to give it praeiical es- ; feet. The principle has been recognized ' in some form or other, bv an almost unanimous vote of both houses of Congress, | that a Territory has a right to come into the i Union either as a free or a slave State, according to the will of a majority of its peo- | pie. The just equality of all the States has thus been vindicated, and a fruitful source of dangerous dissensions among them has been removed. KANSAS AFFIARS. Whilst such has been the beneficial tendency ot your legislative proceedings outside of Kansas, their influence has nowhere been so happy as within that territory itself. Left to manage and control ito own affairs in its own war, without l the pressure of external influence, the revjolutionary Topeka organization and ail ■ resistance to the Territorial Government established by Congress have been finally abandoned. As a natural consequence, | that, fine Territory now appears to he tranlauil and prosperous, and is attracting ini creasing thousands of imigrants to make I it their happy home. I The past unfortunate experience of KanIsas had enforced the k son so often already taught, that re liance to lawful authority, under our form of government, ; cannot fail in the end to prove disastrous Ito its authors. Had the people of the Territory yielded obedience to the laws ■enacted by their Legislature, it would at the present moment have contained a lari ger additional population of industrious i and enterprising citizens, who have been deterred from entering its borders hy the ’ existence ct civil strife and organized rebellion. It was the resistence to righful authority and the persevering attempts to establish a revolutionary goverment under the Topeka Constitution, which caused the people of Kansas to commit the grave error of refusing to vote for delegates to the Convention to frame a constitution, under I a law not denied to be fa ; r and just in its j provisions. This refusal to vote has been I the prolific source of all the evils which i have followed. In their hostility to the 1 Territorial government, they disregarded the principle, absolutely essential to the working of our form of government that a 1 majority of those -who vote—not the majority who may remain at home from what ever cause—must deside the result of the election. For this reason, seeking to take ; advantage of their own error, they denied the authority of the Convention thus elected to frame a Constitution. The Convention, notwithstanding, proI ceeded to adopt a Constitution unexceptionable in its general features, and providing for the submission of the slavery I question to a vote of the people, which, in my opinion, they were bound to do, ! under the Kansas and Nebraska act.— This was the all important question which I had alone convulsed the Territory; and | yet the opponents of the lawful goverh- | ment persisting in their first error, refrained from exercising their right to vote, I and preferred that, slavery should con- | tinue, rather than surrender tbeir revolu- ! tionary Topeka organization. A wiser and better spirit seemed to prevail before the first Monday of January last, when an election was held under the ; Constitution. A majotity of the people ; then voted for the Governor and other State officers, for a member of Congress and members of the State Legislature.—

This election was warmly contested bv the two political parties in Kansas, ant! a greater vote was polb-d than at any pre- ' vious election. A large majority of the members of the Legislature elect belonged 1 to the party which had previously relusled to vote. The anti-slavery party were ■ thus placed iti the ascendant, and the political power of the Slate was in their own Lands. Had Congress admitted Kansas into the Union under the Lecompton Constitution, the Legislature might, at th* I very first session, have submitted the | question to a vote of the people, whether | they would or would not have a Cdnveui lion t > amend tliair Constitution either on : the slavery or any other question, and ' have adopted all necessary means forgiving speedy effect to the will of the major ily. Thus the Kansas question would have been immediately and finally settled - Under these circumstances I submitted to Congress the constitution thus framed with all the officers already elected necessary to put the State government into operation, accompanied'by h strong rec- ■ ommendation in favor of the admission of Kansas as a State. In thd course of my long public life I have never performed any official act, which, in the retrospect, hast aflorded me more heartfelt satisfaction. Its admission could have ihflleted no possible injury on any human being, whilst it w< uld within a brief period, have restored peace to Kansas, and hormony to th* Union. In that event, the slavery question would, ere this, have been finally settled, according to the legal expressed will ol a majority of the voters; and populai -sovereignty would thus have been vindicated in a constitutional man ner. With my deep convictions of duty, I could have pursued no other course. It is true, that as an individual, I had expressed an opinion, both before and during the session of the convention, in favor of submitting the remaining clauses of the constitution, as well as that concerning slavery, to the people. But, acting i« an official character, neither myself nor any human authority, bad the power to rejudge the proceedings of the convention, and declare the constitution which it bad framed a nullity. To have done this would have been a violation of the Kansas and Nebraska act, which left the people of the territory ‘perfectly free to form and regulate tbeir domestic institutions iu their own way, subject only to the const) tution of the United States.’ It would equally have violated the great principle of popular sovereignty, at the foundation of .>ur institutions, to deprive the people of the power, if they thought proper t« excericse it, of confiding to delegates elected by themselves the trust of framing a constitution, without requiring them to subject their constituents to the trouble, expense and delay of a second election. II would have been in opposition to many precedents in our history, commencing in the very best age of the republic, of the admission of territories as States into the Union, without a previous vote of the people approving their constitution. It is to be lamented that a question so insignificant when viewed in its practical effects on the peop’e of Kansas, whether decided one wav or the other, should have kindled such a flame of excitement throughout the country. This reflection may prove to be a lesson of wisdom and of warning for our future guidance. I’ractically considered, the question is simply whether the people ot that territory should first come into the Union and then change any provision in their Constitution not agreeable to themselves, or accomplish the very same object by remaining out of the Union and framing another constitution in accordance with their will? In either case, the result would be precisely the same. The only difference in point of fact is, that the object would Lave been much sooner attained, and the pacification of Kansas more speedily effected, had it been admitted as a State during the last session of Congress. My recommendation, however, for the immediate admission of Kansas, failed to meet the approbation of Congress. They deemed it wiser to adopt a different measure f>r the settlement of the question.— Fur my own part, I should have been willing to yield mj’ assent to almost any constitutional measure to accomplish this object. I therefore cordially acquiesced in what has been called the English Compromise, and approved the ‘Act for the admission of the State of Kansas into the Union’ upon the terms therein prescribed. Under the ordinance which accompanied the Lecompton Constitution, the people oi Kansas has slaimed double the quantity of public lands for the support of common schools, which had ever been previously granted to any State upon entering the Union, and also the alternative sections of land for twelve miles on each side of two railroads proposed to be constructed from the Northern to the Southern boundary, and from the Eastern to the Western boundary of the State. Congres*, deeming these claims unreasonable, provided, by the act of May 4.

NO. 45,